Sunday, September 28, 2008

salacious sunday - the psalms

Everyone lies to his neighbor.
They speak with flattering lips, and with a double heart.

~The Psalms, 12:2

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

simple things

It starts with the way she lays her head on my belly with her hair splayed out around her like a veil. I like the way she takes my flaccid cock into her mouth and that simple way she has of swirling her tongue around it's sensitive tip. The way my cock grows erect and hard under her manipulations. I like to place my hand upon her head in order to pin her down while I buck my hips slowly. This causes my cock to glide in and out of her warm mouth, lubricated by her spittle. Sometimes I don't move. And neither does she. My cock rests inside her, entombed within her mouth, her lips clamped around the shaft. I know she has her eyes closed.

I like to pat her cheek so that she slips my cock into the crevice between her teeth and the inside of her cheek. I like to stroke the bulge there, sometimes slap it. Her moans run like rivulets of a current down my hard member to tickle my balls and up my spine. I like how she will sometimes trace the tracks of her spit with her finger, exploring the nether darkened region that's just beyond my testicles. I like how she slips me from my mouth to follow her finger with her tongue, softly caressing my testicles with a velvet touch.

I like how she strokes me with the tip of my cock just touching the tip of her tongue. She likes when she tastes my pre-cum, flicking her tongue to catch the dew-like drops. Moaning softly for more as her strokes speed up. And when my cum explodes from me in a spray of orgasmic completion, I like how she slurps up every drop, licking every sticky residue as it sloshes around her mouth. I like how she continues to suckle me until my cock returns to it's flaccid state to slip out of her mouth. I like to stroke her hair as she places her hot cheek on my heaving belly and sighs softly. I know she is licking her lips, savouring my taste. I like how she thanks me and says I love you, dreamily.

Such simple things.

Monday, September 22, 2008

bring out your pencils

Sometimes paint by numbers is just not enough. So boring really if you keep getting all the colours right. Sometimes one needs a challenge. Something more, well...deeper if you will.

After all the pages have been coloured in and you're still looking for a place to point that pencil - well then point it HER-E

Sunday, September 21, 2008

salacious sunday - the psalms

11:1 In Yahweh, I take refuge.
How can you say to my soul, “Flee as a bird to your mountain!”

11:2 For, behold, the wicked bend their bows.
They set their arrows on the strings,
that they may shoot in darkness at the upright in heart.

~Pslams 11: 1-2

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


10:10 p.m. Fell asleep on the couch last night. Lulled to sleep by the drone of the television and the gentle vibrations of a purring cushion.

4:24 a.m. Your pillow survived the night despite the repeated punches to mold it into some form of shape. Coldness greeted me like an icy hand every time I ventured over to the left side of the bed. The empty side of the bed.

5:37 a.m. Only one cup of coffee this morning. Bare feet on cold wooden floors. Greeted by soft confused mewls.

6:18 a.m. Restlessness hangs in the air like a glider. Silence surrounds the house broken by the cry of birds. The thermometer reads 8C but there will be no heat until October.

7:07 a.m. Wrapped in a comforter like my stubbornness I ponder if you can see little bird breaths like cotton puffs in the cool air. Ten more days before touchdown.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

caged Calisto

If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don't, they never were.

~Khalil Gibran

Sunday, September 14, 2008

salacious sunday - the psalms

He lurks in secret as a lion in his ambush.
He lies in wait to catch the helpless.
He catches the helpless, when he draws him in his net.
The helpless are crushed.
They collapse.
They fall under his strength.

~The Psalms, 10:9

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

to whit spit?

Some like to play with Barbies. Others like to play dress-up. Yet others like to watch TV while others prefer lollipops. One a hot sultry afternoon with the television playing an accompanying track and the fan stirring the hot air around in a sweltering bedroom, she prefers to suck my cock. Lick it, stroke it, make love to it.

Holding the camera steady was the least I could do.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

bump-her stick-her (or random thoughts as I drive in to work)

Vegans Taste Better

"…in what context?"
when marinated for 24 hours in a fine red wine, spit-roasted slowly over an open fire and served with a vegetable medley lightly seasoned with olive oil?
Interesting bumper sticker, but I wish it was a little more descriptive.
I'd like to become Ruler of The Universe (ROTU)...nope I can hear the subjects laughing already. How about Supreme Lord of the World (SLoW)...damn, that's not going to work either.
Almighty King and Universal Noble Tyrant (AKUNT). Hmm…interesting but not quite the oomph I'm looking for.
"…as compared to what?"
Mulligatawny Soup, Whipped Cream over blueberry waffles and maple syrup, French toast, mashed potatoes, fresh pineapple and mango in custard. Definitely no asparagus. Or garlic. Too much onions is questionable as well. Plenty of water, cut back on the coffee. Too many strawberries increase the acidity. I've been told I taste yummy, sweet with a delicate aroma of bleach.
When I become Supreme Lord of the Universe and Tyrannical Sultan (SLUTs) HA!...sometimes I just kill myself - I want to live on an island surrounded by bare-breasted natives fanning me with Palmyra leaves, running toddy-coated nipples across my lips.
Fucking bumper stickers! They always have to be funnier than me. When I am SLUTs, I will decree that no bumper sticker will be funnier than I.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008


"What do you sprinkle on it when I'm not looking"?

Tiny vibrations like a low voltage current trickle between us in the dark. Her toy drones on, loud one minute, muffled the next.

"Do you know you taste ~gasp~ yummy?"


"I love the taste of your cum"

A sharp intake of breath and the pitch of the toy rises in unison. Pain where her head presses down into my shoulder but I am distracted by her engorged nipple between my thumb and finger.
"I love the way your cock ~gasp~ fills my mouth"

"". Squeeze her full breasts. Roll her nipple. Dig, dig, dig my nails into her soft flesh.
"Ouch!". Body arches. Breasts swell. Thighs spread further apart. The drone lulls me almost to sleep.
Another sharp intake of breath. A pause, pregnant with yearning hangs in the cool night air. Timing is everything. A hard pull on an engorged nipple and she explodes under the covers. Her moans go on forever it seems, bouncing off the walls, ricocheting off the spinning fan blades to rain down on us like a net. Trapped in her orgasm, she bucks violently and I squeeze her breasts harder before. She will find my fingerprints on her creamy white flesh the next morning like paint splashed haphazardly on an empty canvas. She will smile dreamily as she traces the marks.

But now she will roll over to hand me the vibrator, sticky and wet and warm.
"Thank you Master", the words muffled against my neck as her contended sighs wash warm and damp over my skin.
I smile in the darkness, spent, satiated and happy.