Blog - Page 9 of 12 - Expressions on E
Today has been quite the prolific one. With a little inspiration, I wrote the beginnings of scenarios taking place over the course of a day. These sexual interludes are a first for me, mostly because the short is in present-tense (you know how hard that can be at times) and it is written from a male perspective. Since I have the glaring lack of a penis, that is a bit of a toughie for me. Well… you tell me what you think. I left things unsettled at the end of each because it’s meant to entice your imagination…. what happens next? You fill in the blanks!
Out of the depths of sleep, I feel the brush of fingertips on the head of my cock, tentatively testing the waters. She doesn’t realize I’m awake, blissfully unaware of my consciousness. My eyes remain closed as she gains some more confidence by disappearing beneath the covers. Moments later, her tongue plays a more than adequate replacement, her mouth impatiently engulfing my plum tip. Morning wood is ever reliable and burgeoning, my dick throbbing with her skillful attention, the quiet of the morning disturbed only by her slurps and pleasurable moans. I can imagine how wet she is getting with my dick more than halfway down her throat. I reach beneath the sheets to grip the nape of her neck in encouragement, and she responds in kind, her chuckles reverberating wickedly against my cock. Her arm wraps around my angled right leg, fingertips digging in deep. I groan aloud at the pleasure-pain sensation, bucking up into her mouth unconsciously. She pulls free of my throbbing cock for a moment’s breath, snaking up to the edge of the blanket.
“Good morning…” she croons, pressing a soft kiss to my chest. I smile at her simple greeting, pressing a fingertip to her lush lips.
She is standing in the middle of the busy thoroughfare waiting for me, oblivious of my impending approach. From the distance, I gaze at her, amazed that she was mine, ready and waiting to be taken. She is dressed just the way I wanted to see her today. Her normally short hair is concealed by long, dark locks that befits her form. A hint of her round ass peeks from the edge of the too-short miniskirt and her generous breasts are bound tightly by her poker-hot red corset, chocolatey mounds begging to be touched. She turns, finally noticing me and smiles brilliantly. My cock is already hard, aching to be freed from the constraint of my pants. She looks down at my tented crotch, and her smile widens. We mutually approach and she presses her voluptuous figure against mine, reaching between us to stroke my dick through my pants.
“Hey…” she breathes, pressing her lips to the corner of my mouth, wrapping an arm around my neck.
Words have no chance to form as I pull her up to taste her lips. She grips my head, pulling me closer, as my tongue duels with hers, my arms snaking around her waist. I edge downward to anchor her crotch to mine, gripping her ass in my hands.
I shift to my lips to her ear and whisper, “I need to fuck you, right now…” I return to her lips and hear her moan of assent.
My office is right upstairs…
I sit outside on the porch, looking out at the colorful sunset in the distance. The scents of deftly cooked steak call to me from the kitchen. I can hear the clashing of utensils and her faint shout out to me: “I’ll be right out…”. I close my eyes for a brief moment, envisioning her in her sexy, frilly underwear, her full breasts unconcealed, holding a steak plate in one hand and a ice cold beer in the other…
“Dinner is served,” she says softly from behind me. I turn to glance at her and she is completely devoid of clothing, her neatly trimmed mound and perky breasts winking at me. She places a generous plating of skirt steak and provisions in front of me, but my appetite was on the meal in front of my eyes. She smiles knowingly, placing the frosty cold mug of beer in front of me.
Saucily, she turns to give me a view of her round ass, then sits down in the seat across from me. As she crosses her long legs, I notice the sexy patent leather 4″ heels she was rocking.
“Thanks,” I finally say, my eyes smiling at her. Somewhat belatedly, I ask with a crook of an eyebrow, “Nothing for you?”
She crooks her head in that cute schoolgirl sort of way. “I figured you would feed me,” she responds, her voice husky. Minx, I think to myself. She baits me so well…
I reach for her hand, urging her to come close. Instead of moving her chair, she lowers to her knees, her hands resting on my thigh, head upturned to look at me.
“Open your mouth…” I take a piece of sliced steak and dangle it over her lips, meat juices dripping onto her lips and chin. “Close your eyes. I want you to taste it…”
With her eyes closed, I unzip my pants with my free hand to release my already hard cock to the open air. Her tongue darted out for more juice to savor.
“Gimme a lil bit of that tongue…” I say in a whisper, resting the meat on the tip of her tongue. She wants to engulf it, but I grab her chin to stop her. “Not yet. Have some of this first.” I place the tip of my cock against her lips, rubbing the steak flavor all over me. I slip inside her mouth and eagerly, she wraps her hand around my girth, enveloping me in her warmth.
I take the piece of meat in my hand and pop it into my mouth, watching with admiring eyes as she worships my cock…
The cool night air wafts through the room as I tread nude from the bathroom. The warm shower ill prepares me for the tightening of my skin into goosebumps. I walk barefoot into the bedroom to find her already asleep, spread eagle across the bed. Her clean womanly scent calls to me, my nose already picking up the scent of her arousal from her solo session. I feel my body heat rising, blood drifting low into my groin as my dick begins to harden. Unconsciously, I grab my cock and absentmindedly stroke it, my gaze drifting from her beautiful face to her more-than-handful breasts. They are taut in the cool air of the room; I long to take those nipples into my mouth, to play with them until she squirms and begs me to stop.
My cock stroking intensifies, the thickness filling me to bursting. I look lower to her womanly hips, the ones I love to grab as I fuck her. Her pussy is hairless and smooth, soft supple skin I want to cum all over.
I refuse to wait any longer. I kneel between her spread legs to lower my head and partake of my snack. First my tongue darts out to touch her clit; she tastes so good, still so wet, my whole head delves headlong into the feast. Immediately, she awakens with a startled cry, arching upward as I relentlessly ravish her.
“Oh my God…” she exclaims breathlessly, holding my head to her throbbing pussy. She jerks uncontrollably at the frenzy, bucking against my chin. I lose myself in her arousal, my heartbeat racing. Her thighs are held captive by my arms and I refuse to let her free. She begs me in unintelligible words to release her, and that is just the goal. I want her to explode. My dick is now beyond hard, dying to plow into her, but I try hard to be patient.
“No no no… Stop! You have to stop! I’m gonna die,” she pleads in a rush. I give her a moments reprieve to look up at her. Sweat drips off her face, her eyes bright and skin flushed.
And I return to my task…
In the midst of everything going on in my life, I still feel a sense of emptiness and loneliness which I stave off as best I can, focusing on other endeavors. But every once in a while, the well fills to bursting and what’s left is the stream of tears containing everything from anger to frustration. It is all that I feel but have no outlet other the written word or the emotional song. So I let it go, full force.
And when it’s over, I feel empty. Barren. Exhausted. Then I start from an emotional zero.
It has been 10 days since my last confession..
**** Do you ever feel this way? The intense emotions overtaking you but you don’t dare let anyone see or know? ****
See? I knew there was a reason I love writing romance and erotica. Every chance I get, life reminds me that my mental mesh of reality and fantasy is more fulfilling than my prior relationships. That doesn’t count for sex, of course; ain’t nothing quite like the real thing! Actually, let me amend that statement. I’ve used my prior relationships to formulate and improve on my writing. Putting it that way, I can’t entirely curse it. Damn. But it does seem like a lot of time, energy and emotions to expend just for writing kaizen.
I’m entirely too honest when it comes to stuff like this (blame the Sag stars), when I probably should temper my words. What’s the point though? If I say it plainly or portray it as a character, it comes out anyway. Damn the past. It makes you who you are now, and I’ve become something I love on most days and absolutely abhor on others. Seeing reminders of the past doesn’t help either and often feeds the flames. I try hard to keep my focus forward, not looking back, but damn it all, it is difficult at times. I say all this now because my past is creeping up on me with a vengeance, in a new context granted, but they are things I thought I’d left behind.
Can you even improve on the past? Not actual events, but the perception of that time, person or situation can be modified. Relationships are always like that, right? All kinds of great things could have happened throughout but the forefront memory is always the breakup. I don’t see any of my exes with any regularity, some aren’t even close by, but when I do see them – all of them – it’s like a microfiche reel and my mind buzzes through all my interactions with them. That’s how those things should be compartmentalized in your head. Men as microfiche. I wasn’t even thinking like that until I just said it. Hm.
If ever I get the cute idea after a long time had passed, “Oh he’s such a great guy… why don’t I date him again?”, I remember why we broke up and that idea gets dispelled into the mist. Quickly.
Remember the past, preferably the good stuff, but remember why it is the past moreso. It’ll keep making me crazy, but I’ll do my best not to let it take over.
It’s been how many days since my last confession…?
Rainy days often bring out the introspective side of me, the inquisitive part that is in constant self-analysis about who I am, where I’m going and how I feel about certain things. So this morning has me thinking about the word “omote” (?), which means surface in Japanese. It is everything that you can see, touch, hear… anything engaging the senses on the surface. I couldn’t sleep because this concept was bothering me, forcing me to think about how I show up to others. I think many see this Mika as the fun-loving sexpot, with very little in the way of worries or concerns. And for some, this is the way I would like to be known or recognized. However, when it comes to men or a potential male in relationship with me, is that the best thing? Is this a false representation? I am often prone to moments of vulnerability, things I usually deal with on my own. Certainly, we all deal with our figurative demons. I long to share that with someone, to be able to be strong and vulnerable without judgments. It is asking too much, certainly, but it is what I want. These inner voices scrape at my brain, insistent on being heard, so I allow them to be expressed in my writing. My characters often have a sense of vulnerability to them and a desire for someone to hear them and to some extent, take care of them. As a female, it is an appealing prospect.
The crux of my thought is this: I don’t believe that the “sexpot” has any longevity or possibility of an honest relationship in the long term. It is all part of what makes me who I am, but it may not be a part that best serves me or adequately represent the part of me that is the majority. It is something I am struggling with today.
As usual, I have no answers, but it is my confession for today.