My bed smelled like you this morning. It made it so difficult to get out of. I could have lied there thinking about you all day. With my eyes closed, smelling my sheets… I could almost feel your arms around me. I could almost feel you on top of me, and inside of me. I don’t wanna wash my sheets. You have to promise to come over again. I always want my bed smelling like your scent and your sex. Your cologne.
I can still smell you in my room.
When you touch me… it never feels like you can touch me deep enough. Hard enough. Deeper. I just want more of you in every way and I don’t know how to get it.
That smell is distracting…
I don’t know how to satisfy my hunger for you… because it never goes away. My thoughts of you never seem to fade. Not when I can still smell you everywhere. Smell your sex everywhere. Our sex. Thinking of your arms forcing me down, keeping me still, while you fuck me.
Thinking of your cock inside of me. Filling me up. I can’t help but feel physically empty when you are not stuffing my holes. I can’t help but feel neglected without your hands all over me. Using me, taking me, forcing me. …for as much as I need to be forced.
The smell of you intoxicates me, and it lingers in my room for days. I try and focus on other things but that smell of you…
It has become a habit of mine that shortly after I see you my thoughts drift to your blog. Rereading entries that have served to make me especially wet before, and playing with myself again in front of my laptop over the same words.
I was doing this before my shift last night. And then I got a call later in the evening. He was quite and calm, intent. He was forceful. After we finished his fantasy, he just wanted me to talk for a while. He told me, “come on, you sound like you have a filthy imagination. What have you been jerking off about lately? Describe it to me.”
I told him I wanted him to push me onto my stomach. That he would move on top of me, so close to me. Teasing my ass with his hard cock. I reach my hand down just for a moment to feel how wet he has made me. I tell him about how he starts fucking my ass… moving his cock in deeper and deeper, how it hurts, but I know my tight asshole feels so good wrapped around his cock. I tell him how wet it makes me to feel his body so close to mine, to feel him whispering in my ear that I’m being, ‘such a good girl.’
That his words replay in my mind. ‘I’m trying to be nice. It’s taking all of my energy not to just fuck you and rip you apart.”
When he asks me if it hurts I tell him yes.
He asks me if I can take it, and I tell him yes.
I’m a ‘good girl’
xoxo
I thought you just liked the taste, but apparently the sex is why you like pumpkin pie so much!
http://sexuality.about.com/od/sexualscience/a/sex_thanksgivin.htm
http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/the_dilbert_blog/2007/08/aroused-by-pie.html
I don’t know why this is titled “Pumpkin Pie”… maybe she just baked one and this is how you pass the time while it cools:
http://youporn.com/watch/86459/pumpkin-pie/?from=featured2
Ohhhh Gawd, Imagine what she would look like UNDER that apron:
http://fotosa.ru/stock_photo/Brand%20X_JI/p_2855309.jpg
Okay… Done!
Would this have anything to do possibly with you making sweet sweet lesbian love to her? Could have possibly triggered some sort of nesting/clinging response? Honey, you have to be careful with that sweet hot pussy of yours. You can’t just hand it out willy nilly, it packs a powerful punch and is liable to confuse sweet young women. Mind you, I don’t mind coming by Saturday night and watching porn with the two of you. Could get interesting. Remind her of what she has been missing… again.
I want to see you. I want to feel you tie me up… tight. I want to feel you inside of me and on top of me. I want to feel you hurt me like you do. I want to touch you. Come over.
HIM: i mean seriously… woah
ME: I have to agree with that.
HIM: mmmm….
I have this great smell lingering about me all day, the spicy tang of your sex, on my fingers, on my face, highly distracting.
ME: ahhh yes, I have to say I have been a bit distracted today myself… and you’re not helping the matter.
HIM: Shit. Sorry. I will stop. But I just can’t get your growling screams out of my head… so what is a boy to do?
ME: yeah… really not helping. And I can only seem to think of one solution. I look forward to the next lesson.
HIM: I was getting a massage today, and I developed a fairly impressive erection as I drifted off and started picturing you bound up, blindfolded. how DO you feel about ropes?
ME: Oh Fuck I have work to do…. you’re REALLY slowing down how much I can get done in a day. I’ve never been tied up before. …. or blindfolded. How do I feel about it? I’ve thought about it. I have thought about a lot of things. ….recently thinking about you tying me up and how wet that makes me. … hence not getting as much work done.
HIM: Ah, I see, I will prepare some lengths of rope for our next meting in that case. Your wrists bound. Your feet bound to your thighs. Your neck collared and attached to a leash forever in my hands. How do you feel about that.
ME: excited… and a little scared. You’re killing me.
