Posted by Lilly | 7 Comments
Sex as a Panacea*
So with my new, bionic arm I apparently took my pain-free status for granted, and over-used it. “Hey! I can pick up 2 containers of milk with one hand!” sort of over-use. Starting yesterday my whole arm started bothering me. Ache and pain and nerve pain and muscle fatigue…by the time I got home from work I was miserable. So instead of hockey, he laid with me in bed. Massaging my arm and gladly offering up something for me to squeeze – I don’t know what it is about this sort of pain/irritation/tension but when I stretch the muscle it’s like scratching an itch. So stretching, pulling, and gripping a squeezie ball are all lovely things. Instead of a squeezie ball though…..I used his cock (don’t worry, due to the on-going elbow problems my grip with that hand is pretty weak). Poor guy, he got so teased ;)
When he has muscle soreness and bad pain, sometimes we end up focusing “treatment” on his cock. An extended foreplay session does many things for him – redirects blood flow from the irritated muscles; overwhelms his brain with pleasure signals; increases his dopamine**. Even though I wasn’t really aroused, I agreed to let him try that trick on me. He brought out the Hitachi and after we determined that I hated the way it felt on my arm, it traveled south for his original idea.
Soon though it became clear to me that the Hitachi wasn’t going to get me off.
I know.
I KNOW!
Not even with the added stimulation of a cock against my g-spot.
So I had him use one of my newest toys, the Eroscillator. It took some direction to adjust his style – unlike the Hitachi, the Eroscillator can’t be used to apply pressure. The more pressure, the less it oscillates. And while I was indeed enjoying the sensation, and feeling close at some points, it wasn’t working out. He, however, was enjoying my eye-rolling bed-writhing desperation.
He had me on my back and him in the somewhat-sitting up position, leaned back so that I could get the vibrator to my clit. At first I thought he didn’t understand what I meant, because he wasn’t sitting up straight enough to give me enough room to manipulate and position the Eroscillator. We couldn’t achieve that perfect angle of penetration in which he hits my g-spot so wonderfully but where I can also have a vibe on my clit…so, we gave up yet again. He was so stimulated that he couldn’t stand much more and so the Eroscillator was tossed aside as he pounded my cunt, working for his orgasm.
My turn again! Attempt 3 had me reaching for my Climax Twist vibrator, and I instructed him to grab another one of my new toys, the Nobessence Seduction dildo. The Climax provided that gorgeous, low rumbly vibrations and wasn’t overkill. The Seduction massaged my g-spot so perfectly. As I begged “faster” “harder” “more!” I felt my orgasm come on, a mere minute or two after we began with this combination. A thunderous orgasm overtook me as he kept up with the dildo and I with the Climax for the first big wave.
Oh sweet jesus that was good. If I hear one more “scientific study” saying the g-spot doesn’t exist, I’ll do very bad things. I know damn well I have a g-spot and I know how to use it. That combination of stimulation – that blended orgasm – it’s something so intense that my recovery reaction is a bit……
….bizarre.
I laugh.
Not just a giggle for half a minute….
Picture a combination of the scene in Willy Wonky and the Chocolate Factory (the old one) when Grandpa and Charlie are floating and laughing, and the scene in Mary Poppins when they’re all floating and laughing (“I Love to Laugh!). That was me. Tears running down my face, laughing like I couldn’t stop…big and loud and infectious. For like… 10 minutes. I don’t understand it; it’s not a common reaction. Except I wasn’t physically floating. Woulda been cool though!
In between my laughing fits he asked me how my arm felt. My response was a dopey “What arm? I have an arm?” In the end though something in the whole of the evening helped because I no longer felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin from the anxiety of the muscle tension and pain, and it did indeed hurt a little less. Hey! I found a new physical therapy routine!
Oh, the cruel evil twist?
As he was in that sitting-up position and I’m thinking to myself “why isn’t this working like it does in porn??” he was also thinking the same thing. He couldn’t “sit up” and get far enough back for the necessary space while also allowing for vigorous fucking. And that day we realized….that is “porn sex” and not to be attempted by 30-something amateurs. Poor thing is limping around today with a groin pull/ache that hurts somethin awful. At first he was embarrassed to admit that, until I reminded him that it’s something to be proud of.
But I don’t think we’ll be using medicinal sex for it!! Poor guy needs to rest up.
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Posted by Lilly | 28 Comments
Fucking For Art
Photographer unknown
I had decided to start adding to my erotic art photography portfolio. Since my end results were primarily high contrast black and white, I wanted to delve into a more licentious subject matter. Porn can easily become art with just a small change in lighting and removing the color from the prints.
I wanted to photograph the contrast between the flesh of a hard-bodied male and a soft, curvy female. The two posing for me did not know each other. I knew each of them in my own weird social circles, though, so their comfort level with me translated well into a pseudo-comfort with each other. And their bodies looked exquisite together.
I made them hold poses for 5-10 minutes, sometimes difficult poses, until I got the angle of light and the angle of the shot “just so”. The proximity of their nakedness and my scrutiny resulted in this beautiful agony of arousal for them both. I asked if they would feel comfortable doing some poses of vaginal penetration for me, and they readily agreed. His thick cock and her diminutive outer labia really lent a “skewered and spread wide” filthy quality to the joining of the contrast in flesh. Her cunt was a glistening, split peach just swallowing his marble hard cock.
Each penetrative pose that I had them hold for such agonizingly long minutes added to their subtle desperate arousal. I wasn’t stupid; I knew what I was doing, what I was creating. She was laid back on a table, while he was standing. Her ass raised up off the table a few inches, and her legs wrapped around his hips for added support, left her body in this downward slant away from him. I had them hold a position of his cock halfway inside of her. As I stood next to her head I bent forward to get a different close-up angle and my long hair trailed over her breasts. I could see the controlled, but rapid, rising and falling of her chest as she did her best to remain stoic. Almost imperceptibly she started pumping her hips to get the friction her cunt was craving. I laid a cool hand on her mound, looked back at her, and sternly told her to be still – she was blurring the shot. Privately though I was grinning; I was pulling their strings so well.
I asked them to adjust slightly so that the current position was more exaggerated – I wanted to get a different angle and needed more space but the same depth of penetration. When I noticed how very wet she was, I used one finger to redistribute it from her cunt opening up to her clit and labia. A firm, slow, touch that teased his cock and her clit. As I did it I locked eyes with him; we smiled at each other when we heard her whispered moan as my finger grazed her swollen clit. It was his turn to groan when I sucked her juices off my finger before continuing. When I looked at her I could see the pink flush creeping across her breasts and face, I knew her breathing was more labored. She looked so beautiful, so overcome with lust, so tortured. I moved the accent light, I slowly walked around them to snap a few more shots. I instructed him to slowly penetrate her almost to the hilt and then lean his body backward. When he did this, I watched her face. Her eyes closed and her lips parted to a slight “o”; the furrowed brow came next and I snapped a few photos of her face for my own use. Then I spread her labia around his cock, a pair of lips in a kiss. Another quick graze over her clit just to be sadistic. A few more shots and I noticed his breathing was getting more shallow and rapid, his eyes closing, his face the same portrait of pleasure as hers.
“What is she doing?” I asked him.
“She’s…..I don’t know….she’s milking my cock….it’s like sex but its…not…” He could barely speak around the controlled effort not to fuck the shit out of her, I presume.
“Carrrrieeee” I taunted. “You just can’t help yourself, can you. You’re trying to come.”
She didn’t answer me. She was lost. I moved and stood right next to him, facing her. I whispered to him to not dare come. She had listened to me; she wasn’t moving her body but I could just make out the movements of her cunt. With my camera held precariously in one hand, aimed at their sexes, I used my other hand to briefly tease and kick her over the edge. With a finger on either side I lightly stroked his cock and let my fingers trail down to do the same to her clit. Back up, back down. My eyes on her face, my camera much lower. Another few strokes and I stopped so that I could concentrate on taking photos of her coming while stretched out around his cock. She whined her apology and her body began these subtle convulsions as she began to come.
“John, you are still not to come, do you hear me?” To his credit he did not…..until she finished contracting around his cock and I told them we were finished. The outward stroke of his cock exiting her body was the last straw, or perhaps the dam just being released. As he climaxed, he sunk to his knees, cock in hand with this full-body look of sheer relief, frustration and bliss all rolled together. I caught that on camera too, clicking away. More for my personal collection.
I kissed her goodbye, deeply, to let her go shower and get dressed.
“Well, John, if you’ll excuse me I need to go pretend to upload these shots to my computer while I actually go jerk off real quick. You two finished, now I need to.” I said. But he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down to him for a kiss. As my clothes were shoved aside I soon found out that he wasn’t quite satisfied and wouldn’t dare leave me to tend to my needs by myself.
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Posted by Lilly | 10 Comments
1-2-3-4 Tell Me That You Love Me More
One, just one
Long and skinny, it’s not enough. It’s a tease, a horrid tease, it makes me mad.
Two has a purpose
Two can stick firmly side by side and do curl-ups like they teach in books and magazines.
Two isn’t bad but soon I’ll ask for more.
Three, give me three, I need to feel the feeling of being full in a way
At first three felt like four, like a magician’s ruse. I couldn’t quite believe you that three wasn’t four.
Three hurt in that delicious, big way.
The next time around, though, three was the new two and I soon found my hips silently reaching for four.
And somewhere along the way, four snuck in.
But my eyes were closed and I couldn’t see the logical, I only saw colors as I focused on the sensations.
I close my eyes so that I may feel more intensely and more surely.
I close my eyes so that nothing distracts me from the climb.
Afterwards, in my giggly hazy post-game show, I was in happy awe when you said it was four, right up to the knuckles and a little bit of five, even! As I stared at your hand and marveled at the width my cunt just stretched, stretched like a toothless grin, I showed you how to form your hand so that five might gain entrance next time. It’s my goalpost and not yours, but you aim to please nonetheless.
It’s not until later that I think it over and I mentally compare his hand to His hand. The hand that’s been there is an artist’s hand, a drummers hand. Strong but long and thin. His hands rough and bigger, His fingers are thicker. And I wonder if His hand would ever have been able to gain full entrance. But I shudder a little when I remember that this was His curiosity as much as mine and he would have made that hand go in there, no doubt about it.
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Posted by Lilly | 15 Comments
A Prelude to Fisting, or, My Best Friend the G-Spot
I think that my G-spot has been trying to pick up the slack from my clit.
Meaning, despite having a clit o’steel, my G-spot is mightily responsive now that I know her exact address. She was an elusive bugger, akin to locating Platform 9 3/4. Thanks to my Pure Wand though we’re now very friendly neighbors.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned that my clit o’steel leads to another sad occurrence: clitoral orgasm from oral sex is nigh on impossible. “Close but no cigar” is the usual outcome. Thankfully my hubby has no issues with letting a vibrator finish me off.
Last night was no different in that regard but on the plus side he has become as well acquainted with my G-spot as Mr. Pure Wand has. The women whose orgasms aren’t falling like ripe apples will know what I mean when I say that he had me in such a frenzy that my body was quite literally climbing for release. My legs writhing, my pelvis rocking and humping his hand and mouth; my arms reaching for unseen extra partners and my hands grasping empty air or bunching up the bedsheets; my torso arching up off of the bed. I must have looked like a woman possessed and that’s just what I felt like.
Something else amazing was happening as I was pleading with my body to tip over that edge of clitoral orgasm (in one moment of delusional insanity I was picturing that awful yodeling Swiss plastic man from this one Price is Right game except this time I wanted him to topple off the mountain), my G-spot took the wheel and holy wow. I wanted to ask him how many fingers he was pumping inside of me but I couldn’t form words. Like the angel and the devil on your shoulders my mind and body alternately begged for clitoral orgasm and reveled in the G-spot orgasm. I finally brushed off the devil representing my clit and rode out the G-spot waves. To his credit he didn’t stop his fingers and hand until I closed my thighs and silently let him off duty.
Still unable to speak, he carefully climbed up and started fucking me. I say carefully because the fibromyalgia can even affect sex when my whole body is extra-tender to the touch – this even included my cunt. There had been an underlying achy pain as he was thrusting his fingers inside of me but the pleasure greatly outnumbered it. Hubby came after a few minutes, which is good because my G-spot couldn’t take any more pleasure. He had commented prior to the sex that I was a lot wetter than usual; I could tell as he was fucking me that it wasn’t my usual wetness – thinner and more slippery than silky.
Despite all that goodness my clit was still thumping for attention so I asked him to hand me the Hitachi. I spread myself open so that the head of the Hitachi had more direct contact with the pelvic bone buried under flesh just to the right of my clit – this placement allows the vibrations to spread to the legs of my clitoris, the portion that’s internal. When I turned it on, I knew then that I had indeed squirted/gushed earlier. There was so much fluid and wetness pooling in between my plump outter labia that the vibrations of the Hitachi sounded like a mini motorboat churning in the water. It’s an obscene sound, no hiding how wet I am. He helped me along after a few frustrating moments of “almost there” and his fingers again felt fatter and larger than normal. I likely woke up the neighbors with that orgasm.
The details of downtime moments are lost to the haze of orgasm recovery but I can recall us laying there, panting, him asking me if I’m alright and I just laughed insanely. I recall asking him if he could tell when I gushed while his fingers were in me and he said:
“I have no idea, my hand was numb.”
I was silent for a few seconds and then apologized while laughing. And then thanked him while giggling.
Oh and I finally asked him how many fingers he had used. I fully expected him to say 4, with the way it felt. But no, it was only 3. Perhaps it felt like more because of the flare-up. I’m simultaneously looking forward to and doubting a future attempt at fisting. Can he? But oh it might feel awesome! My cunt says “it might hurt!” but my G-spot says “I don’t fuckin care, bitch!”.
Don’t know what yodeler I’m referring to? It’s ok, I know my brain doesn’t always make sense. Here, watch this short Price is Right clip and you’ll know.
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Posted by Lilly | 13 Comments
A Hot Fuck in a Parking Lot
The movie was decent, but I was reminded why I hate going to movie theaters – too many annoying people all around. We had seen an 8 o’clock showing which meant that the mega-cineplex was bursting with people and the parking lot so full that we had to park a dozen or more rows back. By the time we got out of our movie though the lot had cleared out a good bit.
We started out in the front seats, kissing and making out like teenagers. It was erotic but also an exercise in frustration. After the third banged knee against the gear shift column, I realized why people don’t fuck in cars anymore. The change in the automobile industry to move from bench seats in the front to individual bucket seats was such a detriment to getting it on in your car. Our hands roamed above waist level but our bodies could not touch. My pelvis was humping the air of its own accord, a testament to how horny I was getting and how badly I needed a finger or three in my cunt.
Finally, I looked to the back seat and said “Move back. Now.”
And out we scrambled, like a perverted Chinese Firedrill, all mussed-hair and disheveled-clothes. Ah, the back seat. Considerably better than bucket seats and gear shifts. Speaking of gear shifts, in a brief “that would be so hot” conversation in between kisses we lamented the fact that the car had the straight-up style gear shift typical of automatic transmissions rather than the bulbous fat shape of manuals. I think that sort would have filled my cunt and given my hips something to buck against.
We got more daring and soon clothes were a hindrance to our insistent hands. I fully believe that there is little else more delicious than the slow drawn-out saunter from second base to third base and so on.
Hands groping with thin barriers of satin or cotton adding a frisson of naughty teenage-like lust.
Lips always kissing, never parted from skin in some way.
And when hands finally dare to delve into skin-on-skin contact it is electric and heady.
We tried in vain to find a good position in the back seat to allow easy access to each others’ bodies but it wasn’t happening. We stopped, frustrated and breathless and thought. At apparently the same time we both realized that there was one more area to explore: the back cargo area of the SUV. Of course this meant that we had to get out, yet again.
“Move back….”
A quick glance around and we confirm that no one appears to be around. So I grabbed the keys and we got out. I unlocked the back – up went the window first and then the bottom half of the door. The dome light came on but a flick of its switch killed it. We had enough light from the parking lot, we didn’t want more.
But before we got into our makeshift sex cave, my hormones and need got the better of me. I lifted his tshirt over his head and quieted his protests by explaining that it would waste too much precious time and energy trying to remove clothes after we got in. He quit complaining the moment I was topless, standing outside of the car in the parking lot light. We scrambled in and closed the door behind us. He went to pull the window portion down and I stopped him. “It will get way too hot in here if we don’t leave that open”, was all it took to convince him.
So we laid in the back, limbs entwined kissing as we got comfortable with the latest stage of undress. Not only were we more exposed to each other, but the thin layer between us and the outside world was distracting. We heard the crickets and felt the warm breeze over extra-sensitive skin, and slowly relaxed against giving a shit about each car we heard drive by somewhere in the lot. Before hands resumed exploring, our bodies teased. I ground my cunt against his hip, groaning as the pressure and the friction from our underwear made me even more wet. I brought my knee up slowly, lighting pressing and rubbing my knee and leg against his hard cock that was trapped in his boxers.
Soon hands took over and we giggled as noticed that we each had a big wet spot on our underwear. Much semi-chaste rubbing commenced, teasing each other with fingers over fabric. This is the stage of getting drunk on lust. Riding a line between bliss and torture, the ache in your chest from the need for more fights with the pleasure being given that is both mental and physical. Mental in that its a game of how far can you drag it out, of extending that high-school overtone of “we shouldn’t be going this far”. This is foreplay at its best. Where each long-awaited step is so utterly satisfying.
When his fingers first slid across my slippery cunt I let out a string of lusty curse words. When my hand closed around the head of his cock he groaned loudly. Our breathing so rapid that we’d have used all the oxygen inside the car had we not left that window wide open. Speaking of that window…..we didn’t remember to stay quiet until we realized that things had gotten more noisy outside. We had been at it so long that a movie had let out. I licked his cock from base to head with a slow stroke and moans drifted out to the people getting in cars around us. I saw the tops of a few heads walk by out of the corner of my eye. As I rolled to my back to let him bite and suck my nipple my whimperings caused someone to walk by us closer; close enough that we locked eyes for a second.
I needed release, I had reached my breaking point. When the noise around us quieted down, I climbed on top of him and rubbed my cunt on his cock, my hips bucking as I teased him. I was so wet, audibly wet, that no hands were needed for his cock to slip inside of me. He snaked his hand in between our bodies and his fingertips found my clit. I was grinding my clit into his fingers with his cock buried to the hilt. I sat up enough to put one hand on the frame of the door for leverage. I felt the urgency climb and the tingles start to spread at the same time I heard car doors slamming in the distance. As my pelvis bucked furiously against him the lights from that car softly illuminated me from the shoulders up. He noticed this and used his other hand to push on my belly, push me away from him so that I was sitting up more. My skin, from tits on up, glowed now in the bright lights as the car approached. I was in a race to come before the car got to us. It was a tie. With a few jerks of my body I came violently as the car closed in and slowed down, presumably they caught sight of me. I turned my head from the blinding light as I heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires as they drove past slowly. I didn’t look, I couldn’t. But they saw and they knew what they were seeing and what remained hidden.
We laid there a while, naked and recovering on our backs, cooling down with the breeze, just softly talking and laughing. We agreed that our third date had a lot to live up to after following an act like that.
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Hi, I'm Lilly! My tongue is often-times sharper than my mind, so sensitive folks are hereby warned. What will you find here? Sex toy reviews, sex education, sex geekery, and blog posts/rants about how I'm Feeling Lots of Things. Cranky with a cause! Click here to read more about Lilly.
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