Just two days before we gorge ourselves into a food coma with turkey, dressing and enough pies to reach from here to Jupiter, let's pause to give thanks for all the lovely things in our lives. Like freedom, cheap gasoline, and sex. Ah, the sex. The bloggers featured today have plenty to be thankful for in the bedroom, what with their women riding hard, their men pumping furiously and their sex toy boxes overflowing. Be grateful for floggers, nipple clamps, oral sex, and butch cock right along with them.
Bow your head and pass the pie to AlwaysArousedGirl just after the cut.
. . .
When we got to my place, he pushed me up against the wall of my living room with his whole body against mine and started kissing me hard. He was breathing heavy and grabbing at my clothes and my breasts like a werewolf. He ripped off my panties and I wrapped my legs around his waist while he still had me up against the wall. He took me into my bedroom and threw me down on my bed.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
"Anything you want," I said.
"Yeah!" he said, squeezing my breasts, "you gonna be my fuck toy? You gonna be my fuck toy, baby girl?"
"I'm your whore," I panted.
He stepped back and pointed at my shirt and skirt. "Off!" he commanded, and I obeyed.
I ran my hands up her back, then down her arms, and came to rest on her wrists. I grasped them, and pulled them behind her back, pinning them to her lower back. She let out a little moan as I did this, so I held her wrists in place, as she continued to ride me. She became more enthusiastic, and I was even more excited. I was close to coming, so I held her still by pulling down on her wrists.
Shh! Don't move!
She stopped, and I rode the sensation, pushing back my climax. After a few moments, I began to move under her, and she started to move again. I took her arms, and pushed them up her back, higher and higher, still holding her captive. Soon I was close to coming again.
To my left was a small old table, on it, a whip, a cane, a flog, nipple clamps, a paddle, and a knife. An old rusty knife that you could probably etch the words "tetanus" into if you were so inclined. I kept my head down. To my right, on a board placed on the floor was a really big dildo, an Acuvibe and a stack of condoms. He pulled me back by my hair and stared into my eyes. His were like ice and his voice was calm and forceful.
"We are going to play a game slut," He put a small timer in my line of vision, "You have three minutes to have an orgasm. Those are your tools." He pointed to the vibe and dildo to my right. I started to melt into myself. Away were thoughts of friends, and parties, men who hurt me, and the responsibilities of my life. I was here, and I was His- and I knew that losing focus would cost me, dearly. I was to come within three minutes, or there was a card to be drawn. He showed me a small stack of green cards and written on the back were the names of the tools on the table. Whip, cane, ect… knife. I got a chill.
He had me turn on my knees and face him. I slipped off my heels behind me. This all seemed so strange and foreign to me, I almost wanted to giggle. This is why they call it a scene, I thought to myself.
"Ready, slut?" I nodded- to be responded with a slap across my face, "Answer me!"
"Yes sir," I said softly, wondering why I can never just behave.
...he pulls my hands beneath my bottom and forces me to arch slightly up toward him, and then he kisses. A barely there kiss beneath my naval, and I moan as I try to rock my hips, to move them ... to arch higher. But his chin presses down against me and he pulls my hands further beneath me, so that they are cupping my cheeks. He places his hands over mine now and presses his fingers in around mine and together we squeeze my tender cheeks.
I can feel the warmth of his breath as his mouth moves lower ... soft breath caressing my skin, and I moan softly but it turns to a gasp as his lips press against the delicate folds of my skin.
I paused and looked over the toys arranged on a table next to the platform. Choosing a paddle, I ran it down the spine, retracing the path my fingers had taken. This time a low moan escaped her throat and her hips began to move. The paddle slid between her cheeks and below, until it was against her clit. Her moans were louder now and she worked herself against the paddle. I reached up and pulled her hair away from her face, then thrust two fingers into her mouth. She started sucking them immediately, eager to please me and hoping I'd please her. I enjoyed watching my fingers slide in and out of her tightly pursed lips, and my butch cock twitched in response and in anticipation.
That's the only accurate description for what may be daintily termed the astride position. She's on top. She's bouncing up and down, perhaps increasing in speed, and that's riding. No need for spurs and a hat - unless you're really kinky - but she's riding, and that's what feels good. Everything is reversed; I'm still looking at her, but upwards. There's better visibility, too; I can see her breasts, she can see my chest. I can see her skin, hold her sides, finger her clit. I can even kiss her if I sit up briefly. I can rub her nipples... and all the while, she's riding me, and my cock is deeper inside her than ever because, frankly, where else does it have to go? There's no out-and-in, there's just deep-and-very-deep.