Erotic, honest writings from a woman not afraid to admit she's a slut… but she's also her Master's slave

Fucked to Death

B and I are so in love it’s like a fantasy at times. He’s my fantasy man, even more so now than ever. Stronger than any man I’ve ever been with and yet cares deeply for those he loves. I often wish we’d met much sooner, but we both realize that we may not have known what we had if we’d met in our 30′s, certainly not in our 20′s.

Our sex is still raw and hot, now tailored to each other and the pleasures we each enjoy. My tongue on his ass, stroking his cock with my hand. Sucking on his cock as my fingers tease his nipples. His fingers inside me as his tongue plays over my clit which makes me cum hard, squirting and sloppy. His tongue on my ass, such a luxurious sensation, dear gods it’s so hot, dirty and forbidden and something no man had done to me before. B had a Mrs Robinson when he was 19 and I thank her daily for teaching him well.

This is the sex of dreams, the love of romance novels – his sexy handsome face grinning down at me as he pounds his thick cock into my sloppy pussy and my eyes roll back as I beg to cum. Watching his body above me, more muscular than ever, abs rippling as he thrusts, shoulders and arms bulging, chest hard and tight… I want for nothing. And I do my best to make sure he is never left wanting anything as well. I never say no to him. Even if I’m tired and would go to sleep if left to my own devices, I always do my very best to pleasure him – and my very best is damned effective. I am, after all, his sexual slave and we never forget that in the bedroom. He’ll often yank me to him by the chain-link “collar” he gave me that never leaves my neck. I am His.

Late at night when we are both sweaty and drained, sipping Manhattans, we talk of our love, our life, that our love is the kind that lasts to the grave… and beyond, if we are lucky. Whatever the ever-after holds, we know that we’ll do it together. And if I go first and he takes a lover, I will be waiting for him in our kitchen when he’s done, sitting naked on the counter, idling stroking my pussy with my legs wide as he walks in. Smiling because I know he would need physical relief and contact, but I still hold his heart as he holds mine. Talking to him throughout his day, much like Dexter’s father whispering in his ear… although not so evil. He’s laughed and said he’d love to go down on my open legs as I perch on the kitchen counter… if he could.

When the time comes, we’ll wait for the other at The Cafe, sipping a glass of wine. And we can stroll together to the party, where certainly there will be a grand orgy. What would the after-life be but as much sex as we want, the best food to share, endless nude beaches, and of course the sleek bodies we had in our 20′s. (Oh and all our pets will be there, but that’s not very sexy, is it haha.) Eternity no longer scares me, not knowing that he’ll be there with me.

How I got so fucking lucky, I don’t know. Praises to Aphrodite for the sex and Dionysis for the party.

4 responses

  1. Always a good job right here. Keep rolling on thorugh.

    August 25, 2011 at 7:08 pm

  2. If you want to get read, this is how you souhld write.

    August 26, 2011 at 3:20 am

  3. shudders


    December 6, 2011 at 5:17 pm

    • jrpm

      Many thanks :)

      December 7, 2011 at 7:43 pm

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