So I think I’m going to take a bit of a break from here, just for a little while. Mostly just because it’s been ages since I did, and a break is good! And also, because I’m kind of feeling a bit chore-ish about this, and I really don’t want it to feel like that. And I’m really not getting much writing done, either, like any kind of writing, not just here, and that’s getting annoying, so I ought to try and be all serious.
So um… I will. But that kind of means not posting here for a bit, which is why there won’t be anything nothing new… for when and if you notice … so I’m sorry! And thank you for looking, too, and for having read this for ages if you did! Like, whoever of you did! And well… you still can read, obviously, too, if you want to, like the old posts… there just won’t be any new ones for a bit is all…
and um… that’s all, really. This is just to say.
So thank you for looking! And take care!
[part one is here, click here to see the rest]
I let him put his cock in my mouth. I taste him, and feel his hardness pressing against my lips and tongue. He’s blackmailing me, or forcing me, one or the other or both. He’s holding my hair, holding me there on my knees, and forcing himself on me. He’s doing something utterly awful to me, and yet, I let him. I want him to. I want this, so I open my mouth wider, and take more of him inside.
I let him slide his cock between my lips, and then, when he has, when I’m ashamed and embarrassed and scared, then I make everything worse because then I start to suck.
So here’s a slightly weird thing. Sometimes I pretend anal hurts when actually it doesn’t. Because sometimes it turns me on to imagine that it does, in my head. Like I don’t usually actually say so out loud, because that would be incredibly weird, but I like to think to myself about being sore and achy and sobbing as I do it.
Which is kind of weird, I know, but sometimes I do.
Sometimes I pretend, quietly, but usually I don’t say. Usually I don’t, except with this one particular guy. With him I pretended out loud.
And yes, I know how completely dark this is.
You phone me one night and say you desperately need my help, that you’re the best man at a stag night, and the stripper has fallen through, and can I help?
“Um, help find a stripper?” I say, uncertainly.
“Not quite,” you say. “More, um… be the stripper. I kind of need someone right now.”
“Um, dude,” I say. “What the fuck?”
“Please?” you say. “Please please. I’ll owe you forever.”
“I’m with people,” I say. “I’m out. I’m not home. I can’t just disappear…”
“Please?” you say.
“Um,” I say, stalling while I think. “Why me?”
You say because I’m the only girl you know who can dance. And who you trust enough to even ask. Blah. Stuff like that. Flattery stuff as well as practical stuff, so that what you say actual makes sense as well as being nice.
[part one is here, click here to see the rest]
And I jump, and maybe cough, because I’m actually a little surprised. I really didn’t expect him to do that. I truly thought he was going to stop and let me go. I didn’t think he’d want me enough, or be willing to treat me so badly, that he’d actually find it in himself to take things this far.
But now he has. And now I’m scared, all over again. Scared, and gasping through my nose to breathe, and struggling not to choke as he pushes his cock into my mouth.
Once, I was fucked up against a wall of a hotel room, with the curtains wide open, and about a thousand windows looking back in at me.
And the room lights were off in my room, and I was in dress, too, a pulled up, slid up dress, so if anyone did see us they only saw movement and bare legs, not actual naked me.
But it was still maybe quite obvious what we were doing, if anyone had seen, and that obviousness, that slightly scary risk of it being obvious, that excited me a lot.
It really excited me a lot, as we did it, and it excited me a lot afterwards, when I remembered what I’d done. It excited me enough I wanted to do things like that again and again.
It excited me, and so I shall say so here!
Um, that’s all. Sorry this one is short!
I’m sitting in a hotel room, on the edge of the bed, waiting.
I’m dressed up. I’m dressed up in a dress, haha. My hair is up, very carefully up and organized, and I’ve got proper makeup on, like proper dressed-up going-out makeup, thick dark smeary shadow and liner around my eyes, and gloss on my lips too.
I’m sitting at the end of the bed, at the edge of mattress, with my knees together and my hands in my lap, waiting.
I’m waiting. I’m nervous, and I don’t quite know why I’m nervous, but I am.
I wait. And soon, very soon, there’s a knock at the door.