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Let's Talk...

I am interested in talking to you. What excites you? What is on your mind? I would love to know and share. Do you have a question that you would like to discuss? Do you need to have someone understand your desires? Let us see what we have to talk about.

I will expect respect, though I am not to be feared.

So, off you go to - or call 949 999-5900 and do tell them Saffron sent you (it's my middle name). I am extension 611.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Morning Sex

Hubby is sleeping next to me. Well it is 5:30 in the morning, so that is not unusual. I really should get out of bed and into the shower so I can go, yet again, to a job that does pay the bills, but really inspires me in no positive way. But instead I think I will climb on top of a very sleepy hubby and slide onto his pretty, hard (pretty as in a beautiful way... as it is all the way hard, morning wood and all) cock and start my morning with an orgasm for both of us. He will be happy and my job today will be certainly more tolerable.

Do you think a day just has to be better when it is begun with an orgasm?

Gotta go now... sex is more important than blogging. Even blogging about sex.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Eye See Blue
(because I wanted to see if I could)

Sunday, September 28, 2008


Yes... and I cook too.

My friend, who introduced me to guacamole when I was first learning to cook, made the blandest guacamole with nothing but avocados and some cilantro. I loved her, but I knew there had to be a better way. My family loves spicy foods and over the years I have come up with a guacamole recipe that has a bit of a kick. I always have just eyeballed the spices adding a bit more and more (making my husband taste test) till it gets just right. I make this for every family get together. I tried once to show up without it. They made me go to the store and get the ingredients before they would let me in the door. I missed the first quarter of the Super Bowl, but everyone was happy with the guacamole. This recipe will make enough to satisfy most party requirements. It can be halved to make just enough for a meal as a side.

Kicky Guacamole

5-6 ripe avocados
1 Jar (16 oz) hot or medium salsa (start with half a jar and add as you like)
¼ Cup sour cream (really you don't need to measure, just put a plop)
½ tsp garlic salt
1 tsp McCormick Mexican Seasoning
½ tsp chili powder
1 dash hot sauce
2 medium-finely chopped tomatoes

Scoop avocados from their skins, discard pits. Mash avocados in a bowl with a fork or potato masher (I like to leave them a bit chunky) stir in all other ingredients. Garnish the top with a few extra tomatoes, a plop of sour cream and a sprinkle of chili powder. Serve with chips or as a side for enchiladas or other Mexican favorite.

San Diego 28, Oakland 18

Gotta love a great game. And beating the Raiders is always a great game.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Shake Out

As a Southern California resident earthquakes are a part of my life. On November 13th there is going to be a huge event in our area where many of the emergency response teams will have a earthquake preparedness drill.

This is really an important thing that will help to prevent what is sure to be a disaster when (not if) a big earthquake hits our part of California from becoming a catastrophe.

Part of what my friends in California can do to help themselves is to visit this website - - and take some simple but very effective measures to prepare their home and family.

Do not wait. The earthquake will not wait until you are prepared.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Did you try? Did you?

This is the question that needs to be asked. Did you try? Did you? For it is in the trying that I am truly pleased. For in the trying you give me everything. The acts I ask of you are just that, a set of rules, a set of directions, a set of requests, demands, orders. But all I ever truly want is for you to try. Fail, succeed... these really are meaningless words for it is always, always the trying that makes me proud.

Some say... you must do, don't just try. I have to disagree. Trying is offering all you have, giving everything. And then there is no failing. So I say again. Did you try?

Punishment for giving me everything you possibly could, no. Punishment for saying, this is everything I can offer, everything I can endure... never.

A reminder when you break a rule that you offered to me... yes... perhaps. A reminder when you forget something you promised to me... oh, yes my sweet. But not in anger, never anger.

Will we be together for this, this reminder, this small thing to make you remember better the next time? If you need me, of course. Maybe you will just do this without me and come back. No need to be forgiven, I was pleased the moment you shared this with honesty. There was no need for forgiveness unless you lied to me. Tell me, openly and honestly all that you need. We are on this path together. Never say I know everything you need. It is impossible. Say, I, who loves you, cares about you, will give you all that I can and help you to find all that you need, all that you want.

This is a journey, and we are together. We walk together for as long as both you and I find all that we desire. And when our paths diverge we will know it is time for another journey, alone, with someone else, either way will not matter. For you and I will know we were honest, we were open with our hearts, our desires and we gave each other, truth and beauty the sharing of desire and passion and everything that mattered between two.

So I ask again. Did you do your very best? Did you try? Did you?

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Erotic Short Story in Six Words

Whip, cuffs; for sale, lightly used.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

We need to take care of our bees...

Was chatting with marie and she commented on bees and that started a conversation about them (she will now... never kill a bee in her home again, but rather trap it and set it free back outside). As Miss Honey... well, a bit near and dear to my heart. But really something we all need to be concerned about.

"In the USA, Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) - where whole colonies of bees disappear or die - has caused a devastating loss of honeybees. Since it broke out in the autumn of 2006 (and some say earlier than that), declines of between 30 per cent and 90 per cent of honeybee populations in at least 27 states have been recorded. There have also been reports of CCD in Germany, Switzerland, Spain, Portugal, Italy and Greece."

Albert Einstein was well aware of the earth's dependence on this small but vital creature. When it came to bees, he put it in no uncertain terms: "If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would only have four years of life left. No more bees, no more pollination, no more plants, no more animals, no more man."

Here is more information on Colony Collapse Disorder -

Thursday, September 18, 2008

The Tipping of a Roommate -Chapter 5

Read Chapter 1
Read Chapter 2
Read Chapter 3
Read Chapter 4

Chapter 5

I laid on my bed, I was stretched and bound. I was ashamed beyond anything I had ever felt before, but my body it was enflamed, feeling everything with an intensity that I thought I would never be able to control. I felt the cool metal of the scissors against my skin as Natalie, no Miss Natalie now, cut my hair down there where all my shame came from. I felt the shaving cream as she covered me there with it and the rasp of Miss Natalie’s razor. Each stroke causing moan after moan. I could taste myself in the cotton of the panties she had pushed into my mouth. Something about that taste just made my head spin. When she had coated my lips with my own sinful juices I couldn’t help but lick my lips over and over once Miss Natalie had left the room. My wrists had ached where she had squeezed them, my breasts had ached, my sinning hole had been hotter, more alive then I had ever felt it before, I just couldn’t help myself again. I needed to find something, relief, something I couldn’t even think of and I had touched it again for the second time tonight.

Poppa knew I was a wicked girl. Twice at home I had been caught sinning. Once on the top of the fence watching the sheep do what no girl should watch. But I couldn’t seem to help myself and when I went to get down I had slipped. The shock of that top edge of the board hitting me hard, well I stopped right there, gasping, moaning and soon I began to rock and rock while straddling the fence there in the summer sun with my eyes closed tight and the rough board pressed so painfully against my most private spot, it just felt, right. Poppa had seen me, and had dragged me back to the house and made me bend over the chair. Momma had been told to give me fifty good licks with the paddle. And then poor Momma, she had taken fifty licks herself for not raising me better, bent over the same chair while I stood in the corner with my underwear still around my knees and my dress held up around my waist.

The second time had been after a visit to the Mayfield’s farm. Eliza Mayfield had whispered such naughty things to me as we shucked the corn for the dinner our families would share. She went to the public school, she smelled so good, she had a boyfriend, she said you could take a shucked ear of corn and put it… well then she lifted up her skirt and showed me her panties, she was so very pretty. When we got home I put an ear of corn under my pillow thinking maybe I might do what she had said, maybe. It had been there for two days, I just couldn’t bring myself to do what Eliza had whispered and made my heart beat so fast. I knew it was wrong, sinful. Momma had found that ear of corn when she had stripped the sheets, it had been so careless of me. I had taken so many licks for that. Poppa didn’t even listen to my pleas, I was a woman, I was wicked, Poppa said. And I was, thinking of sinning was as bad as the act, I knew that.

And now, here I was proving Poppa right, I was so very bad. I was just ashamed. Miss Natalie was everything I wanted to be, so pretty, so popular, so good. I just wanted her to like me. She looked beautiful every day. Her hair was always shiny and perfect. She smiled and people smiled back. Oh, and she smelled even better then Eliza Mayfield. I just wanted her to smile at me. I had disgusted her now. I deserved all her punishments. Poppa had said she was good when he met her, he had told God she was good and for her to give me guidance.

Over and over this night she had caught me being bad. I hadn’t started out this night wanting to be bad. Tonight I had watch her come into the room late as she usually was, and I had snuck glances at her as she changed from her shorts and blouse to her sleep shirt. She didn’t even pay attention to me. I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t worth noticing. She was perfect.. She had such a beautiful body. Long legs that she showed every day in shorts or skirts, perfect skin, and tonight between taking off her blouse, and bra and before she had put on her sleep shirt, she had turned toward me, I had quick closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, but even with my eyes closed I could still see the vision of her… of her gently curved stomach, her belly button with a little gold ring in it, and breasts so perfectly shaped, even Eliza would be jealous. I waited and waited and when she was all quiet and I was sure Miss Natalie was sleeping I just couldn’t help myself. That spot where the board had pressed just seemed to take over. It was everything suddenly and it felt so good to rub and rub and rub.

All that Miss Natalie had said to me tonight was true. I was a horrible, disgusting, naughty girl. I was bad, wicked, a slut with no control at all. But I just seemed to feel everything, physically. The lightest touch, the smallest pain, all was so much to me, my body seemed to take everything and amplify it. When she held me close for those few brief but wonderful moments my head spun and I felt almost faint. I didn’t mean to rub myself against her, but my body just seemed to do it anyway. When she had spanked me over her knee, I just wanted to be close to her, closer and closer to her. And then, she tied me here and made me ache, and ache, it was all punishment I deserved. But my hands, I just thought if I could make it hurt a little more there at my breasts, if I could just make the ache more between my legs it would some how stop, and so again I touched where only bad girls touch. And now I was bound, gagged with my own underwear and Miss Natalie was just finishing shaving my private shameful slut hole as she kept calling it. And I knew she is right. That must be the word it, for me, because only a girl who was a bad as me would do these things. I deserved anything she wanted to do to me.

“There now, you look just like a little girl down there. Well a bad little girl, but it’s a start.” Miss Natalie said as she wiped me clean with my own discarded nightgown. “We won’t need this anymore.” She said tossing it into the trash in the corner of the room. I was so exposed, so very bare. I could feel the air on me now, even that made my slut hole ache. Yes, that is what I would call it now too, as Miss Natalie was so right with that name. Even just now I had pushed up my hips again as she had wiped me, I couldn’t help myself. All that touching she did while shaving me left me trembling, needing something still I could barely even think about. I just knew I need more and more from her. I just wanted to be good for Miss Natalie. I just wanted her to smile at me. “I am going to leave you like this while I get some sleep. I don’t have a class until the afternoon, so you can just stay this way until I am ready to get up. You have interrupted enough of my sleep with your wicked ways.” I knew she was right. I deserved to stay just this way because she said so.

Then Miss Natalie turned off my desk light, the one that had been pointing at my slut hole during all this. She got into her own bed and left me, tied, hands and feet to the top and bottom of my bed. My breasts still burning with that cream, oh they ached so. My own underwear with the word SLUT written in black marker pushed into my mouth, my hips pushed up by the pillow Miss Natalie had put under them so that in the moon light that streamed in from the window I could see my now bare and still desperate slut hole. She had been so right to do all of this to me, I needed her to teach me to be good. If only I could make her happy, be good for her. I began to cry again, as quiet as I could. From across the room I heard Miss Natalie sigh in her sleep. I was sure she was having decent, pure dreams. She was so good, I was so bad. Yes, if only I could be good like her, if only she would punish me enough to make that happen, was my last thought as I too fell asleep.

To be continued...

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

The Tipping of a Roommate - Chapter 4

Read Chapter 1
Read Chapter 2
Read Chapter 3

Chapter 4

My arousal was so high by this time. I ached to touch my own pussy, well really I ached to have her touch it, but that would come in time. Treating this sweet, almost innocent girl in such a twisted way was so erotic. But really, she did need me. She needed me to give her the pleasure her body obviously craved. She needed me to show her all sorts of naughty delights. She really could stop me at any time. She could tell. But she would have to live with the consequences. And I knew even in just this short bit of time she so preferred my “punishment” to her fathers. And I would make sure there was pleasure with all the pain she would take for me. It would just take a bit of my brand of control. Yes, I was messing with her mind, but the girl got into college, she wasn’t an idiot. She was just a shy, home schooled, religious soaked mind waiting for me to show her a new path. Yes, this all had me absolutely beyond horny, but it would do no good for her to catch me being… bad. I got up from my bed deciding it was time to head to the bathroom. It would be empty at this time of night and I would only require a few minutes of privacy to find one, two… maybe three orgasms to relieve the building need using and abusing Becca had caused in my own body. Besides, a little alone time might be just what my slut needed.

I went to her and put my hands tight around her wrists and leaned down, my mouth right next to her ear. I spoke soft, with my sweet sexy voice, the one that made the religious studies boy beg me to whip him. “I know you are a naughty, dirty girl Becca. I know you are wicked and want to touch yourself.” I squeezed her wrists; I wanted her to be aware of her hands when I left, just as the arousal cream I had rubbed into her was surely making her aware of her pussy. “I know it is so hard for you not to touch, not to rub and rub and rub, not to make those aching breasts and your burning slut hole feel better.” There that should put some nice dirty thoughts into her mind. “I am going to be out of the room for a while, but I know you will bare all of this without touching that place that is so hot, so needy, so wanting your hand and your fingers to relieve all its misery.” I reached down and undid one and then the other clamp from her pussy lips. I heard her moan as I cupped her pussy with my hand and squeezed tight. “This is a place that aches because you are bad. It is wet and swollen and full of all your terribly naughty desires. You are a wicked, wicked girl and all this wetness is how I know.” I slipped my fingers in-between her lips and squeezed her clit for the second time tonight, she moaned again, I so needed to get to the bathroom. This all would leave her in a perfect state for being alone, legs spread wide, pussy pushed up by that pillow under her hips and exposed by the hole I had cut in her panties, and her arms perfectly free.

I thought she might need one last thing though to make sure she did as I wanted while I was out of the room. I took her hands and moved them from above her head to her stomach. She was perfectly pliable; let me do so with no protest. I put one on each side of her belly button, fingers splayed wide all pointed down to that hole in her panties. Her breath began to grow faster, near to panting now. I smiled down to her as she looked up at me, she was so lost. Her desire and passion was at a near boiling point. I took my fingers that had just moments earlier been between her lips and gently touched her lips with them while saying, “Give me a kiss now to show how happy you are I’m helping to make you a good girl.” As she kissed them I ran my fingers lightly across them fully and I knew now her lips were coated with her own pungent juices. I knew that she could now smell her own arousal even if she didn’t know exactly what it was she was inhaling. And when she bit her lip again, I was sure she would taste herself as well.

I moved my fingers away from her mouth she said, “Yes, Miss Natalie.”

I turned and left her then. I needed to get some privacy, now. I made my way to the communal bathroom on our hallway and slipped into a stall. It only took me a few minutes to achieve my first orgasm, but I knew little Becca would need a bit more time than that for the need to touch to be greater then her fear of getting caught. The longer I stayed her the more likely it was she would do what I had set her up for. For her to fail at being a good girl and be the naughty, nasty slut I wanted her to be. Not that I really thought touching a pussy was naughty or nasty as I sat her with my fingers teasing my own clit perfectly. But for Becca to get caught doing what Poppa Turner said was bad twice in one night would be perfect for my plans. Her shame and guilt would be wonderful for the next moves in my game. I enjoyed myself there in quiet of the very early morning for about fifteen minutes more and then thought that should be just right. Before I left the bathroom I opened my bathroom locker and pulled out the small basket that held my shower sundries. I found it quite difficult not to skip merrily back to our room, so excited at what I was certain I would find.

Standing at our door I took a deep breath and counted to ten. I needed to be stern and outraged, not hot and bothered. One more deep breath and I opened the door. Oh, it was so difficult not to smile at what I saw there.

The only light on in the room was the desk lamp turned and focused on Becca’s thrust in the air cunt. She hadn’t even heard me open the door; her eyes were again squeezed tightly shut. I could see her pulling against the ropes that bound her legs to the posts of her bed. One hand was at her breast squeezing and pulling at her inflamed nipple, sports cream was truly a devious sex toy. I wondered if this was the first time she had thought to make them hurt with her own hands? Had I taught her that when I had twisted and pulled at them earlier when lecturing her about her sins? But her other hand, that was the one I had counted on. She was rubbing her clit furiously as her hips bounced on that pillow under them that kept her pussy forced up and on display.

I grabbed a wooden ruler from my desk and the piece of rope I had laid on my bed earlier when I had gotten the two for her legs out of my box of sex toys. She was so lost to her own lust she still hadn’t heard me. I went and stood next to her bed and raised my hand with the ruler. I brought it down with all my strength, a loud smack rang out in the room as I connected to the softest flesh there on her spread open inner thigh.

Both her hands flew to her mouth, as she started to scream. Startled or in pain I didn’t care which, I was just pleased I didn’t need to cover her mouth myself, I hadn’t thought of a gag. This moving of her hands though left her pussy very exposed and I took advantage immediately. I raised the ruler again and brought it down right at this most delicate spot. Once, then twice, then three times. She couldn’t escape me, the pillow under her hips and the ties binding her ankles made sure of that. And not once did she try to protect herself as I struck. I said nothing as I hit her. After two more strikes to her wet pussy I gave five hits to each breast with my ruler, top, bottom, sides and lastly each nipple. I laid the ruler on her stomach while admiring the perfectly beautiful marks raising on her breasts. I then took the rope and grabbing her hands that she still held tight over her mouth I quickly bound them together and then tied that to the top of her bed pulling them very tight. I grabbed my scissors again and proceeded to cut the panties and the tank top earlier cut open from her body. She was now laying there fully exposed and fully at my mercy. It had only taken two hours.

She started to talk, to offer her sobbing apologies again. I took the ruined panties and pushed them into her mouth. I didn’t need to hear her. I knew everything she wanted to tell me. Picking up my basket that held my shower supplies I thought now was the perfect time to take care of all that straggly hair covering what I was sure ached almost unbearably. I knew from the way she still moan and strained, from the small thrusts of hips she still had not cum. This edge she was on would go on longer still, it along with all her fear, all her guilt and all my skill at pleasure and pain would make her mine.

I gathered my shaving cream, my scissors still laying next her, and a new razor and put them all between her spread wide legs. Poppa wanted her to be his good little girl; I could at least make sure she looked like one. And exposing her sweetness beneath would leave this slut even more aware of her cunt, I would make sure of that.

Monday, September 15, 2008

The Tipping of a Roommate - Chapter 3

Read Chapter 1
Read Chapter 2

Chapter 3

With her eyes full of tears and downcast Becca didn’t see me smile as she thanked me for punishing her. I was sure this thanking was a ritual that her father had implemented and one I very much approved of. There is something so arousing about being thanked for administering a punishment. Especially when you know that punishment is not deserved in any way. I really loved this little shy girl playing with herself. I approved fully of masturbation and self exploration. She was eighteen and on her own, of course she should play with a needy, wanting pussy. But I knew all too well what a strict father could try and instill in the psyche of young girl learning about her body. My own had tried it on me. But my will was much too strong and I soon had him wrapped around my finger tighter than he even knew. At one point before I left for college I even got him to punishing my mother for my bad behavior while I watched. That was a treat. But Becca thought her behavior was wicked and I certainly could take advantage of those thoughts and possibly get her to go even farther in exploring her body’s reactions to pleasure and pain. All under my control and guidance, so help me her father’s God.

“Your punishment isn’t over.” I said as cold as I could in reply to her thanking me for her punishment.

“But, I thought…”

“I don’t care what you think you little whore. Look at my fingers.” She looked up as I held my fingers still wet with her arousal from when I smack right at her pussy as she lay across my lap, close to her face. “That is proof of your wicked and shameful desire. Even in punishment you found unholy pleasure. Only a true slut would do so, only a whore would leak such sinful juices. I must break you of these ways of wickedness.” Her panties were pulled up fully now in response to my earlier order to cover herself. “Take your panties off.” I said. “I know what further punishment will show you that dirty place between your legs must be left alone.” I was just too wicked myself. As she hesitated I added, “Your father asked for God to guide me. Are you daring to question His will?” I wondered then as she began to remove her underwear whose will she was more afraid of, God’s, her father’s, or now mine?

When her panties were off I held out my hand and she put them into my care. I turned around and went to my desk. Taking a pair of scissors I cut a large hole in the crotch of the white cotton granny panties. Then I took a Sharpie marker and holding the material taught wrote the word SLUT in dark black just above the hole. Turning back to her I saw the fresh tears falling from her eyes. She was so very good. “Put them back on and get in bed for the night.”

As she pulled up the panties the hole I had cut allowed her fur covered pussy lips all wet and swollen to push out.

“Yes, see those panties show exactly what you are, a slut. But we together will overcome this and make you good.” Before she could lie down I pulled her to me. I held her tight, and stroked her back. She began to sob again as her face pressed to my chest. I lowered my hands and pulled her even tighter to me, she nuzzled against me so nicely. I wondered if anyone had ever held her this way. Ever so slightly I shifted my hips and turned just a bit so that my bare thigh was pressed against her exposed pussy. “Yes, little girl, cry now. It is okay.” I let my words be soft and gentle as I pressed my leg harder against her while continuing to stroke her back and hair. “Yes, there you go my girl, now you will be a good girl for me.” I pushed even more against her with my bare thigh and I felt her part her legs slightly and soon her sobs turned to the softest moans. I knew she was hardly aware of what she was doing. The sweet thing was lost in a place of punishment and a desire to be good and be loved. This feeling of control over her that she was giving to me was so very powerful.

Then, to keep her off balance, I turned the table on her again. “Oh, my God!” I exclaimed as I pushed her back onto the bed and pointed to my thigh. “Look at what you have done.” There on my smooth, tanned thigh was a smudge of dark ink and the tell-tale sign of wetness. “You are a slut. Here I try to love you, allow you be good like I am and look… now you have covered me with your disgusting filth.”

“I’m so sorry,” she cried out.

“Those panties were to be the end of your punishment. Just to be a little reminder to be good until morning, but clearly more is needed for one as wicked as you.” I went to my bed and pulled out from under it my box. She was cowering on her bed. I spoke to her with my back still to her. “Push your blanket to the floor… lay on your back… I want your feet touching the end of your bed.” After each order I paused listening for her to do as I said. Her little gasps and sobs were barely audible now as she just complied with one order after another. I turned around and gave one more order. “Put your arms above your head.”

I held in my hands two lengths of rope and the scissors from my desk. “Spread your legs. It is the rubbing of that dirty little slut hole that is causing you to ooze those sinning juices so I will make it so you can’t rub your legs together at all. I was asked by your father to guide you and this is my will.” I wanted her to desire my will above God’s and her father’s, but it would take a bit of work. But we had a long time together really, a whole school year. Who was she going to tell? Her fear of her father’s wrath left that avenue closed, she had no friends, no siblings, a mother that was as weak as she was. She was now mine, as long as I kept her thinking this was guiding her toward good and righteousness and kept her fear of her father strong. And it would be right what I got from her. I would guide her exactly where I wanted, mold her to my will and my way.

I looked down at her. “Do you need me to guide you Becca? Do you want me to turn you into a good girl?”

“Yes please,” was her reply and when I touched her ankle she moved it into my hand as trusting as she was good. I tied both her legs to the posts at the end of her small bed. I took the pillow from under her head and had her lift her hips pushing it under them. This thrust her pussy into the air. I adjusted the pillow some so it angled her pussy just perfectly. I knew she could see her lips swelling from the hole I cut; I knew she could see the word SLUT boldly written there just above that hole. I switched on the little light that sat on her desk at the end of her bed and turned it to point right at her pussy, a spotlight on her wickedness. With her legs spread wide I could see just how wet she was. I could see her inner lips glistening pink. I could see what a tight little pussy she had beneath all that hair. I could see her swollen clit, hers was rather large, like a shiny pearl just peaking out now that she was spread wide open. I left her hands untied. I had told her to put them over her head, but I really was hoping before all this was over she would again be reaching for that little swollen bud that she probably didn’t even know the name of. I went back to my box and got two tubes both with cream inside. I only let her see one.

“This is sports cream I put it on my muscles after track practice. It gets hot and stings a little,” I said removing the cap to the one in my hand, the other tube I had placed on the bed between her spread legs were I was sure she couldn’t see it. I waved the sports cream under her nose. It was strong smelling and an unmistakable odor. I took the scissors and slowly cut from bottom to top of her white cotton tank top and opened it wide exposing her soft, round breasts. She had puffy little nipples and right at that moment just the tips were hard. I squeezed out a healthy amount of the cream directly onto each nipple. “I really don’t want to touch your slutty body, but this has to be done if my will is to be obeyed. You do want to obey me don’t you? You do want me to make you a good girl don’t you Becca?”

“Yes, please. Please make me good again.”

I rubbed the cream slowly in expanding circles from the hard little points of nipples out and out until her breasts were each covered with a film of the quickly heating unguent. Then for good measure I put another dollop on the tip again and added a second layer to her nipple and areola. I could feel even in my fingertips as the cream began to get hotter and hotter.

“You see Becca, you are a bad girl, and these breasts with their hard slutty wanting nipples show all your excitement. Punishing them is just one step to making you a good girl.” I pinched each of her nipples cruelly, twisting slowly first one way and then the other. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. It was the same look she had when I had caught her playing with her pussy to start all this. My roommate was a slut, a pain slut. She was getting pleasure from this I was sure. I pulled them up and let the nipples escape painfully from between my tightly squeezed fingertips. “Becca, look at me.” I moved lower on the bed and to look at me she had to look past her very hard, very erect nipples and past the SLUT written on her panties and past her thrust in the air pussy. “Tell me how do your breasts feel slut?”

“They ache, they ache so much, they burn. Please.” Did she even realize she had answered to the name slut? Was the please she uttered begging for more pain or relief?

“Now, I will put the cream here on this nasty, dirty place. If you are truly a good girl who is just lost from the path of purity it will burn as if from the fires of hell just as your breasts do now, but in the morning you will be cleansed of these sins by enduring this pain.” I looked at her face as I spoke. I could see the fear there. I picked up the other tube from between her legs without her seeing, laying the sports cream down and wiping my fingers on the sheets. This other tube was a wonderful product. An arousal cream that produced the most delightful tingle as it increased the blood flow and simulated the nerve endings in the most pleasurable ways. I squeezed a bit onto my fingertips and while still looking at her I began to massage it into and around her pussy. “By morning the burning will be over and you will be a good girl.” I made little circles around and around her clit with the cream, reapplying more and more. It was only moments before she was again closing her eyes and biting her lip. And only moments more when she was pushing her hips at my hand. But I quickly finished slathering the arousal cream on her then I had one more trick for this little slut who I now knew craved pain as much as pleasure. Back to my desk for two clamps from my binders, and my tape.

“I see you straining to close your legs, to rub your naughty parts still. Aren’t you slut?” She wasn’t but she answered positively anyway. That was a good sign.

“Yes, please yes I am. I’m so dirty. I’m so wicked. Let me burn for you. I need this, please, I need you, Natalie.” As she said this I put one and then the other clamp on her pussy lips.

“Yes, you need me to make you a good girl.” I took a long strip of tape and pulled one clamp to her spread wide thigh and taped it there securely. “Yes, you need me to cleanse you of your sinning ways.” I taped the other clamp to her other thigh. “Yes, you need me to make you pure and worthy again.” I put more of the arousal cream on my hand and coated again her wet folds and as a last gesture squeezed hard her swollen clit.

“Oh, God,” was all she said.

“God wants me to help you, your father said so. If you want to be good, to be pure, your nasty, naughty parts will burn now.” I moved to her head. “I want you to be good for me. I want you to give me the control your father wanted me to have so that I can guide you. slut do you hear me?” I put my hands on either side of her head. “You will call me Miss or Miss Natalie now, as I am your guide on this path of good and it will be a sign of your respect and your acknowledgment that I am good and pure and you are a bad and naughty girl. You will do so as long as you remain the slut we both know you are right now.”

“Yes, Miss Natalie,” she said as I kissed her closed eyes.

“I care so much, and want you to be good,” I said as I kissed her cheeks that were wet with her tears. “I want you to burn for me now so that I can love you.” I kissed her mouth gently and delighted in the moan that she offered as I did. This little girl craved so much, pain, pleasure, love, all of it I would give to her, but on my terms.

Then I left her suddenly. Left her tied there spread wide, with breasts that ached with burning sports cream, and a pussy thrust in the air lewdly displayed with what I would make of her, my SLUT, and her swollen wet lips clamped and pulled cruelly apart. And that wickedly pleasurable cream that she thought would burn to cleanse her sins, but that I knew would soon make her ache in a much more devious way. What would go on in her poor little mixed up head when the burning she thought she needed, thought she deserved, was really a pleasure? Oh, the perceived sins would just grow and grow and she would seek or have forced upon her Miss Natalie’s guidance to cleanse her, again and again. I went back to my bed, pushed back the curtain as I lay down and watched her, watched and waited for the inevitable.

To be continued...

The Tipping of a Roommate - Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“Becca, oh my good Lord! What are you doing?” I exclaimed with my best imitation of shock. “You are touching your most private, dirty parts! How wicked you are, just as your father said.”

“Oh, no. Please Natalie, I just couldn't help my self,” she whispered. “Please don't tell my father.”

“You’re really a nasty little girl. I can't believe I have been rooming with someone so vile.” Oh, if only she knew of the extensive toy box under my bed. No simple fingers for me and my greedy pussy. “I really will have to tell the Floor Captain I mean I can't room with someone so... so... slutty.” She shrunk back in her bed as if I had struck her.

“Please no, please don't. They'll contact my father. He’ll find out I've been bad again. I do try so very hard, but it just feels,” she paused then, her lips trembling, her eyes filling with tears. I do so love tears. “Please, I’m so very bad. Father has mother punish me while he preaches and cleanses my soul. But, I thought here...” Again she stopped talking and the tears began to spill down her cheeks. I didn’t really care what she thought, but I knew what I was thinking. Punishment. It had been a while since I had punished someone. And little pale Becca certainly looked like she needed it. That and so much more. I wondered what would tip her over the edge? How far I could get this budding woman to go in my dark games with the conditioning her overzealous father had obviously given her?

“Tell me… tell me Becca. What does your father have your mother do to punish you? I mean obviously it hasn’t worked. I was raised a good and proper girl and really shouldn't have to tolerate such wanton and disgusting behavior.” I was still standing, towering over her as she cringed there in the bed. Her nightgown was still bunched at her hips but she was trying to pull up her panties. I slapped at her hand. “No, answer my question. You can keep that all exposed while you do so we both remember what a horribly disgusting girl you are.” And more tears began to spill, oh delicious.

“Momma, lifts up my dress or nightgown,” she began her voice so soft I almost chuckled.

“Speak up. I am tried of straining to hear you.”

“Momma, lifts up my dress,” she said again, just slightly louder, “and has me bend over the chair and then Poppa begins. Poppa quotes scripture that I repeat while Momma....” She began to sob again at this point.

“So they punish you when you are bad. And are you a nasty, bad girl often?”

“No,” she sobbed. “Not often.” Her little trembling bottom lip was beyond enticing. “Please Natalie don't tell on me. I will be good from now on I promise.”

“No, I have to tell, I mean you might corrupt me with your wicked ways if I don't.”

“Oh, no, please I will do anything you want. Please, I deserve to be punished. Please Natalie.”

Ah, and there it was. That didn't take too long. “Well, I do suppose, being the good girl here I could take control of you. I remember your father asking God for me to guide you.” And I so love control such guidance would give to me. “Show me the position you get in for your Momma and I’ll consider it. But don't think I’ll be easy on you. I’m not your Momma to be easy on you.”

Becca got out of bed her chest heaving from her sobs, her panties still at her knees. She hadn't tried again to pull them up since I had slapped at her hand and told her no. This bit of obeying boded well. She shuffled to my desk chair and bent over the back of it. Her head hung down and with both her hands she grabbed the seat. As she had gotten into position her night gown had slipped back down and covered her fully again. God I hated that ugly bit of worn flannel.

“Take off your night gown. I don't want to have to hold it up. And I don't think over the chair is going to work for me.” She looked up at me confused. “Take off your night gown right now or I go and get the Floor Captain and tell him what a disgusting whore I have for a roommate.” This threat did the trick and with exquisite hesitation she stood and raised her nightgown over her head. Under that she had a little white tank top and her panties still around her knees. She stood there looking very unsure. But I noticed that her little nipples were hard there through that thin tank she wore. That was interesting. “No, over the chair won't be good for me. Come here. Here, over my lap, like the naughty little girl you are.” I had sat down on her bed and patted my thigh. My sleep shirt barely covered my own ass and sitting down all of my leg was fully exposed. As she moved she started to reach down to tug at her panties still around her knees. “No, I said, 'leave them down.'” I scolded as she walked toward me and she let go quickly. Yes, she obeyed very, very well.

“Please Natalie,” she begged as she stood in front of me. I simply patted my leg, not caring if she was begging for mercy or begging for the punishment.

“You are a horribly nasty, dirty girl Becca. You violated all that is good and decent and exposed me to your wickedness. You deserve to be punished and since you offended me I deserve to be the one to cleanse you.” As I spoke she laid herself across my lap. I placed my hand on her smooth white ass loving the soft pliable feel of her skin. I reached down a bit and pushed her knees farther apart so that the panties strained at her knees. She didn't even hesitate to open her legs for me. I felt the tickle of her dark, coarse bush against my thigh. Oh, that was going to need to be dealt with too, in time. As I raised my hand to deliver the first blow the beginning of a plan began to form in my mind. As the welts began to show on her ass from just that first strike she started to lift up from me, I knew I could hit very hard, and I think this caught her unaware. Her momma probably hardly hurt her at all during her punishments at home. I laid my other arm hard across her back holding her down and raised my hand again to hit her bottom again and again, and again. I was merciless as I punished this shy, quiet good little girl. I covered her ass with welts from my hand across her buttocks then moved lower to where ass meets thigh as I knew these smacks would be felt there on her just ever so slightly exposed pussy. One, then two, then three and then I felt her begin to squirm, not away from me but closer, tighter to my leg. I felt her pushing her little pussy up against my thigh. I smiled at that. And knew her poppa had begun something with these punishment that had made her just the kind of girl who needed me to train her to be a very good girl for me. Four and five hits there and then the last I laid right between her spread thighs my hand striking right at her pussy. And as I pulled my hand away I saw the moisture there on my fingertips. Yes, very interesting indeed.

With no ceremony at all I pushed her from my lap and she tumbled to the floor. She fell on all fours with her panties still at her knees. Knees which she still kept spread as wide as I had opened them when she was on my lap. Her face she buried to the floor hair and hands covering it but she made no effort to cover her exposed bottom and I saw even in the dim light of our room it was now beautiful shades of pink and red.

“Cover yourself,” I said simply.

“Thank you, Natalie,” she whispered as she stood and pulled up her panties. “Thank you for punishing me for my wickedness.” Her head was bowed, her eyes to the floor.

To be continued...

Sunday, September 14, 2008

The Tipping of a Roommate - Chapter 1

I knelt on the yoga mat my knees shoulder width apart, thighs tensed, my breath coming in small sighs. I wore loose shorts, a t-shirt that showed U of A across my chest and a ornate rosary wrapped around my neck. Not that I cared much about religion, but I had taken it from the desk of the religious studies sophomore I met last night. I had slipped from his room at 3 a.m. and had left him whimpering on his bed the marks on his back this time from my hand holding his own whip. It hadn't taken me long to get him to open up about his love to self flagellate. But really I could do such a better job of cleansing him of his sins with the pain he desired after I made sure he had committed some decidedly naughty sinning.

I knelt there with a large toy pushed deep inside my pussy vibrating so deliciously. Holding it with a strength that came from doing this particular exercises three times a week. Yes, yoga and sex, they seemed together effortlessly. I was already fit, my body was already strong and lean from being on both my high school's volleyball and track teams. It was a track scholarship to this college that allowed me to at last escape my small hometown. And I was so eager to explore all the possibilities, new adventures available here to me now. Kneeling there I felt the little orgasm ripple through my body, just a small bit of pleasure that I simply took for granted. Orgasms came to me easily which was one reason I sought out the darker and often rougher sides of sex. I reached down into my shorts and pulled the pink toy from my body, turning around I slipped it under my mattress and just as I turned back around the door to my dorm room opened. Standing there in the doorway was a large, imposing looking man. His clothes were clean, but clearly not new. He looked like a farmer dressed up to go to town.

He stepped into the room. His eyes took notice of me still there on my knees directly in front of him. I could feel his judgment upon me as he looked at me there. But then, suddenly there was the smallest shift in his demeanor and I knew somehow I had passed this silent inspection.

“We are sorry, to interrupt your prayers,” he said to me.

Ah, so that was it, me on my knees, the rosary, my head bowed from the exertion of the exercises I had just finished, I have always loved those who make incorrect assumptions about me and this man thought I was innocently praying. Well in a way I was, just to my own gods of pleasure and desire. But I will admit I do tend to look sweet and innocent to those who don't know me. Long straight blond hair, pale skin that lends itself toward freckles across my nose and cheeks, and a slim strong body from years of sports. I was very girl sweet and nice next door.

As I rose to my feet I watched as from behind him two women, one old and worn, one young and clearly shy slipped into my room. Neither said anything, and both held their heads and eyes downcast.

“Becca come introduce yourself to this good young woman,” he ordered in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

“Hello, I am Rebecca Turner,” the girl said softly while holding out her hand to me. Here dirty light brown hair fell forward over her puffy little face. She was a small girl, but slightly overweight, just a bit but the extra weight made her seem soft all over.

“And this is my wife, Margerie.” The man put a hand behind the other woman's back and propelled her toward me. She too shook my hand but never really looked up at me. Then he said to me, “I see you are a good Christian girl. That is very pleasing. We were worried about what kind of girl our Becca would be put with.” And he gave a nod in the girl's direction.

I didn't correct his misconception of my religious leanings. Clearly it would be better if these people thought I was what they wanted me to be.

“We will be going to Africa on missionary work now that Becca is to be settled here. We have been wanting to spread the faith to the heathens for many years, but never wanted to expose our girl to their ways,” he said, then turned to his daughter again. “Get your bag and get settled. We don't have much time.” She scurried out the door at his order and was quickly back with one large duffel bag. Becca's father reached into the bag and pulled out a large worn bible that had obviously been put on top. He placed it on the bed and then grabbed both their hands pull them down to their knees with him as he knelt there next to her bed. He turned to me and said, “Will you pray with us?” I smiled and knelt again on my little mat. I could play this game, often enough back home I would sit quietly in church only really waiting to meet Billy Peters the preacher's son in the woods for a bit of tickle and tease.

I knelt through Mr. Turner's long winded prayer about watching out for his daughter's soul while they spent the next four years in the wilds of Africa. I knelt while he went on about giving me strength to help guide their daughter in the proper behavior of a good Christian girl. I knelt while he spoke of keeping her past wicked ways from her mind and body. I perked up a bit at this bit of interesting tease. But he was quickly droning on more about having their journey be safe. Many long and boring minutes later we again stood and with very little affection to their daughter Mr. Turner led Mrs. Turner out the door and they were gone.

“Well, I already took this bed, so you can have that one.” I said to her and she just nodded and began unpacking. I tried a bit of small talk. But my questions were answered with only yes and no whispers and after just a few minutes I was bored with it all and decided to go see who was hanging out down in the quad.

For the next week we only really said hello and goodbye in passing. Well, I think this is what she was saying, as her verbalizing to me was barely audible. We each started classes and soon I was going out with new friends, she stayed in and studied and studied. Then a week and half in to our first meeting I heard more then a hello,goodbye, or a yes and no, I heard a moan.

It was almost to two in the morning. I was still awake, reading in bed with a little book light. I had set a little curtain around my own bed so I was certain she couldn't tell if I was up or not. When I came in earlier I realized I had to get some studying done if I was going to keep up my grades and keep my scholarship. Laying there reading I heard what almost sounded like a small animal mewling from across the room. I smiled to myself and thought this might be that wickedness that Mr. Turner was talking about in his prayer. This timid little thing was having some fun on her side of the room. I got up and went and stood over her, I was never shy about this sort of naughtiness. She was laying there with her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and biting her bottom lip.

“Becca, dear are you okay? You sound as if you are in pain.” I shook her shoulder none to gently and her eyes flew open, clearly panicked. “Let me see dear, are you sick? Is your stomach upset?” And I tossed back her blanket. I knew exactly what I would find, but I did want to see where this particular wickedness might lead. There under the scant privacy of her blanket her ugly flannel nightgown was wadded up around her hips and her awful granny panties were pushed down at her knees and her little plump hand was buried deep in the fur covered folds of her pussy. Oh, this girl needed to trim up this mess of a pussy.

To be continued...

Friday, September 12, 2008

Marked for Honey

I like to give marie little things to do during her work day. Things that can be easily accomplished while she goes about her vanilla life that remind her she is my naughty slutty girl. Her instructions for this day were simple... write H O N E Y in five seperate places on her body at five seperate times during her work day, two of them had to be visible. Wrist, breast, ankle, palm, belly... so cute... such a good girl for me.
To read more about marie and all the wonderfully sexy, naughtiness we share visit her blog -

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Just One Kiss

I had always flirted with her, but somehow the past three weeks the flirting had risen to a new level. She was enticingly receptive. She seemed to be finding excuses to speak to me, or to come to my office. She had offered enough innuendo today alone for the dimmest of men to take notice, and I was not usually dim when it came to beautiful women and flirting.

She looked great when I first saw her at the office today. It had been early this morning by the coffeepot. She was dressed casual as usual, she hated power suits and high heels. She literally took my breath away. She had on a short linen skirt, a sweater and strappy little sandals. The sweater was a soft little-girl pink and just a bit fuzzy. Truly inviting touch, no begging for it really. The low scoop neckline enhanced the gentle swell of her breasts. She was wearing a terrific bra as well. I had caught a brief, tempting glimpse of the lace confection as she had bent over to get the sugar from the cupboard underneath the counter. The straps of it were a dark green silk, contrasting beautifully with her fair, creamy skin. She had nearly spilled out of the little demi-cups as she had leaned over towards me. God, how I wanted to stroke each of her beautiful breasts, to caress each perfect mound, to feel the warm weight of them in my hands. I wanted to take them, one at a time into my mouth, surrounding each pert little nipple with my tongue, suckling them until they grew hard with passion.

I yearned to taste her, kiss her, feel all of her. She had teased me later that morning. “What do you want?” she had asked, sounding almost innocent. I had laughed, figuring that was the safest thing considering what I actually had on my mind. “Now that isn’t an answer. You’ll never get what you want if you don’t ask for it,” she had said almost lightly.

“Much too dangerous to say the words,” I had replied.

Now we were here, alone. She was working late. I was finishing up some paperwork for an out-of-town job. Then my phone rang, could I come into her office and straighten out a problem with the timecards.

“You never answered my question this morning,” she said suddenly there in her office, taking me by surprise. “What do you want?”

“We can’t, you said so yourself.”

“I know, but tell me anyway. I want to hear the words.” She moved to the front of her desk, hopping up on the edge. I could smell her perfume sweet and luscious. Her scent wrapped around me caressing and teasing me. Her long slim legs were bare. She seldom wore stockings and I longed to stroke the smooth expanse of each. I knew she would be soft as silk.

“Please, you made the rules,” was my half-hearted plea.

“All right, I’ll tell you what I want then.” She wiggled back a bit farther on her desk causing her skirt to ride up higher on her legs. “A kiss, just one little kiss. I want to feel your hands on either side of my head. Your fingers tangled in my hair as you pull me closer. I want to see the anticipation in your eyes the moment before your lips touch mine. To feel all the longing you have for me as you open your mouth upon mine. I want to struggle with the passion as your tongue sweeps inside and you claim me as your own if only for a single moment.” She was leaning forward now. “Couldn’t I... have just one kiss?”

I could feel myself growing hard from just her words. Why shouldn’t I grant her request? It seemed simple enough, just one kiss. I stood then, almost involuntarily, and moved in front of her settling myself between her silky smooth legs. I was so close to her now. I had crossed that invisible boundary that marked personal space. She reached out to me, then held herself in check. Her long tapered fingers lingering just over my face. Then she touched me and I felt suddenly as if I had been burned. With the lightest of strokes she moved her fingertips over my face, tracing the outline of my features. As her fingers paused upon my lips I moved the tip of my tongue out tasting her, inviting more. She gasped with surprise, then smiled with pleasure.

I was undone. I gave in then and did as she had asked. My large, rough hands went to either side of her head. My fingers tangled into the riot of auburn curls that framed her delicate face. I pulled her to me. She licked her sweet, lush lips with obvious anticipation of our mouths meeting. My world was spinning crazily. The power of allowing myself this single kiss was intoxicating. The tightening inside me was making it near impossible to breathe. My heart was pounding hard. I was sure she could hear it. My legs were suddenly weak and I leaned against her and the desk a little more.

“Just one kiss. I promise,” she whispered a moment before I closed my mouth over hers. Was it really a promise? A warning? Or something else even more, that tiny, powerful little phrase, ‘Just one kiss.’

We were a perfect fit. She returned my kiss with a passion so strong I thought I might go mad. I had never before thought my life so boring that a single kiss would send me tumbling into such an abyss of desire. Could I, would I, ever be the same again?

She wrapped her arms around me, and ran her hands slowly, deliberately down the length of my back. Time stood nearly still as my heart missed several beats. If I stopped now and moved away from her this one kiss would be over. So I didn’t. Just one kiss, just one, I repeated the mantra inside my head. Again I wondered, was this a promise to myself, or was it still a warning? I was not sure.

I pushed the clutter from her desk with a sweep of one arm; papers, folders and office supplies all crashed to the floor, as I laid her back onto the cleared space. I allowed myself to touch her and she made no protest. Was this against our own self-imposed rules? Her tight sweater was so very soft against my callused palm as I stroked her exquisite body. I felt as if I was back in high school. Was that part of the allure? This taking of what was forbidden? Just one kiss, just one, the mantra was quickly fading, losing to the chaos of sensations that were flooding my mind.

“Please, a little more,” came her plea. I raised my head and looked down at her. Her beautiful lips were full and wet, swollen from our passion. Her hair was spread out; a wild tangled halo about her head. Not only with her words, but with her eyes, no; more with her whole body, she begged for more. Then I knew, it was too late. I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. There was no other place, no other time than right here, right now. My world continued to spin crazily around this single moment. My mind was clouded to everything else. No responsibilities, no others, nothing but this.

The buttons on her sweater unfastened all too easily. Her bra was covered with delicate little lace flowers. I kissed the swell of her, above the cup. She was sweet as honey. Her skin drove me wild, smooth, fragrant... perfection. Unfastening the hook in front I took one nipple at a time, gently nibbling and suckling on each, until they stood up rock hard from my attentions.

She reached down and slowly lowered the zipper on my slacks. She stroked and teased the ultra-sensitive skin exposed there. She tugged my shirt up over my head, then raked her fingernails down my chest leaving small trails of stinging pleasure. I went down on my knees then, tugging her to the edge of the desk, causing her skirt to ride up even higher, rewarding me with a flash of black silk panties. The contrast of that midnight black against her slim white thighs and hips was too much. I pushed her skirt up higher, up around her waist and gently blew against the hot crease there at the junction of her thighs. She moaned and reached for me as I used my teeth to tug away the thin strip of fabric that covered her treasures. Soon I had her divested of that wispy bit of silk. Her glossy little curls tickled my face as I teased her unmercifully. She had thrown her arm across her eyes, as her moans and cries grew louder. I slipped one finger between the soft petals of her and pushed smoothly inside, while taking that most precious little button into my mouth; licking, nibbling, sucking, devouring her. Her hips rose up off of the hard wood as she screamed out her pleasure.

I stood again and placed myself against her. My cock was so rigid, swollen, so very ready to slip into the hot wetness of her. She wrapped her long slim legs firmly about my waist as I entered her.

“Please, please, please!” Came her plea again and again.

I lifted her up, fitting her whole body against mine. She kept her legs wrapped tight around me as we began a rhythm as old as time. When it came, it came for both of us, wave upon wave of white-hot pleasure. She cried out my name, as I called hers, then she tore her nails across my back leaving multiple trails of crimson desire burning across its expanse.

When finally it was over I lay her back on the desk not allowing myself to pull out of her. I covered her passion slicked body with mine. We stayed that way for some time as our desire-clouded world slowed its insane spinning. Finally I raised up. Looking down at her a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. She returned the small smile then reached for my head, as I had hers earlier. With both hands she pulled my mouth down to hers.

“Just one kiss,” she said softly before giving me the sweetest, most tender of kisses.

We stood finally, many minutes later. I pulled up my pants, she pulled down her skirt, I pulled on my shirt, and she rebuttoned her sweater. Then she asked, “Well, where do we go from here?”

Reaching out to caress her one last time I said, “I’ll stop at the grocery store and pick up what we need for dinner. You go to the babysitter’s and get the boys.”

“Oh, very well,” she pouted sweetly.

With a shake of my head I then added, “And next time you want to play this sort of game, I am not waiting three weeks.” I kissed her again then and laughed, “Just one kiss... sure.”

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Sugasm #145

This week's Sugasms... I submitted In the Early Morning Darkness

About Sugasm - The Sugasm is an easy way for sex-bloggers to promote their work. Each week participants review their blog and submit their favorite post. We distribute a list of links to all the posts and give our bloggers a chance to vote for their favorites. We publish the results and each blogger re-posts the list to their blog.

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 #146? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, re-post the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Being Civil
“They couldn’t understand what the appeal of a civil union was for us.”

Clandestine Rendezvous
“He turned around to kiss me and I melted.”

Hotel Sex
“The excitement is too much for both of us”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank
Editor’s Choice
You Can’t Make This Shit Up, Part 2

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

This Belongs to Me

When someone offers you the gift of themselves. When they give to you their submission, it is truely a beautiful thing. marie and I have grown close over the past months of sharing, of Domination and submission. She has given to me control over her pretty and very naughty little pussy. What a lovely gift is that... :)

So this is marie's pussy that belongs to me, it is now Honey's Pussy as you can plainly see.