BOOM

      7 Comments on BOOM

We are discussing ~ rationally, somewhat perfunctorily ~ oral sex – how to refocus on breathing so as to distract from the pressure against the tonsils, how to relax the shoulders and throat, how to change angle for comfort and depth, how to lave the back of the tongue against the underside of the cock and swallow against the head – when an (incorrectly) assumptive comment on my part leads to clarification on his, followed by a complete surprise.

“My experiences with you,” he says, elaborating on how he feels about my oral ministrations with a humorously pleasured sigh, “are like…  Here’s some TNT for you to sit on” (‘you’ meaning him), “Now just be still a minute while I light it.”

.

.

.

And something inside me goes…

twin fireworks boom

BOOM.

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Spit

      8 Comments on Spit

Lick

His face is burrowed close in to my cunt, his lips push-pull suckling at my clit betwen long wet strokes of his tongue lapping at my cream.

I am soaked.

When I stroke my hands through his hair and down his cheek, I feel his mouth muscles working beneath my petting fingertips, salivating at the taste of my tart sweet.

Locking his eyes on mine, he slowly and steadily begins to lick.

My own juices are flowing, combining sticky smooth with the Adam’s ale flowing from his mouth, slicking my inner labia and dripping down his chin.

Grasping a handful of his hair, pulling him into me, I pivot my hips and begin to rock, sliding my slippery cunt against his quicksilver lips, giving myself over to the sleek sheen glazing my thighs, swimming in the pleasure we are sharing.

.

Swirl

He is sitting across from me:  nude, hot, sprawl-legged and arousal-tense, flushed from the continual erotic storm he’s enduring at my hands.  His cock is in a perpetual state of non-relief: dark red, turgid, and dripping beneath my touch.

It has been an hour at least, and this exercise in control is only just beginning.  So far I have taken him to the back of my satin-tight throat, glided my sweet wet cunt over his hot hard cock in a barely-there slip-sliding frottage, and taken him to the edge with full firm strokes of my palms from balls to tip.

He has squirmed and writhed, whimpered and groaned, gasped and sighed and moaned; now it’s time to make him forget how to breathe.

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Apple Spice Bread

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CONTENT WARNING:  There is nothing sexy about this post.  Unless, of course, you find food to be sexy.  If so:  This is an incredibly sexy post!

Ahem.

‘Kayso, last year I took part in the Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza (so named by its founder, Jz at A Relctant Bitch), and it was a great deal of fun — regardless of the fact that I did not share a recipe for cookies.  Because, CAKE.  (Several other participants opted for non-cookie treats to share as well.)    So this year I am continuing the non-cookie extravaganza tradition with an easy-peasy recipe for…

APPLE SPICE BREAD

ingredients for apple spice bread

First, gather your ingredients:

1 1/2 cup flour
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
4 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp cloves
1/4 tsp nutmeg
3/4 cup olive oil
1/2 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
1 large apple (any ol’ apple will do ~ I tend to use honeycrisp)

sifted dry ingredients for apple spice breadSift together dry ingredients in medium mixing bowl.  Add oil, vanilla, and eggs.  Stir until dough is wet all the way through.

Fold in one large apple, finely chopped.  (I use a hand-crank chopper – it takes 15 seconds.)

chopped apples for apple spice bread

Grease and flour pan(s) ~ recipe makes two small loafs or one large loaf; I use a double loaf pan.  Bake at 350°F for 60 minutes.

Let cool for one hour, then slice and serve!

apple spice bread

Total Prep Time:  8 minutes
Total Bake Time: 60 minutes

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Whisper

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I am laying against him in the bubbly bath water, my front to his front, my arms hugging his waist and head under his chin, relaxed and content and post-orgasmically free-floaty.  Encircled by his limbs, I burrow my face into his chest with a pleasured hum.

Breath and silence are the only sounds.

Into the whisper quiet, barely audible above the surrounding stillness, I speak.

My alto voice is a purring kitten, low and content and rumbly-smooth.  My words are a winged bird – the kind that cannot help but flutter and fly free – against the steady rise and fall of his chest under my cheek.

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