Abstinence Sucks Nasty Balls Day 8

I still haven’t brought myself to fully write about my conversation with Sir last week. Which in turn has kept me a little closed off here. A lot of my emotions over the last week is tied to what is going on us Us.

So here is a bit of a run down. I haven’t had an orgasm in 8 days!!!!

I would say that I am miserable, but it doesn’t quite cut it. While completely realizing that people live in chastity for insane amounts of time. I kind of feel like I am dying. This morning Sir used my mouth. That isn’t a phrase I use very often, because it doesn’t often fit our dynamic, but this morning he did. I’ve been used as a vessel on and off for the last week as punishment, and I almost want to cry.

I don’t cry. Though, I am getting there, and now I am wondering if that is what Sir is waiting on. I don’t know. I just know, that I am very much ready for this to end.

An Anatomical Matter

A few nights ago Lola was going haywire. She was in desperate need of attention. Sir was in a deep slumber, and I being the good little submissive that I  try to be, didn’t want to wake him,  and couldn’t masturbate. 

What is a girl to do except fall asleep plotting just how to get my hands on Sir’s most.. useful anatomical part?

I  quickly settled on an early morning approach. So I  set my fit bit to wake me ten minutes before his alarm went off.  

Waking up horny I tore my pjs off heading to his side of the bed.  After kneeling , I took in his sleeping form.  He really is sexy as helll, even covered in sheets. 

I was going to wait until his alarm sounded,  but the need was too great.  “Jackson” I whispered.  

Sleepily he acknowledged me.  

“I need you babe” my voice thick with need and sex.  

He looked down at me, and proceeded to swipe fingers between my folds causing me to groan.  

“So it seems. I could get used to waking this way.”

“Mmm-mmm that don’t work” I said singing part of the chorus to one of my favorite songs.  With a smirk I took what I needed in my hand,  stroking through the sheets.  “Babe” I moaned,  as he continued his fingered assault. I  rose from my position.  ” Guess how I’d like to wake every day” I climbed on the bed straddling him.  My pussy inches away from his face.  

“I won’t shut you down like you did me” he said nipping my inner thigh, sending sharp sensations through me,  “tell me more” he said as he moved his tongue against my labia. 

I  grabbed both of his hands,  moving them up my body,  to my breasts, he massaged and squeezed both handfuls as I began to rock against his mouth. “This,” I said ” I’d like to wake up to your tongue inside me. Knowing your lips taste like me.” Reaching back I captured his cock,  and continued stroking.  “Knowing you’re hard for me, mmm god I want to impale myself on you.”

Separating his tongue from my clit he simply said “Go ahead.”

Moving quickly I aligned him with my entrance,  and slowly sank, letting him stretch me.  “Thank y..”

“Don’t. Thank you” he said slightly strained. “That cunt feels so fucking good.” 

I purred, and got to work,  fucking myself with his cock.  Riding him, feeling every inch as it slides home.  It took a moment to realize he wasn’t touching me.  His hands behind his head he simply watched.  I quickened my pace,  so close to my goal.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” a crescendo escaped my lips,  as his hands came from their nest to steady my hips, as he began to thrust meeting me.

“That’s it baby. Come all over my cock.” 

Like a good girl, I did. Moments later he followed me down the rabbit hole. 

“Mmm thank you love” I said with a sated grin,  rolling over.  He smacked my ass as he got out of bed.  “Wait!” Moving back across the bed I sucked all of our juices off of him.  ” now you can go.” I said with a bigger grin.  

Happy Endings

Because I always find awesomeness perusing WordPress, today I found this little nugget of writing wisdom at Ali Whippe. I started going nuts looking for a piece of literature I read last week, but could not for the life of me remember the name of it. So I started rummaging through my professional development bag, and when I found it said AHA!! Giddyly I walked/ran back upstairs to pen this post, and share with you all the work of Margaret Atwood. If you haven’t read the short story Happy Endings you should…. like right now… as soon as you finish reading Tab A, Slot B.


Now, as for Mrs. Atwood’s genius you can read it here

p.s. the true nugget is found after F, but enjoy the ride.


Because of Becca…

I came while bent over my bathroom vanity this morning. I will start at the beginning.

One of the many sacrifices I made with the career change was giving up my weekly massage. It was difficult, but my chiropractor tamed the change in three ways. One. Becca is kind of hot. Two. My insurance pays Becca. Three. Becca massages low.

My masseuse Angie was wonderful, and as massages go, my time with Angie could be described as fairly intimate. I would walk in strip, and Angie would do magical things to my body.

Until Becca my experiences with chiropractors were cold. I saw them post car-wreck, they would put me in room, attach the electro-pads to me, tug, push, make me crack, and send me on my way.

Becca was noticeably different from the first time she pulled my panties down to massage my lower back. I didn’t mind the electro-pads, tugs, pushes, and cracking from Becca because each session ended with my feelings as if I’d enjoyed a ‘half-body massage’ instead of an ‘adjustment’.

Now that I am off for the summer, my morning routine has changed, and I get to enjoy watching Jackson move around as he prepares for this day. This morning we were in a heated debate about Labor Day weekend; I am dreading spending it in Hilton Head with his family. No- with his mother. I digress. Walking out of the bathroom I flippantly declared,”thank god I am going to Becca today, she can work off this tension in my neck.” I couldn’t stop my footsteps fast enough as I felt his hand grab and then wrap around a fist-full of my hair. This is when time seems to slow a bit. My pulse quickens. I am suddenly hyper aware, because I feel the change.

I am not often the bratty type I swear. This morning though, I was irritated. So when he asked if I was going to Becca so she could make me feel good, I looked straight ahead as his grip tightened against my scalp, the thrill sending tingles throughout my body, and I said “she is going to make me feel great”. I knew what I was doing, but to be honest, it was fun. What happened after was even more fun.

As if my hair was a leash Jackson pulled, and I stepped backwards towards him my back flush with his chest. My breathing betraying all attempts to hide my arousal as he lowered his head to rest on my shoulder momentarily before trailing his tongue up past my neck to my ear.

“Does Becca make you feel this?” He inquired in a whisper.

“No Sir.” I responded, barely audible. His left hand circled me, caging me in, and then drifted, agonizingly slowly under my blue teddy, past my mound and directly into my heat. He turned us so that we faced the large vanity mirror.

“Look at you. What about now? Does Becca make you feel like this?” He said harshly in my ear. His fingers curved hitting that perfect spot. My head falling back against his chest, as he released my hair to allow his right hand to circle my clit. Losing proper function of my legs, I reached out with both hands against the vanity to support myself.

“No Sir she doesn’t.” I admitted via half moan, closing my  eyes as my hips began to rock forward against his hand, and backwards against his cock.

“Really, open your eyes, look at yourself. You are humping my hand. Can Becca make you feel this?” He asked again as he withdrew his fingers from inside me. I moaned in protest, and he quickly unsheathed his cock before thrusting into me.

It is always so perfect the way he feels with that first thrust, my body quickly adapting. Throaty, raspy, moans, and pleas rip from my throat as he fucks me. Hard. Deliberate. Punishing. Thrusts.

“When you see Becca today, and she has her hands on you, I want you to remember this.” Each phrase punctuated by another breathtaking thrust inside me.

“Yes Sir.” I yelled silently begging for the release that was coming far too quickly.

“Do you want to come for me?”

“Yes please Sir”

Will Becca ever ask you that?”

I grunted in frustration. “No Sir. Please!” I begged as he intensified his assault on my clit.

“Come with me baby.” And beautiful little white spots burst behind my eyes, as he burst inside of me.

So when I was splayed along the table, and Becca pulled my panties down and out of her way, a soft moan escaped my lips, but I didn’t tell Becca it was all her fault that I sort of

looked like this

Kinky Sex Club

as I came while bent over my bathroom vanity this morning.


The Stall at the End

Last week one of my besties came to visit me. One of the best weekends I have had in a while. Here is a highlight: Of course I had to show her around the great city of Houston. Ikea was high on her list. So we stroll into the restroom before we get going in the superstore. I head down to the handicap stall (there is something about all that space). Unfortunately the last one was occupied. So I mosey into the next to last one. Then as I am sitting on the porcelain throne, I see two pairs of feet. There are TWO people in the next stall. Then I see one of those pairs of feet disappear…. *cue raise of eyebrow*. Then the thump against the stall wall… *cue big eyes*. OMG They are fucking in the next stall (on repeat in my head).

I couldn’t get out of the stall fast enough to tell my friend what was happening. Then I realized how jealous I was of the people in the stall at the end, and how turned on I was. There is something amazing about public fucking.

BDSM and The Main Stream

While skimming channels last night I cam across a movie on lifetime. To my surprise there was this bdsm movie on. I couldn’t believe my eyes. More so stunning… the TV-MA rating. On lifetime? NO WAY!!

Really. No way. There was nothing TV-MA in the entire two hours. Do I need to say how disappointing that was.

It got me thinking. Why in the world did they rate this show the way they did, and add a “viewer discretion advised” after EVERY commercial break. Then it dawned on me. It was the subject matter. Why is that simply mentioning ‘dominant, submissive, switch’, or showing a woman walking into a sex club, or someone holding up a shiny red collar so horrid that people should be warned of the vulgarity of it all. I was offended.

Then someone talked some sense into me. Now, instead of being offended I choose to appreciate the fact that my chosen lifestyle is no longer being portrayed in a way that demeans it. I can appreciate the fact that they chose a decent Dominant for the story line in that he was Dominant and not domineering. That his Dominance came from a desire to aid his submissive in being the best version of herself possible.

There is something to celebrate now with BDSM hitting main stream television.

Is It Still a Hand Job If…

Last night Jackson was sitting on the couch watching Fallon as I finished up some dishes. I like just watching him sometimes. So I am watching innocently for once, and he subtly adjusts his cock. So then it is not so innocent. You understand right? How that subtle movement sent me from 0-90 in 1.2 seconds. How just writing about it today sends me back there too quickly…. I shall focus. Where was I? Oh yes..

So I am staring at my husbands cock through his boxers when lust hits me. I dried my hands, walked over to him, and dropped to my knees. As my hand brushed against him through the cool fabric. Silently he grabbed the remote control and the TV went black.

Sometimes when we have our silent conversations, I wonder what we would say if our words were spoken. What would I say instead of the tap on his hip suggesting he lift up so I could get those pesky boxers out of the way. What words would he say instead of planting his hand softly on my cheek. What words would replace that inviting barely there grin that gave me the “go ahead, enjoy”. Oh did I enjoy.

I enjoyed wrapping my fingers around his warm hard shaft. I enjoyed the look on his face as he watched me work. My hands twisting up and down. The change of pressure, the movement of my thumb against the head, the sound of his labored breathing, all of it  moving him closer and closer. I enjoyed every bit of it. Every bit of it down to the moment I placed my lips around the tip of his cock and sucked every drop of cum out of him.

All of that sparked a question… Is it still a hand job if I used my lips at the end?