Flash Fiction – At My Feet

My foot looks incredibly pale and tiny, resting against the dark hair on his thigh. I smile as I watch him, tongue curling over his top lip in concentration while he applies the deep burgundy polish he chose to my toes, taking great care to not smudge any. His breath is warm on my skin as he gently blows to help dry the varnish. He smiles up at me, his eyes dark and wicked. Feeling greedy for him, I walk the painted toes of my free foot from his knee to his hip and as I begin to dip it towards his groin he casts me a stern warning glance… not yet.

Leaving the polish to set, he leans across and stretches my arms above my head, securing my wrists to the bedposts with a nylon stocking I had discarded on the bed before my bath earlier. I hope he might kiss me but, knowing how to prolong my anticipation, he hovers his lips over mine, teasing me with his breath, before taking my ankles and binding them together with the remaining stocking. He ties them tight so I cannot fight him.

His thick fingers stroke the soles of my feet so softly I can barely feel them; a delicious tickle trickles up through my legs and spine and I close my eyes to savour the sensation. I feel his weight shift on the bed and his hands are on mine. I have a flash of frustration that he has left my feet, until he begins caressing the soft, hyper-responsive skin on my wrists, moving his fingertips agonizingly slowly towards my inner elbow, where he lingers, teasing me with butterfly touches, making me writhe in pleasure. My skin is so alert that even the tips of his fingers repeating a pattern on it feels as if he is peeling skin away. They drift towards my armpits and he strokes in circles; I sigh contentedly. I feel like a spoiled kitten being caressed.

His hands glide down, over the silk covering my body, to the hem of my chemise. I lift my bum for him so he can push the flimsy material up over my hips, breasts and over my face, effectively blindfolding me. I feel heat flood my body; my face is flushed at being left so exposed and vulnerable before him. I start to feel a pulsing ache between my legs. I am torn between wanting this to last all afternoon and wanting the exquisite torture to end with him filling me, pumping inside me.

I flinch as his fingers find my nipple; rolling it, pulling it and twisting it the way he knows I love. A groan escapes my lips and I long to feel his mouth and teeth on it but he wants to extend my torment. His hands run over my torso, my waist, barely touching my hips and he firmly pulls down on my calves, straightening out my body, which has involuntarily arched in pleasure. My body is quivering; adrenaline and nervous electricity making my skin react instantly to his slightest touch.

I feel his breath again on my ankle as he traces his tongue over my ankle, pausing to gently suck on my heel before running it firmly up the centre of my sole. I cannot stop a moan from leaving my lips. He laps at my feet, tongue dipping between my toes as his nails cruelly scrape the sensitive skin underfoot. I instinctively arch my foot and curl my toes, trying to bend my knees to escape but he holds me in place, alternating his touch from excruciatingly pleasurable soft and gentle tickles to rough scratching as he nibbles and sucks my toes.

My breath is ragged, my heart racing, my cunt aches. I shake my head to move the chemise and allow myself to look down to see him. He is kneeling at my feet, his face and chest flushed, his erection straining against his boxers; a dot of precum darkens the pale jersey fabric. He pulls them off and rubs the tip of his gorgeous thick cock against my feet. I spread my toes wide and grip him between them.

“Please…” I whisper, my chest is rising and falling, my pulse pounding in my ears. I feel overwhelmed with the desire to render him helpless at my feet.

He unties the black stocking binding my feet, pushes us both further up the bed and leans back on his haunches allowing me to open my legs and take him between my feet. I know he can see how full and wet I am, how much I want this.

I rub the toes of one foot against his balls, pinching the skin gently while I run my other foot up and down his hard cock. I sandwich his glans between my soft, small feet and roll them, massaging him. Gripping my ankles, he thrusts himself into the narrow space between my arches, breathing hard, his eyes are fixated on what we are doing. I open my toes, gripping and rubbing along his shaft, my other foot circling his throbbing tip, taking it between my big toe and squeezing, milking him until he erupts all over my feet. His hot cum drips over my toes, blurring my new deep red colour, making it hard it keep a grip on his cock as it slips again between my arches. I caress him until he pulls away, satisfied.

He kneels forward, kisses the inside of my knee, his tongue once again teasing me as he licks the delicate skin of my inner thighs. He raises his face to smile at me before it sinks deep between my legs.

💋

Copyright, 2018, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Advertisements

ELust 100

I was delighted to find that I was fortunate enough to be selected as Readers Choice! Thank you to whoever is responsible for this! Made my day.

♥️

Photo courtesy of Wriggly Kitty

Welcome to Elust 100

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #101 Start with the rules, come back December 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

He’s Out of My League

Pink Hair, Don’t Care!

I’m a feminist but…

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Pain Sluts and Brain Squirrels

His Car Keys

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Raw

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Writing About Writing

Why Financial Disclosures Matter on Your Blog

Erotic Fiction

Caught
An American Werewolf in London
The Spider and the Fly
Faithfully
kitten

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Static
Over exposed?

Erotic Non-Fiction

Mirror Image
Return to Position, Part 1
One Present Moment
Edgy Morning
The Date-Aversary Continues
The Smell, Taste and Love of Chocolate.

Poetry

-01.11.17_18:26-

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Asking can be sexy too!
Soaring in Space
Age Play
MY PEOPLE, HER PEOPLE. The FemDom ball
Stroke of luck

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Adult Content on Patreon
Censorship on Share our Shit Saturday
#SSoS Sharing for the Win

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

#iTalkSex Why I Talk Sex
Radical Acceptance In Relationships
So… ghosting is an acceptable thing now
What giving a collar means to me

Blogging

Reflections on us and the blog

 

 

Elust 88

TMI Tuesday: October 24, 2017

1. How much time do you spend taking care of your significant other:

I confess I am quite the 1950’s housewife!

I think I would have to say over 50%. I stay at home and do all the household chores, the cooking and cleaning etc. while he brings in the cash. I make him a cup of tea every morning as he showers, I wash and iron his clothes, I do the shopping, I buy his clothes, I make him a lunch to bring to work every day and he always comes home to a cooked meal. I rub his shoulders and run him a bath. I talk to him about his day and help him offload the stress of work and offer my advice on various things that are bothering him.

I love taking care of him.

And before you think I am a saint, (or a doormat), I must make it clear that he takes amazing care of me in return. We are a team!

2. How do you sleep at night?
With great difficulty! He snores… LOUDLY, so if I have any hope of sleep I need to drop off before he comes to bed and I have to wear earplugs, but usually they are very ineffective against the thunderous noise next to me.

3. What happens when you or your significant other gets home from work?
I always stop what I am doing and greet him, I can’t imagine it being any other way. The dogs usually beat me to it though, so oftentimes I get my kiss after they get theirs! Then we talk about our day, eat and relax.

4. How many things about yourself would you change? Share 3 things and tell us why.

Only 3????? Where do I begin…

Bonus: How many things would you change about a current significant other.

I really wish I could take away the stress of his job, otherwise I am happy with him as he is… well, maybe the snoring…

Happy TMI Tuesday!

image

💋

Copyright, 2017, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Raw

FullSizeRender

Yes, that is me.

Well, that WAS me.

I took that photograph back in the days when I regularly participated in SinfulSunday; back when I thought I looked *“good enough”. The fact is I didn’t share it then because all I could see were ripples on my tummy…

I found it as I sorted through some old files the other day and it caused me to pause. I am about two and half stone lighter in that photo than I am today, (well, possibly three). I still am fortunate enough to have a figure “8” insofar as my boobs and hips are wider than my waist and I still have that curvy shape. But it’s all bigger, albeit in proportion. (Note to self: why is that fortunate? What is wrong with being more straight up and down? Not a damn thing, that’s what! When did I become the fucking body police?!)

I withdrew from SinfulSunday last year, (I’ve posted a couple in the meantime but nothing revealing), because I felt uglier and uglier with every photo I took.

I see now that, even thought I fully understood, at least on an intellectual level, the purpose of SS was to celebrate our bodies and our sexualities in all their forms, I completely missed the point of it when it came to ME.

I looked at other people’s photos; people smaller than me, larger than me, and everything in between, and saw the beauty in them; the sensuality, the vulnerability and the strength that came in turn from that. I often turned to hubs to show him how amazing the images were; the very variety of them was what made them glorious. After all, if we want to see “perfect” photo shopped bodies we have Tumblr don’t we?

SS is unique in that it allows us, more so, it encourages us to embrace how we are and to celebrate it.

But I only wanted to be part of the meme if I thought my pictures came up to a certain standard – a standard I never applied to anyone else by the way, only to me.

Even as I write this I feel I am a fraud. I am posting the picture that I didn’t think was good enough before now with a sense of sadness for not being able to see the reality of it, along with the knowledge that I do not have the courage to post a current picture of my body. If I could only see faults back when I took that picture, you can imagine how critical I am of how I look today. I took a photo after my shower today and just cannot face allowing anyone to see it. I have cropped it, blurred it, filtered it but, seeing as I will not alter my shape in it, it will remain in my file and not on this page.

I feel like I am making a mockery of the wonderful meme that Molly was lovely enough to give us. I can’t be positive about my shape now. I am not even sure if I am being positive about the way I looked before. Am I sharing this photo to try to tell myself how distorted my view of myself can be? Am I sharing because today I look at it and think, “FFS! K, look at that waist!”?

I am not even sure if I am celebrating it or rubbing salt into an already very raw wound. I am very good at giving myself a hard time so could this be a way for me to reinforce how dreadful I look now and how impossible it is that I will ever look that way again? Before you say it, it is impossible – age, health matters, lots of reasons…

But… in the true spirit of SS surely I should be posting pictures of me as I am now, with the hope of feeling good about it? I just can’t. I can’t even look at my body let alone share it.

The madness is, I know the wonderful people who participate here and they are anything but shallow – they would look at my photo and see probably something different to what I do. They most likely would not criticize my extra curves, my new folds of flesh, my overflowing boobage. They wouldn’t judge me as harshly as I do myself.

I wonder how this post will be received… will you all think, “Yep, knew she was shallow and vacuous all along”? I don’t blame you if you do.

I hope that one day I will be able to pose like this again, whatever my size or weight may be, and, unlike today, see the good in it. I truly wish I could stop only seeing the bad…

SinfulSundayLips150

*The fact was, I never, ever felt good enough… that’s the point.

Special thanks to Bee for her support and encouragement x

💋

Copyright, 2017, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

 

 

Dry Spell

Readers, I am frustrated…

I have neglected my blogs for too long, for different reasons.

I have had a very challenging year or two, and it has most definitely impacted on my ability to get my thoughts straight in my mind, never mind getting them down in any coherent form that comes close to anything I would subject my followers to. (FYI: there is absolutely no guarantee that todays post will be any better, but my frustration and need to connect once again has overridden my internal quality control monitor.)

Health issues, both physical and mental, have plagued me and at several times have beaten me down to a point where some days getting dressed or showered has been a triumph. I am trying some new approaches which I hope will help me feel better and, fighting my realistic/fatalistic streak every day, I remind myself of the rewards to be gained from the changes, rather than dwell on how difficult they are to carry out. I have even, my lovely readers, made a chart that is stuck on my fridge! How very “self helpy” can you get?!

There have been days of wonderful positivity where I have wanted nothing more than to open my MacBook and write about all the good things I have in my life – a husband who is also my best friend, who knows all my darkest, ugliest secrets and loves me anyway, who makes me laugh til I cry, two beautiful dogs that bring me so much joy, a secure home to live in, enough money to always go to the ATM and not feel anxious, a garden built by myself and the OH which is peaceful and soul enriching to sit in… but I have not done so for fear of almost cursing my good fortune.

As for my fiction blog and my amateur photography, well, I have simply been feeling about as inspired as a used teabag. Walking used to be my therapy; ideas would come to me as I wandered through town, watching people and places, but I haven’t been out of the house much at all for quite a while, again for several reasons. Part of my new approach is to change this but it is proving more challenging than I thought it would be.

I read writing memes such as #Wicked Wednesday and #Kink of the Week but am left empty and frustrated at my complete writers block. I have entered the wonderful #Sinful Sunday, but only for the prompt weeks as I find right now I really need a push to produce anything.

Given my physical and mental health, I must admit that feeling sexy or sexual has been totally at the bottom of my list for a while now, which given that I am supposedly, (or at least, I once was), a sex blogger, is unhelpful to say the least.

I know it is a long process – lord, I have lived through 40-odd years of the fucking process. It is such a challenge to not get exhausted by it, by the fact that it never seems to have an end date in sight. They, whoever they are, say it’s not the destination that matters but the journey… easy to say when there is a sense that there is any realistic sense of ever reaching the destination, or when the journey is not constantly interrupted by obstacles and diversions. The OH, who I love more than anything, also has more than his fair share of stress and worry and believe me the only thing worse than one depressive is putting two together! He too had a run of bad luck healthwise this past year which has added to the stress and sense of fatigue.

I am hoping that by getting these, not so coherent, thoughts down today it will spur me on to return to writing.

I have found that blogging can be a two faced beast: recording how I feel can result in me reinforcing those feelings, and this is where the risk lies, depending on whether the feelings are positive or self-destructive.

Today I am feeling… ok. I have taken to playing positive music very loudly and it does help, although I am not sure the neighbours would agree.

Today is Friday and the weekend lies ahead and we plan on some serious rest time but I am hoping we will also get out walking, maybe even with my camera, maybe even lunch out.

As for writing… well, I will continue to look at prompts and memes and just hope that my voice comes back to me, (and as a certain quite dreadful writer puts it, “my inner goddess” finds her “salsa moves” again).

I feel a bit of a half person without her.

💋

Copyright, 2017, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.