She is sleeping quietly in her crib. I am propped-up in bed reading. I listen to her breathe. I check the clock. I begin to wonder how late you will be.

You are hunting tonight. We stay safe in our den, relaxing or sleeping or taking time for mundane chores. In our bed I listen to every sound until I hear the door.

The door closes and I can hear what I have longed to hear. My warrior walks the length of the wooden hall. Her heels ring out like hobnails once might have done. Louder and closer she comes.

She enters, radiant, beautiful, and commanding. Her heels come off. Her dress comes off. She scoops our daughter from her crib and carries her to bed. She feeds. Her mother has already fed.

Was her prey young or old? Did he find satisfaction or frustration? Her mood is not changed by the feelings of the prey. She lured him towards her. Maybe she smiled. Maybe she frowned. Maybe she spoke too loud. Maybe she spoke too soft. He chased, unsure, too sure, but he chased. Thinking he was hunting, he was hunted. Thinking he was making his move, he was conquered.

The baby has fed. You hand her to me and I carry her, sleeping and satisfied, to her crib. I return to your bed. You are satisfied but alert. A motion of your hand and I stop. Your breasts are bare and swollen with milk. I kneel, naked and hungry before you. Your hand is moving and so am I.

I approach. I tremble. I quake. I throb. I salivate.

You hold your right breast in your two hands.

You speak: drink from me!

I fall upon my task with ardor and greed. With my mouth, I suck. I lick. I knead. I lap. I lavish. My tongue is fast and slow, gentle and firm. I take short and long passes across your nipples. They are tender. They reward me. As your milk flows into my mouth, your hand wrap around my cock. I am in ecstasy without fulfillment. I want more and more. Tender swollen breasts and warm sweet milk on my lips compete with the firm gentle fast slow scratching soothing actions of your hand on my cock.

I am chasing and chased.

I feed upon you.

You smile, victorious, another prize taken by the huntress.

………………….

just a lil kinky story from a fanboy

The day came when she discovered sex, sensuality, and literature; she said, ‘I submit! Let my life be henceforth ruled by poetry. Let me reign as the queen of my dreams until I become nothing less than the heroine of God.

Roman Payne

Yes Yes

Charles Bukowski

when God created love he didn’t help most
when God created dogs He didn’t help dogs
when God created plants that was average
when God created hate we had a standard utility
when God created me He created me
when God created the monkey He was asleep
when He created the giraffe He was drunk
when He created narcotics He was high
and when He created suicide He was low

when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountains and the sea and fire at the same time

He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed
He came all over His Blessed Universe.

Dear Angela

I awake caged and strapped to the bed where you left me, the silken ties still holding my wrists above my head and pulling my ankles toward the bedposts.  My cock is still swollen, locked in the metal cage.  The clothespins are laying against me, but no longer pinching my nipples.

I see your pajamas on floor outside the bathroom, hear the sounds of your bathing.

And I remember last night …

You had guided me gently into the bed. Laughing and giggling when you locked my cock up, telling me it was yours, that always and forever it would be yours.  You kissed my lips, using your fingers on my suddenly sensitive chest.  Because I couldn’t help but reciprocate, touching every part of your lithe body my fingertips could reach, you decided to tie me up.  I begged; I promised to be good, to settle down, to be obedient.  But, as always, my desire gave you the upper hand and I submitted.

Once I was bound, your teasing became more insistent.  Each pass of your lips or hands was a little more firm, a little more demanding, a little more exciting, soon with brief hints of discomfort and shadows of pain.  I was writhing.  My hips were bucking, arms and legs pulling, and ‘your’ cock was throbbing in your cage.

You persisted. Fingernails pushing through the bars, stroking, stabbing, and scratching at the shaft. Lips sucking on nipples. Legs stroking mine. Your erect nipples pushing against my body and then my lips. Finally your hands slapping my face, your thighs squeezing my chest, your mouth hovering over mine.

At last you slid your pussy slowly up my torso. I could feel the cool trail as your hot juices were exposed to the air and dried on my chest. Agonizingly frustrating patience as you approached my mouth. Suddenly my mouth, covered with your saliva had a purpose. You held my skull in your hands, you squeezed my ears with your thighs and drove your wet slit against my wet and hungry mouth.

On and on and on you teased, you stroked, you tortured.

And then you left me.  Fevered and left wanting, somehow I’d fallen asleep.

And now …

It is morning and you are coming out of the bathroom. The scents of my lust are replaced with those of soaps and powders. Your naked body elicits an involuntary groan from my mouth as your cock began to throb in its cage as if begging for attention. You gently unlocked the cage and carefully take my trembling and twitching shaft into your mouth. I feel your lips engulf me, your tongue wetly stroking me. Your delicate fingers probed at my ball-sack. I  feel a night worth of passion begin to flow.  And so can you.

With a “pop” you break contact.

Even as  my sob of frustration fills the room, you reach for my head and look directly into my eyes.  “Not yet,” you say.

You reached over me, keeping your breasts out of tongues hungry reach and untied one wrist.

“Go to work.  See you tonight.” And you walked out.

________________________________________________________

Love
Puppet Prince

“Men were created before women. … But that doesn’t prove their superiority – rather, it proves ours, for they were born out of the lifeless earth in order that we could be born out of living flesh. And what’s so important about this priority in creation, anyway? When we are building, we lay foundations on the ground first, things of no intrinsic merit or beauty, before subsequently raising up sumptuous buildings and ornate palaces. Lowly seeds are nourished in the earth, and then later the ravishing blooms appear; lovely roses blossom forth and scented narcissi.”

 The Worth of Women: Wherein Is Clearly Revealed Their Nobility and Their Superiority to Men

Moderata Fonte and Virginia Cox

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