Wicked Wednesday: Fucking ages away

Shhh-stack! sang the whip. (Which she bought from the Sentient Whips store on Vulcan)

“His sexual slug lolled against his thigh.”

Neil Gaiman pointed out in Ghastly Beyond Belief, an anthology of bad science fiction writing, that the danger of writing sex scenes set in the far future is that people won’t know what’s metaphor and what’s supposed to be taken literally. 

Does our hero have a pet sexual slug who comes over and does nice things for him, or has the writer thought of a metaphor for a post-fuck penis, relaxed, wet with his partner’s pleasure and some of his own, and lolling happily?

In a similar vein, there’s this:

“He watched, awed, as she took off her space helmet, shaking free her lustrous blonde hair. She removed her space suit, her voluptuous figure revealed in the tight, figure-hugging lines of her satin-velcro skin-suitsuit. As she stripped down to her leotard, he marvelled, admiring the erotic promise of her camel toe.” 

Fortunately, the camel toe isn’t connected to the rest of the camel, and its erotic promise was, “Yep, she don’t mind a smack on the arse, but bite her nipples and she’ll rip both your lungs out.”

Then it jumped off her leotard and hopped, as unaccompanied toes must do if they wish to move around, out of the scene. Phew!

Spang! Spang!

There was a Robert Heinlein science fiction novel, The Number of the Beast, in which the story was told in first person as a woman character. The heroine/narrator had amazing mobile nipples, that went “spang!” every time they erected. That was very often, believe me. I don’t know if he ever explained the nippleesque sound effects, because I couldn’t finish the book. I also never got to find out what her cunt said in moments of excitement. Ah, well.

Heinlein was a good writer, once. But by the time he died he’d managed to make himself into a terrible, terrible one. 

“I can’t make it tonight, honey, I’ve got crabs,” he said, inevitably.

Anyway, my point is that he garooded her firm proud pavanes lustily, causing her to shoockle like a Deleuzian lovecat in its annual droxa-heat. Her seven breasts, like her eight jewel-encrusted eyes, were on fire with passion.

No, really, they were on fire. Everything was extremely flammable on that planet, because of its atmosphere. It was high on oxygen, and therefore too obsessed by the myriad lines on its own right hand to notice as it spiralled towards the sun. In the year 2157!

“Oooh,” she moaned, “lunge that spockle, and floofe me hard!”  

Swiftly he grasped her heaving haunches, and …

 

Note:

I’ve been caught by novel deadlines. Maddy, our usual Wicked Wednesday guest, will have to wait a week before she returns to the headmaster’s office. Poor girl: they say the worst thing is the anticip

.

Finger-fucking in the taxi (FREE novel excerpt)

“God, I’m sorry about last night. I was having nerves. How was your flight?”

I shrugged. “Tried to sleep. Did manage to tune out. And you’re never, ever to hide nerves from me. That’s an order.”

Shar smiled complacently. “You’re going to like giving me orders, aren’t you?”

“Yup. What I won’t like is repeating them. That’s when you get your ass smacked.”

“But you’ll do that anyway. Already do.”

At about the same moment I said, “Taxi.”

“Trains are cheaper.”

“Not so much, for two people. And we got bags. And you’re a girl with no knickers on, and you might need privacy. “ She didn’t blush. So I said, “Though you will have to behave yourself. Taxi driver could hardly miss it if I have to punish you.” That worked.

She said, “Er…” But we rolled our bags to the taxi stand.

I organized the handle of my carry-on bag and my coat to block the gap between the front seats.

Shar sat beside me, staring forward, eyes glazing a little, while I slipped my fingers between warm damp thighs and into her cunt. Shar’s mouth dropped. She hadn’t been sure I really would do this. But she was a wet,welcoming girl.

She smiled, amused by me. Then she made her face straight, as if this wasn’t happening. I stroked inside her cunt, sometimes gently and sometimes hard, making her gasp as quietly as she could.

She tried to keep her upper body still and her face blank, At the same time she rolled her hips slightly and slowly to move with and make use of my fingers.

She put her hand on my wrist, not to stop me but to hold me, squeezing sometimes tight and sometimes with every ounce of her strength. Her face was red, not from embarrassment but from the effort of suppressing any – or most – sounds of her pleasure.

Cause something is happening and you don’t know what it is…

The taxi driver was grumpy when we stopped, though not because a woman had been pleasured in the back of his cab. He knew that much, I suppose, because there was a particularly focussed quality in our silence, with Shar’s occasional gasps, that gave us away.

Taxi drivers must be used to that sort of thing in their back seats, and if they minded unduly they wouldn’t drive taxis.

What annoyed him was that the little wall I’d built with my bag and coat meant he hadn’t been able to watch in the rear vision mirror, and the angle was wrong for cab-cam.

I wondered if that, in some taxi-driver-centric universe, was a legitimate grievance. I decided it couldn’t be but tipped him over the odds anyway. So we shook hands, though he knew where my hand had been, and parted on mutually congratulatory terms.

E[lust] 94: The joy of pain

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 ~

 

https://jerusalemmortimer.com/wicked-wednesday-maddies-virginity-story-2/

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s virginity 3

Erotic Fiction

Forgiven
Finally A Prostitute
On Display
World Traveller
Red
Ms. Mona’s Online Dating School for Dudes

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

BDSM is Not My Source for Life.
Pure and Simple
Discussing Consent & Scene Negotiation

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

You can
All for one, or one for all…
He haunts me.

Erotic Non-Fiction

Oh no, I’m not.
the shoot begins
Raylene’s pain does not matter

Poetry

-05.05.17_00:21-
White Tee Shirt

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Orgasm Challenge

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

A Kink Couple Fantasize About the Waitstaff

 

 

Elust 88

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s virginity (last hours)

So I’d just told the headmaster I was made to be strapped and spanked. By him. Seems I have a thing for headmasters, don’t I?

[I squeezed Maddie’s shoulders as she lay back, nestled in the crook of my right arm. We were relaxing on our makeshift bed in the storage room next to my office. I was her current headmaster, and I’d marked her body well with my hand and the cane before we’d fucked. Though for me she was office staff, not one of the students. She was telling me how she came to end her virginity.]  

So he smiled at me. Because I’d said the right thing. And because he knew perfectly well that I wanted him.

No, I didn’t just want him. I wanted him to be as cruel to me as he could bring himself to be, before he laid me down, spread my thighs and made me feel – all the things I wanted to feel.

I wanted him to walk on me, to pull me around by my hair. I wanted him to slap me, and make me cry for him. I wanted his cock to stretch me until I was so filled up I’d think I couldn’t take him.

I gazed up at him. I must have seemed so serious. I knew he was going to throw me out of his office and back to class. I didn’t want to leave. My cunt was yearning for him so hard it hurt. My thighs were shaking. I could feel my own juices running down my inner thighs. It’d take me at least a dozen paper towels to make myself look normal before I could get back to class. I didn’t want the other girls to know what a weird little girl I was.

“Maddie, you’re to go back to class now. And tell your teacher that you’ve had the strap. And that you have to be here no later than 12.05. Or you’ll get extra punishment. So, girl, it’s time you were on your way.”

I remembered he was going to make me take off my skirt and panties before he spanked me at lunchtime. There’d be no hiding it then. I’d just be at his mercy. Somehow, I didn’t mind him seeing. I’d be flowing for him. He’d know what to do.

He stepped towards me. I was sure he was going to tell me, then, that he loved me and needed me. But he just put one hand low on my belly, and reached with the other to flip my skirt up and tuck the hem into the waist so it stayed up. He spanked my through my panties, six hard ones, while I leaned against his body.

His hand cupped my let cheek, and patted me more affectionately. And then it moved between my legs – I’d stopped breathing – and his fingertips touched my left inner thigh, high up so his fingers found all my slippery wetness.

If he hadn’t been holding me then, I’d have crashed to the floor.

Then he stroked me, a little further up, so there was just the most fleeting touch, just the edge of his hand, touching the wet cotton covering my cunt. It was so soft and so fast that I could have told myself it hadn’t happened. But it had.

He smiled again, and smacked me one last time. “If I’m to spank you over my knee, Maddie, I’m going to need a towel, aren’t I?” 

I suppose I must have blushed as hard as I ever have in my life. I nodded. Then I remembered and said, “I think you may, sir.”

He laughed, just a very little. And he smacked my bottom again, and led me to the door.

On my way back to class, via the changing rooms, I wondered why I wasn’t more worried about the spanking I was going to get at lunchtime.

Or the paddling I’d almost certainly get after school. But I couldn’t make myself feel that these things were scary. He didn’t mind that I was a wet girl. He didn’t mind that I was turned on. He knew I was weird, and he still liked me. I was sure of it. 

I knew it wasn’t just me who was made for this. He was, too.

Free novel segment!

Once again I’m busy with my book. I’d like to produce the next episode of the Raylene saga, but I’ve set myself the goal of finishing the novel by 31 May. 

So here’s another novel excerpt!

 

FREE novel excerpt!

Not illustrating anything in the actual story, worse luck. But the Tao of Nipple-Biting belongs everywhere

I lifted my head. “Good girl, beautiful girl, wondergirl, good girl, lovely sexy girl, that was so -”

But I stopped because I couldn’t think of anything that compared to what had just happened.

So I lowered my head and kissed Daphne’s cunt with adoration. Then I kissed it goodbye, and inched my way up her body, kissing points of interest on the way.

I took her left nipple in her mouth, sucked it erect and then bit it lightly, apply little grazing bites and rubbing gently with tongue and teeth.

Daphne muttered something pleasure-related, arching her back to give me better access. I sucked the nipple and as much of her breast as I could manage into my mouth. 

She looked down then and saw my face for the first time since I’d thrown her onto the bed. “Oh god, your face! You’re wet! Did I -?”

“Absolutely. Quite a lot really.”

“Oh god, Freddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was going to do that. It hasn’t happened in ages.”

“Now you’re just making me smug.”

“Well, not all guys like it. Some react like it’s, well, gross.”

“Any guy who is anything except flattered is not worth your time and has no place in your bed. Fact.”

“Wow. That’s fervent. And a bit hardline. What if he hadn’t heard of it and didn’t expect it. And he thought I’d pissed on him?”

“If he doesn’t do his reading he deserves to have you piss on him. OK, if he’s cute you’re allowed to forgive him, I suppose. Anyway, I was flattered beyond belief. Specially when you said you hadn’t done it in ages.”

“Smug is right. By the way, didn’t you spank me in the middle of all that? Who said you could spank me?”

“Um. I could say, ‘the moment’, or something. But I got no excuse, unless I guessed right and you found it a little bit hot. I took a risk. No, the fact is, I had no right to.”

“I bet that’s not part of your code of ethics, is it?”

“No.”

“Hah! I like that I made you break your code of ethics. And yes, I did find it a little bit hot.”

There was some risk of a conversation about sexual politics. Which I enjoy, but just then my cock was hard, and it would wilt under political pressure. I was certain we could think of better things to do. So I clambered a little further up her body and kissed her mouth. Daphne kissed me back, and put her hands back in my hair. We were being lovers again.

What is this “hard, rough and unprotected” thing in women’s bdsm porn?

I’ve got a novel that I expect to have finished and on the market by the end of this month. One of my beta readers said it was “like Ben Elton, but with explicit sex”. I’m happy with that as a genre.

I don’t want it to be marketed as “erotica with comedy elements”. I’d rather it was “an extremely sexy comic novel”.

Though, of course, I want it published, and once I have a publisher I don’t care if they market it as “the best thing since Nigella in the Kitchen“, so long as they give me money. 

But I was looking through Kindle, checking out bdsm books, for the marketing and the prices. There are writers out there asking for $6.99 for a semi-literate 15-page wank fantasy, and I have to say that I think they’re dreaming. For all that I think writers should be paid in diamonds, rubies, oysters, champagne and free sex, I still think asking for about $1.50 a page, for 15 pages, is eye-wateringly lazy and greedy.

On the other hand, I expect that no one buys that stuff, so perhaps it doesn’t matter. Nice try, is all.

Anyway, the other thing that struck me was the amount of anti-condom messaging, where one of the hot bits for the intended reader (the target audience seems to be women) is the bit where the male lust object tells the heroine that he’s going to fuck her hard, without a condom. 

I wondered what the hell that was about. Here are my three guesses.

  1. Maybe it’s some kind of cultural side-effect of the resurgence of the religious right. Anti-birth control measures are not just getting into US laws, they’re also getting into the porn. 
  2. Most people who use condoms probably don’t actually like them. I use condoms. But where we’re being sexually exclusive, been tested, and so on, skin to skin is far more intimate, more sensual, and, in the Erica Jong sense, more zipless. But the “hard, rough and unprotected” porn usually won’t even mention condoms, or the advantages of bareback. Still, maybe for once they’re being subtle.
  3. A fair proportion of the books end with the heroine in advanced, blissful pregnancy. Her sexual rival – often her mother – has gone, and now she’s happy being looked after by the step-father. She didn’t get a billionaire, but at least she got a guy who owns his own home and has a job. So, like the billionaire porn, it’s partly sexual and partly an economic fantasy.

The truth is, I don’t really understand “hard, rough and unprotected” porn. When I read a sex scene in this genre, I tend to see it as something like this:

“He pushed her down and as her legs sprawled apart, helpless from her own wanton desires, with one powerful, masculine lunge he exposed her to STDs and unwanted pregnancy.”

This is not hot, to me. But obviously it is for a lot of people. I’m not being a snob and I’m not mocking. I genuinely want to understand this genre. 

Can anybody help?

 

Julian “I’m Wearing You” Assange

One other point, since we’re talking about condoms.

If you get sexual consent by agreeing to use a condom, and then don’t use a condom without informing your partner, the law on obtaining consent by deception is clear in pretty much all jurisdictions in the world.

If you do that, you’re a rapist.

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s virginity 4

I was saying, “please,” please, Sir” but I didn’t know what I wanted. 

But there in that office, wearing only my shirt and panties, socks and shoes, I wanted something and I wanted it harder than I’d ever wanted anything in my life before. My body was glowing, especially my hands where he’d strapped them. My cunt, too, though he hadn’t touched me there. And yet the truth is that he had. 

He had his hands on my hips. For some reason I knew that something would happen, some great release, if he would just put his hands under my shirt, and under my panties… I wanted him to hold my bottom, touching my bare skin. I think, now, that if he had touched me there I’d have come.

But he left me yearning. He stepped back, and I felt so sad. I was stricken. He looked into my face for a long time. I know he recognised me then, and he knew what I wanted. He smiled.

“Put  your bra and shirt back on, Maddie.”

“Sir?” I must have sounded so disappointed. I stepped back and sucked in my tummy. It made my breasts look hard, and bigger. Like everything a man could want, I’d read.

“Bra and shirt on, girl. Do as you’re told.”

I said, “yes, sir.” A bit sullen. I got dressed again.

He smiled at me. “It’s not often I have to repeat an order for a girl to put her clothes back on. Not in this office.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I suppose you are, Maddie. Now, you’re going to go back to class now.”

“Sir?”

“And you’re going to tell your teacher that you got six strokes with the strap on your hands. Do you understand?”

“In… in class, sir?”

“In a loud clear voice. You were prepared to embarrass her in front of your class. Do you think you’re more special than she is?”

“No, sir. She’s my teacher.”

He grinned at me. “Is she? Anyway, you’ll tell her, loud and clear, that you’ve had the strap, Maddie. And that you have to leave again at twelve sharp, because you’re going to come straight back here to get a spanking over my knee. Instead of lunch, today.”

“Oh! Sir!”

“A bare-bottom spanking. Over my knee. Do you think you can say that?”

“‘The headmaster gave me the strap, miss, Six hard ones, on my hands And I need to leave at 12 sharp, because he’s going to spank my bare bottom. At lunchtime.”

“Good! Come closer, Maddie.”

I stepped back so we were touching, my breasts rubbing against him. It was through the bra and cotton shirt now, but we could feel it. This time I realised that his thing was hard. I guess it had been before, but I wasn’t thinking of him as a man, then. Now I was.

I sank into him. I wished he’d hold me properly, and when he reached under the shirt and held my hips and pulled in tight I thought I’d cry from the joy of it. Then I saw him smile. “But there’s one other thing.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’ll have to be on time. I’m allowing you till 12.05 to get here. For your spanking.”

“Sir! I – Well, I’ll really have to run. To be on time.”

“Good girl. Because if you arrive after 12.05, you’ll get your spanking, but you’ll get an extra punishment too. You’ll have to come back after school. And you’ll get the paddle. On your bare bottom and thighs.”

“Oh my god. Sir.” I was terrified. And excited. And terrified of how excited I was. 

“Oh. And you’ll tell your teacher that. That if she keeps you even a minute, you’ll be late. And if you’re late for your spanking, you’ll still get the spanking, but you’ll have to come back here after school so I can paddle you.”

“Sir? But she -” But I stopped. I’d done my best to make my teacher look stupid. If she decided I was going to be late so that I got the paddle after school, I couldn’t really complain. “Yes sir, I understand.”

He smiled. And his hands held me lower, to squeeze my bottom through my skirt. It wasn’t my bare skin, but I nearly howled, I’d wanted that so much. Then he smacked me. “You know what you have to tell your teacher. And I’ll see you at 12.05, for your spanking. Don’t be late, Maddie.” 

I knew I was doomed. I was for the paddle before I went home, and that was that. “I’ll try, sir.”

He smiled again, and walked me to the door. “Don’t be too afraid, Maddie. I think you were made for this. Weren’t you?”

i didn’t understand him. “Sir?”

“I want an answer, Maddie. Were you made for this?”

“Yes, sir.” 

His and shot out and smacked my bottom, hard. My mouth fell open from the shock of it. It felt like he’d hit my cunt. “Try again.”

My heart beat so hard then. “Yes sir, I was made for this, sir.”