Morning
HER DIARY:
My pussy is already dripping in anticipation. S rang he is coming over tonight. I told him that we are running short of KY - only half a tube left. I'm like a bitch on heat. Whenever I am like this my legs seem to be opening involuntarily, my labia feels as if they are six inches apart. It is as if I have spread my legs to their greatest extent, although I know I am sitting with my knees together.
After this cup of coffee I shall go into my studio and begin to paint. Big red angry skies with clouds that are swirling, expressing passion through their motion. God I wish he was here already.
HIS DIARY
N phoned today, randy as hell - to tell the truth I'm randy as hell too. We've used nearly all the KY - really ought to buy some shares in the company or put in a wholesale order. To be honest she is the sexiest woman I have ever known, well our sexual proclivities dovetail together.
Years back I had this thing with a younger woman, N divorced me. The fling was fun for a few weeks then it became boring. She lay on her back opened her legs I shoved it in and pumped away. That is not saying that she was not enthusiastic, she was - she would thrash about like mad, and she gave a good blow-job. But anything else, anal, bondage, etc., was a no-no. I suppose she was too young to appreciate the finer side of sex. It is strange, whenever I start to get geared up for a real session with N a part of the process is running over the past.
HER DIARY:
I'm in my studio flinging paint on the canvas, elliptical clouds bursting open into delicate pink flowers. My pussy is aching for his touch. It's so real it's almost as if he is there already. When I am like this I cannot bear to see him outside the house. I just have to look at him, look at his hand, and I'm wetting myself - I'm wetting myself anyway when I'm like this, I can feel the fluid, hot and sticky running down the inside of my thighs. As I told you, I only have to look at him and I want to drag him to bed.
HIS DIARY:
I have to try and concentrate on editing this film. Looking at video of the interior of a car, even a race car is not easy when all I can think of is sex with N, but this is the film that pays the rent and keeps body and soul together. When I listen to the audio track the protesting growl of the engine reminds me of those pistons pumping up and down in the cylinders, which links by lateral thinking with sex.
Tonight I'll wear my leather jeans - that turns her on.
HER DIARY:
When we are going to have a heavy sex session he always wears leather. He knows that when I see him in leather I cum. I want to tear the jeans off him and at the same time another part of me wants him to keep them on. To feel the texture of the leather against my naked flesh.
HIS DIARY
Years ago when I had a bike we went out for a run along the coast road. Stopped by a little cove, walked down to the beach stood watching the silver moon-path across the water. We went back to the base of the cliffs, took off our leather jackets and I buggered her there.
HER DIARY:
The sea beat out the rhythm as he pumped up and down in my ass, the jackets were cool and sensual beneath me. The buckles and zips dug into me. The pain was exquisite. Afterwards all the way home I could feel his still warm spunk swilling around inside me. That's one of the reasons why I prefer anal, after my cunt's been fucked the spunk runs out, when he has shot up my ass it stays there and I can still feel him. Sometimes when he has gone home I keep it in there for days until it's too painful to hold any longer.
If my kids knew what I got upto they would be shocked. Like most young people they think that once you have turned forty you should be sexless, now the oldest is forty and my daughter is not far off they have probably amended their ideas, probably now people become sexless at fifty. I'm in my mid sixties the first time I had sex was in a field when I was thirteen and I hope I'm still doing it when I am eighty.
HIS DIARY:
All I can think about is tonight, for two pins I'd chuck this work to one side jump into the car and go to N's right now. But waiting, anticipation is part of the fun. I've been fixated on women and their cunts for as long as I can remember. The past is running through my mind like a film. When I was a child my favourite game was playing "doctors and nurses" with the little girl who lived up the lane from us. We would go into the hayfield. Where safely hidden by the high corn stalks she would lie down and remove her knickers. I would kneel between her parted legs and explore her bald slit. I was intrigued by the hard ruby bud that nestled there and the golden stream that jetted from her when she peed. - An innocent game, we were both about six or seven. I wonder what happened to her, did she grow up to be as addicted to sex as I am? When I was thirteen I first had sex, to tell the truth I soon found it to be pretty boring. Then in my mid teens I had this part-time job in a book-shop, it was there I discovered the art of sex.
Some people would say that it was books made me into a pervert. I would say that I was already perverted I just needed a recognition of my inclinations. In those books I found myself, I read "My life and loves" by Frank Harris. Then I found my true self when I read De Sade, the Marquise showed the true nature of my sexual inclination. And I set out on a life long quest to find a woman whose desires dovetailed with mine.
HER DIARY:
I am sitting on the toilet pissing. Every so often I squeeze myself tight cutting off the golden jet mid-stream. The pain of stopping sends a sting coursing through my belly and a warm glow in my womb as my ecstasy builds up. Eventually it happens pulsating waves flow down my pussy my bladder relaxes and I simultaneously pee and cum. As I piss and pleasure myself my mind goes back to when I was a little girl, it was then I first discovered how pleasurable it was to stop a pee mid-way through. I would fill my bladder by drinking glasses of water then spend ages in the toilet at the bottom of the back garden pleasuring myself.
Now when I sit here pissing I dream that he is here touching me whilst I pee, and just before I cum the dream becomes so vivid that I can literally feel his hand playing with my labia teasing my clit.
My first husband was a sexless prat, all he ever wanted was to make babies or turn over and go to sleep, usually the latter. Many nights I would lie there bathed in perspiration born of frustration whilst he snored in the bed next to me. And he had the nerve to wonder why I was not the faithful wife.
The only form of rough treatment he knew was with his fists. Typically of men like that he was a coward, never arguing with a man he would come home and vent his rage on me, and like a fool for years I took the beatings.
That might sound paradoxical, when you consider the man I love now will take a whip or a cane to me. But that is sex, he doesn't beat me violently, although at times I hurt more than when my first husband thumped me. The bruises even the cuts from the whip and cane are special - they are put there with love and received with love, one word from me and I know he will stop. I might be the submissive but I am the one who is in ultimate control - those are the rules of the game. Yes, game! That is what sex is isn't it - a game, and games are played for enjoyment.
I knew that he was the right man for me, when I saw him in his leather gear with his motorcycle, I felt his eyes undressing me. I could have walked away or as I did stand and let him feast his eyes upon my clothed nakedness.
HIS DIARY:
She was with her husband, we were talking motorbikes and she was lusting after me positively begging for it. So why not give her a try, I thought. When I asked her out she feigned reluctance for all of half a minute.
HER DIARY:
He treated me like an animal and I wanted him more and more.
HIS DIARY:
I did not want to waste time. We had a couple of drinks, then went back to my place.
HER DIARY:
I'd never been treated like it before. As soon as the door had closed behind us he told me to strip. No preliminaries, no pretence at seduction on the couch, - simply "I want you naked now." I was going to protest he knew it, I realised if I did not strip it would be all over. It was delicious that feeling of being dominated the choices had been removed.
HIS DIARY:
As soon as she had stripped I took her into the bedroom. My wet finger established that she was hot for it. Gently I began kissing her feet working me way up the insides of her legs until I reached the upper thighs. Her legs were spread inviting me onward and upward.
HER DIARY:
I trembled on the edge of an orgasm, a man had never induced a climax without entering me before. Then the bastard hung me up, at that moment I could have screamed - a puff of cool air on my cunt and he stopped.
HIS DIARY:
I rained butterfly kisses on her face. I held her still when she tried to pull away as I kissed and tongued her ears. I turned her onto her stomach and kissed her shoulders, moving down her spine. She trembled when my tongue entered the crease between her buttocks. Using both hands I parted the cheeks and carried on down. She tensed when my tongue reached the tight rosebud of her anus. I ran my tongue round the bud. She did not resist when I turned her onto her back. I kissed her neck and shoulders.
HER DIARY:
I had always been self-conscious and embarrassed by my small breasts, sitting on my chest like two fried bantams' eggs. I did not want him or any man kissing them. They were a source of inferiority, to my mind useless. They had not even been able to serve their biological function I had always had to bottle feed my three children.
HIS DIARY:
Ignoring her protests I grasped her shoulders and held her down as I kissed her breasts. When I sucked and teased her nipples she went berserk, but I persisted until suddenly she went limp.
HER DIARY:
My breasts hurt realising I could not fight him off I gave up as I fought to relax myself the unexpected happened I came!
HIS DIARY:
As I went down over her belly she carried on cumming. This time when her legs parted I lapped at her open cunt, and stirred her clit. Carrying on further I liberally licked at the tight rosebud of her anus.
HER DIARY:
He put my legs on his shoulders. I eagerly awaited his entry as he teased me by running his cock over the lips of my cunt. Then he parted the lips and ran his cock over my clit drawing it down further and further. It was so unexpected.
HIS DIARY:
I rammed my prick up her ass. For a moment she was stunned and lay still. Then she wriggled with pain. The next minute she started to cum and once she started she did not stop.
HER DIARY:
I paid him back I dug my nails into his back and pulled him into me. Through the pain I was cumming. Wave after wave of ecstasy flowed and I responded by clawing his back. He fucked me with animal brutality, like a tigress I clawed him. I could feel his skin clogging under my nails as his hard prick bored into me.
HIS DIARY:
Both of us went for it like rabbits.
HER DIARY:
I was not an anal virgin, but before the anal sex I'd had, was with of the traditional type. Where the woman is on all fours or bent over a chair facing away from the man. I think my partners had been relatively inexperienced, so I had come to associate anal sex with unpleasant pain.
Being buggered face to face was a new experience. Each thrust into me his pelvis was grinding into my clit, his pubic hairs irritated, tickled and stimulated my exposed labia. When I felt his hot spunk pulsing into me I knew anal sex could be the best sex.
I held his softening cock in me we lay until it stirred into some semblance of hardness and he screwed me again.
When he eventually pulled his dripping cock out of me my anus felt as though it had been beaten with stinging nettles and my legs ached.
But I knew he was right for me when he was so gentle as we lay in one anothers arms bathed in that warm after sex self satisfied glow.
HIS DIARY:
After the violence of coupling we lay kissing savouring the moment we had shared. Tasting the saltiness of each other's sweat bathed bodies. Maybe we dozed I am unsure. My cock was stiff again.
HER DIARY:
I awoke on my stomach my legs spread.
HIS DIARY:
She was still asleep on her stomach. The rosebud of her anus was red and angry swollen - pouting as if it was about to flower. The temptation was too great I reached by the bed for the KY and anointed her.
HER DIARY:
He put something cool on my anus, at first I thought it was an ointment. Then the pain as with a hard thrust he entered me.
HIS DIARY:
She gasped as I gently pushed into her.
HER DIARY:
We rolled onto our sides. I could not vent my pain by scratching him. His hands clasped my breasts. He began to squeeze and knead them, using them as handholds to pull me back onto him as he thrust in. The pain was excruciating - I fought to relax - then the warm waves began and the pain transmuted into an exquisite pleasure. He was doing everything I disliked, hands playing with my breasts, tongue entering my ear, nibbling at my earlobes.
HIS DIARY:
"Stop!" She cried. I ignored her, if she insisted I would stop but this was a test was she the woman I was looking for? I was not gentle I did not want to be gentle I wanted to own her to posses her body and mind. She had to be mine, completely and absolutely.
HER DIARY:
I looked in the mirror. How could I go home, even my husband could not fail to notice my bruised breasts. With his lack of interest in sex, it was unlikely he would notice that my sex and ass looked like raw meat. The bruises or the satisfied look in my eyes.
HIS DIARY:
I knew she was right for me!
HER DIARY:
I wanted him. I wanted more of him. And I was willing to be his whatever the price.
Afternoon
HIS DIARY:
The film is still not edited, I have spent too much time thinking about sex. Memories running pin sharp in the subdued hues of Eastman Kodak colour film documentaries. So much more gentle than Technicolor or video. I wish that some camera manufacturer would give Eastman as a setting on digital cameras. I must not forget to take the camera this time. Last time I got halfway to N's and realised I had left the camera behind.
HER DIARY:
The paint is flying onto this canvas. It is the only way I can prevent myself sitting down in a permanent wet-dream until he arrives. At lunch-time I could not help myself, I gave way to temptation and drank a litre bottle of Coke Cola. I spent nearly an hour in the loo - I lost count of how many times I made myself cum. It's a good job women aren't like men - cum and have to rest before they can perform again. I'd never be able to perform because I'd have too many anticipatory wanks.
Still the clock has not stopped ticking. It's strange it always seems that time is standing still when you are waiting for something. When I am painting time seems to fly by, but when I stop time seems to be frozen. Although the second hand of the clock moves, the minute and hour hands freeze in place.
I'm covered in paint when I have finished I shall take a bath. I always have a bath before one of our sessions. At first it was his kink not mine, but now I have got used to it I would not like to have pubic hair, it's nicer to be all smooth down there. So when I have finished I shall go into the bathroom, before I get into the bath I will wet all around that area cover it in shaving foam then shave it.
HIS DIARY:
She will be in the bathroom by now, she knows I prefer her shaved. At first she was a bit reluctant but now the ungodly shave is a part of her pre-sex ablution ritual. Speaking of ablutions I must trim and manicure my finger nails. She claws hell out of my back yet insists my own finger nails are trimmed down to the quick. Actually I agree with her it is important that I keep my nails as short as possible, then filed so there is no possibility of my scratching her.
I hope she is wearing the dress that unbuttons the whole way down the front, and her bra with the front fastening. I do like easy access to her body before we go up to the studio or bedroom.
The instant I go into her house I shall instruct her to remove her panties. Walking around with her panties removed makes her feel terribly vulnerable, it is something that she would not do by choice and therefore it is an easy way to make her feel dominated. It's a cycle of events, she does not like to be without her pants, so my making her remove them induces in her feelings of being dominated as a consequence she begins to cum. The dampness running at the top of her legs embarrasses her, reminding her of her naked vulnerability. She knows that she is naked because I ordered it - she knows she is dominated - she begins to cum!
HER DIARY:
What shall I wear? Whatever I choose he will find a way of making me feel dominated by making me do something I would not do out of choice. His favourite is to make me remove my pants. I quite enjoy it really, it makes me feel deliciously wanton, sometimes I feel positively wicked. Because it is something I would not do from choice, it does make me aware that it is his bidding I am doing and that in itself is exciting. He has made me go through a period with no knickers and no pad, just using tea-towels tied like nappies. It was horrible and exciting at the same time.
I bet you are thinking - she doesn't have periods at her age, but I assure you I bleed every month - the secret is H.R.T. - It keeps me young physically and mentally.
But tonight I think I will pre-empt him! I want him to take me as soon as he walks through the door. I do not want to spend the evening with a bottle of wine and music. I want to feel him doing it to me. I want to feel him forcing me. I want those parts of me that feel as if they are open to be opened by him.
That is the secret of this kind of sex, it is not quite what it seems - it is topsy-turvy, upside down. He is my master I am his slave, but it is I the slave who is in ultimate control, who decrees what happens and what does not happen.
The Act
HIS DIARY:
She did not greet me at the door so I walked in. She was in the living room. Kneeling on the carpet. Naked except for her studded collar and handcuffs. She did not lift her eyes when I entered.
HER DIARY:
A tremor went through me when I saw his leather encased legs. He is so good at this role playing. It was quite scary as without comment he put his camera bag down. Then walked around me, the only sound was the gentle creak and rustle of his leather jeans. It seemed to be an eternity that he circled me.
I grew apprehensive fear as I tried to anticipate how he would respond. He might whip me or worse still use his heavy buckled belt on me. I would be cut, bruised or both. By my actions I had given him permission to react in any way he saw fit. You see I trust him, that is the nature of S&M relationships. The submissive partner puts their personal safety in the hands of the dominant partner.
HIS DIARY:
I take off my belt, she stiffens in expectation of the blow. I slip the belt through the collar take her to the studio. Replace the simple plastic handcuffs with leather buckled ones. Put a blindfold on her. Using a strap I fastened her shackles to the top of her studio easel.
We often improvise, the studio easel is a sturdy, heavy structure made of wood. Its stable design makes it ideal as a bondage accessory. Then I went to the bedroom, to N's toy drawer.
HER DIARY:
When I am hanging by my arms I feel especially vulnerable. He has absolute access to my body. Without using the safe word and bringing the whole session to an end I cannot deny him whatever he desires. I can hear him in the bedroom rummaging through the box. I still have no idea what he intends to do to me.
HIS DIARY:
I leave her alone. The sensory depravation of the blindfold will heighten the tension for her. The victim, I say victim advisedly, for although the submissive gives themselves voluntarily it is the duty of the dominant to accept the role of master and disciplinarian. The victim's own imagination will when the victim is alone, psychologically torment her or him far more effectively than any non violent act the dominant might do. Whilst I am in the bedroom I removed my jacket, shirt shoes and socks. Tonight as a special treat she will feel my leather clad body next to her.
HER DIARY:
My legs are being forced apart, he is inserting something into me - its soft it is not the rolling pin - its big - it must be the Warrior, twelve inches of latex penis accurate with veins and corrugations. Thank god he has lubricated it. He pushes it up and up deep into my womb. Now he's doing something else. I feel as if I am being cleaved in half, as I imagine stone must feel when it is being quarried with wedges. I don't know what is going on - I only know this is painful and beautiful at the same time.
HIS DIARY
I am giving her a two way doing, first the Warrior now the smaller vibrator up her anus. The whole of the area is being stretched open.
HER DIARY
They are buzzing he has turned them on, it's a weird sensation they are not synchronised each does its own thing and they are separated by a mere strip of skin. In themselves they would be exciting, having it done like this is sublime.
HIS DIARY:
She is enjoying this, so much so it is not only her cunt that is dribbling. I toy with the idea of whipping her with the vibrators still inside her, but if I did we may not do other things. It is easy for both of us to get carried away, then by the time the whipping has finished she will be too damaged to carry on.
HER DIARY:
I was just getting into that when he turned off the vibrators and withdrew them. He said his first words - how long has he been in the house, and not spoken all that time. "I want to fist you now." He said as he loosened the tie holding my arms above my head. I responded, "I want you too - give it to me hot and sweet just crack me open, do it."
HIS DIARY:
As soon as I had undone her tie I hustled her into the bedroom. Once again I fastened her arm bonds, this time to the bed-head. I remove her blindfold.
HER DIARY:
I hate this bit lying on the bed open-legged whilst he sets the camcorder running, but I am always fascinated watching the mechanics of what happens to me. I tried looking in a mirror but there is no comparison with watching afterwards on a large screen T.V.
HIS DIARY:
She co-operated by opening her legs. I applied a liberal coating of KY Jelly to my hand. To get more comfortable or in anticipation she wriggled her buttocks.
With my left hand I parted her already distended labia. Tucking my thumb in I made an arrow-head of my glistening right hand. Gently, middle finger first I began to insert my hand into her vagina. When all my fingers were in, only the knuckles and back of my hand still visible I paused.
HER DIARY
This bit never hurts and he is so slow, I am sure that he is deliberately teasing me. It will hurt in a minute when he pushes the swelling of his knuckle through my pelvic bone. "Go on get on with it." I hear myself shouting. I hear the crack as the bone separates. The force vibrates through my body. With the intensity of a lightening bolt the stinging pain caused by the dislocation of my pubic bone sears through my body. The bang as it went echoing in my head. My womb is a warm sea. The nerves in my groin are in a state of total confusion, joy signals and pain signals all coming from the same area. Oh God! He is not stopping. I can feel his hand stretching my stomach as he pushes into me.
HIS DIARY:
The folds of her vagina feel as slippery and gentle as wet velvet. Until I reach the bone it is a voyage of exploration pushing aside swathes of curtains. I hear a "snick" as the bone gives.
Her pelvis assumes the profile of a Gothic Arch. When this occurs it always strikes me as appropriate that her sex, her Temple of Love so readily confirms it's divine status, by conforming to the precepts of Renaissance ecclesiastical architecture. I am the creator of the temple and the worshipper of this divine being.
The vibrator has already opened her womb, my fingers enter what feels like the neck of a drawer string bag it opens. Using only moderate force I slide my hand in until I can only see my forearm above the wrist.
Her body recovering from the shock of my entry reacts. Like a python her love tube grips and squeezes my hand, only the fingers in her cavernous womb remain free.
HER DIARY:
I feel my body tense squeezing his hand as it seeks to eject the foreign object. The squeeze excites me, the pain is nothing when compared to the intensity of the pleasure. My whole cunt goes into spasms squeezing, relaxing as another warm wave of cum is released. He tells me I am drowning his fingers - it feels wetter than a washing machine.
HIS DIARY:
This is power she is impaled on my arm like a giant ventriloquists dummy. I've got pins and needles in my hand, to try and restore my circulation I move my fingers.
HER DIARY:
It feels like he is trying to rip me apart, he says he only twitched his fingers to restore his circulation. His finger presses on my bladder I want to pee. If I say anything he will tell me to do it.
HIS DIARY:
Good God look at what she is doing with her hand. How randy can you get she is masturbating herself. She's got that look in her face. If she only relaxed she'd piss herself and we would have a golden shower going. I move closer to her cunt ready to lap up the golden fluid.
HER DIARY:
I cannot stand the pressure any longer. Relax. Relax. Just let it go. It stings as it flows out, his tongue laps at my labia as he drinks me in. Kinky bitch fancy enjoying this.
HIS DIARY:
The fluid seeps so slowly past my wrist that hardly any is not lapped up. How can I express the joy of tasting her fluid, a delicate cocktail of urine and cum, the salty sweetness with an extra delicate muskiness. Now truly I am partaking of a carnal communion.
As her bladder empties there is more room for my fingers. Gently I pump my arm, expelling the last of her wine. I pump my arm with greater vigour. Her abdomen ripples tracing the passage of my knuckles deep inside her. Warm waves of cum flow from appoint high up in her womb.
HER DIARY
It is fortunate that I have not eaten since lunch-time, it feels as if I am being punched in the stomach, which I suppose is exactly what he is doing. I want to be sick but there is nothing to bring up.
I am literally in his hands it is a measure of how much I trust him. If he wanted to he could tear me apart. What a morbid thought! Why would he want to hurt me like that? There is no reason, but straight people, people who do not understand S&M would not understand the essentials of love and trust in this relationship.
This is getting to be too much I have to ask him to stop. No don't take it out just don't move, give me a chance to relax. He says OK but I can still feel movement.
HIS DIARY:
She asked me to stop moving, with my hand motionless she crushes my hand in a pulsating vice like grip. Again she has asked me not to move to let her relax. I laugh telling her that it is she who is moving not me. Each time she contracts she gasps with pain and fresh dampness jets around my fingers.
HER DIARY:
How can you be afraid of pleasure. Yet I am afraid I am cumming as if there is a tap somewhere deep inside me. My cunt seems to have developed a life of its own outside his or my control. Breath deeply, regulate my breaths and I will regain some semblance of control.
HIS DIARY:
One handed I take two cigarettes from the pack, light them pass one to her. Joined hand to pussy we lie smoking. Even as we lie still I still feel her cumming. The muscles of her abdomen corrugate foretelling the event and ripple as she achieves yet another climax.
HER DIARY:
If only I can relax I will be able to enjoy what is happening. Maybe it is my upbringing, perhaps it is against the Christian ethic, but it always seems to be extremely sinful to lie bathed in the warm glow of cum, after cum, after cum, after cum to a point where I experience an altered state of mind. I am in a reality at odds with everyday life, in my own private world where cumming has become the norm.
Since I have been with him sex has been a none stop adventure, he always says. "If you haven't tried it don't knock it."
That is how I got into this fisting kick. We were curled up on the sofa at his place watching a porno video. This woman sat on a Champagne bottle and took the whole thing up inside her, then after that she was with a man who put his hand up her.
"I could never do that." I declared.
To which he replied, "Why not?"
I said I'd be afraid the bottle would break - I am still afraid to try a bottle. The idea of it shattering scares me to death. He agreed that bottles did look a bit risky then he said what about a hand! I said what any woman would say, no I'm too small to take a whole hand. He said nonsense, I'd had three children. "Think about how big a new-born baby is compared to a hand."
I thought - fifteen minutes I was on my back, with my legs open. At first it hurt like hell, it always hurts like hell. Then when I started to cum it all became worthwhile. Not only did I cum more in a short space of time than I had ever done before, but each cum was so much more intense than I had ever known before. The whole experience was so magical I knew that I would have to repeat it.
Ouch he's moving again.
HIS DIARY:
My hand and fingers are searing with the pain of pins and needles. Her muscle at the entrance has caught my wrist so hard that I think the circulation is stopped I have to move it a bit. I glance back and up at the camera, the red light has gone out - we have been here over an hour. She must have seen my look. "Do you want to stop and put in another tape?"
"Do you want to stop?"
"For a while yes." She smiles, she gives this really innocent looking smile, as if butter would not melt in her mouth, then she added with a wicked smirk. "Or we could do something else."
I began to carefully withdraw my hand, pausing whenever one of her spasms gripped my hand. Care at this stage is as important as during entry.
HER DIARY:
As his hand came down I was still cumming. Try as I might to control my body, I still tensed as his knuckles neared the entrance, knowing from experience that as they came through the ring of bone the pain would be excruciating.
If before I had a tap in my womb, now a veritable shower has been turned on as the dislocated pelvic bone was moved by his knuckles.
His hand is out. What does he plan to do next. Shit that hurts - he's massaging the entrance to my cunt - it must be bruised.
HIS DIARY:
This is what really turns me on looking at her sex when it is swollen and sore. I can see just about every hue known to man from delicate pink, through fiery reds, to the deepest of dark purples. I lower my head to salute her coral grotto my tongue flicks out ….
HER DIARY:
His tongue flicks my clit with a volley of velvet wet blows, languorous licks lambaste the labia on each side of my aroused clitoris. Churning wetly my cunt, my abdomen rapidly boil subsiding to dissolve into a pleasurable glow. But rest does not come for his insistent exploring tongue is once again stoking the fire of my passion. As he tongues me he shifts his position so that now he is straddling me. His knees almost resting on my shoulders.
Undoing the zip I free his erect prick from its leather case. I pull the jeans a little way down his thighs his balls and cock are free. The purple headed rampant rod, its shaft gnarled with veins inflated with boiling blood lowers slowly towards my face. I know what he wants, the cyclopean purple head prods at my lips.
I tease him by keeping them closed. His thrusting prods become more demanding, the ramrod knocks on my lips demanding entry. There is a moment of fear, the fear I feel every time. Fear of not being able to breath. Fear of being unable to control my throat's reflex desire to urge. Readying myself to swallow I moisten my mouth, then allow my lips to yield.
His hard flesh spears into my mouth, I swallow furiously as the tip lodges in the back of my throat. I have to match my breathing to his thrusts as he draws back I breath in, the next time he draws back I breath out and so on.
The knowledge that I have totally submitted to him make my climaxes uncontrollable. Even if he stopped licking my pussy I would still run. This is the absolute in domination scenes, no safe words, no way to call a halt, I simply have to trust him.
HIS DIARY:
As her lips part I drive into her mouth. My skin tingles as her teeth graze the length of my prick. This is sex moving into the end-game, played out with a pretence of violence and non-consensuality. I can feel her epiglottis pulsating against the tip of my cock as she swallows hard to ease my entry into her throat. This is the best sex imaginable, beneath me a woman in total submission, I am in complete control of her body, my motion as I screw her mouth regulates her breathing. I fight not to think about what I am doing lest I reach my peak too quick, but conversely I have to think so as to savour every masterful moment.
I try setting my conscious mind simple mathematical problems in a vain attempt to prolong the bliss. But soon all too soon my cock jerks into life and in an all too brief moment of pure joy my spunk flows in pulses.
HER DIARY:
Really it is over in seconds, but at the time it is an eternity, when I think that I will surely drown as his hot sticky fluid chokes off my breathing and jets directly into my throat. Fighting I swallow and swallow and swallow u until at last the flow stops, his cock-head ceases to plug my throat and his cock lies limpening, and lifeless in my mouth. Lovingly I tongue and suck the last drops of his fluid from it and hold him to me. It is only then that I become aware of the harshness of his jeans zip against my face.
HIS DIARY
Both of us are sated - for now, no need to dwell on motivation subconscious impulses or have any guilt this is sex as we like it and that is all that counts.
