Sunday Mornings

I wasn’t used to it. A living, breathing, male sleeping next to me. Taking space. Keeping me warm, making me hot, snoring.

Most men I’d ever been with left the same night or I left their place after we’d fucked. It was usually the former as I preferred having the home court advantage.

But that’s all it ever was.

Fucking.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good fuck, but I wanted someone who would make love to me for once. Someone who wouldn’t just see me as a hole(s) to be used.

We had our first date in October. The first to be exact. I wanted to make a note for anniversary cutesy shit.  I’d never been in a serious relationship, I’m not the type to celebrate one or two month anniversaries,  but if this lasted a year I wanted to remember the date.

I actually didn’t remember at first until I checked my bank statement. It was the day my roommate and I bought the couch and tables at Ikea. I remembered because we’d gone after to get pedicures and my phone had died. I rushed home to charge it to find really worried messages.  It was the night he and I saw a movie and had dinner and I gave him head in his truck.

He came quickly in my mouth. “I’m sorry, it’s been a while since someone’s done that.”

Now he spends Saturday nights and Sunday mornings with me. Some nights I’m insatiable. Some mornings I spend them with him inside me.  Some days I only crave his presence, his body close to mine. I feel safe and wanted and cared for.

He is my Daddy and I’m his Little, his Princess.

This morning I woke to his arms around me, his breath on my neck and his cock hard against my ass. I pressed against him softly rubbing my bottom on his cock. Letting him know I was awake and needing him.

“Good morning, princess,” he said as he took my nipples in his fingers. I moaned.

“Good morning, daddy,” I sigh as I grind my ass harder against him.

He kisses my neck and brings me close to the edge as he pulls, and twists, and rubs my nipples.

“I think somebody needs daddy.” He whispered in my ear.

“Yes!” I gasp as he gets me on my hands and knees, I feel him position himself behind me rubbing his cock against my wet slit.

He spreads my ass and eases his cock into me as we both moan with pleasure.  He keeps me spread as he slowly moves in and out of me.  He watches his cock stretching my tight little cunt, enjoying the sight, before grabbing my hips and pthrusting into me.

I lower myself, face down into the pillows to muffle the sounds of my early morning bliss.

I feel him deep inside me, building up speed, the way he does when he’s going to come soon,  I feel my wetness on my thighs and my own orgasm building.

My pillows blocking the random string of “fucks,” “yes,” and, “fuck yes as I feel him pounding his cum deep inside me. I came as he did.

He slides in and out of me slowing down, until he collapses on top of me, kissing my neck and shoulders. Squeezing my hands before rolling back onto his spot and I let my knees give out.

He spreads his arms and taps his chest and I curl up on him catching my breath and enjoying the feeling of his arms around me.

We have sex three more times and the last he tells me he wants to come on my face. He kneels in front of me. His cock ready for my waiting mouth. I look up at him as I take him into my mouth, gripping his ass as I lick and suck and please him.

I take his balls into my mouth as I wrap my hand around his shaft, stroking him, while I suck on each of them. He moans and shakes.

“I’m close, princess.”

I can feel his body tense up as he prepares for release. He pulls out of my mouth and starts to stroke himself as he comes on my lips, cheeks, and chin.

I look up at him, covered in his warm, sticky, come and take him back into my mouth, to lap up the last of him. He bends down to kiss me rubbing his come into my cheek.

“Such a good girl, princess.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

I look at the clock and set my alarm for an hour later as he lays next to me. His hands wandering my body. We fall back asleep.

I cannot imagine my weekends without him.

TMI Tuesday

So I’ve decided to play:

1. Have you ever had sex in the changing room of a store?

No. Is that lame? Haha. I’ve had sex outside of a concert venue though.

2. Ever blindfolded your partner for sex or have you been blindfolded during sex?

I’ve been blindfolded. It was ok.

3. Who out there likes to be tied up for sex?

*throws hands up in the air and waves*

4. Shower sex…yea or nay? Why?

Meh. I’ve never done it. Actually with my current partner, I’ve showered with a man for the first time. I liked feeling his hands on me as he soaped me up.

5. Ever done a striptease for a lover?

Nope. I enjoy being undressed, or wearing something special for when he arrives.

Bonus: What are you thinking?

That I should be sleeping. Lol.

If you want to play, here’s the link

An Awakening

I was 22 when I met him.

He followed my blog on a website that is now obsolete. It sounds silly when I say that.

I was so shy at that age when it came to men.

My first kiss happened when I was 20, at a party with a boy I had a crush on. We were drunk and dancing.

It meant nothing to him. His girlfriend was sitting on the couch laughing and clapping.

Anyway, this man, let’s call him “Mark,” he lived a few states away and he liked reading my writing.

He would comment on my posts and message me when I went too long without posting.

It wasn’t long before we were texting all day back and forth.

And it wasn’t long after that when things turned sexual.

I was a virgin.

I had no experience with men other than drunken kisses.

I would let him lead our sexts, and just reply in the way I thought he would find sexy. I’d watched porn, I read erotica, I had an imagination, I sounded experienced enough.

He asked me for a naked picture.

I was so self conscious.

I eventually sent him a picture topless. I was standing in my bathroom with my dress pulled down, bra-less and hair loose and messy.

He told me he loved my nipples– “such a pretty brown,” my skin– “such a pretty color.”

Beautiful breasts.

He was the first man to see me naked. He was the first person to watch me orgasm. The first man to enjoy how very wet I would get.

I’d send him countless photos and videos over the years. His little fuck toy, playing with her tight little pussy, imagining his thick, long cock.

I learned about his rape fantasies and his desire to dominate and use me for his pleasure.

He wanted to tie me up and fuck me in every hole. He wanted to cum all over my face and breasts and ass. He wanted to spank me, slap me, pull my hair, whip me, leave me covered in marks and bruises

I loved it.

It turned me on like nothing else ever had.

I wanted the abuse, thinking of the pleasure it would bring. The sexual torture he planned for me.

I never told him I was a virgin. I wanted desperately to meet him and have him be my first, but I was embarrassed to admit to him that I’d lied about my personal experience.

I came to think of him like my long distance boyfriend, but without the actual title. He was dating someone for nearly the entire time we knew each other and having an affair with an older woman.

I spent years feeling like I wasn’t good enough for this man, because I never seemed to be as good as this older woman he admited to me he was in love with.

I couldn’t understand her appeal.

She was so “vanilla.” A term I learned from him.

Why wasn’t I good enough? I was his dirty little slut. I was down for whatever he wanted.

I lived for his approval and moments of kindness.

I lost my virginity at the age of 27.

Through Mark I’d gotten a taste of kink and bdsm and started trying to find men near me who also shared the same interests. I came to realize that I was a submissive.

Mark and I tried to meet but nothing ever worked out.

We were toxic for each other. Jealous of each other’s lovers. He became angry with me the first time I had anal sex. He wanted to be my first. He wanted to own that part of me.

We slowly stopped talking and eventually I deleted him from my life.

It took me nearly two years to get over him and the hole he left in my life and the effect he had on my self esteem.

I wonder how I would have been different if I’d never met him. I wonder if I’d ever crave a man who would dominate me and bring me pleasure through pain if it hadn’t been for him.

The Beauty of Anonymity

I am an oversharer. 

I’ve never been capable of having a purely anonymous presence on the internet. 

I give way too much of myself away. 

But somehow by doing that I make it impossible to share some of my innermost feelings, thoughts, and experiences.

Because I am a good girl, and good girls are not allowed to be sexual beings.

And good girls are not allowed to share their sexual thoughts with the world. 

And if I’m really honest I want the opportunity to share and be able to hide behind a persona, because a lady should have some dirty little secrets.