Playing With Words



Copyright, 2017,

All rights reserved.



I could feel his eyes on me, following me as I moved around the room.

Memories of how we had spent the afternoon, entangled in each other’s sweating bodies; fucking, sucking, biting, slapping, raised a blush on my chest and cheeks as his gaze burned my skin.

No one in the room knew about us. It was our secret. Ours alone. They knew us simply as colleagues, collaborators, teammates.

I watched him sip his wine as he mingled, watched him smile and chat to our friends and associates, knowing that I knew him more intimately than anyone else there. I knew what made him groan with pleasure, what moves rendered him helpless and lost. I knew how to make this dominant, strong, quiet man sink to the floor in exhausted satiety. I knew how the sight, the feel, the taste of me drove him wild, robbed him of speech, made his eyes roll back in his head and his breath catch in his throat.

Our eyes met. My cunt throbbed with want for him. Even though we had played all afternoon, I wanted more. I never had enough. He glanced towards the French doors leading to the hotel garden and his message was clear. Excusing myself, I put down my drink and discretely left the room.

I welcomed the warm summer evening breeze on my skin, which was clammy from the crowded room. The scent of the rose garden filled my head as I walked towards the quiet area, secluded from sight of the conference room.

I felt his presence before he spoke my name, his voice deep and husky, then his lips were on mine, stealing my breath, claiming me as his. He pushed me up against the stone wall as he nuzzled my throat, nipping my skin and pulling my dress down from my shoulder. His mouth moved to my nipple, sucking hard and biting it, rolling it between his teeth. My cunt ached for him and he knew, as his fingers found it, wet and swollen; ready.

Pushing my dress up past my hips, he sank to his knees and buried his face between my thighs, his tongue working on me as his fingers pumped inside me. I closed my eyes, grasped his hair and threw my head back against the wall, blocking out everything but the sensations he was bringing out of me.

As the first flickerings of orgasm built within me, I opened my eyes. Standing slightly outside of the shadows was Simon, who I knew only from passing and saying a quick hello. Tall, well-built, blue eye and with a hint of beard, I had noticed him, but we hadn’t spoken much ever. He was watching us, his eyes focused on me, as he stroked the hard length of cock peeking out from his flies. He smiled at me, and the thrill of being seen, my naked breast hanging out of my dress, my leg hooked over my lover’s shoulder as he lapped and drank from me, pushed me over the edge. I moaned loudly as I lost myself in the surge of pleasure, my knees buckling beneath me. He caught me before I hit the ground, his arms holding me up. His mouth tasted of me as he kissed me again.

Later, as I hovered by the buffet, deciding what to load onto my plate, a voice from behind me whispered in my ear, “You look beautiful when you come, Alice.”


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.




The spark between them was instantaneous.

Neither of them could deny it.

From the very start they both felt as if they had known each other forever.

They laughed at the same things, shared the same political ideas, both thought religion was nonsense and even ordered the same meal as each other off the menu.

They just clicked.

It felt easy.


It was anything but natural.


The first time he kissed me it came as a surprise. I had longed for it but dared not think he wanted the same thing.

We had been walking in the park, throwing stale bread into the lake for the ducks when the rain hit us without warning. I remember I screamed at the sudden downpour and he took my hand in his and we ran to the bandstand for shelter. As we caught our breath, giggling and wiping our wet faces, his hand remained holding mine. We looked down at our entwined fingers and back up and he leaned down and kissed me; the gentlest, sweetest kiss I had ever received. Before I knew it his hands were in my wet hair and his tongue was on mine, our bodies pressed together as if we never wanted to let go.

I felt like I had come home.

Breaking the kiss, he looked at me. Really looked at me.

His eyes scanned my face, a slight frown on his brow, nothing but concern in his eyes, “I’m sorry, was that wrong? That was wrong, wasn’t it?” he whispered. I could smell coffee on his breath.

“Did it feel wrong?” I asked.

“It felt just so right, Nicola. Like… the rightest thing I’ve ever done.”

I giggled, “That’s not even a word!” and whether it was right or not seemed to fade away.


I think I fell in love with her the moment she walked into the café. Her short brown bob framing her face so perfectly, her tentative glance around to find me; then, when she turned those grey blue eyes on me I was done for.

We had been exchanging emails for months, getting to know one another, and had nervously agreed to meet in person. Looking at her, I was terrified and delighted in equal measure. This girl was going to change my life.

After our first kiss that day in the park, we had talked for hours back at my house. It was all I could do to keep my hands off her, but we agreed to take things slowly. We knew this was a dangerous and fragile thing we were embarking on. It needed to be approached properly.

I made her dinner and afterwards we sat on the sofa, her feet on my lap.

“Look at your little toes! God they are cute, what size shoes do you wear Nic?” I’d asked her. She really did have the most delicate, tiny feet I had ever seen on a woman.

“Two. I have to buy them in the kids department, “she giggled and wiggled her toes as I tickled her soles, “Stop!” she squealed and wriggled some more. Her skirt rode up her thighs as she squirmed. I saw her pants, white lace, and froze. The desire to reach out and touch her was overwhelming. Our eyes met. We knew this was a pivotal moment.

She surprised me by parting her legs, providing me with a clear view of the crotch of her pants. I saw they were damp already.

“Are you sure?” I asked her. She nodded. Her breath ragged, her face flushed.

My fingers touched the lace. She gasped. I hooked my finger and pulled the fabric to one side so I could see her. She was smooth, glistening wet and absolutely the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on.


I will never forget the first time he kissed me down there.

He had pulled my pants off and simply admired me for a few minutes, whispering how much he loved what I looked like. His fingers has caressed me and then he dipped his head between my thighs and planted soft butterfly kisses all along my lips, his nose rubbing off my swollen clit. God he was good! He knew what he was doing. I came within minutes, spasming helplessly on his leather sofa, calling out his name. He lifted up and looked deep into my eyes and said, “I love you Nicola,” and kissed me before I had the chance to say it back.


I held her in my arms after we had made love for the first time, my face nestled in her messed up hair, smelling her caramel scented shampoo. I had never felt as complete or as happy as I did then, despite the dark cloud that lingered over us. It needed to be discussed. I looked down at her, her eyes closed in sleep, a light buzzing from her lips which made me smile. It could wait.


I woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon and the sound of him singing along to the radio. He had quite a good voice, doing a decent attempt at the Ed Sheeran song playing. Pulling on a discarded tee shirt of his I walked to the kitchen and secretly watched him for a few minutes before joining in the song. He startled at first but a massive smile broke out over his stubbled face and I felt my heart soar.

We ate breakfast sitting on his patio, watching the birds feed from the wire baskets he had hung on the trees. He was edgy. I knew we were going to talk, but I dreaded it. I didn’t want to allow reality to ruin what we had discovered.

“Nic, we have to talk about this.”

I sighed, “Yes, I know…”

“So, where do we go from here?”

An unexpected flash of anger flared in me and I snapped, “Well, you’re older, you tell me,” and immediately felt foolish for my outburst.

“Yes, I am. It’s pretty standard for a father to be older that his daughter isn’t it?” he was hurt too.

I physically flinched from his words. But they were out there now.

“You don’t feel like my father. When I look at you I don’t see my father. I see Dan. The man I met months ago online, the man I love. My father is back home with my Mum in the house I grew up in,” there were tears in my eyes, “You are not my father!”

“Like it or not, I am. I was a fucking kid. 15 years old and clueless and we couldn’t keep you. But the fact remains. It’s true. I hate it,” his voice cracked but he went on, “I can’t explain this. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I look at you and I don’t feel you are my daughter. I’m in love with you. How can that be?” The despair on his face broke my heart.

I reached out to him. He didn’t resist my touch, but drew me in to lean on his chest. I climbed onto his lap and nestled there as we cried together.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t bear to,” I mumbled between sobs, “No-one has to know. We could make this work.”


Her beautiful eyes filled with tears, but an expression of sheer hope on her face as she looked up at me from my lap. I had no idea what to do, but I knew I couldn’t lose her, not because of a fucking genetic mishap.

Yes she was my daughter, but that was just biology. I hadn’t raised her, hadn’t watched her grow up. This was different. This wasn’t abuse.

I had finally left bed after lying staring at the ceiling all night and gone online. We weren’t the only ones. Genetic sexual attraction they called it. There were Internet forums for god’s sake!

I looked down at her and thought, “She’s right, no one has to know. We can be together and be happy. We can do this.”

I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her, feeling her smile against my lips.



It might be a wee bit tenuous, but I think I can just about manage to link this to Rebel’s prompt, “Identity” this week!

Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.

Friday Flash – Room Service


“This way please, Sir. Your bags have been delivered to your room.”

I watched her as she led me up the stairs; my eyes following the black seam on her stockings which disappeared under a tight black skirt that hugged her hips and ass, her high heels silent on the plush red carpet. She glanced back over her shoulder and offered me little smile. Her lips were painted a deep, dark red and were perfectly shaped against her smooth ivory skin.

Turning the key, she opened the door to my suite and slipped inside, turning on the lights. She gestured to the left, “The bathroom,” she walked on, pointing out things, “your luggage, Sir, and here is your bed.” She turned to face me, her eyebrows high, silently checking if I had a question.

I took a twenty from my wallet and held it out to her, “Thank you.”

Dipping her head, she looked up at my from under her dark lashes, a faint blush colouring her cheeks, “I’m sorry, Sir, we are not allowed to accept tips here. But thank you,” her voice was soft.

“I would be tempted to ask to you to make an exception for me but I don’t want to get you into trouble,” I replied.

She walked towards me, her brilliant blue eyes locked on mine, stopping a foot from me. I could smell her perfume, a woody, musky scent.

She reached out and pointed to a small button on the wall. I was surprised to notice her chipped nail polish, everything else about her was immaculate.

“If you want anything… anything at all, Sir, please just press this and I will come. I am here to serve you. Anything…”

She squeezed past me, barely brushing my chest with her shoulder and clicked the door closed.

I napped for a while, tired from my journey, and woke naked under the soft cotton sheets. My crotch throbbed with want. I closed my eyes and pictured her in her fitted classic black maid’s uniform, her curves hugged by the restrictive fabric. I imagined ripping her blouse open with my blade and exposing her milky white breasts. I wondered what her nipples were like… I decided they would be small and pink.

I thought of her kneeling before me, head bowed, the nape of her neck exposed beneath the impeccably shaped blue-black 1920’s style bob as she awaited instruction.

I thought of the things I wanted to do to her body. How I wanted to feel her skin redden under my palm as I spanked her generous, round bottom. How I wanted to trace my knife along her skin, leaving pink lines, as she lay completely still for me. How I wanted to push her head against my groin, making her take the full length of my cock into her throat.

A groan escaped my lips.

My eyes wandered to the small service button across the room, and I thought, “She had said if I needed ‘anything’”…



Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.

F4TF #10 – Limits


This week I set the question:



Is there something, (or things), that you would absolutely say no to in a sexual context?

What are your limits? Are they hard? Soft?

Have your limits changed over time?

I am not remotely turned on by or interested in any sort of scat or peepee play… just not for me thanks. Same goes with vomit. Those would be hard limits. As would anything involving anyone underage or animals!

As for pain; I love it! In fact it’s the OH that struggles with increasing the pain he can dish out. We are still, relatively speaking, babies at this whole BDSM thing, so I can wait until he feels more comfortable slapping and spanking me harder, and for longer periods of time. I hope one day we will get to a point where he is pushing my limits rather than vice versa.

I encouraged him to try face slapping, but we quickly discovered it did nothing for either of us.  I think, if you witness or experience face slapping in an abusive contest, it might be harder to embrace it as a kink.

I love oral sex, giving and receiving and I will happily give just about any toy I can think of a go to see if we like it.

I am fascinated by knife play and needle play but we have yet to explore either. Again, perhaps a case of me being more interested than him. I have seen needle art and blade marks in photos from other sex bloggers and long to experience the same. I would certainly not rule out any activity that results in blood – I find blood highly erotic.

The same goes for wax play. As a youngster I enjoyed playing with wax alone and loved the sensation of it on my skin.

What else? I love being bound and restrained. I enjoy predicament bondage, the challenge of it. I adore being blindfolded to the extent it happens almost every time. I have enjoyed the times we experimented with breathplay – I found it very sexy to feel so vulnerable.

It may or may not surprise you to read that I confess to being an anal virgin. I am very curious about it, but I can’t get my head past the poop issue! (I know! I know! But hey, I’m stuck!) Perhaps we will file this one under ‘soft limit’ and wait to see if I can get past my hygiene hang up. (Mind you, he is not at all interested in using my back door anyway, so it probably will never happen.)

My favourite fantasy is about being ‘used’ by several men, or being ‘given away’ by the OH to other men, but I want this to remain a fantasy only. I do not wish to try it for real. For the record, neither does he. He says he doesn’t like to share!

Basically, if he wants to try something, I am happy to give it a spin. I love him and trust him. I think in relationships it is important to be open to trying new things. It shows that the other person’s needs matter and, of course, it also helps keep things fresh!

As for have my limits changed over time, I am not sure how to answer. I have always been open to trying things so maybe it isn’t so much they have changed, as I have discovered more things to try! It is about knowing yourself, having confidence and trusting your partner.

And what are limits for if not to be tested, right? 😜(Except for my hard ones… those are firm!)


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.

F4TF #9 – First Times



This week’s F4TF query was:


What was the first overtly sexual act you performed on someone else or had performed on you? How did you feel about it afterwards?

Well now… what is an overtly sexual act? French kissing? Love bites? Copping a feel?

I think every one will have their own opinion in this, but I will tell you about my very first physical/sexual encounter with a rather dishy member the opposite sex.

My very first kiss was also my first Frenchie, aged 13. It was with my first boyfriend, who at 16, was incredibly shy. It took him three weeks of hand-holding before he worked up the courage to actually kiss me! I was on the verge of giving up all hope when one day, while we were sitting on his bed listening to music, he launched himself on me and my kissing virginity was finally taken! It didn’t stop there… he gave me a whopper of a hickie on my neck too.

This very fond memory is tinged however, because when I sat at the dinner table that evening, thinking I had successfully covered the love-bite with my friends Gwen’s make up, I was sadly mistaken. My father saw the offending mark and my pretty innocent exploits earned me a head-swivelling slap across my face. I’ll never forget it.

However, this did nothing to deter me from further exploration, to the extent I got quite a thrill from straddling a boyfriend’s face, naked, on the floor of my living room a few years later, both of us listening to my father snoring just above us. My defiant, rebellious side always won out! I dread to think what would have happened to that poor guy, (and to me), if my father had ever discovered us!

So, how did I feel about my first kiss and hickie?

Thrilled. Grown up. Excited.

Until later, at home, where those feelings were replaced by fear, anger, shame and a ‘fuck you’ determination to carry on doing whatever the fuck I wanted despite any punishment it might incur.

Not a thing has changed it seems!


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.

Bending The Rules

“We said we wouldn’t do this.”

“We said we wouldn’t have sex…” her moss green eyes shone with the thrill of the idea of breaking our own rules, “Don’t you want to see it?”

She shifted slightly on the edge of the bed, her dress riding up her thighs as she parted her legs – a glimpse of milky white against the black of her hold ups and a flash of black lace between her legs. My breath caught in my throat. Of course I wanted to see it; her cunt had been all I had thought about since she walked into the reception, wearing that short black dress, her dark hair piled high in an elegant chignon exposing her long throat and defined shoulders.

She smiled, her expression a mixture of coy and brazen that only she could pull off as she pulled her dress up further to reveal her tiny black lace pants. I stirred in my chair, unsure whether to stop her or just go with the flow.

“Tell me… tell me to stop?” she whispered.

I swallowed, remained silent.

Slowly her fingers slipped under the crotch of her pants as she spread her legs wider. She pulled the delicate fabric to one side, revealing herself to me. Beautiful. Her lips were completely bare, pink and inviting, glistening with her arousal. I was transfixed. Her fingers explored her folds, dark-painted short fingernails slipping over her gradually swelling clit. I felt my cock harden as I sat watching her. I wanted more.

“Take them off…” my voice was a growl deep in my throat. She wriggled out of the pants and threw them towards me, giggling. I caught them easily and pressed them to my nose, breathing in her scent; musky, sweet, heady.

Her breathing grew faster as she sat opposite me, her legs as wide as she could spread them, playing with herself for my pleasure; her own growing pleasure clearly evident.

“Do you want to taste?” her eyes locked onto mine, a hint of challenge in them. I didn’t need to be asked a second time. I dropped to my knees and buried my face between her thighs, teasing her for as long as I could bear before I simply had to lick her. She tasted sweet, rich and creamy. Her scent intoxicated me. My tongue lapped at her, flicking over her swollen nub, sucking her, searching inside her as deep as I could reach.

I wanted her naked. I lifted my head and looked at her, “Take it off, I want to see you,” it wasn’t a request. She pulled her dress over her head and ripped her strapless bra off. Finally I got to see her completely, as I had wanted to for so long. I gave myself some minutes to just look at her; her breasts, heaving as she breathed, her narrow waist and gently curved hips, her gorgeous cunt opened wide for me. I took a mental photograph of her for later.

My hands grasped her breasts and I pinched and played with her pink nipples as my head sank back to torment her pussy.

“Oooooh fuuuuuuck! Aaaaaaahhhh…” her hands grabbed the sides of my head and she grinded her sex against my mouth, shameless, caring only that her need was satisfied, crying out unintelligible sounds as she came. Kissing her inner thighs as she panted, coming down from her peak, I wondered what else was going to happen between us. What about our rule?

“Your turn.”

Surprised, I looked at her, her face and chest flushed a delightful pink, her hair messed and tangled, “Don’t you want to?” she asked.

I stood and she sat up to undo my belt and charcoal dress trousers, pulling my cock out and pushing the clothes down to my knees. Reaching between her legs, she coated her palm with her own juices and used it to glide her hand along my length, looking up into my eyes, her generous, round breasts bobbing as she stroked me. I was torn between letting her carry on and throwing her down on the bed to devour those nipples.

She didn’t give me any further choice; her tongue snaked its way from the base of my erection to the tip where she flicked her tongue over my delicate head while her small hand played with my balls. Her mouth sucked, licked and teased me until I felt I couldn’t hold out any longer. When I felt her fingers press against the sensitive spot just behind my cock, a deep pressure, unlike anything I had ever felt before built within me. I didn’t have time to warn her as I exploded into her mouth, shooting out more that I think I ever had before, the surge of my orgasm hitting every nerve ending in my body. Breathless, I stood as she lapped me clean, my hands in her tousled hair, wanting to explain to her how I felt but not having the words.

She smiled up at me. I bent to kiss her mouth but she backed away, “No. We can’t. The rule,” a tiny frown creasing her brow as she stood up and retrieved her underwear from the floor, “Let’s just enjoy what we did, ok?”

Later, as I mingled in the crowd, networking, enduring the idle chatter, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

The text: “How do you feel knowing you’ve seen me naked? Knowing I’ve drained your cock and that you fucked me with your tongue?”

I couldn’t suppress the grin on my face as I typed back, “Hard”, looking up and seeing her glowing face across the room as she casually turned her back to me to talk to a colleague.