mine

mine to hold

yours to behold

mine to use

mine to abuse

yours to amuse

mine to touch, kiss & fuck

mine to please

yours to tease

mine for the rest of time

12 steps - 7. humbly ask to remove my shortcomings

She sobbed into her clenched fists, the pillow scrunched up against her face. Passion consumed the room and flayed across her bare buttocks, red, raw and intense. Her skin was so soft. Her smell acute and piercing like the wild aroma of a meadow in the middle of Spring.
As I struck her again, and the sound of the leather belt ricocheted around the confines of the bedroom, the walls glared down at us like silent sentinels to bare witness of the transgressions being played out before them.

12 steps - 7. humble (bubbles)

Humbly ask to forgive my shortcomings.

I stood over her. Tufts of bubbles covered her like a blanket, white against her white skin. In the silence of the bathroom where candles made shadows sway, the bubbles crackled and  popped. Hot bath water lapped gently against her sides and  between her legs. My senses were assaulted by the scent of the bath, a rich aroma of lavender, heady and sweet. She curled her toes and stretched out one long slippery leg
"Yes?", she softly inquired. She fluffed up bubbles against her breasts. One pink nipple peeked out cheekily like a pixie amidst a wild English garden.
She stuck her tongue out at me. "Can I help you?"
So I pissed on her.
She squealed in dismay. But was there a note of lust that I detected? Hidden like a subliminal message in the sound of her alarm. Or was it delight. The warm stream poked jagged holes into the bubbles and splashed against her belly. Rivulets ran down her sides and snaked down the crack between her thighs. She moaned slightly. She fingered her cunt, rubbing my piss into the soft flesh. She squeezed a tit, pinching a nipple. She writhed and squirmed and the soiled water lapped at her glistening breasts. 
She sat up and water poured down her naked body. Bubbles slid off her almost in indignation at the rude assault. Her body glistened in the subdued light. She continued to finger her cunt as she brought her head close to my cock. A pink tongue playing peek-a-boo from between full lips....

yearning- Brazil day 29

touch of bare skin on skin
her scent, her smell
her taste
the wisps of her hair against my face
on the pillow
my cock nestled into her ass
in the morning
my cock hard inside her
her mouth
her hands
her lips

12 steps - 3. decision

I decided that one finger was not enough. Not enough to elicit the kind of reaction I was looking for. Her body writhed. She moaned. Her breasts rose and fell. Yet, as I probed within the liquid silkiness of her inside. As the tip of my finger rubbed against the little irregular bump each time I crooked it, it was not enough.

So I decided to insert a second. And a third. And finally a fourth. Her reaction was almost instantaneous. She bucked vigorously, driving my fist deeper into her. Molten liquid spilt from within her to drip from my wrist. Her moans turned from a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth into a wail of desire and pain. She pushed against my hand. I pushed back. Her cunt made soft suckling sounds like a baby at a mother's breast. I decided to allow her to cum.

"Would you like to cum My Precious"

"Yes!", was her anguished response.

"Then cum for me My Precious. Cum for me like the slut you are"

And she did. All over my hand like the biblical flood.

Afterwards as the waves subsided and the spasms ebbed, I held her and smirked within her hair.

It was a good decision.

dreaming

Why are my dreams so crowded? Lately they've been filled with people whose faces are murky and voices foggy by the weight of sleep. I seldom recall my dreams in detail when I awake. The images slowly waft away like spirits as I scrabble to the surface of conciousness. Who are these people and why do they crowd that insantient time of shades & shadows. Carl Jung believed that dreams were a window yo your unconciosness. Part of Jung's theory is that all things can be viewed as paired opposites. For e.g. male/female, good/evil. Thusly the opposite of ego being counterego or 'the shadow'.

Each incremental pulse of my heart pushes fresh blood into my brain, through my body, into my cock. She sighs and wriggles her body into mine. It is a subconscious gesture. She does it every morning in that fuzzy period between sleep and wakefulness. My cock will twitch against her bare skin. Sometimes she will giggle. 

salacious sunday - Romans 8

Romans 8: 5-6

5.For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. 6.For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.

flick

Stretched out on the bed with my hands behind my head. I look down the length of my body as she works her mouth on my hard cock. Blood red lips, moistened with spit and inflamed by yearning slide up and down my shaft. Her pink tongue flicks like a cat o' nine tail along the tip, wrapping under the head before she slips me back into her warm mouth. Her eyes have not left my face. A subtle smile turns the corners of her mouth as she savours my taste. Slowly she releases my glistening member and it emerges like a proboscis. Her breasts rise and fall with each breath. Pink engorged nipples tease me like candy. Moving upwards, she hikes up her flowing black skirt until she is above my belly and straddles me. Her cunt is as warm and slippery as a sponge. Her thighs grip my sides hard as she begins to ride me. The wanton look of wickedness in her eyes is emphasized by a lecherous grin that has creased her cheeks.

She reaches behind and grasps my still twitching cock.

"Do you like that?"

A growl in response.

She rocks her head back, eyes closed, daydreams of salaciousness etched across her breasts in a flush of red.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

I growl again, deeper this time. She is toying with me not unlike a cat that pats a broken dying spider. "Or do you want me to suck your cock a little more?"

She giggles, the tinkling sound peeling off the drapes in a lilting melody.

My cock twitches in her hand and she giggles again. Slowly she slides down leaving a trail of stickiness and warmth across my abdomen. She is positioned directly above my stiff member, still captive in her hand. With deliberate slowness, she lowers herself and drags the tip across her wet clit first. She gasps, at first contact.

"Do you want more?", she whispers.

She drags a sharp breath between half-clenched teeth and strokes the tip of my cock back and forth across the swollen pink petals of her vulva. Sticky sinewy threads of her desire like fine woven lace entwine and wrap around the shaft, to drip down my balls. She continues to rub me against her, sighing contently. The flush of red across her chest deepens as her strokes increase. Her breathing is heavier. Her hips rocks back and forth, her long mane wrapping itself around her face like a gossamer veil. Faster and faster she rocks, faster and faster she strokes herself with my rock hard member. Shallow breathing morphs into short sharp breaths. Her back arches with mine as the sensation of my cock being stroked across her viscous pussy, dripping with sex and lust, sends electric currents trickling down my scrotum and up my spine. Her hands, my cock, her cunt, my balls, all blend together in a concert of sound, smell, touch and feel as her orgasm explodes in a shower of carnal lust and completion. An aphrodisiac of desire and thirst that envelopes us in a cloud of heady craving and intoxicating hunger.

She collapses on me, her heaving breasts pushing into my chest, her hair cascading across my face and arms like a waterfall of lace...

salacious sunday

But thou, O LORD, art a shield for me;
my glory, and the lifter up of my head

I cried unto the LORD with my voice,
and He heard me out of His holy hill.
~Psalms III: 3,4

salacious sunday

"You shall break them with a rod of iron. You shall dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel.”
~Psalms II:9

salaciuos sunday

Therefore the wicked shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.
~Psalms I:5

salacious sunday

yesterday (today)

...was it only yesterday that I smelled myself on your lips? that acrid sweet scent of lust and sex filling my head. It was only moments before that I knelt over you, over your eager mouth as I stroked myself to a shuddering climax. Was it only yesterday that I felt the hard flesh of your nipples compress between my thumb and forefinger. I remember well the sound of your soft gasp and the way you kissed my neck as I pinched harder. The feel of your soft breasts pushing themselves into the hard of my back. Your fingers tickling the hairs on my chest.

The hushed whispers into my ear.

Or will it be today that I gather you in my arms once again. Gaze deep into your emerald green eyes that will glow once more. Kiss you, my tongue probing between your soft lips to seek out your tongue. Will it be today that I kneel between your legs and slide my cock into your fervid cunt, coating it with your longing and desire. Will it be today that your breasts will be marred once again by the prints of my fingers, my teeth.

For you are mine and I am yours and will forever be.

salacious sunday

How do I tell you that you are beautiful?
How your eyes rage green;
Your lips a soft pink.
How your pale breasts offer
A sanctuary for my fervent mouth.
To taste you is to rouse my hunger.
To smell you is to kindle my desire.
To touch you is to sate my fevered spirit.
How do I tell you
That your voice bathes me
In a liquescent fire.

To hear you breathe is a comforting hand.
Your whimpers like a band
Wrapped tight around my heart.
Forever bound
To never be apart.

so Precious

To hear the sound of my hand across your bare flesh
the sharp report of leather
To rake my nails across your pale skin
the caressing kiss of a feather
To watch as the tears run silent down your Precious cheeks
the ring of bruises colour your spine
To kiss your salty lips, taste off your tongue
Whisper you are Mine

lair

Stepping from the doorway the stifling heat hits me like a dragon's breath, almost knocking backwards. Fuck! I groan. I really don't want to be out here. My shirt is already stuck to my skin, rivulets of sweat running down my sides and chest. The sun soaked pavement shimmers hypnotically as I glance down the nearly empty street. Even the cars seem to move slowly, as if their tires are glued to the sticky tarmac. The cigarette stumbles from my fingers to sizzle out in the drain. The putrid stagnant water, emanating a foul odour.
"Can you spare some change?" the bum croaks from below me his one eye swollen and oozing a fetid yellowish liquid. He coughs, his frail body bent from the heaves. I sneer at him. "Watch the fucking boots old man!"
The sun is strong, even through the haze of smog and the tint of the Ray Bans, driving slivers of pain directly into my temples. That fucking bitch better be gone before I get back. I check my watch, the $400 Seiko telling me I have 40 minutes left. Christ! what a fucking day already. The car alarm beeps twice, headlights winking in acknowledgment as I zap it with the remote. I feel sick, the bile rising up inside me and I swallow, taking a deep breath. I need another drink. I drank too much last night. And that little cunt that's still asleep upstairs passed out even before I had finished with her. They just don't make them like they used to even if you paid for it. Opening the car door I take a step back. The pent-up heat from inside rushes out with explosive force taking the smell of leather with it. There's even a trace of cheap perfume that still lingers as I slide inside and turn the key.

© 2bucks, inc., 2007

Red Rain - tres

Shifting twisting the fog around us was coiling boiling....
Enveloping enclosing in it's tendrils tight.....
Pushed to the ground the shadow's arms around me did surround....
Caressed my skin hot like balm in it's cool embrace I luxuriated randy and calm....
~Desolation Angel

The rain has dissipated slightly but the drops continue to fall soaking our already saturated skin and clothes. Steam from the ground rises like ethereal figures coiling and twisting to wrap around her form in the gloom. I can barely see her in the darkness but I am very aware of her. Lying back on the soggy earth, grass and rock prodding into my back, she is straddled atop of me, naked from the waist up, long flowing hair now matted and stringy from the rain, falling across her face and shoulders. With her sodden skirt bunched up across her waist, thighs on either side of my hips, the warmth of her pussy enveloping my cock like a sheath, she rocks her hips driving our loins together.
She has one hand wrapped lightly across my throat, the other rests on my chest. Both of my hands clasp her buttocks as she fucks me with almost animalistic abandon, breasts bouncing up and down with the effort. Now with my fingers digging deep into her soft flesh, I hold her steady as I pump my hips, driving my engorged member like a piston in and out of her tight wet cunt. I can feel her stiffen underneath my hands as her orgasm slowly starts to build and she leans back away from me, hands resting on my thighs, grinding her hips into me.

Without warning, I bring my right hand down to strike her bare flesh, the sound echoing off into the darkness. A moan escapes from her lips as the sting of the slap, accentuated by the wetness, sends a ripple of pain across her, stinging my palm. I strike her again and she squeals this time, her body bucking in reaction.

"Are you going to cum for me? Are you ready to cum for me, my little whore?". I bring my hand down hard once more across her ass.

In response, her body goes rigid for a brief second and then her orgasm explodes across her . The lips of her pussy clamp down on my cock, thighs gripping my hips as a guttural moan escapes her lips. She slumps forward to lay prone on top of me, soft breasts pushing into my chest, hard nipples poking into my damp skin. She buries her face into my neck whimpering softly. Her body continues to spasm and jerk on top of me as I stroke her back, one hand slipping into the fold between her buttocks. I slip one finger into the soft puckered petal-like flesh of her hole, while I use my other fingers to stroke my cock as it glides in and out of her.

She raises her head finally from my neck to stare at me with slightly hooded eyes - I know what's coming next and I take a deep breath. With a serpentine look that crosses her features, she drops her face to grasp my bottom lip between her teeth. A flash of pain sears across my head as she bites down hard on the soft flesh. Metallic tang crosses my tongue. Her breath is hot and rushed against my face. She sucks urgently on my bruised lip. One hand across my throat - a gentle pressure of possession, of quiet persuasion, she whispers from between clenched teeth:

"It's your turn now"

© 2bucks, inc., 2007

Red Rain - duae

We are drenched within seconds of stepping outside into the torrential rain. She drops my hand, leaving me behind to run into the middle of the lawn. Steam rises from the scorched earth in wraith-like apparitions twisting and turning in the night, bringing life back into the parched green. She spins around, her face completely enshrouded by her long hair that has cascaded down past her shoulders. Her arms are outstretched like a supplicant preparing for an unholy sacrament. Her clothes are completely soaked in an instant and cling to the milky pale curves of her body, wrapped like a second skin around her.

I walk up to her, squinting against the falling drops, laughing at her frivolous enthusiasm and catch her mid-spin. She laughs, child-like, infectious like a playful spirit her eyes dancing impishly. She slumps against me and I hold her steady. Her bouncing breasts push firmly against my chest as she wraps her arms around my neck. Our lips touch, she opens hers ever so slightly in invitation and I flick my tongue into her mouth. Electric sparks erupt as our tongues seek and probe each other with fevered urgency. I slide my hands around the back of her head drawing her closer as the rain drips steadily down our noses. My cock hardens as she mews softly above the drone of the rain. Running my hands downwards to explore her back, we pressed our bodies ever closer, grinding our hips against each other. Sliding my hands down to cup her buttocks through the soaked skirt, slipping my fingers into the crevice, I probe the softness of her. She gasps at the touch and I lick her neck.

Finally we break apart and we gaze into each other’s eyes. Not a single word has passed between us, and yet a volume of dark desires and hunger have crossed the small space between us. I reach for her breasts squeezing them roughly, eager fingers digging into the soft malleable flesh, seeking her nipples hard beneath the slippery blouse. She pushes away from me and drops to her knees. Her hands fumble first with my belt, then the buttons, the task made more challenging due to the wetness of my jeans, finally pulling down the waistband to reach in and draw out my hard member. She looks up at me with demure eyes filled with passion. The rain streams down her face. She is a spectre of submission and longing. She extends her tongue, so pink in the inky night, places my cock on the tip as if to accept the Host, closes her lips around the head and with her eyes locked on my face, slides it into her warm mouth...

© 2 bucks inc., 2007

communion IV [awakening]

"Sleep brings no rest to me:
The shadows of the dead
My wakening eyes may never see
Surround my bed".
~Emily Bronte (The Horrors of Sleep)

A curious calm falls like a curtain, the air hushed by a single breath. Eleanna is stretched out on the altar like a sacrificial lamb. She is naked from the waist up, her dress bunched and twisted around her hips. Her eyes are closed, her hands clasped together on her stomach. Her breasts rise and fall with every deep breath, pink nipples stiff and pointed in the chilled air. Every breath she takes flows through me like a silk sash fluttering in the wind. I am standing above her with my hand around her throat. Gently I move my fingers to stroke her outstretched neck. Her pulse palpitates beneath my fingers trickling through my palm vibrating my senses like a plucked harp string. Ghostly pale in the warm yellow light, her features are shadowed and soft.

She is beautiful beyond reason, and yet as I gaze down at her, all I want to do is ravage her. Her softness and her innocence evokes dark imagery inside my head that has lain dormant for too long. Purity as a virtue has left her beauty unmarred, washing her soul clean like a baptism.

I start to slide my hand down. My cock strains against the inside of my jeans. I can almost feel the warmth of her mouth over it. The feeling is so palpable that I have trouble controlling my breathing.
I want to fondle her beautiful breasts-to carve my fingers into the soft flesh and watch as her skin burns red from my fingers. I yearn to run my thumb across each engorged nipple. The hunger to run my tongue across each angry welt from my nails as they rise to the surface of her pale white skin consumes me. I want to hear the sharp intake of her breath, her tiny whimper. I would lick each tear that trickled from the corner of her eyes, to let the salty extracts soothe the abrasiveness as it slipped down my raw throat. I flicked my tongue across my cracked lips.
Suddenly a sharp pain spears through me. The ornate dirk which dangled from the black velvet collar had nicked the soft fleshy edge my palm. "Shit!", I exclaim bringing my hand up for a closer look. Glinting like an eye in the warm glow of the candle light a drop of bright red beads out of the small wound. I am fascinated by the sight. My vision starts to blur. From deep within me there is a stirring. A gnarled leathery eyelid creaked slowly open, cracking painfully from the ravages of all this time that it had stayed closed, to reveal an obsidian eye. Little rivulets of blood begun to flow from the edges, filling in the spaces.

It had finally awoken.

Before I can react, Eleana has reached for my hand pulling it towards her. She extends her tongue and as quick as an asp, licks the droplet of blood from my palm. She runs the tip across her lips savouring the metallic tang smearing her pink lips with a crimson streak.
"Fuck me!", she whispers harshly, urgently reaching for me.

communion III [submission]

“An idea, like a ghost, must be spoken to a little before it will explain itself.” ~Charles Dickens

...Come with me".

I reach out my hand to her and she takes it without hesitation, her gaze cast downward. A jolt ripples through me like a single drop of water breaking the surface of a whispering pool as her fingers entwine with mine. My heartbeat quickens. A tingling sensation runs across my scalp. She rises with a slow regal grace, the rustle of her dress seemingly the only sound inside this ancient church. There is a stirring deep within me, a dark desire in the pit of my stomach awakening to feed. I take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through flared nostrils.
Eleana holds her head high, shoulders straight. Her full breasts pushed together by the tight bodice of her dress strains against the laced edge of the neckline. The ornate dirk nestled comfortably within the deep regions of her cleavage, once again catches my eye. The sharp edge pointing straight down towards a place that I wish to drag my tongue across. I want to drink in her scent, to be intoxicated by her smell. She runs a hand down the front of the dark green full length dress smoothing out the velvet with a whispered swish. It is a stunningly captivating dress, regal in it's simplicity, accentuating every curve of her body. Cinched tight at the waist, by a belt of midnight black, it billows gently downwards to drape and flow around her feet that are encased in dainty black slippers. It seems as if she has just stepped out from a rent in the fabric of time, a vision from an age long past, a time of kings and queens, of courtesans and jesters. Perhaps her emerald eyes had borne witness to opulent nights and languid days, gilded furniture and over sized ballrooms. Did she traverse darkened corridors where servants scurried. Was she witness to bustling humid kitchens where butlers ravished kitchen scullions, taking them from behind, food stained skirts bunched around their waists.

"Where are we going?" Her voice is soft, lilting with a slight hint of an accent that I cannot quite place. It is a rhetorical question, posed simply to break the tension. Her hand is firm within mine. She has already placed her faith in me. There is no going back now. I lead her by the hand and we walk towards the front of the church. Outside, the wind has picked up, howling through the tattered leafless branches of the trees, flinging snow against the small windows like fingers scrabbling desperately for a hold. High above us, amidst the rafters, bridged together by giant cobwebs that are almost as old as the structure itself, something large scrabbles and I feel the weight of dark phantasmal eyes follow us as we head up the aisle. We stop in front of the rack of pale white offertory candles, each glowing flame undulating like tongues whispering a wordless prayer, each shape contorted by the melting wax. I step silently behind her. Leaning forward, I gather her long bountiful red mane in my left fist to move it out of the way and place my lips against the nape of her neck. With teeth slightly bared, I extend my tongue to drag it across her cool flesh, to kiss her softly, nipping ever so gently as I close my mouth. I bring my right hand around to place it against her throat, my left hand now around her waist drawing her backwards to me. Eleans leans backwards her weight pressing against my chest. "Pick up a candle. Any candle", I whisper into her ear, my lips brushing the soft edge. Being this close, her scent surges through me like a drug, heady and strong. My cock twitches in response.

On the wall directly above us, a lovingly detailed effigy of Jesus Christ, nailed to His wooden cross, looks down on us with an expression of infinite sadness as His life flows out in eternal forgiveness from His wounds.