Visceral Lit











{June 5, 2007}   Pria’s new toy

Perhaps I’m outing myself as a strange beast, or perhaps I’m voicing words that have been thought by millions of women before me, but I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a cock.

I don’t think I’d want one for good. I love my pussy, she’s soft and beautiful and very, very good to me when I treat her right. All the same, I do wonder what it’s like to have this excitable extension of my sex right out there where I could grab it, squeeze it, coax it into life and bring from it the kind of pleasure that the other half experiences as a matter of course.

Minutes ago, I strapped on a cock and gave it a test drive.

I requested from Eden Fantasys a strap on that included a vaginal attatchment. After all, my rubber cock wouldn’t have nerve endings of its own and so stimulating it had better stimulate the nerve endings I did have.

I had company last night, and alas, not the sort who would be amenable to helping me to explore my new toy. It took all my patience to wait for the moment when I could first insert the plug and get to business with my very own dick.

I changed position many times before finding the one that worked. One hand between my legs, rhythmically pressing the plug into my swiftly moistening cunt, I lubed the other one up and stroked the shaft. I had to be quite vigorous with my cock, it was the only way I could get it to respond, to get the base to press and release against my lips.

I reached under the harness and spread my lips wide, my clit aching for a share of the pressure and adjusted my strokes to include a grind on the downstroke. Soon I had worked myself into a lather, beads of sweat appearing on my face and breasts as I watched my hand move rapidly up and down in rythm with my building pleasure.

I rarely make a noise when I service myself, but this time I cried out as I came, the psychology of a fantasy attempted carrying me where a typical wank never could.

I am still without batteries for the vibrator function, but rest assured that when I get the opportunity to give it another spin, you will be first to know about it.

XxX,
Pria



{June 2, 2007}   and a she makes three

I forgot how much firmer I was when I was young. Touching her now, I was surprised at the taut skin. Her breasts, full and round, rose to meet my hand and I sqeezed, gently testing the resistance. The skin yielded little but the woman’s lips parted, a flash of white teeth showing briefly between lips flushed and swollen with our kisses.

I was entranced by her face, spasms of pleasure distorting her smooth features as our partner’s mouth lightly fluttered over her labia. My hand crept to my own pulsing clit, wet already though it had not yet been touched tonight. I lowered my lips to the nipples which stretched toward me, never taking my eyes off her features.

Her throat expanded to allow a small sound, something between a moan and a cry which escaped her lips and was chased away by the glistening tip of her tongue. I ran the tips of my fingers over those lips, now pulling the lower one down slightly to meet my approaching kiss. My body slid over the sheets, drawing itself against hers to press my wetness against her thigh.

A small sound escaped the lips of the man between her legs and he grasped at his own cock, turning it towards me. Obligingly I slid my body down her leg, a trail of my juices tracing the friction of her smooth, tight skin against my clit. Locking my legs around his, I slid myself across his cock. It had grown huge, standing out as it had never before. It throbbed against me and burnt to the touch.

His lips broke free and he grasped her hips with muscular, sinewy hands to pull her with him as his body turned to accomodate me.

I knelt above him and continued my traverse along his trembling form. Settling my cunt against his ankle, I lightly trailed my hands over his abdomen and up the inside of his thighs. As his legs parted, his ankle drew up between my lips, pulling tightly against me and it was my turn to moan before plunging his cock deeply into my mouth.

She had settled on her knees and braced against the wall and now she ground herself against his furious, frolicking kisses.

His hands clasped over the blankets, gripping them tightly and taking up fistfuls of the bed as his body arched to our ministrations. They let go abruptly to feel up her body to her breasts. Feverish fingers trailed over her lips and then slid rapidly back down to her hole. Gently, slowly he pressed two inside as he turned his tongue to her swollen clit.

She cried out first and he tugged his cock out of my mouth as it twitched, threatening to explode down my throat. Gently he lay her down, lifting her legs as he trailed a taut torso over her breasts and then plunged himself inside her. I lay next to them, watching, spying, observing their bodies intertwined.

I bit my lip and my fingers tensed on my abdomen to see their embrace. The subtle shifts of their muscles as they strained against one another led a near painful warmth through my middle.

His hands on the back of her knees he pressed them back and he fucked her harder, looking deeply at me as my own knees spread to accommodate my venturing fingers. I watched, transfixed as his abdomen tensed with his thrusts. Suddenly there was another hand on my cunt and she murmerred my name as her fingers skillfully found their way between my lips.

A light touch, lighter than I might have touched myself, over each part of my pussy, pressure applied in just the right way and my eyes squeezed shut, my hands stretching over my head in a simulation of being bound. When my eyes opened again it was just in time to see his forarm moving across the back of her knee.

A cry came from my mouth as my eyes shut again. As his dick plunged in and out of her, he thrust two, then three fingers up my own writhing cunt, matching the rythm and pressure inside her. He arched his back and strained deeply into her, shouting as he emptied himself. His body twitched and pulsed with his orgasm and the hand in my cunt translated each wave of his pleasure.

I watched his body tremble and shake and my pussy throbbed for more. Grinding my hips against the hands that eagerly grasped, juices flowed and my orgasm came, through my pussy and through my mouth, wracking my body with each pulse. Spasms of pleasure brought with them smaller orgasms and I came again and again, coaxed and urged by tireless hands, both rough and masculine and tender and smooth.

He collapsed now atop us as our frantic breaths slowed and deepened and a layer of sweat separated our skin. As he eased his exhausted cock out of her, our hands delicately explored one another, taking the time to know the folds and crevices our lust had not yet had the patience to map.

I awoke once in the night, to find his head on my stomach, his arm across the soft curve of her hip and smiled at his peaceful face before drifting back into deep and contented slumber.



{May 21, 2007}   Productive

It’s been a while, readers. My sincerest apologies.

Recently, Eden Fantasys sent me quite an impressive pair of leather bondage cuffs to review. I only wish I could have taken them to a party, and really given them a true testing. Alas, I had to settle for some bedroom bondage.

The concierge stopped me on my way out the door. “There’s a package here for you, Ms. Sythes” I could have taken the package upstairs and saved it for later, but I’m impatient, impulsive.

I was on the train when I opened them. I tore the tape off the package like an eager child tearing open a long-awaited birthday present. Underneath a layer of bubble wrap was a plastic package, emblazoned with a rather juicy photo. The man in the photo, his lean muscular form gleaming, looked at me intensely through bedroom eyes as he strained against his bindings.

I glanced furtively around the car. How could I wait? I was already beginning to feel just a bit excited. Imagining the scenarios in which I might make use of the contents. Across from me was a well dressed middle aged man with white hair. He noticed me looking at him and there must have been something in my eyes, because he cleared his throat and returned to his newspaper, industriously rearranging the pages.

To my left sat an unabashedly lesbian couple, their sign language conversation punctuated with small giggles here and there. Perhaps they were on a first date. The longing in their eyes seemed fresh, to glow with that excitement of new discovery. I could imagine them later, lightly brushing one another’s bodies with their fingertips, the redhead’s lips parting slightly as her new, more butch companion lightly trailed a finger down the rise of her breast, curling it as it approached a firm, pert nipple. In my imagination, her lips and her nipple were the same deep shade of pink, flushed with excitement. Her green eyes standing out from her face, in sharp, perfect contrast to the pinkness that rose in her cheeks.

Unable to bear it, the redhead reached a dainty hand, nimble from years of signing and confidently slid it past the top of her friend’s jeans, finding a bare abdomen and a dampness that radiated heat. Her partner’s hands flexed and pulled slightly away from her body then grasped hard at her breasts with a gasp as she swiftly slid her fingers deep inside, laying her thumb atop an engorged button. Those red lips, that so perfectly matched those perfectly rounded nipples, wrapped around a slackened lower lip, sucking it in and nibbling her way up into a deep kiss.

Gently pinching, those graceful hands slowly began to stroke up and down the tiny shaft and over the top, massaging through the hood and curling her long fingers toward her new lover’s G-spot. Pressing her own lips against her partner’s thigh, she moved her mouth, trailing her tongue down towards soft breasts.

The dark haired woman moaned and arched her neck, her hands shifting to rest on round, white buttocks. She leaned back, to support herself against a wall and raised her knee into the softness she found there. The sensation of soft, moistening skin against her thigh urged her forth. Pulling at her date’s ass, she slowly flexed her musles, hardening her thigh and parting lips to rub the growing bud between.

Her orgasm came all at once and one high pitched cry after another pierced the silence. As her body relaxed, she slid down to return her partner’s generosity.

Flattening her hand against the red lips between smooth, soft thighs, she rubbed around to penetrate a satiny sheath. She extended the tip of her tongue and flicked at the swollen knob once, twice and then withdrew. She studied her girlfriend’s cunt a moment, spreading it to take in each crevace and then allowing it to close, slowly. Pointing her tongue, she licked up and then down between two rises of her lover’s outer labia, just barely reaching the silky skin underneath. Her upper lip followed, its dry softness contrasting the intense sensation preceding it.

She had taken the dainty redhead for a soft touch, but hands materialized at the back of her head, tugging her mouth suggestively closer, straining hips upward with a moan.

She grasped the clit lightly between her teeth and attacked anew, enveloping her lover, mouth filled with fragrant sex. She slid a firm tongue inside and flickered toward the front wall as her lips tightened, sucking noisily. She slid a hand down to her own pussy, suddenly eager for more. They came at once, bodies arching in unison and as her mouth filled with her lover’s pleasure, the butch reached up with both hands to draw it out, to rub and coax and bring forth another and another and another, enjoying, viscerally her lover’s repeated panting cries.

Before I knew it, the package containing my cuffs was open and I was furtively rolling up my pants leg, lifting my ankle to affix one there. I would surprise my date. When the night became quiet and we were alone, my evening’s companion would find me ready to be bound.

The man across the car studied his newspaper as I buckled first the left and then the right cuff. Cinching them as tight as they would go and rolling my jeans back down. When I looked up, the femme was looking at me, wide-eyed. She signed something to her girlfriend and the girlfriend’s intrigued gaze fell on me. We locked eyes and I smiled coyly. Furiously the redhead signed. Lascivious laughter; and then comfort fell back between them, their suggestive caresses becoming all the more propulsive, leading them closer to the evening I had so secretly planned for them.

My evening was about to start and I couldn’t wait to see to what heights it would bring me.



{May 14, 2007}   Introductions

I refer to myself in the first person, but I do not provide any but the most intimate of details about my life. In return, I know little about you, my readers. Yesterday, I posted my eighth post on this blog. Readership is climbing and I thank you all for reading and I hope you are enjoying my stories.

A little about me: I’m older than most people think, to look at me. I was married once, when I was very young but that’s been over for a while now. I am bisexual with a preference for men. I love women’s bodies and I love the intimacy with which a woman can touch me and I can touch her, but as I once exclaimed to a friend: “I just love cock!”

My experiences have ranged from very vanilla to quite kinky and I’ve seen lovers pale when I’ve described some of the more filthy things I’ve experimented with. I’m also a sucker for love and tenderness, the way I can touch and be touched when there’s more there than just carnality. Not to bash carnality, of course. There’s a lot to be said for a good hard (safe) fuck in its proper place and time.

I am safe and sane and you can assume that if I’ve neglected to mention the prophylactics or the discussions of safety and health, it’s for the flow of the story and not because there weren’t any. Please be safe in your sex too. Sex is too wonderful to allow for the more punitive consequences of not going into it with open eyes.

I write erotica because I enjoy it. I love the use of language to spin tales that will take your breath away and bring a flush to your cheeks. I write erotica because I enjoy sex and because I enjoy remembering those moments with others, where my skin tingled and my mind reeled. I write erotica because I’m a bit of an exhibitionist and a voyeur. I write erotica because I like to think of my readers and what acts I might be able to inspire. I write erotica because it gets me off.

I write other things too, of course because as sexcentric as I tend to be, if I spend my life in a constant state of arousal, I lose my keys and forget to eat.

My introduction to human sexuality came when I was ten. I was an exceptionally mature and responsible child and a precocious reader. The two aspects put together were what led to my raiding of my mother’s bookshelf while being left alone at home after school.

By twelve years old I had read 3 of the Hite Reports on human sexuality, one abridged Kinsey report, The Joy of Sex, Extended Sexual Orgasm and a host of lightly erotic novels which would now be classified as “Chick Lit”. I’d also read darker portrayals of sexuality, such as those in The Catcher in the Rye and Death of a Salesman.

My fascination with human sexuality was only heightened by the onset of puberty and I wrote my first piece of purely erotic literature at 15. In it, thinly disguised versions of my male friends and I interspersed our typical adolescent behaviours with a variety of sexual games. Monogamy was not a feature in this fantasy, as it rarely has been in my life.

All of the erotica I have posted thus far is based on real experiences unless otherwise noted. Most of the partners who have been immortalized here have read the work. If they’ve recognized themselves, they haven’t mentioned it to me.

I’d like to encourage comments and discussion of my posts, but I also enjoy where your silence takes my imagination.

I hope you have enjoyed reading so far, and I hope you enjoy reading further half as much as I do enjoy writing here. Feel free to introduce yourselves, or your avatars and happy reading!



{May 7, 2007}   She kissed me!

Today had me thinking about the first girl who kissed me.

She was a tiny little fireball of drunken gothic energy. We had no other connections than that we hung out in some of the same places. I didn’t know her last name or where she went to school. I never saw her without her best girlfriend on one side and her boyfriend on the other. I didn’t even have her phone number.

Her hair, (black of course) lay flat where mine did not, sleek and shiny. Her features were delicate and her smile delightfully impish. I had never felt an attraction to a girl before. A year younger than me, she came off as everything I wished I had the guts to be, adorable, outgoing and unabashedly sexual.

We chatted twice weekly and soon greeted one another with hugs.
Hugs moved on to playful, closed mouth kisses. After the first of these
I felt bigger, more special and just generally pleased with myself. Things
were not good at home. At school and in my extracurricular activities I
was a freak and stood out like a sore thumb, but I could put on black
velvet and big boots, paint my nails and lips black and head out to the
spots I knew and know that there were people, like her, who squealed
and returned my hugs and…kissed me!

I was drawn to her like a moth to a candle. She lost none of her glamour
even as she staggered too drunkenly into the street, needing to be pulled
out just in time to throw up in the gutter. I felt a thrill of excitement when
I ran into her at a party of a friend I didn’t know we had in common.

Late one night she staggered down the street towards me, grabbed me and
pushed her tongue between my lips and into my mouth. My head filled with
helium. Her lips were softer than the ones attatched to the boys I’d kissed
(it’s a cliche I know, but it’s true) her kiss more empathic. I could scarcely
breathe as I processed what was happening before returning it as well as I
could.

She giggled as her boyfriend irritably dragged her off me and down the street. I was left standing in front of the theatre, fingers on my lips, desperately trying to process my tumultuous thoughts.

I doubt she even remembers it, but it completely changed my perception of the world. We lost contact not terribly long afterwards. I started dating Dell and faded from the scene in a whirlwind of new relationship energy. Every now and again these days I catch a glimpse of her life and I remember the crush I harboured on her so many years ago.

We’re both such different people now and it’s such a strange thought to think that in that place and time my world was so affected by hers where now they barely overlap.

I just remember turning to Lois and uttering the awe-struck words: “She *kissed* me!”



et cetera