Posted by Lilly | 10 Comments

Wanton Wednesday: Sticky Sweet

You got the peaches, I got the cream
Sweet to taste, saccharine
‘Cos I’m hot, so hot, sticky sweet
From my head, my head, to my feet

One of the Frosted Cockcake pics that I’ve not shown you yet….

So when I went to look up the lyrics for “Pour Some Sugar on Me” I realized that this was one of those songs/bands where not everything was intelligible and the victim of many people singing the wrong words. Wow I think I messed up half the song back in the day!! LOL

ohgod *hides* those clothes. the hair. WHAT were we THINKING?!?!?!? O.o And why did those guys think it was cool to wear *their own* concert tees?!?!

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Posted by Lilly | 17 Comments

Frosted Cockcake

Two basic facts:

1. I don’t swallow. I don’t want cum in my mouth, and I won’t lick it all up either. I have a hair-trigger gag reflex and thick cum just grosses me out. I don’t like seeing photos of it all dripping out of a chicks mouth, either. I can’t help it.

2. Simple powdered-sugar icing looks remarkably like cum.

So when husband and I were trying out Burger King’s new Funnel Cake Sticks (pretty yum, btw) our minds were in the gutter as I was cleaning off warm gooey icing from my fingers. I just looked at him and said “Save the rest of that icing for later. You, me, this icing and the camera have a date later” and boy you shoulda seen his eyes light up.

And it ended up being great fun for him to take all these photos. His arousal during was equal parts the visual and of course the feeling of my lips and tongue cleaning up all the icing I kept dribbling all over. I can look at these photos without issue, because *I know* it’s icing and not cum. He knows it, too, when he sees the photos but it doesn’t fail to arouse him utterly and so quickly. To him, it’s almost as good as if it were photos of the real thing.

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Posted by Lilly | 10 Comments

Messy Sticky Sweet

Cold, creamy, sticky, sweet, thick, white….dripping down his cock, being lapped up by my tongue, running through my fingers…

Hmm I think I’d better back this story up a few paces.

So there I was, doing a “quick” grocery trip for the “necessities” (how do these trips end up costing $80?) and I’m heading down the frozen foods aisle to the regular ice cream that my hub enjoys. When I am magnetically pulled to a case by the sight of this beautiful, jewel-toned container of frozen goodness:

I stand there, mouth agape, as if I’m staring at a beautiful woman. But no, it’s gelato and sorbetto. In what could possibly be the most ingenius packaging, ever. Clear plastic screw-cap jars. Everything else in this whole aisle is in a printed cardboard tub, except for this brand which just screams “fuck me”.

I mean, “eat me”.

Oh that’s no less provocative, either. Screw it.

I thought about it, I weighed the cost and the calories and the fat. I nearly walked away twice but only got two steps past each time. Finally I chose the Tahitian Vanilla Bean because, as kinky as I may be, I have a deep affinity for *good* vanilla bean concoctions. Had the ruby-red sorbetto been my beloved Strawberry instead of Raspberry, I’d have picked that instead. And so fate sent home a pint of Tahitian Vanilla Bean Gelato with me. It called to me from the trunk. It whispered my name as we took the bags inside. Finally I gave in before hub could even finish putting away the remaining groceries; I cracked it open, dug my spoon in and was rewarded with this sweet, heavenly explosion of perfect, pungent vanilla beans. Quite possibly the best vanilla bean ice cream / gelato / white stuff to ever pass between my lips. My eyes closed in ecstasy and my moans halted my husband to whom I handed off a spoonful. He was duly impressed as well. We stood there sharing spoonfuls and trying to remember what dinner was supposed to be and if we could just have this, instead.

It served to be a good dessert.

Dinner ended with me sitting in my undies, eating gelato in sheer bliss. My husband got aroused watching me lick and slurp my spoon and somehow I ended up on my knees in front of him, smearing vanilla bean gelato on to his hard cock and then licking it up. Sucking, slurping, catching the runs, cleaning it all off from the underside of his cock head. Scooping it up from the jar with my bare fingers and coating it like Plaster of Paris.

He quite enjoyed the gelato, in many ways.

In my hazy, blissed-out state I sought out the company’s website to see if they made a strawberry sorbetto. Unfortunately, they do, but I don’t think my store carries it. After nearly swooning while reading about my two favorite sorbet flavors (peach and strawberry) I honestly and truly pondered paying double the retail cost plus $30 shipping just to try some.

I didn’t do it.

But I considered it.

Wouldn’t you????

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Posted by Lilly | 13 Comments

Real Live Sex

There is a downside to dating this girl. Oh yes, it’s not all perfection and light filled with endless hot sex! My partner gets teased a lot, sexually speaking of course. He reads this blog, and he takes half of the pictures. During the few weeks he was sick with a pretty bad chest cold, sex or just about anything that would raise his heart-rate too high was out of the question. Those photos for the oral fixation posts? Killed him. My devouring of the large bag of lollipops? He begged for mercy. Needless to say, he was um well….I’m sure you know.

The other night he finally declared he was well enough and I felt obligated to pull out all the stops.

I pulled him into a joint shower with me – what better way to get things heated up right quick than 2 wet soapy bodies in the very close quarters of an old-school tub/shower? I will admit to running my very sudsy shower poof over my breasts a little more than necessary.

(I like breasts as much as any heterosexual man, but I don’t get what it is about sudsy tits that makes men into drooling hornballs.)

In the bedroom I intended to work him up to an amazing orgasm. I put the leather mattress corners on the bed,  my leather wrist cuffs on him, and clipped him to the bed. If I’m going to be the best cocktease I can be,  his hands can’t have the opportunity to help things along. As the flat of my tongue ran firmly up the length of his cock, he gasped. When I stopped and held my tongue there at the edge just about to go over the top, with open lips poised to engulf him, he moaned. Seconds ticked by and still I did not move my mouth; unthinking he went to move his hands to my head but quickly remembered the restraints.

Rest assured I soon gave him what he wanted. I added in the Hitachi for a few minutes before I moved it under me. As I laid on my stomach sucking his cock, my pussy was grinding against the head of the Hitachi. He could hear the sound of the vibrator, he could see my ass moving as I fucked the vibrator and he could feel my moans around his cock as the vibrator drove me crazy. Which in turn drove him crazy. Soon, I found that the mattress corner restraints were failing as I felt his hand on my head. I gave in and removed the restraints. An enthusiastic blowjob became something more as his hands in my hair and at the back of my head took on a life of their own, controlling the speed of my mouth suctioning his cock and the depth to which I sucked it into my mouth.

Soon, I climbed on top and sank down onto his cock, an act made easy by my soaking wet cunt. I brought the Hitachi to rest snugly against my clit and the base of his cock and I slowly rocked my hips back and forth, in circles, up an down. Within a minute I shuddered screamed and collapsed in a huge orgasm. The second I clicked off the Hitachi and threw it to the floor, he grabbed me by the waist, pulled me close to his chest and started to roll us with his cock still inside of me. It’s a move he does often, not wanting to break contact while we change positions so that he can fuck me hard.

I need to interject here and explain something. We have a unique bed situation. We couldn’t afford a king or queen sized bed, so we put to use the 2 matching twin bedframe sets he inherited. We used our own twin mattresses, and have the beds pushed together side by side. It’s actually worked out well, no chance of hogging the covers! He is accustomed to using something called a feather bed topper on his mattress, it’s underneath the fitted sheet. Every so often he has to re-center it, for some reason it likes to slide around a bit under there.

Back to our story.

And there is a point to this story. Sometimes readers assume that sexbloggers, with their trunks of toys, have sex lives that are better than most everyone else. Sure, my toys have led to better masturbation, have helped me further explore my sexuality, and have indeed made the sex I have better. But it’s not a porno. We’re not perfect sex goddesses.

He rolled us from my bed to his to continue fucking me. Pretty much as soon as my back is on his bed, I feel the discarded restraints under my back. His powerful roll combined with a slippery comforter and the featherbed topper hanging off the bed a bit resulted in…..the both of us sliding right off the bed to the floor. This wasn’t just a simple slide-off-the-bed, haha, lets-continue-fucking. Oh no.

You see, the dresser on his side is a mere 2 feet away from his bed. As we landed quite awkwardly, still me on bottom him on top, my kneecap (my bad knee) had a nice hard greeting with the dresser. I was bent funny. He says “Are you ok?” amidst the sound of glass bottles of cologne tumbling over on the dresser. Loudly.

“Owwwww no……getoffme!”

We unwedged ourselves from the spot and got back into bed to nurse our wounds. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, but I felt bad he didn’t get relief for his um discomfort. He felt bad for me crashing and hurting my knee. After a few minutes of laying there, I started to giggle. I couldn’t help it. It was pretty comical. I usually wonder if our neighbors can hear us fucking; boy that night I really wondered if they heard the fall and what they thought.

A day in the life of real sex.

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Posted by Lilly | 15 Comments

Confessional: Cock Tease

The best pleasure comes from denial of said pleasure.

Drag it out. Make him wait.

With dangerous eyes and a smirk of teasing mischief, I drag one palm down his chest. Like a homing missile, my fingertips deftly locate the solid head of his cock which is trapped in his jeans and pointing at such an awkward angle….poor thing. Some circular rubbing to tease through fabric before I abandon it for the buttons and zipper. His cock springs forward after its long-awaited release, already glistening with pre-come.

With my hand wrapped around his cock I rub the semen over the tip, a momentary feel of lubrication on dry skin. I run my hand lightly from the base, up the underside, skit over the head, back down the topside. Repeat. Watch his cock dance and his body twitch in anticipation.

My hand goes lower to grip the base firmly and I let just the tip of my tongue drag up his cock from the base, stopping halfway. Again, going a little farther. Again, up to the tip. Again, this time with a flatted tongue, firm pressure. When I hear the sharp intake of breathe and see his cock twitch as I near the frenulum, I pause there. Lower lip pressed against hard silky flesh, my tongue now languishing on that spot. There is no other movement save for my tongue. Just a few….more…centimeters and he would be in my mouth. He is holding is breathe now, I can tell, waiting for me to plunge him into warm wetness.

But I drag back down with my lips. Back up with my tongue. Closer now, he can feel moist breathe enveloping the head of his cock and my tongue swirls in circles around it. Almost….nope. Not yet.

He is shaking. His legs are trembling. His hands alternate between clenching and opening, going for my head. He is contemplating an act of force, I know, out of sheer desperation. But he knows that this time I am in control, and he lets me do my thing.

My next acrobatic tongue-trip up lands my lips wrapped around the head. No sucking. Just swirling tongue, pressure of lips, wetness and heat.

I stop. Stare at him. Teasing smirk on my end, begging eyes on his end.

In a moment, he’ll get his due.

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Ok seriously, isn’t that picture pretty cool? Bought a new camera Saturday – it is not my coveted DSLR but it is such a little whore for attention with its big bag of tricks. This neat little thing was called “color accent”. The whole bra is red but the color accent is finicky and likes certain lighting. There’s another from this series to come in due time. This teasing session started with an awful case of blue-balls by the lucky man taking the photos. As he expressed his growing problem and desperate want, I merely giggled and told him to continue with the pictures. Waiting never killed anyone…

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