Showing posts with label erotica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erotica. Show all posts

9.8.08

Sugarbutch Contest 2008 - submit!

Sugarbutch Star 2008


Are ya ready? I'll of course be exercising my creativity to come up with something truly unique! Dana and I have already been plotting and we're sure we've come up with a great story, I'm in the process of writing it up now!

The most exciting thing, though, is going to be all the sexy stories!

7.8.08

28.7.08

after tapas

I told her in the car on the way home from the tapas restaurant what I wanted. "When we get home, I want you to put on your cock and put your pants back on." She was easy to persuade. "I'm going to leave my dress on, if that's okay." Of course it was.

She started me off sitting on the edge of the bed. Kissed me, tenderly she became reconnected with my body. Soon I found myself lying back, with my panties being yanked down, greedily, over and off my ankles. She sank into my cunt with her lips, rocking me steadily upwards. With her pants unzipped, unbuckled, I was keenly aware of her swelling desire.

One at a time, she brought her fingers into my pussy - one to unlock the door and two to swing it wide open. Warm, warm fingers. I lifted my legs up over her shoulders to adjust the angle and begged - "Oh sweetie, you fuck me so good, oh yes, oh please!" Then, once she pulled her fingers out, her cock was ready to jump into action. Still, with my legs on her shoulders, or over her elbows, she guided her cock into me slowly - slowly - ahhh. She knows the angle, she knows the rhythm immediately. There, at the edge of the bed she fucked me for a long while, bringing me back to the edges of myself.

We paused and repositioned onto the bed, for the safety of my back. Oh how she loves the vision of her cock inside me. It's warm and soft and I love the full, feeling it gives me. I love it all. Her pants were still on at this point, but not my dress, it came off as we switched to the flat of the bed. Ahh. With her cock inside me, I brought my hands down to my pussy and she and I together sent me up like a shooting star. Crying out to her, that long sigh - "oooh baby!" That cry is full of crave and desire. She cooed and caressed me back into myself, unbuckled my shoes and took them off. As we lay in the bed afterward, letting me come back to reality, I said, "So, what can I do for you?" She knew I was tired and didn't want to put me out, but she deserved something in return after all that!

I rolled over on top of her and did what I could to return such a gracious favor.

11.7.08

reconnecting

I would tell you how she eased her cock so gently into my cunt. If I wanted to, I would describe the weight of her hips rocking closer to me. I could give an account of the sweet way she worked her cock for exactly the third time ever.

But what I really want to tell you about is what happened afterward. Reclining on her back, she was resting from all her hard work, I flung my hair out of the way (it has grown quite long) and brought my hand down to where the leather straps were so tightly fastened around her waist, glutes, legs. I brushed my fingers over her labia, feeling how wet the show of my orgasm had made her, and finally pressed my fingers into her cunt. From there, my lips quickly found her cock, and I graced the two - cunt and cock - at the same time. Immediately, the obvious moan of her pleasure rose from her body. I love the way she takes to my fingers, or my mouth, or whatever the instrument of choice, allowing her body to be soothed by my affections.

We have a question for all of you - blog readers and writers. Some butches and transmen say that they can "feel" their cock when they ar wearing it. That the touch gives a certain sensation even though it's not physically attached. Is this cultivated? Does it have to do with the degree to which one identifies with a masculine persona? Is there a spectrum of how trans or not trans a butch can be, and if you lean to the trans side of things then it gives you pleasure to have girls touching your cock and if you're on the genuine butch woman side, then not so much? How does this all work? Having an answer to that question would be so very helpful. Sin? Dylan? anyone? What's this all about?

26.4.08

possibly the best, so far

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

12.4.08

tentative/definite

This morning as Dana was dreading going to work, I was asleep in the bed, wishing that she could stay with me. I watched her face move between irritated, sad, tired and angry in cycles. It was just one of those days. Last night I brought up "dating" with her - I wanted to see what all this business of dating more than one person and being "okay" with it is all about. It didn't sit very well with her. I'm not disappointed, it's more of a curiosity for me than anything else. What disappointed me was that I made her sad. I don't want to stop seeing her, or sleeping with, or spending my days with her. Not yet, not for a long while, I hope.

Her eyes swept over my naked body and decided she would have a taste of me for breakfast, mouthfulls of my flesh and moisture and energy. She pushed my knees apart and brought her mouth down to my waiting, wanting clit. I was still a little bit asleep but each stroke brought me closer and closer to that release of energy. She brought me to the edge of myself and with a big deep breath, I brought my arms down to touch where it feels best, and from there I jumped into a bottomless pit. It seemed like minutes, 5 or more, I pulsed and my stomach contracted, and that nonsense speak, these incomprehensible moans erupted from my voice until finally I found something to grip. Instead of pulling out her two (only two?) fingers from my melting pussy she left them in, pushing them in and dragging them out - this is that sex organ that floats in the open for all to see (if only i could possess them, cover and dress them and keep them my secret). She fucked me this way for a few more minutes, but there was a rising tide of emotion gathering in my throat and my cheekbones and my neck. I lifted my arm up and rested it over my eyes and started to cry.

I want her, and I've been trying to say the things that will convince her but I think because of the shortness of the time we have been together, things still feel so tentative. But that is not how I am thinking of it. It is the opposite of tentative. Definite.

She held me and told me "it's okay" a hundred times until I believed her. I'm waiting now to see her again, I'm waiting now to hold her again.

28.3.08

minor details

"You have 20 minutes before you have to leave for work."
"oh yeah? hmm"

I yawned and stretched with my whole body as I do pretty frequently in the morning, when I'm in bed and naked. I let my knees fall open so she could see me wanting. Last night I had said, "you treat me like dessert" - she said, "oh yeah, you are the dessert!" When she wants it, I can't say no and when I want it, she can't say no either.

20 minutes.

I always feel myself rising like the smoke of smoldering ashes - it happens just as soon as her hot mouth closes in around my clit, so warm and soft. We've taken to these soft morning sessions that tease her on her way in to work, a snack. Breakfast of me.

Last night it was strawberries and cream on my breasts and chest and belly, they were so cold from being refridgerated and she tasted so sweet on my lips. She licked irish cream from between my breasts and kissed me sweetly. Even after I am spent I somehow find my second wind to reward her valiant efforts and every time - no, really, every single time - she has fallen into la petite morte and quieted herself and spoken nonsense to me. Every single time. Her reward is also mine.

I guess I am still entrenched in that phase where I can't get enough of her love, and all I want to be is with her, and all I want to do is lie naked, curled around her, exchanging this life-giving energy that we are breathing into and drawing from each other. I should tell you more about her, I should tell you more about all the things we have in common, but for now all I want to do is tell you that she fulfills me and comforts me and makes me feel truly well.

25.3.08

back to the sex

The details are lost on me, chronology and order and the placement of hands and mouths and fingers is mostly lost on me. Except that for the most part, the majority of our sex is her drenched in me and loving to taste me and me loving her lips on my cunt. Do not expect plot or lines, just enjoy the feeling.

So the other night, which is becoming every night, Dana had her mouth on my pussy - eager and hungry she was bringing me over the edge and all I could think of, all my mind could conceive of was the color yellow. It was soft yellow, and sunlight yellow and lemong yellow. I was thinking of lemons, and then lemon bars. Lemon bars? I don't really know what that was all about. After yellow it was soft pale blue. It was sky blue and light blue jeans. Ahh. yellow and lemons and lemon bars.

So! The code word is now lemon bars. "Yeah... we were making lemon bars so we couldn't answer the phone, sorry!"

Later, Saturday night when I wished we were out dancing but instead my brand new girlfriend was helping me move my apartment. I was in the walk in closet at the old place, looking through the clothes and I decided to put on my black suit blazer over the pink tank top and shorties that I was wearing. I stuck me head out of the closet to call her over to me, and you should have seen her jaw drop when she saw me, breasts pushing their way out the top of the blazer, over the tight buttons and the tank top. "oh, you make me so wet" she said. I smiled and kissed her and we kissed for a little while in the closet, me shoved up against a wall and her hands on me. She was searching for a grip on my curves and finally put her warm hand over my cunt and rocked me against the wall.

Damn. I wish my new place had a walk-in closet.

I'm only retaining bits and pieces of the last week. One day we had a shower and I kneeled on the floor to put my face on her pussy. Another day we touched each other, lying side by side in the sunlight that streamed through an open window at my new place. She has a fabulous new haircut - her hair had been growing long and she had been thinking about cutting it, but wasn't too sure. I love it short, I really love it. Somehow, every time, every single time, the both of us have been totally satisfied with the sex. Since she's a top, she seems to hate going first or last, which means I often get topped twice.

Yesterday she was putting a new desk together since her old one collapsed. The new one was so sturdy that I had half a mind to hop onto it. I stripped for her to some - any - music and skipped off to the bathroom. When I came out she was still hard at work, trying to wire up the computer. When she had her head under the desk I hopped up on top, sat down, and hiked my knees up. When she looked up, all she said was, "ohhh yes" and immediately her tongue was on my clit just the way I've come to like it. Just the I like to come.

This girl totally loves to give the exact ways that I like to receive, and she says I'm the same way - that my giving style matches her receiving style. Giving and receiving, she gave to me later, in the bed and then this morning. She took the puppy out and came back freezing cold, so I welcomed her back into the bed and wrapped myself around her to make her warm, "I'm so comfortable in your arms" she says so often. It was all downhill from there again! Is it possible that she wants sex just as much, if not more than I do? Is this not completely fabulous or what!

20.2.08

8.2.08

Erin with a capital oooaaaaahhh

Featured in Fleshbot Sex Blog Roundup: Not So Careless Whispers and also in Sugasm #119

she let me in, easy - one, two, three? no. four fingers. dripping, but no lube. to my third knuckle. it could have been more, i could have fisted her, but it wasn't on the menu last night. maybe sometime. if we ever do this again. i could smell her body wanting. pressing my fingers in, and learning how to position my thumb just right on her clit. this is the first time anyone has permitted me to touch back below the waist. a privilege. a treat.

I arrived on the scene at 10:00 not sure where I was supposed to go. Drove around a little while in the general vicinity of the neighborhood sports bar where she wished to meet me. 10:30 passed, 11:00 passed, I started texting a friend, "I think I might be getting stood up..." at 11:30, I was on my way to said friend's house for a minute, I figured I'd wait until twelve and then leave - that's when she called. Erin is 30 years old, turning 31 when Pisces season comes around again (soon). She is originally from Michigan, and moved here with her best friend (a brother figure, gay) four years ago. Not here, here. She lives in the beach towns west of me. I knew she wanted to meet me, so I was puzzled by the delay, but it was simply that she was working and couldn't get out.

It was a very simple bar, filled with regular, uncomplicated people and I immediately felt at home. That's what Erin is like. Regular, uncomplicated, easy to please. Her gender is lacking all the pomp and circumstance, the air of performance that many butches possess. To their credit, all of gender is constructed and performed, but sometimes I get the feeling that they're trying too hard. Perhaps they just get all tangled up in that big bad word, "enough."

Not Erin, nosirree. Erin is a simple. A teddy bear. All she has in her room is a little TV, her bed, and quilt that her grandma gave her. I didn't see the blanket until morning light filtered through the hazy clouds of an early storm. I looked to the seams to confirm my suspicion - a handmade quilt. I told her how my mother had once made quilts and how a little piece of the person who makes the quilt always gets left inside it. They takes so long to make, cutting little shapes to sew into squares, sewing the squares together with borders, sewing a border around the edge, and finally putting the batting and backing on. It's a very intimate process. And it is her favorite blanket. She doesn't even know who made it - her grandmother didn't.

We had a few drinks - I had an amaretto sour, a whiskey sour and washed it all down with a shot of goldschlager [the goldschlager was optional, I was already relaxed but I was not drunk until I had that shot).

Wait a minute. Pause the scene. I've talked to this girl one time on the phone, this is the first time I've ever met her. It's that instinctive, incautious trust again that is probably going to get me in trouble someday... but is it really all that hard to judge character?

As we were paying our bills, she and the best friend (Matt) started asking me if I had called any friends to say where I was going to be. They offered to give their address so that I could text it to someone - so they would know where I was going to spend the night. I had already convinced myself that it was a good idea and that I should definitely go home with this big sweetheart of a girl and her weird old best friend.

At their apartment (above a garage) Matt went directly to bed and Erin left me on the couch to simmer while she showered. She was tired from a long day working at the hardware store so I was thankful that she took the time to shower. With her in PJ's, we sat on the couch watching TV and I took the liberty of curling myself on the couch and putting my head on her lap. She reached down and was stroking my back, lifting my shirt to reach my soft back skin. yeah. I had already decided that I liked her face and I was started to like her personality so that was that.

I was very drunk (thank you goldschlager!) now and I took very careful steps to get into the bedroom. The details are lost on me at the moment... we lay down facing each other, talking. I don't even remember about what. I kissed her first. The tongue ring. I completely forgot about the tongue ring! A nice surprise. I did a preliminary sweep, feeling for nipples and tissue in the dark. Her breasts were a perfect handful, and so soft. "Do you want to feel how much I'm enjoying this?" Erin took my left hand and pulled it down below her navel and in under the boxer briefs to her seething cunt. Seething like the sea - so wet. And here is where she opened for me. Freely, she allowed me, encouraged me to explore inside her. I'm spoiled now, because now I know how good it feels to be inside and I'm going to start wanting in more often.

"You're sure you've never done this before?"
"Nope. No one has ever let me."

We talked it over last week, when I was trying to determine her level of interest in a sexual encounter. I had already explained that I have strictly bottomed, although not without some accidental takeovers for which I had to be punished. After awhile of my four fingers and thumb getting acquainted with what goes where, we switched. I was just as wet as she and it felt so very nice. She sensed when I had been satisfied, and I enjoyed it, really, but then I started crying. I hate to say again, but it's appropriate. Crying again. I've come to take this as my normal reaction to penetration. Also, I get so close to having an orgasm every time but it's like a puzzle missing a piece, it's like looking through a glass window at something that you can see but can't touch. It's like chasing the sun. I didn't cry for long though. I apologized and she said it was okay. I said, "I just do this, I just cry..." gah. I was pleased though, and I took over the top again.

This time, with only two fingers inside, I worked Erin's wet, open cunt and making things up as I went along - imagining rhythms and patterns to her delight. Swearing that I was not in fact a beginner, that I was indeed a seasoned veteran, she came, grinding on my hand and gave a hearty, healthy, "haaah" before she pulled my hand out, off and pulled me close to her, breathing. I sighed, "I love bodies. There's nothing that makes me more angry than when people who have trouble loving their shape." We agreed that was a travesty, and that we loved our bodies. They awoke me at 8:30 to take me back to my car so that I could make my way across the bridge and back to my warm bed.

I'm ever so delighted to have seen a stranger receive a gift of joy. I don't know if it was well timed, or if it had been a long time since her last, but it gives me great pleasure to know that I have treated Erin to a little bit of sweetness and put a smile on her face.

5.2.08

Brave, brave sugasm #117

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #118? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
A Fable
“They start touching her, gingerly at first, wondering what magic is in her.”
Fiction: The Island Princess and the Monkeys Who Tie Knots
“You naughty, naughty, NAUGHTY monkeys!”
Sexy Is In Your Mind
“Sexy is an attitude and really all in your mind.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
Chickipedia
Editor’s Choice
Take a walk on the wild side.
More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Erotic Writing and Experiences

Crave - Connect
Threesome on a golden afternoon
Whispers, after
Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
The female “gaze”

25.1.08

Crave - Connect

Featured in Sugasm #117.
I don't really know where to begin or end this. I think the reason my experience with Crave was so overwhelming was because there has not been that emotional/spiritual connection with my previous sexual experiences. It had simply been bodies together. I still feel so grateful.

Crave arrived in my town Friday morning to see her friends who own an extra house down here. They had supper and went bar hopping in the club district. I got out of work early and met them down there, right about the time that the bars were threatening "last call." The first time I hug someone, I always get a sense of how well I will get along with them. When they hugged me, I knew I was among friends. When I hugged Crave, our spirits said "hello" to each other, I think. Because of the late hour, we went back to their house to wind down. Sipping on chambord, I sat next to her - then close to her - then with her - entangled in her. I was reading her face and running my fingers along her pant legs until everyone seemed to be retiring. She seemed to be going to rest, too so I started fishing through my purse looking for lip balm, trying not to invite myself upstairs.

"Danger" - she smiled. She calls me danger, she called me up to the room. Upstairs we talked, lounging in a spacious spare bedroom. I lay close to her, talking to a woman I've never met before, a friend from a previous life. I wish I could remember what she said right before she kissed me the first time. She's a biter, my bottom lip was so red. I remember being a suggestive, lewd little girl. I hope that it was not too much. I hope she would believe me that my bark is worse than my bite. She did, eventually.

It was early Saturday morning by this time. I hooked my left leg up between her legs, rocking and leaning forward, I kissed her and we moved together. We took off my shirt and I presented a feast of breast and skin. I had already decided at that time that I like her smile, her beautiful hazel eyes, and a mess of short rock star hair on top. Her hips and belly enveloped by softness and sweet. I held with my right hand, that place just above the hip. I kissed it. The softness and sweet. Lingering above her, with her lips and tongue searching out my flesh, she kissed - sucked - bit - that tender place right between my breasts and made a beautiful mark that has already vanished. I wish it could stay there forever.

Six a.m. came too soon and we crashed. I couldn't sleep. The light was streaming in the windows and I was so near to another person, a stranger. When I'm asleep with someone else, I wake up off and on to look at them in wonder. By eleven I finally convinced her to flutter open her eyes. Someone pounded on the door. "who is it?" we asked, and one silly friend or another said, "Rent's due!" We had a late breakfast, five world weary women, we ventured out into the grey day.

After breakfast at a diner, Crave and I intended to get me back to my place to change and get ready to go to the beach. I let her drive, we dropped off a friend and enjoyed the drive over to the opposite side of town. Unfortunately (or... fortunately) we found my apartment too inviting. We were still quite tired and headed to bed for a "nap."

Yeah, right.

I would have enjoyed some shut eye, but I couldn't let her lie there sleeping when I had her all to myself. The kissing started again, but the details on that are fuzzy.

In the beginning, she remembered my red ropes I've been bragging about. She first tied the ropes loose to my hands and slung them around her waist - embraced. She shoved my tight tank top over my breasts, exposing them to her. Feasting, once again, she touched and kissed my belly. "I need words of affirmation," with everything being so new, it was nice to hear her say kind words about my body. I've loved my body for a long time, I just never really knew if anyone else agreed with me. With my arms around her waist, I pressed my hands into her back, reaching for her ass. Then, she tied them closer, above my head. I swear. This woman has the smoothest, most slippery tongue I have ever tasted. I can't even think of a food to compare it to because even the inside of a peach is coarse compared to this.

She untied my hands. With our legs intertwined, Crave touched, tasted, smelled, and soothed my body, this body that has been aching for touch. She asked me what my body wanted, she told me, "well... my pussy wants to be on yours." She asked if that would be okay. I nodded yes. It was very, definitely okay. The positioning is not easy, though. All I really remember about it is how deliciously slick and warm it was to have her cunt touching mine. I felt very light (light - happy, airy, illumined) in that moment.

She repositioned again, opened me up and took my left leg against her shoulder. Reaching down, she brushed my labia with her hand, exploring the folds and curves, and before I knew it she had one finger inside me, still rocking back and forth. And then there were two fingers. Then, I felt a third one gingerly touching my bum. She pushed it in slowly. Damn, that really hit the spot. That was exactly what I needed to relax. She didn't even ask - and I still don't know why she didn't ask, but I totally loved it. Not long after, she asked for my fingers. I protested - I don't know how on earth to do that! But it was easy. One, just one, not too far in, just enough to be felt. I was totally embarrassed by the knocking of my bed on the wall (note to self: make sure the bed isn't flush with the wall next time) but I have never felt that good before! She hovered over me, thrusting her fingers in and out of me, fucking. We went at it like this for awhile until her breath peaked and her body slowed and she rested for a bit. "you can still hold me..."

I don't understand how one can get off without a lot of stimulation. I'm certainly no pro at getting the girls off but I could tell from the expression on her face that she really enjoyed how it felt to have her fingers crammed into my soaked cunt. I remember her saying, at the time, how pleasurable it was, how nice my pussy felt on her hand. What a compliment. I'm still beaming. I'm disappointed that I can't remember exact words. I think I cried out a lot of the memories.

Finally, she dove into my pussy. Even now, I'm at a loss for words to describe this. I know I felt tongue on my labia, teasing. I felt that smooth tongue on my clit. She kept saying how hard it was. Hmm. This is where I started feeling nervous because I'd already had sex with Autumn a couple days before and I had been frustrated that I couldn't come for her, and here I am with this lovely woman who's being so sweet and wonderful and I'm getting the performance anxiety again. Crave didn't deserve for me to be all anxious. "You can do it, sweetie, just relax." She pulled my legs off the bed, with my hips just at the edge and put that polished tongue back on my clit, and she sucked and massaged for a long time. It was good. So good. And it had already been so good before that point that I started to feel so very satisfied, even though I hadn't actually come at all. I didn't need to. I was very pleased.

Crave crawled up next to me and snuggled me, but it was only a few minutes, a few silent minutes before I started crying. I wasn't sad, but I wasn't exactly joyous either. I tried not to cry, I tried really hard, but when she told me it was okay to cry, I couldn't help it anymore. "I'm sorry, I'm not sad..." She started crying too, seeing my tears. Quietly. She told me I was like the girl before, the one that had been wrong. I felt that she was carrying a lot of hurt. In a lull, where the tears had begun to dry up, I felt it all fall on me, the pain she carried fell on that place between my breasts where she had made her mark (on the green / heart chakra - the one for self acceptance and integration of opposites) and I was overwhelmed once again. Here, she realized I wasn't dangerous. She realized that I'm just a baby.

"a baby lover"

I'm writing this almost a week after I first met her, trying to describe our encounter and I still feel the weight of the experience on me. We cried for a long time, and then I let her alone to think and write. I went out into the living room and cried on the couch some more. I tried to have a snack but I couldn't decide on something. I drew a hot bath with jasmine oil, as hot as I could stand. The energy in my body was so focused and condensed in my core, I needed the hot, hot water to disperse it across my skin. After a few minutes, she knocked. "come in" I was glad to see her face, and look in her hazel eyes. We talked for a bit. She had spoken to her friends in town, and discovered that they, a couple, had also cried that day, overwhelmed with emotion. I felt reassured.

She brought me my towel and we dressed for dinner, exhausted, we went for sushi at a little Japanese restaurant by the university. After driving home in the rain and sharing a beer, we fell asleep around eleven - exactly 12 hours after we got up. I have not rested so deeply in a long time. She woke me at nine, wanting to get back to the other side of town to share another meal with her friends. I set the French press and we sat on the couch enjoying good, strong coffee in the sunlight that the sky finally let loose. On the sun's day. This is where she tickled me. I've been known to punch people who tickle me, but it didn't offend me, as it normally does. I kinda liked it, and felt totally adored.

Crave is slightly shorter than I am, quite a bit smaller than I am, but I felt very small around her. She's ten years and four months older than me, an honest and respectful person. She spent the weekend in cords and t-shirts, relaxed. She kissed me goodbye at my car after lunch with her crew and lounging around at the house until they were ready to leave for the airport. I could have gone with them, to see them off, but I felt that our visit had come to a close. My time was up. So she kissed me and we thanked and hugged each other. As soon as their borrowed car was out of sight, I started crying again. I'd been holding it back all day. That's when I called Jennie and asked to come over for some sweet wine and a cry. It's been a long time since I cried for love. Years.

Not tragic, romantic love. At least, I don't think. But love, nevertheless.



I feel as if I've met an old friend from a previous life. I trusted her instantly, incautiously, instinctively. But now, to be honest, I don't know what to do with that connection. I want to see where it takes me, but she's gone. As you read from my poem, she left nothing. I'll just wait until our paths cross again. I hope that our next meeting is not too far off, but I will take whatever comes my way, even if I never see her hazel eyes again.

11.1.08

Report on the Butt Plug

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

14.12.07

upsidedown

This is a bottom's fantasy on topping. It is mostly that visual dance that I tend to do around sex, talking more about the minute details than the actual fucking. Bear with me, this is not gratuitous erotica that rushes to the thrusting and the orgasm, but this is a description of the sensations - the 5 of them and that extra one.

Her hands are smaller than mine, and soft under my grip, they relent. She had come to the end of herself and, looking down off the edge, she jumped. At the bottom of a deep, deep crevasse, I caught her lips for a kiss. I'm still getting used to the whole kissing thing - everything else so far has come natural to me. I swiped her shirt off quickly and gripped her face in my hands. That gaze is one of the ways of asking permission. Her unflinching stare, her consent, clear. I've never been one to fall for girls with blue eyes like mine. If I want to lock eyes with someone, them below and I above, the eyes should be some other color; brown or green... brown. That's what these, hers are. Chestnut hair, hazel eyes and honey skin.

Femme nails are longer than your average dyke's nails. They're not long, certainly not long, lest they strike fear in the hearts of potential lovers, but they are just long enough to tickle, to scratch, to stimulate the skin. I graze the sides of her middle with my fingers - her first flinch. I draw my hands firmly from her face all the way down, down past the ribs, past the hips, past the knees and down to her ankles. Then, I draw them lightly, ever so lightly all the way up, up past the calves, past her thighs and the soft wisps of hair that are there, past her navel, her sternum, and back up to her face where a grin displays her delight.

I would ask, I would hesitate, she would permit me to take gently into my mouth, one breast. It's a sweet spot, wouldn't you agree? I can't imagine a salty breast. They are sweet by definition. Suckling on her breast, I'm waiting to hear the quiet moan that permits me to trespass a little further. The breasts are great, but bellies are my favorite. So many people are insecure about their bellies, and I want to make the bellies of shy people swell with pride. Her belly is no different. With one firm hand steadying her reflex to be ticklish, I kiss her belly top to bottom and all over, sneaking downward.

Here's the part where I'm not entirely sure what to do. I have a general idea, but the specifics are a little bit fuzzy. Insert here, rub there, check to make sure she's breathing (wait, is that cpr?) But for the time being, it seems useful to adopt a "fake it til you make it" policy. With my hand, I cup her gleaming vulva until the both of us feel more comfortable with the whole situation. I pat one finger into her well briefly and draw out the lovely liquid. I paint stars on her thighs, I paint hearts onto her labia, listening to her coo.

And I can't have sex without talking. Simply impossible. I try, but I can't stay quiet. I can't think unless I'm talking. I can't experience unless I communicate.

"What are you thinking?"
"hmm"
"What do you want?"
"I uh... I want 2 fingers to start with, please, and put your free arm on my belly so I can hold your hand"

[[You will recall, I saw a butch/femme porn once where the femme was on her knees giving a beautiful blow job and the butch, leaning against a chair, supported her by holding her hands. I think this hand-holding creates a more intimate connection. I love holding hands.]]

I do as the lovely, polite femme says, pressing two hesitant fingers into that pretty wet cunt of hers, and wrapped my other arm over her belly, where she takes my hand and folds it into hers. This position puts me face to face (or something to that effect) with her sweet, aching clit. You don't have to tell me twice! Taking it into my mouth, I encase the jewel with my lips, my tongue flickering and flirting with danger. I heard her this time, "oooh, mhh." A surprise well taken. I let up - "is this okay?" She managed to say, "um, uhh, myeah" I assured her, "I'll stop whenever you want, just tell me when." She insisted, "no noo, this is good." As you wish, pretty lady, as you wish.

Satisfied with this set of sensations, girly brought her hand down and worked it just the right way until her breath and heart rate peaked. She came like a waterfall, like a runaway train, let loose like something caged and gripped my fingers with her cunt, whistling and sputtering like a teapot boiling over. She squirmed. This one, the most beautiful thing, came crashing down and I caught her at the bottom of a deep, deep crevasse with a kiss on the lips. I listened until her breathing slowed, I watched colors dance across her face like wildfire. In this moment, newness shows.

I'm starting to understand how much "topping" is a gift one can give to another person. I don't know if I've ever seen "bottoming" or submitting as a gift to give away. Yes, maybe it breaks even. As much as the careful attention of the top is a gift, the rewards must be as great, if not greater.

Someday I swear I will learn this topping business, someday I will ache to witness "little deaths" under my attentive hand.

2.12.07

detalles de memoria

When I think about sex, I don't anticipate the orgasm. I don't focus on the arrangement of bodies, the moans of pleasure, or the force... or the speed...

My mind wanders out over the minute details. She had a festive ribbon around her ponytail, blue as the ocean, as depression glass, as her eyes (or maybe that was me?). Beads of sweat left new trails through the soft hairs at the "small" of her back (however small or large it was). There was a light on in the kitchen. I shivered as her fingertips grazed my hips - I'm ticklish in all the wrong places. The ribbon came loose from the motion and eventually slipped out of her hair (or mine) and into my hand, my free arm extended around her waist. The edges of my stockings have started to roll down my legs, although these expensive thigh-highs had promised none of that. I didn't even notice the silence until her first big sigh. Leaning into her as she was leaning into me, I can smell her sweat, her perfume, her hair. With my face on her neck, I feel her pulse against my cheek.

These are things I wish for. These are the images of my dreams. My body and my heart crave a body and a heart to be near, both concretely and abstractly, near.

5.11.07

surprise visit

If I could pick out a surprise (without telling myself, so I would still be surprised) this is what I would choose.

I would make plans to rendezvous with some, with any, butch top. At my place. My roommate is camping this weekend. She would be someone I know, but not a close friend. "I'll be there in an hour" she says, and then hangs up with out saying goodbye.

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rings. I look through the peep and spy this random brunette in a long coat - it's longer than whatever she's wearing underneath. This is not what I expected. I decide to open the door and she walks in without saying hello. "Where's the powder room?" I point to the hall and she goes that direction. Ten minutes later she comes out, draped in only a soft yellow slip. There's a matching ribbon in her hair. Have I mentioned that I fell in love with femmes first? Brunettes especially. A brunette will do the trick every single time. "What's your name?" Nervous, I mumble something about how she waltzed into my apartment without announcing herself, why does she need my name and who sent her here... "Oh, is there a problem? I should go." She takes a step toward the door but something in my gut. er. cunt. tells me that she arrived on cue. That my friend would be there soon. "No. Don't go. I'm sorry, I was just surprised" and I offer her a drink.

She answered an ad in the indie paper for a third - a complement. The ad told her she would primarily be bottoming. Primarily. The call came shortly after seven and she didn't waste any time. She has someone's initials tattooed inside her ankle. S. L.

My butch friend walks in without knocking. By this time I'm tiring of surprises, but relieved that she's there. She's wearing a pair of thick, thick blue jeans, a black A-shirt and a big black belt (understand that it's probably not there to hold up her pants). Here I am standing in the middle of my living room in a tank top and the panties I've had on all day. "Where's the bedroom?" anyone asks. I start walking toward the open door to my room and the butch, who has her hand on my shoulder, her finger looped around the strap, barks, "get on the bed. face first. and on your knees" I'm still not feeling altogether comfortable with the situation, but I comply. "Thank you" she says, as if my obedience doesn't matter. With my face on the mattress, my knees sinking in, spreading apart, I'm tense, thinking about the belt, clinking off my friend's waist. "And stop trying to guess." the brunette adds, taking a silk headscarf from my wardrobe (as if she knew they would be there) to blindfold me. It still smells in it whatever country I brought it home from, Italy or Greece. Trying not to guess sounded like a good idea to me. Someone yanks down my panties and I feel vulnerable but small, cool hands correct any movements I make to cover up again. With only the woosh as a warning, I feel the slap of that big belt on my ass. Again, on my thighs, and it stings, but I can only smile.

At some point the brunette would be on her back and I would be on my knees, leaning over her. She's holding me and I'm resting on her breast. The butch is fucking her with her cock and me with her fingers. Later, my head on the pillow, the brunette is at the foot of the bed with her mouth is on my pussy, and she's resting her nose in soft flesh. All I can see is the yellow ribbon in her hair. At the same time, I've got butch cock in my own mouth, feeling the texture on my tongue as far as I can take it. She's holding my wrists above my head so I can't wipe the saliva from my chin, it just stays there. Hopefully. Hopefully - She comes with her cock in my mouth, my big blue eyes gazing up to hers. Finally I'm reclining, the brunette is cuddled up next to me, on her back, my left leg over her right and we're kissing. My butch friend is on her knees, straddling our intertwined thighs. She's fucking us both with one hand in each cunt, (imagine the ambidexterity! hah!) and but before this, she has bitten our breasts hard. I whined and she pulled my hair. If fucking and talking at the same time is possible, she's saying

"You're such a dirty girl, didn't your mama teach you to behave?"

I'm trying to scowl and say "no" but it's kinda hard to say anything but "yes" when someone's thumb is burning your clit.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, you're just a little slut, aren't you?"

I give up and get into the rhythm of "hmm" and "yeah." When my orgasm comes in waves and I'm trying to catch my breath, I can only manage a gasp between groans. It sounds like anger - and it feels almost the same as anger, too.



She sends this whore to my apartment ahead of her to set me off, then comes in without warning and doesn't even kiss me before shoving her callused index finger up my cunt.

3.10.07

oh, fuck

oh. my. god.
miss avarice. has been kissed.
like really kissed.
like.
she had her tongue in my mouth,
and when she took it out

i wanted it back.


this was after she took my shirt off. at the bar. everyone else chickened out. i asked Ica to do it, and she just giggled and said she couldn't. Mel and Cin didn't want to interfere. so Ica, meddlesome Cancer. says to Diane.

Wait first let me describe Diane to you. about my height. butch. brown hair. slim but not tiny. i think she's a bit older than me? butch hands. *ughm* ("my nails are short because I work in construction." "Riiight... just like my nails are short because I'm a musician!") She's a little bit taken. She's very handsome in a striped polo.

So Ica said to Diane, "Avarice has a question for you" and in my head I'm having an attack of shyness. ahh shit, now I have to say it to a stranger!

"Ica won't take my shirt off. Will you?"
"eh? that's it? - you pussies won't take off her shirt?"

She reached for the hem of my shirt.

"Just the top one! I have another underneath!" I explained. Grinning. Shy
"I know baby, I know"

She pulled the black stretch-knit up, up to my shoulders, up over my head, taking expert precaution not to get my head stuck. She handed me my shirt back and I thanked her. She was topping. I was delighted. Still grinning like a fool, I sat back down at the table.

Sometime not long after that Ica dragged Diane away from the group (which is always a sure sign of gossip). She told her how I was kinda flipping out about my New York trip. How I didn't want to make a fool of myself by not knowing how to kiss, and blah blah blah. Long story short, she told Diane that she should kiss me. Protests about a girlfriend met a rebuttal about how "teaching" is different than making out. Uhm. I don't think that's true. But. Let's not get into the technicalities, mkay?

By this time my nose was going numb from one very stiff cosmo and one very tall shot of Goldschlager. Ica said,

"Diane's going to teach you how to kiss"
"Oh, thank God"

Except then, I got shy again and they had to lead me by the hand over to where she was talking to a gay boy at the bar. She put her arm around my shoulder and said, "where do you want to go?" I shrugged. She brought me back over to my bar stool and I sat down. "You've never kissed anyone before? Really?" Still shy, I shook my head "no". She drew her hands up to touch my face, gentle, holding the back of my head, fingers nestled in my hair. She touched her nose to mine. I think I almost lost it right there. She kissed me. Pulling on my lower lip... "How do I know I'm doing it right?"

"You are doing it right" She kissed me more and I couldn't contain a moan that had been welling up. She pushed her tongue past my nervous lips. This is the part that was new to me. "open up, sweetie." I did. I wanted it. I savored the texture of her tongue. It was rough and smooth at the same time. I was lost in want but she pulled back smiling and took the chair next to me. "I would kiss you more, but I feel kinda guilty..."

"There are no butches who are into femmes around here, they all just want each other!" (ok don't freak out, i love two butches together, i just want one for myself!) "Not me, here lemme show you my girlfriend. Femmes are my favorite." She showed me a picture...

"You are so shy! They told me that you weren't..." Oh Jesus, my reputation preceded me. "I'm only shy around new people. But once I get to know you..."

"You know I don't kiss just anybody."

I danced for her a little bit. She pulled on my pony tail. She ran her butch fingers up my back, over my shoulders and down my arms. I wanted her hands to be everywhere.

"So... do you ever uh... share?" she chuckled. "Oh no, I get in big, big trouble for talking to other girls" I grinned and leaned toward her ear.

"I like trouble."

20.9.07

wants/needs

i want a string of big, thick pearls
fastened too tightly around my neck
i want a shiny, silk tie, knotted
around my wrists, behind my back,
my shoulder blades reach for each other
and push my breasts up, out, accessible.

i want one fist entangled in my hair
pulling. gripping. unkindly. harsh.
i want your cock in my mouth from above
so you can watch me, mouth stretching,
opening to receive; opening to give
my eyes shuttered by a rude handkerchief.

6.9.07

brazen femme

wheeee! i just got my book, brazen femme in the mail last night. you should have heard my squeals of delight! even though it is kinda busted from being mailed in... plastic wrap. but it's still so lovely!

i was so excited about that, and about financial aid coming through, that i bought four more used books which will be arriving at my house next week sometime. all of them covering the topics of gender. one of them, a collection of butch-on-butch erotica. hmmmmmm... my favorite. really. boys kissing. gets me [...] every time.

AHH! SO EXCITED!

and i paid off my credit cards.

the end.

27.8.07

pantsuit

It was a long, long walk back to the car and neither of us cared to take it at that moment. We were listening to the waves quietly lapping against the sand, trying to reach our ankles, failing. We were nestled in a tall patch of beach grass and reeds. She, reclining. I, dizzy atop her suited thighs. Pinstripes. Navy. A matching navy ribbon in my hair, a thin summer dress barely concealing my skin, I let myself relax. The sea breeze tasted salty, sweet, it was trying to tear the ribbon out of my hair.

The blue buttons of my dress came apart easily, letting loose a sea of warmth, want and skin. But I didn't care about that. I was focused on the feeling of fabric between my labia and her hip. I remember her hands on my breasts, she was drawing circles, and drawing her hand up, up to my neck and down. I leaned in to kiss her, and

damn it. i'm going to have to finish this later!