20 Minutes

The day had not allowed the opportunities I hoped for. A morning kiss and a promise for more later had renewed my want from the day before, but eye contact alone would have done that.

It was already too late when I realized I had to get home early, leaving only 20 minutes, which would never be long enough for us. I can’t be sure, but I think the least amount of time we’ve ever spent fucking was just under an hour. His stamina is amazing. He has the drive and the fortitude that women dream of and men envy and he’s all too willing to take his time with me.

I sat down in his office, sure we’d chat a little, flirt shamelessly and then say our goodbyes. Instead, he started saying the sweetest things, complimenting me. Those compliments are so hard for me to take. I’m so flattered, but still don’t quite believe them all. At some point he stood from his chair, walked by me and closed his office door.

I sat back, knowing there just wasn’t enough time, frustrated and yet still craving his touch in any form, for any amount of time. I started this for the sex. I wanted to be fucked. (I still want to be fucked!) I’ve found great pleasure in the kissing and touching, making me very aware of just how long its been since someone wanted to kiss and touch me, just how long its been since someone has.

In a few short minutes we were passionately embraced, deeply kissing, his hand moving up my thigh, searching for the answer to a question I’d avoided. Did I go without panties? No, they were there, purposely, for him to remove. Only he didn’t remove them. Instead he pushed them aside and felt how wet I was already, simply from his kisses, perhaps simply from his presence.

Time was ticking away, although I lost track. I could have easily been convinced to stay, forgetting my obligation. He was cognizant of the time though, respecting my responsibilities. His fingers are magical, simply magical, pushing into the depths of my pussy, finding that incredible g-spot, teasing my clit. My breath quickened, my back arched and I soaked his hand with the juices of my orgasm.

I then attempted a smart comment about using his left hand and he responded by informing me that I wasn’t done. Eight minutes left when both hands went to work, in combination of his tongue and lips. Pure, un-fucking-believable pleasure. I came so hard, so fast that I was a bit embarrassed. I wonder if it bothers him how quickly I climax.

Breathless, lightheaded and giddy I happily sucked and licked his fingers clean of my cum, thanking him for being so good to me. I could see and feel the bulge in his pants and still couldn’t satisfy him. Another day of waiting. He IS so good to me.

15 minutes

He walked into the office, leaned over to kiss me hungrily, as if it was the most appealing thing on earth and then leaned back against the edge of the desk. Damn, he’s sexy. I have an appointment in 15 minutes, but there’s no way I can leave without having him in my mouth.

I quickly reach for the zipper on his pants, struggling a little more than I would have liked. I think I hear him ask me what I’m doing but I don’t even care. This cock is my cock and I want it now. I’m not asking permission.

Already semi hard, I wrap my lips around the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen. The feel of him in my mouth, growing harder and harder is so invigorating. I feel the heat between my legs, the growing moisture. I’d like nothing better than to bend over that desk and beg him to fuck me like only he can, but I’m so enjoying sucking this amazing cock. I’m thankful he indulges my desires.

My 15 minutes went too fast. It wasn't nearly enough time. I left him swollen and hard, knowing I’d turned him on and couldn’t finish. I really hate that. I want to give him the kind of satisfaction that he’s so good to give me. I want him to be fulfilled, pleased, content. I don’t want to leave him wanting. This time though, I left him wanting.

I hope he'll let me finish soon.

Lonely

I cried again last night. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Funny, I did it so much as a child – seems like every night from the time I remember, which was one of the very reasons why I married when and who I did. And now I’m crying again but for very different reasons. Now I’m lonely, and yet I do not live alone.

When did I become invisible? When did he stop seeing me or caring that I’m here?

While the sex has literally never been there in our marriage, there was a time when we were at least intimate. I remember him putting a hand on my thigh in the car or an arm around me as we walked together. I remember holding hands and hugging and sitting close together. I remember sharing a bed. Although now those memories are fading.

Am I so bad? Have I become so unappealing that he simply can’t stand the thoughts of me now? Am I that annoying? Or boring? How can he give his friends and hobbies hours and days and not even have a conversation with me? Would it be so hard to recognize that carrying his children are what changed my body? Am I that unattractive now? Do I really look that different? Other people don’t seem to think so.

I stay for my children. I will not mess up their lives. After all, there’s no fighting in our home. Never harsh words or meanness. I wonder though if one day they’ll look back and realize how silent it was, notice how their parents never touched and that their father never shared a bed with their mother. I wonder if one day they’ll think that this is what a marriage should be and that’s it okay. I want more for them. I want them to know love and passion and intimacy. I don’t want them to ever feel lonely or go to bed crying.

Of course then I wonder if that’s really a possibility. Is it me? Could I ever have a real relationship with anyone that would have love and intimacy? Would I weigh on the nerves of anyone I lived with and send them in the same direction he’s taken? Am I just that overbearing and annoying?

I had to get this out. My pity party will end soon and I’ll pick myself up and go on with a smile on my face just like I always do. Right now though, I’m tired and I’m sad and I’m giving myself permission to be that way.

Cock Worship

Dear Most Amazing Cock,

I am writing you in an effort to let you know just how strongly I feel about you. I think you are the most amazing cock I’ve ever seen, touched, sucked or fucked. I marvel at your wonder with your long, thick shaft and perfectly shaped head. I simply adore everything about you and cannot imagine a more perfect cock.

You are smooth to the touch, perfect for me. Feeling you in my mouth, sucking, licking, kissing you is one of my favorite things. Thoughts of you make me so hot and so wet that I fantasize constantly about the way you feel inside me. My pussy has never been so fulfilled. Whether pounding me or slowly thrusting, it’s perfect every time, making me gush from the orgasms only you can give.

You fill me up completely as if you were created to match the mold my pussy would make. And then, while you make me feel incredible while diving deep inside the walls of my pussy, you can also bring astonishing responses while exploring my ass.

I do love you and pledge to you my eternal affection and devotion. I promise to take wonderful care of you, sucking you as often as you desire, begging your owner to fuck me daily. And should you not feel the need for the aforementioned attentions, I will gladly lay my head beside you, snuggling close to you and giving you all the attention you will allow.

Sincerely,

Your Devoted Fan

Comfort

Months of encounters now, although I couldn’t tell you exactly how many. My calendar probably could, but it’s a trivial detail. We have a connection. We’ve had amazing sex in several places. None of those places matter really because when we’re together it seems as if the rest of the world ceases to exist. I think that’s what makes it so incredible. I think that’s why I cum harder than I ever have before.

From the moment his eyes meet mine, when his hands take to the curve of my back or the side of my face, from the time our lips join, I go to another place. It’s a place of peace and passion, a place of pleasure and purity without concern or worry or fear.

It’s a place I constantly long for now, an escape that has become a necessity. It’s a place that I can honestly say I’ve never been before. Is that why I want it – the uniqueness, the inexperience? Or is it deeper?

I don’t know. But while my mind and even my heart seek the answers, yet another part of me doesn’t need to know at all. I’m satisfied in the place I’m at, we’re at. I’m intrigued in knowing that each encounter is better than the last, each connection deeper than the one before.

I want this to last forever, but if it can’t I’ll walk away knowing I’m lucky to have experienced it and better because of it.

New Furniture

I’m wondering, how do you break in a new piece of furniture? Do you make love nice and slow and create a sweet, caring memory or do you fuck like wild animals and remember the passion that was born on it?

In my house there’s only one place for sex – the bed. I enjoy sex in a bed, especially if I can hang my head off the edge and get that rush or hold firmly onto the headboard as I ride like there’s no tomorrow, though none of that is allowed. I also crave the urgency of the idea of sex in the office or the car or just inside the door or on the kitchen counter. I love the variety, the excitement, the obsession, the fervor.

He gives me all that and more and so now I wonder how he would want to break in a new piece of furniture. How would you break it in?

Punishment

I’d been bad. I was in and out of touch and late. When I did show up his words said one thing, but his eyes said something else. He told me I’d been bad, that I would be punished. His eyes said that he wanted to play. I couldn’t wait!

He looked so damn sexy to me. I’d seen him several times during the day, passing him in the hall, in my office door, walking by his office. I wanted to jump him every time I saw him, but the opportunity hadn’t presented itself until now. He pushed back from his desk, leaned back in his chair and told me to get on my knees. I had to make up for my disobedience, needed to accept my punishment.

I happily obeyed, taking my place, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, taking out that beautiful cock. I love his cock, worship it, and want it more than anything. I dream about it, fantasize about it, and savor it when I have it. Its perfect for me, big and thick, seemingly molded for my body as the ideal fit.

Taking him in my mouth, gently at first I was instantly turned on. He wasn’t quite hard, which gave me the opportunity to bring him to potential. His hands were quickly in my hair, pulling and pushing me as he wanted me to suck and lick. He grew harder and thicker and I grew hotter and wetter. He wasn’t so gentle, even putting both hands around my neck rather firmly at one point. I wish leaving marks there wouldn’t be a problem, but I’m afraid that would draw too much attention. He knows that and stops just short.

After some time he pulled me off his shaft and instructed me to undress, watching me as I step back from his desk. While seeing myself undressed is hardly comfortable for me, he seems to be okay with it. There are plenty of things I’d like to change about my body, but as far as I can tell he’s not bothered by my imperfections. That turns me on even more.

From there he tells me there is more of a price to pay. For one, he would withhold his tongue from my pussy. He wanted to lick my pussy, but I lost that pleasure in being late. I resist the urge to pout. Instead I took my spot on his desk. He immediately pushed me back, roughly and continued the punishment. Pinches and thumps and slaps. Pleasure and pain and excitement. I was so hot and so wet that it’s a wonder I didn’t cum right then. When he slammed his big hard cock into my waiting pussy I wanted to scream a scream that would have rung throughout the office. It was exhilarating and felt so good I wanted to hold the moment for days.

For the next hour he fucked me good and hard. He made me sit on his lap and ride his cock until I was breathless and wet with sweat and then put me back on the desk and fucked me some more. I came, as always, over and over and over again, leaving proof on him and the desk and the floor. I was so spent and worn out and sore when he stopped that part of me thought I’d never want to fuck again, but the rest of me knew better.

I left knowing I’d be sore, knowing there would be bruises, knowing I’d want more soon.

Wonder

Deep kisses

Gentle caresses

Hands around my neck

Firm touches

Nibbles

Bites

Slaps to my ass

Smacks to my pussy

Hair pulling

A tongue separating my lips, yes both sets

Scratches

Hugs

Thumps (oh my, how nice)

Deep pounding thrusts to my mouth and then my pussy and then my ass

Moans

Screams

Tingles

Passion and urgency

Cumming over and over and over again like never before

My body aches today. It aches for what I’ve had and what I haven’t. I feel the soreness of our passion and yet long for more, though perhaps a bit more gentle today. You’re my addiction now. I can’t get enough. You own me. I wonder how it feels to have that power. I wonder if you grasp the value of it. I wonder how long it will last and how it will end. I wonder and yet I still want.

Your Mouth, My Cock

I remember every blowjob you've ever given me. The first time we met in that hotel, how you devoured me just as you'd promised you would. The many times you've woken me nestled between my legs, your soft mouth gently sucking me to life. The time in the shower when you took to your knees and sucked me hard and fast and begged to cum all over your face. That long redeye flight when everyone else was asleep and you leaned over and quietly blew me for hundreds of miles. The time I straddled your shoulders and grabbed the headboard and fucked your face until I came so hard I saw stars. And oh the many many times you ride my cock and then climb and take me in your mouth so you can taste your own pussy on me.

I cannot get enough of your mouth on my cock. Your enthusiasm and love for sucking me off makes me crazy. It makes me love saying "your mouth" and "my cock" over and over and picturing them together. Looking in your eyes as you gaze up at me, your lips encircling my shaft, your tongue teasing my tip, it sends me into a tizzy. I love the eagerness with which you lap up my precum, the whimpers and moans you make as you suck my cock, the ferocity with which you make yourself cum as you simultaneously suck my cock, fondle my balls, and rub your own pussy.

Never stop sucking my cock.

Never stop sucking my cock.

Never stop sucking my cock.

Wet Dreams

I had an erotic dream last night that I cannot remember. I suppose it’s the female equivalent of a wet dream as I woke up all slick and wet. My pussy lips were swollen and pink, my clit sore. My right hand was covered in my own juices as I suppose it was the culprit. I do that from time to time. I suppose not wearing panties to bed doesn’t do anything to hinder the behavior.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret having them. In fact, they’re rather satisfying. What bothers me about this one is that I don’t remember the dream. I don’t have any memory at all and I want to remember it. I want to have the image in my head of sucking an amazing cock, while rubbing myself, or being fucked good and hard from behind. Nothing though. It makes me want to go back to sleep and hope for a repeat.

Course, it also got me wondering. Am I odd? Do other women have these?

Feelings

Yesterday was a hard act to follow. I’m telling the truth when I say that I thought it might be the end. I wasn’t sure how I’d react at another meeting. Part of me didn’t want to push the envelope. Part of me wanted to embrace the perfection of the day, recognize the raw emotion I felt, appreciate it, remember it forever, and then walk away. That must sound awful, but its how I felt.

I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let someone be good to me, pleasure me, spoil me. I don’t know how to feel such passion. It’s uncharted and scary and wonderful and exciting all at the same time.

So, I went to sleep the night after our last encounter thinking that since there’s no way it could possibly get better that I should just let go. I mean there’s no future to it. And then I woke up and realized that I can’t now. (Oh, I would if that’s what he wanted. I’m not a stalker.)

I know that I’ve crossed the line now. My body started this, but now my heart is involved. There’s still no future. There are obligations and promises and a million other things that complicate everything, but I find myself in a sea of feelings I’m not sure I’ve felt before and I don’t know quite what to do with.

Of course who knows if he feels anything even remotely like what I do. Although, I suppose it doesn’t matter really. It would be okay if he didn’t. I have no right, no justification. We were clear from the beginning what this was. And yet suddently I'm facing insecure thoughts, feeling like a child, a crazy high school girl. I still accept the reality of the situation, although I’m a bit overwhelmed by all the “what ifs” in my head. And those obligations? Well they aren’t changing, they aren’t going away, and I certainly don’t even want them to.

And then…I hear from him, wanting me again, and there's simply no way I can say no. He owns me now...

Fantasies Fulfilled

I spent the afternoon in bed today. And yes, I mean the whole afternoon. It was the fulfillment of a fantasy, the completion of an assigned task. It was incredible and perfect and wonderful and amazing. I will never forget this day. It will go down as one of the best ever.

What happened? The most amazing man planned, prepared, and waited for me. He knew what I wanted and sought to give it to me. From the candles to the music to the blindfold over my eyes – today was all about me, my wants, my needs. He gave me all I’d requested and then continued to please me in ways I hadn’t even imagined.

I’ve honestly never experienced such passion and satisfaction. His hands, his tongue, his amazing cock are magic. They work spells all over me, giving me levels of pleasure that I didn’t even know existed. There were deep kisses and gently touches. There were smacks, spankings, sucks, licks and nibbles. There were positions – wow were there positions. There was a degree of emotion too that I can’t quite describe. In the intensity of the experience, tears escaped my eyes more than once.

In reward for all his hard work, I made an effort to repay him in equal pleasure climbing on top more than once and riding him nice and hard. He gave me more orgasms that I can count, and then ultimately rewarded me with a gift I’ve never received. As he fucked me from behind, me moaning and bucking against him, he shot a big load of his hot, creamy cum on my back with such force that it literally hit the back of my head, spurting all over, from my neck to my ass. It was indescribable and while a part of me wonders what that force would have felt like inside, I’m very appreciative of the experience and hope he will remember the visual for quite some time.

Thank you baby. It was a wonderful day. You give me more pleasure than words can say.

The REAL Secret Girl

I’ve been pondering in recent days and even weeks where I should go here. I like telling you my fantasies, I really enjoy playing with DSB over there, but I know that there’s more to me to say. There’s more that I’d like to say, that I can’t say to those that know me, at least casually. I want to tell you guys all my secrets. I’m also inspired by some of my fellow sex bloggers that somehow manage to find a balance between sex and life on their blogs. I bow to AAG and WryGirl and J and Madame X and of course the Master of all, Art, who all seem to tell us the naughty and mix it with real life. I think that was my goal but somehow I got all caught up in pleasing and fantasizing and then became afraid that you didn’t really want to know the REAL me. Stupid insecurities huh? I should just tell it and if you like, that’s great, if you don’t, that’s fine too.

So I think I’m going to make a real effort here. Oh I’ll still be naughty and tell you my fantasies, but I may mix it with some real frustration about my relationship(s) because that’s what I’m really feeling, if I'm honest. AAG did a great post about that very subject today that kind of pushed me over the edge here. Thanks hun! That said, some of what I write may be fact, some of it may just be some version of the truth and some of it may be complete fantasy. I will never tell. Because, truth be told, I’d deny just about everything here in a court of law. Sorry.

I think in doing this I will post more often, even the short ones because I won't feel the pressing urgency to come up with this whole fantasy for you. I can just tell you what's in my head, right now without fear of someone judging. You guys won't judge will you? No way.

So here goes…. ironically starting where I started over 6 months ago…

I'm a "normal" 30 something year old woman, wife and mom. You see me in line at the grocery store, in church, at ballet class with my children. You see me with my husband in restaurants and attending community events. I love my family BUT I have a secret. There's a side of me they will never see. There's a side of me that keeps me sane. That side is spontaneous and daring and very, very sexual.

I have needs and desires that my husband of many years has no desire to fill. This frustrates me beyond words. I go through cycles of emotions from thinking something is wrong with me, to thinking something is wrong with him, to anger, to fear, to sadness. For most of my marraige I have satisfied my urges through flirtations and relationships stopping just short of sex. I have at least once sought the comfort of a lover and found it quite satisfying, feeling very little guilt. While I doubt I'll ever leave my husband, I know just as surely that I will probably never be faithful again. I simply cannot and as selfish as it sounds, it's best that way.