What I'm craving right now...

It’s a sleepy, winter morning. Not too cold, but cloudy, grey, and damp.

What I’m craving right now is you lying beside me in my bed. I love the faint scent of your skin beside me- that beautiful cocktail of your soap, the salt of your skin, and the faintest hint of last night’s cum. Although that’s probably mostly on me.

I’d begin to run my hand gently over your arm when I notice, like me, you’re in that state between sleeping in awake where you really can’t commit to either one. I slide my palm over your chest as I move closer to you, my head on your shoulder, my breasts pushed into your side, as I draw delicate, little circles with my fingers on your chest. You let out a sigh of approval, and turn to kiss me on the forehead. We remain like this for several minutes, holding each other. If we’re talking, we’re barely using words.

“Sleepy okay?”

“Mmm hmm”.

“This is nice”.

“Yeaaaaaah….”.

And so it goes.

But what I’m craving in my mind most of all this morning is the way you always, once you’re worked up enough, hold my hand. Taking it, kissing it, holding it against your chest, until you finally take control and slide my hand down your body, until, like a glove, you grasp your cock with my hand. Lingering there long enough to let me know exactly what you want. You push down your shorts just far enough down your hips so I have full access to everything you want me to touch.

Since our first time together, it always struck me how soft the skin of your cock feels, even when you’re intensely hard and thrusting into my mouth. I don’t even have to see it; I’d recognize the feeling of your cock in my hand anywhere.

I follow our typical, lazy morning routine.

At first, I simply rock my hand up and down the top of your shaft, feeling you, feeling your semi-hard shaft below my palm, enjoying hearing your breathing quicken with my head now resting on your chest. I then move the pads of my fingers further down, tracing the outline of your cock head. Running my fingers along the flared underside, followed by the gentle valley along the tip, before my fingers follow along down the underside of your cock towards your sack. We both laugh quietly when you jump as I tuck on your balls gently, taking them in my hand, holding them, as my thumb traces the seem in between.

I love mornings like this. Lazy. When I can explore your body leisurely. Taking pleasure in every reaction, twitch, and sound you make. Taking pleasure in how your skin feels against mine: every texture, ridge, hair… the spongy feel your cock takes when I grip it before it’s fully hard… all of this is mine and I couldn’t be more proud.

You’re definitely fully awake now. Your eyes are wide open looking down at me, your chest is rising and falling faster, and your hips twitch every time I change actions. Some mornings, especially if I’ve already showered for work and I’m simply waking you up to let you know I’m leaving soon, I’ll stroke you until you cum on your chest. But this morning we woke up together, a shower will come later, which leaves the possibilities endless.

Your fingers run through my hair as I explore your body with my fingers, now gripping your fully erect shaft in my hand. Stroking you, pulling you up against your stomach towards me. Flicking my thumb against your reddening cock head every so often, if only for the noise you make when you do it. But then I feel that familiar pressure and the crown of my head as you slowly push my head downward, toward your cock. Gentle enough to not break the mood, but firmly enough to leave no question of what you want.

I lick my tongue from the base of your cock, where it grows out from your abdomen, all the way along your shaft, tasting your hot skin as I lick towards the tip. When I reach the tip of your dick I take it into my mouth, sucking as I move my body now so I can kneel between your legs. I hear you moan as I’m now in the place you like me most, kneeling on the bed between your thighs, naked, exposed, and head down, sucking you. I move my left hand down to play with your sack as my right hand grips the base of your cock, stroking it, twisting it slightly, as I move my mouth up and down your cock, my tongue darting against it as I do. Knowing it wont be long now, your first round of the morning always goes by so quickly, I stroke you more tightly now, as I turn my head, and press my tongue against your balls. Licking, sucking, and fingering at your swollen sack. I relish in the sounds you make, forgetting your English, sighing my name, moaning. I can’t get enough of it. Your hips begin thrusting into my hand and you beg me for my mouth again. I happily oblige, although now my work, basically, is done.

I move my mouth over the tip of your cock again, tasting the first few drops of precum pooling there. God, I love your taste. I make sure to lock eyes with you as I sink my mouth over you; I know you get a thrill of watching the tip of your penis penetrate my soft lips. I take you as deep as I can, then retract. Your hands move onto my head again, guiding my movements, slowly at first, but I can feel you getting closer. I move my hands to your hips to brace myself as you slowly begin to thrust into my mouth. You always start slowly, taking long, but deep pushes into my mouth. But you almost always lose control at this point and I brace myself as you begin thrusting into my throat, fucking your cock into my mouth. We’ve never talked about it, but I’m still so self-conscious about what my mouth and throat do at this point- I blame the pornography industry for making this look effortless. But with experience, I’ve learned that you actually enjoy the things I’m still so shy about- the gagging noises as your cock pushes towards my throat, the slurping noises when I close my lips around you and suck. The tears that sometimes form in my eyes- not from pain, but just as a reflex from having my throat open like this. But then, on my end, all the discomfort leads to incredible excitement. And if that wasn’t enough, the way you yell out my name this point, without failure, turns me on so much that I can’t think of anything else.

Your thrusts grow faster, more urgent, and it isn’t long before I see your stomach clench, your face contort, and begin to taste the lovely and familiar taste of your cum flooding my mouth. I love the taste, and I love your smell- something between a salty, skin-like scent, and a hint of chlorine. You’ve laughed at me in the past when I remarked how your smell and taste “clean”, but I really can’t think of a better word to sum up your taste.

I close my lips around your cock as you thrust in those last few times, feeling the ropes of your cum hit the back of my throat as I swallow them down. I keep my mouth wrapped around you until you tell me you’ve had enough. I lick my lips clean and then crawl back against you, resting my head on your chest, hearing your heartbeat slowly calming. Reaching down to feel your cock softening, growing sensitive and ticklish to my touch, before resting my hand on your stomach as we both drift back into sleep.

This is what I’m craving this morning, more than anything.

Fantasy and Reality- Should they ever meet?

Working Title: “Having a platonic friend say to me last night, suddenly, "It would feel so good to slip inside of you" was jarring, and incredibly hot".

I think it’s safe to say, with a few wonderful exceptions obviously, that much of the online erotic realm, be it blogs, chatrooms, Twitter, and forums like literotica.com are entirely authentic and realistic when it comes to the things we all think about, fantasize about, and touch ourselves to, but don’t often suit the realities of our ‘real lives’. Of course, that’s what makes it so fun: the complete and total absence of consequence.

Sure, there are mild consequences depending on your use and outside circumstances- maybe your girlfriend doesn’t like you looking at porn, maybe you’re addicted to showing your cock via webcam (I know a few of you!), but really, what makes this dirty, online world so arousing is that you can say anything, anything, you want. You can bare your soul, and, after you cum, you can slip back into your jeans and carry on with your ordinary day in your ordinary life as if you didn’t just describe, in explicit detail, the delicious way you just came to your most filthy fantasy.

This is certainly the case for me. I’ve been playing online since I was a teenager. And, the main reason I started this blog was to have an outlet for when none of my online dirty boys weren’t able to come and play. To be able to say, out loud (er, in public print anyhow) all of the things I might be thinking, but certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable (or allowed) to say to the people in my real life sphere.

Today is one of those days where something happened, and as much as I would love to call up my best girlfriend, I feel that this very public, and paradoxally, very private medium, might be the better place to discuss it (I really hope someone comment or emails me on this post- I would really love the feedback). I think if you’re the type to read my blog, you’re already coming from a much more understanding perspective. Or at least a more honest one.

If you don’t know it by now, I have some very naughty fantasies. And I love having the freedom of the internet to explore those fantasies. But there is a very clear divide between my online and offline lives. And perhaps with the exception of a very few partners, no one would ever guess that this is what goes on in my head- all day, every day.

I’ve recently delved into the world of online dating. I won’t go into specifics, as that’s the antithesis of my blog, but simply, my career doesn’t allow me the time to meet men the old fashioned way, and I’ve become curious about relationships again. I’m not looking for a husband, I’m just simply looking.

The previous post was completely devoid of fantasy. It was one of my posts that was entirely true. I started seeing someone who I felt entirely indifferent towards. He was (is) handsome and kind, but there were other things- perhaps not that important, that detracted from that- like our sloppy first kiss, like the fact that his grammar is awful, and that I think I'm far more intelligent than he is. And by our third date I was ready to tell him I only wanted to be friends. So I did. And the night ended up with his fingers in my pussy. But I was attracted to him after that, after I saw that he could, in fact, bring me some pleasure. And, after another date, almost three weeks later (how I loathe my schedule) and more of the same activities, I’ve decided I might actually be interested him.

In the mean time, another guy (well, quite a lot of guys really, but I’m only interested in a fraction of the men who email me on the dating site) sent me a message. He was good looking, closer and age to me, and we had loads in common. But he’s not my type physically at all and seems to still be a young boy in many, many ways. I would never have initiated contact, so I was very honest with him: You seem like a lot of fun, I think we have a lot in common, but I need to be honest with you, I’m only interested in friendship.

And that was fine. We exchanged phone numbers. He called me one night, and we chatted for over an hour. He was hilarious, although incredibly conceited- but he knew it, and I suspected, it was intentional. What struck me though, was his voice and his way of speaking. He got me- it took me by surprise how well he was able to pick up on things I said, and infer things about me that very few of my close friends even know. And, although from his physical description and pictures online, I knew that I only wanted a platonic relationship with him, I couldn’t help think, God, he’d have a great voice for phone sex. And I’ve never done phone sex (please see my post on ‘aural fixation’ for why). This was also before the third date with the guy in my last post who, at that point, I was ready to give up on. I couldn’t help but wish he, who I am attracted to could, talk to me like this- challenge me, make me laugh, shock me.

Up until yesterday, phone guy and I had texted a couple of times, but that was it. And after my last date with the guy I’ve been seeing- who I decided I might like to explore the potential of a relationship with, that was no problem.

But he phoned me again last night. I wasn’t doing much- I had already taken myself apart for the night and was probably going to hop in bed within the hour. He sounded excited. Again, it struck me what a great voice for phone sex he’d have- enthusiastic, descriptive, and breathy. And then he told me, “I have a fantasy… and I want you to be a part of it”. Of course, being who I am, my mind went to a filthy place, but he’s a playful guy, and I thought he was simply going to ask me to hang out. But no. “I know you want to know what it is… because you’re an adventurous and curious girl… but the catch is, I will only tell you my fantasy if you agree to take part in it”.

Of course, I was curious. I hate being out on a secret. I asked him what kind of fantasy it was. I wasn’t about to agree to anything. “Well… I think you know that I’m sexually attracted to you… you’re the kind of girl who’s passionate, imaginative, and knows how to show her pleasure… and I’ve been fantasizing about you since we first spoke”. I was caught of guard. I wanted to know more, but I had to be honest with myself- as turned on as I was getting, this felt more like my online life than my real life. I was getting wet, definitely, and I wanted more- but I wasn’t ready to meet up with a man whom I have never seen in person to act out a fantasy he wouldn’t tell me anything about, minus the fact that it involved sex with me. And there was the issue of the other guy. No, we haven’t talked about being exclusive. No, I’ll probably never marry him. But, I’m taking it slow with him, getting to know him, waiting, at least for a short while, to have full sex with him. How could I let someone fuck me in the mean time? No, it wouldn’t be cheating yet, but it still feels dishonest and mean.

So I told the phone guy just that- that I am intrigued, but started seeing someone very recently. I chose not to mention that's he's not my type, physically. He told me then, that he would have to put me in the ‘friend zone’ and I wouldn’t be able to know what his fantasy is. But I’m stubborn and curious, and was actually, to my own surprise, incredibly aroused and touching myself. And then he added, “Which is a shame, because I know how incredibly delicious it would feel when I slid inside you”. And I was caught off guard. We spoke a while longer. I begged- begged!- for him to share his fantasy. He wouldn’t. He teased about having boring sex with the other guy, “Well, hey, if you just want your husband to thrust inside you a couple of times, moan, and then fall over like a piece of flat bread, be my guest”. It pissed me off, but I still couldn’t help wanting him, while knowing, really, I wasn’t going to do anything about it.

I continued to try to get his fantasy out of him. In the process he extracted many things from me that I typically only mention online- my fantasies, experiences, how I touch myself. I felt exposed, but I liked it. How often are we really honest, out loud, with people who know our real names, about what we like, about what our fantasies are. Then he told me, “If, and when, you decide that you aren’t attached… you just have to let me know. And I’m going to call you… you won’t know when… and if you’re not interested, you’re not going to answer. So I’ll wait for another time. And I’ll make sure it’s unexpected. And then you’ll answer… then I’m going to come over. And we’re not going to talk. And you’re not going to think. You’re going to let me take control, and have an experience, for once, one you deserve, where you only feel. I will take you to a place you’ve never been before. I’m going to slip inside of you and you’re going to feel ravaged as I take you … … And that’s not even the part that involves my fantasy”.

My rational, real-life mind knew that this was ridiculous. There was no way I was inviting a guy who I’d never met to come to my apartment and fuck me whilst exploring his fantasy, but god, I was tempted. I was so turned on. And it’s not like I’m not used to men asking me for sex, but this was different. He had an eerie way of seeing past my normalcy, seeing into a place I only show online, when I’m touching myself. And the idea of the “real world” me and the “dirty” me coming face to face with a real person both scared me, and aroused me.

Of course, in the end, I did turn him down. But it left me shaken, and feeling lukewarm about my most recent experiences. And almost tempted to say ‘yes’. Before we hung up, he told me he couldn’t wait to call me again, if just to talk, and touch himself as he made me squirm. A few minutes later, he texted me:



As much as rational me know this is a ridiculous idea, fantasy me really wants to give him a try. And I’m really questioning how much the guy from the last posts really turns me on. I'm really not a very good person.

the other night...

I’m sitting on my bed. It’s been a long, hard week at work and I am ready for sleep. But I can’t sleep… there’s an itch that needs tending to.

I’m sitting here, legs spread, my hand moving across my inner thighs, across my pussy, thinking of you and the last time we saw each other. I wish you were here right now. I wish we had finished what we started. I wish I didn’t feel the need to leave you wanting more.

We’ve known each other for only a short time, and yet I want you so badly. Our last date- when I was on my way to meet you, I was convinced it was our last. You’re a gorgeous man, smart, and kind, and yet, after two dates, I knew I felt nothing. What a shame.

During the movie, when your leg would lean against mine, you would pull back, and I would be relieved. Maybe you felt the same way about me. Maybe I didn’t have to be the bitch to break it off. Perhaps, the feeling of indifference was mutual.

The movie ends and you ask me to stay. I say I have to work in the morning- which is true, but mostly, I’m just tired and ready to go home alone. You put your arm around me. I tell you I think we should be friends, and that you shouldn’t hold out hope that something might happen between us. You say that you’re okay with that. Yet your arm hasn’t moved.

But with the ‘truth’ out there, with me telling you I don’t feel anything, I feel more comfortable with you than I have yet. We sit there for a while and talk. Then you kiss me. As usual it’s far too much too fast- take your tongue back. God, someone needs to teach you a lesson. I may not be interested in you, but someone has to teach you how to kiss a girl- I don’t want you to go into your next relationship with your sloppy habits. My mind quickly remembers our sloppy, public make out on our first date- how I had to wipe my face after you pulled away from me. How mortified I was. You need to learn.

“Let me kiss you,” I say, and I push you away. I take a breath and then lean towards you, and kiss your top lip, and then your bottom lip. You open your mouth but I lean back. I try again, and this time, you seem to catch on. I kiss your lips, you kiss mine in return. We carry on, and slowly, our kissing grows more intense. You’re pleasing me: a pleasant surprise. Our mouths open, and your tongue traces along my lips, and then enters my mouth slowly. I reciprocate. And before I know it, I am lying down on your couch and pulling you on top of me.

The kissing intensifies, and I am growing turned on by feeling your weight on my body. Your tongue probes my mouth and I run my hand through your hair- it’s surprisingly soft and thick. You begin to move away from my mouth, down my neck… god… it feels so good… and towards my breasts. You kiss the cleavage that shows above the neckline of my shirt as your hand runs up from my waist, under my shirt, and cups my breasts, and pushes them towards your hungry mouth. God… it’s like you knew how much I love having my tits played with. You tug on my shirt but I object- a part of me knows I came to your apartment knowing full well I didn’t want you to touch me, even above my clothes- but I can’t resist. I have you pull off my shirt but I keep my bra on. Your skilled mouth still finds my nipples and sucks them, hard. I let out a soft moan. I love your hands on my body, your mouth on mine, on my neck, sucking my breasts…. God…

I take off my bra, and pull off your shirt. You seem shy at first and ask me, “Is this okay?”. I laugh, pull you against me and kiss you hard. I love the warmth of your bare skin against my breasts. You rub my pussy over my jeans and ask me if it’s okay, if I like it. “God… yes… I love that, it feels so good,” I sigh. You begin to kiss your way down my body again, but I stop you when you reach the button of my jeans and pull my zipper. “No,” I say, “Not tonight”. As much as I want it, as sure as I am that you would make me cum easily, I tell myself that I’ll regret it, that I’m only here to teach you how to kiss.

Lies, of course.

We continue to make out on your couch. You offer to carry me to your bedroom but I refuse. We’ve already gone far past the terms of the friendship we discussed earlier. I should go home soon. I have to wake up for work in a few hours. This is not the night.

You begin to suck and bite my nipples as your hand rubs between my denim-clad thighs roughly. I moan. Fuck, it feels so good. I can’t take it. I begin to undo the clasp of my jeans and you pull them off of my legs, and toss them to the floor.

You lean back and look at me, and I realize just how vulnerable and weak I am. I wasn’t even going to kiss you tonight, and yet here I am, laying on the couch in front of you, naked with the exception of my jewelry and silk panties, while you stand there- strong and tall, still in your jeans and socks, starting down at me.

You run your hand over my panties and I know you must feel the heat from my pussy. You don’t take your eyes off of mine as you ask, “Do you like this?”. I nod, shyly, not knowing how the control tonight shifted away from me. You move your fingers underneath my panties, and slip one finger into my pussy. I sigh. I can’t believe you’re touching my pussy. I can’t believe, even though it’s just one finger, that I’ve allowed you into my cunt.

I pull you towards me, I want you to kiss me, I want you back on top of me, but you resist. You stand there over me, and slip another finger into my pussy. “Do you like this?” you ask, your eyes burning into mine. “Yes, I love it, it feels amazing”. With that, you begin to move your fingers in and out of my pussy. I feel completely powerless- laying all but naked before you, the sounds of your fingers moving in and out of my wet pussy filling the room- there’s obviously no secret how wet I am. You fuck me with your fingers furiously, but keep your distance. All the while I am still in disbelief of what is happening, Is he really fingering me? Are my clothes really on the floor right now? How the fuck did this happen? This is as far as it goes.

You remove your fingers and move them to my clit, searching for it at first, so I help you find it, and you play with it. Rubbing it, twisting it, god, how I wish you would just pinch it, and make me scream. I am close to cumming when you remove your hands, move them back to my breasts, and kiss me. You fucking tease.

My legs are spread wide, and I feel your erection grinding into me through your jeans. You lift my legs and position them so I put them around your back. You kiss me as seem as though you are fucking me through your jeans- breathing heavy, slamming hard against my body and you grab at me and I run my nails down your back, and kiss your neck and shoulders. You pick up pace. I want you to fuck me so badly but I am determined to wait and see if I even like you when our clothes are back on. Maybe on our next date. I pull you hard against my body as you grind into me, your hands moving to my ass, lifting me towards you. Although this is almost entirely innocent, I can’t help but feel turned on. The texture of your jeans rubs my clit through my panties in just the right way, and I feel myself working towards climax again. I arch my back and, as if by instinct, angle my pussy closer to your restrained cock. You moan. I feel your shudder. Is he cumming?, I wonder. You slow your thrusting, but I continue to grind against you. You move your head down and take my nipple into your mouth and suck… hard, and explore the very tip of it with your tongue… no one has ever toyed with me like that, and it sends me over the edge, as I cling to your body and sigh out a short, but intense, orgasm.

We fool around a while longer, and eventually relax, simply whispering to each other, caressing each other’s bodies. And we make a date for next weekend, when I have time to spend the night.

I really fucking hope you call. I’ve had this itch all week.