I know what you crave

[Deleted Member]

A reprise of several favorites...lots of interest in this one languishing back from last summer...so here it is again.

 

You are a good girl!

Hi, your name is (a gentleman never tells).

You've got a little bit of a dilemma.

See, you are a nice girl, with a good career . A husband ..maybe a first sweetheart ...may he is a baby and you get tired pandering to his whining need. 

People tend to view you as sweet, perhaps innocent, occasionally nerdy and definitely a bit quirky (as evidenced by the telltale subtleties around you ..a penchant for ***rs or a fluffy unicorn on your desk). People tend to watch their language around you and tone down their behavior, presumably for *** of offending you. You go to the gym..driven by a desire to be seen for your sexy self. You were never skinny but want your curves to be you. You wish hubby could read your mind..but he never will understand your inner cravings. You sigh if you think about this.

Oh, and you blush a lot. You're a brunette with ambition to put more red in your hair. It's totally noticeable when you are flushed..like if you've been enjoying your thoughts. And you do that quite a bit. And that really only rein***s the perception that you're a sweet, naïve young lady. Only you and your *** with whom you share all your secrets..like that girlie trip to get an electric friend... knows differently.

And you're fine with that. You want to have a wholesome and respectable image at work, with your friends and in public in general. The problem, your dilemma, is more of who you'd rather be when the bedroom door closes behind you. And in your imagination..the darkest wildest recesses...you see yourself as an adoring kitten...submissive in the sense that you live to please. ..and desirous of attention ..nubile and purring in safe delicious company of a man who really understands and appreciates your needs. Even for a stolen hour or two.

It's not that your hubby is a bad man. You bicker more and more because he isn't able to deliver on your sexual hankering. You test him. Push him to breaking point with exasperation but he can't read your mind and you ain't going to tell him. Would he take time to understand you? You've written him off. But it's left an aching chasm.

It's that you know you need something else too. Something that nice girls can't ask for. Something that nice guys would never think of doing to a nice girl like you.

Now don't misunderstand. You don't have difficulties in the bedroom or anything like that. You love sex and have orgasms relatively easily and frequently. You love to go down on a man and have him do the same for you. It's all good. Your brain is alive with erotic thoughts daily.

The real problem is that sometimes you don't want it to be nice or tender or affectionate.

Sometimes you just want to be fucked.

So here we are. Your new found long distance lover. We've not met. Hell we've not even spoken on the phone. I don't know your number. Only that you are in a big City in another country another time zone. Your messages greet me sweetly each morning when I awake and you rise for work just as my lunchtime starts. An ocean apart but only in the physical world.

I read your thoughts last night.

I had retired early to catch up after several late nights emailing back and forth with you. You were out with your *** and I hoped you'd have a nice time and share with her the naughtiness of our flirting and how it makes you feel. I was excited by the thought of you doing my bidding and your gradual emergence into my more overtly eroticised kitten increasingly desperate to thrill me as the weeks go by. My lucid dream once more focussed on you. When I awoke I wrote down what I heard you tell me not wanting to forget a single detail. Go ahead. .read this my kitten and tell me it's what you need.

"I want a man to grab me, shove his cock into me and hammer away relentlessly, totally disregarding my pleasure, simply using me for his. That in itself isn't an easy one to bring up with a lover even one so far away. I don't want to be judged by him or thought of as a slut, at least not outside of the bedroom. Nice girls aren't supposed to want things like this, so it would seem like there's something wrong with me, right?

But that's not even the whole story. There's more to this than just wanting to wake up the next morning feeling sore down there; feeling ravaged. I have lots of fantasies that spring from the same premise: a man using me for his pleasure. Completely.

I fantasize about being tied up, ***, at his mercy. Sometimes it's spread eagle on the bed, other times it's on my knees with my wrists bound behind me. And more elaborate things too. The common theme is that I'm powerless. He can do whatever he wants to me and there's nothing I can do to stop him. I'm his pleasure toy.

I also want to feel the stinging *** of his hand across my ass or the sharp stab from his fingers pinching my nipples. Or the burn in my scalp from him tugging roughly on my ponytail. Or at my most disobedient a slap of his palm across the backs of my thighs if deserved. As long as I'm hugged after.

Yes, I know there are labels for this, but I don't really want to be labeled "submissive." (and BDSM is totally beyond the pale). Even if "submissive" happens to be an accurate label, it's too at odds with who I am outside of the bedroom. You know, like I don't hesitate to give my lover oral sex, but I don't want to be labeled a cocksucker either, see?

So the real issue here is that I'm a respectable girl. And I would never date a man who wasn't respectful of me, who didn't treat me like a lady, who didn't shower me with love and affection. But I want all this other stuff too and I don't know how to get it from the nice guy that I married all those years ago. He doesn't want to take charge or be demanding and ***ful. I need a fucking caveman once in a while and he is just too considerate.

I want to come home to a man that occasionally gives me that look, the one that tells me we're "on." And on the heels of that look, he pulls me to him, takes a rough kiss from me, turns me around and ties my hands behind my back before spinning me back around and forcing me to my knees in front of him. He's a man who will pull out his cock and stuff it into my mouth, whether I want it or not. I want to walk in the door thinking I'll be telling him all about what happened to me at work and the next thing I know, I can't talk at all because he's shoving his thick cock all the way to the back of my throat until I'm nearly gagging. Yes, I dream of being on my knees in front of that man.

Oh, how fucking wet my pussy gets just thinking about the way he would grab me by the head or hair and pump his cock in and out between my lips, fucking my face. I could have drool pouring out the corners of my mouth, running down my chin that I can't wipe away because my hands are bound. The same with the tears streaming from my eyes. And he totally wouldn't care... he'd just keep grunting and thrusting his cock into my mouth because that's what he wants to do. My pussy is wet and tingly just thinking about it.

Maybe he'd say things to me that would make it dirtier, naughtier, sexier too. Ask me if I want his cum for my dinner (which I totally would, btw) or ask if my coworkers would suspect how wet I get when he fucks my throat. Something evil and mind-fuckingly hot like that. Because I'm a good girl and things like that shouldn't turn me on. So when he says them and they do turn me on, I feel like such a dirty little slut.

Maybe he fucks my face and throat until he cums in my mouth. Oh, I'd sooo love that. I admit that I really get into giving head and I get really turned on making a man cum. I like it even better when I'm a totally passive vessel, simply holding my mouth open for him to use as his sperm receptacle. And yes, I always swallow. It's so intoxicating to taste a man's most masculine essence and feel it slide down my throat. There's something inexplicably erotic about having his warm sperm in my belly. As much as I love to feel a man cum in my pussy, there are times when I'd prefer he cum in my mouth, let me experience the heat, the texture and the flavor of it, savor it and consume it. Feed on it. I guess I have to admit there's a certain submissiveness to swallowing a man's cum that plays into my (dare I say it) submissive desires. Of course he desires me to dribble or spoil my blouse and dutifully wear his badge of honour I am thrilled to oblige..but that's another game .

(And my pussy of a hubby would be there ***d to dress as I choose maybe in some stupid lingerie like a tart or as a little boy in school uniform to remind him that he is nothing compared to a real man.  you know ..really humiliated as the cum drips of my chin barely a few meters from his little sad face. )

Or maybe my panther doesn't cum in my mouth. At least not yet. Maybe he grabs me by the hair and yanks me back to my feet, pulls down my jeans and then bends me over the dining room table. My pussy is sooo wet from him using my mouth that he could slip right in, but he doesn't. There's a stinging slap across one cheek of my ass, then the other and suddenly my pussy is flooded with fresh wetness, even as my ass burns from his spanks. I yelp and whimper, as my body tingles with a delicious ***-and-pleasure cocktail. Maybe he rubs his hand on the welts, helping to assuage the sting... before slapping my ass yet again, harder this time. Oh, that would probably get me wet enough that my juices would start running down the insides of my thighs, if they weren't already.

When he finally enters me, I moan out in ecstasy. He glides in because I'm so wet already. And the feel of him pushing roughly past my pussy lips only creates more wetness. Of course, my hands are still tied, so I'm lying with my cheek on the table, unable to brace myself when he begins to ravage me relentlessly from behind. He's like a fucking jackhammer, trying to demolish my insides with his rock hard cock. It might be no more sensual than having a baseball bat shoved up my cunt, but god help me, I love it and want more and more of it.

I cum at least a couple times, screaming, panting, before he grabs my hair and yanks my head up off the table. The *** is like a lightning strike, electrifying my pussy and pushing me to yet another orgasm. And just when I feel like every nerve ending in my body is overloaded and I can't take it anymore, his finger will push into my ass, turning my head inside out with pleasure and setting off a whole string of orgasms. Only his strong frame behind me, pinning me to the table with his angry cock, keeps me from falling to the floor. I'm screaming, begging, whimpering... I don't even know what I'm saying; I'm so lost in a cloud of orgasmic euphoria. My pussy is clenching over and over on the cock impaling me, covering it with a generous glaze of my many orgasms.

Then I'm being yanked upright, my scalp again on fire and again that fire jolts my pussy. His cock slips out of me, causing my whole body to shudder from the sudden emptiness. In a haze, I feel him spin me around and even though I know what he's doing, my body doesn't move on its own. Not that I need to. He's going to move my body where he wants it. I feel his hands on my shoulders and before my mind makes any conscious decision to do so, I'm down on my knees again.

He likes me this way, this perfect fuck of mine. He likes me to kneel before him as he stands over me. He also likes to make me suck my own juices from his cock, something that always makes my pussy tingle. Sometimes he squeezes my nipples viciously while I pleasure him and the resulting flash of heat between my breasts and pussy make it difficult to concentrate on him the way I should.

Sometimes he makes me tell him what I want. He knows I want him to cum in my mouth. He knows I want to swallow it in the worst way. He knows if he steps back and waits, I'll fucking beg him for it. So if he's in a mood to, he'll stand just out of reach, his hard cock glistening with my cum and saliva, waiting, taunting. And I'll have to beg him for it.

When I beg him to let me have his cock back in my mouth, he asks why. And he makes me tell him that I want him to cum in my mouth. And again, he asks why. So I tell him because I need to swallow it. And again he asks why. There's no real answer to that question though. It's just a burning need coursing through my whole body... a fire that can only be quenched by gulping down the thick, salty strands that erupt from his cock and splash against the back of my throat and coat my tongue. It's too primal a need to be able to articulate. So I reiterate that I need it, I NEED it and beg him to feed it to me.

That's when he makes me confess.

I know the words. He's very specific about them, so naturally I know them quite well. First, he makes me say, "I'm a your kitten" and "You own my pussy" Then, stroking my now blush-reddened cheek, he makes me say, "And I want your daddy cream".

There really isn't much I won't say or do at this point to get his cock back into my mouth so I can drink that gods' nectar from his pulsing shaft.

He looks me in the eye with smug satisfaction, having made me say those words, made me confess them. But he steps up to me, slapping me in the face with his wet cock a few times, which I know shouldn't make my pussy throb, but somehow it does. Then finally he lets me have what I've been begging for. And I feel at once elated and slutty. Slutty, because he just proved he can get me to say just about anything at that moment. I'm like a junky staring at my fix and I don't care what I have to do to get it. And we all know what we call a girl who will do anything for a mouthful of his english cock and daddy cum, right?

But the elation turns that sluttiness into a good thing... I know I was raised so totally different than this and I should be totally ashamed. But it's sooo hot and exciting and gratifying that, in the heat of the moment, I love being his slut. His cumslut.

With my hands tied, sucking him off takes a lot more effort, of course. Not only can I not caress his balls and stroke his shaft while I lick his vein, I can't brace myself. He, naturally, likes it that way. He says it makes me demonstrate just how badly I want it. Isn't that cruel? Making a girl who was raised to think this was immoral work even harder for it, as if to prove her immorality?

And I do want it as badly as I've ever wanted anything. That's the thing. So I licknlike a kitten for an hour and time stands still. He release my hands and I cup and cradle and caress him lightly. The purple head receives a million catty kisses. He groans and I pause but my eyes never leave his except to gorge on the festival at my cheek. Every few minutes I bob deep and fast on his shaft until I feel that telltale swelling, combined with his moans and hip thrusts, that lets me know my reward is on its way. Achingly I persist and don't want it to end. The precum was sweet enough but I'm in no mood to stop. I need it all. I am drowning in the that taut shiny fleshy tool. It's oozing more ...a fountain is about to erupt. And I act swiftly.

When that first big blast hits the back of my throat, well... there are no words. If someone could capture that moment and bottle it, I'd want to buy a whole warehouse full of it. There's a euphoria that I get from feeling his release, tasting it, from knowing that I've brought him to this height of ecstasy.

Then I swallow it ravenously, gulping it as still more pours from his cock onto my tongue. I don't stop sucking either. I want every drop, so I keep my warmth around him holding him so his balls are empty, all of their goodness down my throat in my belly.

Then he tells me I'm his good girl. Ironic, huh? I've just done something that a good girl should never do. But to him, a good girl is one who pleases him with long genyle adoring licks and craves his daddy cum. And somehow his definition matters more to me right now.

Naturally, I blush at his words. A modest girl always blushes when she's complimented on her cocksucking. He helps me to my feet and kisses me with passion. His hands wrap possessively around me, pulling me close against his muscular body. He knows what he has in me... I am a perfect kitten plaything for him, so compliant, so willing. The way he holds me tells me he appreciates what a rare and wonderful thing I am.

If I'm lucky, he'll tell me he is going to watch the game tonight. And if I follow it on twitter I can email with him and share his night time out in London. In my mind I would make him a nice dinner for his return and he'll tell me to lick his cock and let it spray on my face and on my breasts and down my throat. If I'm an attentive good girl he will email to give me permission to get off that night and maybe he will send me a link to a hot movie he has chosen for me expressly for that purpose. Or he will exchange emails on his return and cum for his princess as a gift. The mere suggestion starts the wetness flowing between my legs again. That shouldn't turn me on, should it? But it does and I want it. All of it."

So I see your dilemma, right?

There's this side to you that no one really knows about. A side that has powerful wants, desires and needs. But being the proper lady you are, you can't easily talk about them. And your hubby juat doesn't cut it. . He doesnt have that selfish, dominant streak that could use you the way you need to be used.

So what's a girl to do?? ( please let me know below and maybe one day it will come true)

[wannabe774]

I wish I had a strict daddy like you

[Eclatz]

Some, though not all, of these things apply to me. Wonderfully written, you sound like you have a lot of understanding.

[RayneBloBrite]

My honest reaction? I came for you, because of you Sitting in the living room armchair Of my mother's house With her on the couch across from me The hem of my short nightdress bunched tight under a white knuckled palm Stock still, whole body tense Breath shallow muscles quavering My desires awakened like a tight coil in my belly The tension building Slowing down the passing seconds As I left this dank reality For the dream you conjured with your words I'm that good girl you speak of Somehow you can hear Even through the distance The voices pleading inside me To be naughty with someone like you Have I dreamed you to life? Surely you cant be real This cant be truly happening Without so much as a spoken word or a touch I'm too enthralled for my own hands to even wander Not that they need to What wanton thing have I become? Under your spell A plaything My true self cries out for more Keeps me prisoner as my eyes dart across the page In time with the *** rushing in my ears I should have been up and Dressed and showered ages ago Now I sit in my warm wetness Puddling around my thighs Running between my cheeks I should be prayerful I havent soaked the seat That my mother stepped out of the room Before the moan escaped my lips And my whole body shuddered But you've stripped away my humility Taking me on this voyage I almost want them to know A random notification Brought me here after breakfast But then... Then there you were Your writings so real and uninhibited Calling out to the depths of me The way I long to be Trapped here by my own devices Lifes funny that way When you head down a new path It's easy to get off track To stray away from center To find yourself wandering aimlessly But sometimes... Especially when you arent looking for it You happen upon a clearing A sun dappled place you stumble into And immediately know you are home Some say you can never go home I say I just found mine in you Take this newborn kitten home Please, Sir?

[Deleted Member]

I appear aloof. I'm not. I'm a sensitive soul. Thank you for this heartfelt yearning. Wallow in it like your honey puddle of sweetness. Let it consume you. Then hunger for more. It is real. You have permission to tremble and then dream.

 

[ju****]

You write very well. Amazingly spot on to many women's reality. Im sure...

[Deleted Member]

Am i in your head?

[ju****]

Yes you are.