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A Matter Of Taste

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There are some things in life that are just things.  Taken alone, they are neither good things nor bad things.  They are just things.

They can be pragmatic things or provocative things, upliftingly luxurious things or depressingly dull things, steamy and sumptuous things or unctuously unappealing things.  Sometimes they can be all those things, other times none, depending on your taste.

For me, crawling is one of those things.

Like coffee, if it’s done right, crawling can be a delectable treat.  (And by ‘done right’ I mean ‘done in a way that I like’.  I am not insinuating that there is a ‘right’ way to do coffee OR crawling, NOR am I implying that ‘my way’ is the ‘right’ way.  To each their own.)  If it’s the wrong brew, however, it leaves behind a bitter aftertaste.

Some types of crawling make me furrow my brow in bafflement.  My reaction is the same as it is when being invited to pay seven dollars for a burnt-bean latte:  It holds zero appeal for me, and no way in hell am I gonna do it.  For me, this pretty much applies to *any* kind of degradation/humiliation play.  In general, it’s just not my thing.  But crawling in particular – if it’s being forced, if it’s a punishment, if it’s for the purpose of humiliation – goes beyond just “not turning me on.”  It actively turns me off.

Humiliative Crawling (I totally just made up that term, but it works!), especially if it’s a woman who’s doing the crawling and she’s doing it at the behest of a man…  Nope.  Definitely not to my taste.

Crawling as an activity related to puppy play?  Meh.

As any kind of ‘lowering’ protocol in BDSM activities?  Ehhh…  (Insert splayed palms, upturned eyebrows and shrugging shoulders, here.)

Other types of crawling, however, affect my insides in ways that range from lukewarm to steamy hot.  It’s all about the who, the how, and the why.

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Elust #94

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Exposing 40 Elust 94
Photo courtesy of Exposing 40

Welcome to Elust 94

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 #95 Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Always Coming Second

Balance

THREESOME – the card game

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The #500words Project ~ 2

#Pussy Pride

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

No Eligible Posts

*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!

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Over You

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Come here, love.

Kneel.

Push your shoulders between my thighs and let me drape my legs over you. Let the relaxed weight of bent-splayed desire guide you downward. Feel the muscled insides of my soft-skinned thighs pet your cheeks and lower your sweet water-cool lips to taste the tart honey beading along my plump-flesh slit.

That’s it. Lick.

Stroke your tongue upward, swirl around my clit.

Push inside. Give your tastebuds the pleasure of my fuck. Lap my cream and suck my sticky tart-sweet.

Flatten your tongue when you flicker my clit. Take it into your mouth. Suckle.

Yes.

Yesssss

.

.

.

I need you closer.

Come to the bed and prop yourself up on some pillows. Face me, and let me drape my legs over you, my thighs over yours. I want to see your thick cock, to let you see my glistening cunt, between the diamond-V of our entwined legs.

Now stroke yourself for me.

Look me in the eye and follow my gaze down my body to where my fingers slide slippery through the gushing mess we just made. Can you see the flushed-pink dark wet?

Watch my swollen clit throb and twitch under the pressure-circle of my fingertips.

Keep stroking.

Keep watching.

Watch. Me.

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Awaiting Starlight

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After the feather of lips over flushed flesh, after the swallow of pleasure-infused cries, after the graveled pull forth of pleading desire and the breathy rasp of trapped-throat moans;

Once tongues have delved, and soft-wet / heavy-hard have been worshipfully sacramented in the silk wine devotion of consecrating mouths,

When the slick of my cream stripes his cheeks and the drip from his slit coats my palm…

After unbound wrists have freed greedy fingers to push and twist their marauding demand into my tender resistant depths, fanning fireburst flames in the straining tight behind my navel and pulling primal growls from the depths of my lungs;

While shake-shiver tremors pebble my pinpoint nipples, sending aftershocks of pleasurable not-pain sharply rolling from dry-swallow throat to cream-glistened cunt,

When uneven panting exhalations have given way to susserating sighs and reassuring murmurs of lips against skin…

After the atavistic cry of culmination has bitten sharp-toothed through the crisp night air, tearing through the fire-warmed chill with hot frosted exaltation –

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