poeticdesires

the life and musings of a kinky slut

Filthy

Friday was all about movement.  Coming back to camp after a fun evening and morning with D3.  Moving my bootblack kit to one cabin.  Moving it again when I arranged to black a friend’s boots.  Scurrying across campus to demo bottom for a class.  Going right back across the grass to black another friend’s boots and pants.  Rushing to dinner.  I barely stayed still all day.

So it was no wonder that, when I sat down with my plate of food, Gray looked up at me and said, “Boymeat is looking for you.”

It was 7:15pm.  I ate fast.

I didn’t know where Boymeat was, nor did I know how to find him.  I did know, though, that I had a handfasting to attend at 8pm and I was not going to be late.  I shoveled food into my mouth while trying to keep up a pleasant conversation with the folks around me.

As I finished my meal, I felt two elbows rest on my shoulders.  I looked up.

“I have been looking for you for two and a half hours.”

Boymeat had finally found me.

“Meet me by the pool.”

“But the handfasting is at 8.”

“I’m going to pee on you as soon as you step outside.”

He walked away.  I jumped up, grabbed my plate.  Placed my dirty dishware aside.  Asked a friend to take my things back to my cabin.  I headed towards the exit nearest the pool.

Boymeat leaned against a trash can talking with a few friends.  My steps were quick, but my guts were twisted up inside.  Nerves gripped every part of me as I approached him.

“Go lay over there in the grass.”

“But, my clothes?  And…  I like it when people make me take my clothes off.”

“Take off your fucking clothes.”

I quickly stripped, left the few pieces of fabric by his feet.

I turned around.  Walked towards the grass, shaking from anticipation.  Laid down on the cool mound, my head slightly uphill of my body.

I took only a few breaths before he walked over.  Looked down on me.  Cigarette lit and in his mouth.

He pulled out his cock.

He started with small squirts.  A small amount on my stomach.  My legs.  Across my chest.  While he circled around me, smoking all the while, he flicked his cigarette ash onto me.  I felt dirty, nasty, utterly filthy, and so very aroused.

He moved back towards my legs.  Had me spread them wide.  And then he peed.  A long strong stream onto my clit.  Warmth and pressure.  I could feel it rising.

I asked permission.  He gave it.

I gripped the grass.  The muscles in my abdomen tensed and released.  I breathed and moaned, cuming in the grass as Boymeat peed on me.

When he finished, he shook his cock, getting the last few drops onto me.  Then he stepped to my head and looked down on me.  I lifted my face, took his cock into my mouth, and sucked.

I was a filthy little whore, and I loved every moment of it.

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Off Campus

I took maybe five steps into the Dining Hall and waited for maybe one minute before I turned around and left. Midnight Snack was packed, a line snaking around the room and out the far door. There was no way I was going to get any food in the twenty-five minutes I had before my playdate with D3.

Instead of enjoying snack, I trekked up the grass in the dark.

When I arrived at the Dungeon, I pulled out my notebook and jotted notes on my day. D3 also arrived early. He too had seen the line, thought Fuck that, and opted to come straight to our date.

But I was still hungry.

“Hey, you want to go to Waffle House?”

D3 liked my idea. We walked to his car and headed off campus.

As we got out of his car at the restaurant, I realized a small flaw in my plan: I was still wearing my Vixen outfit. My black wrap dress was street legal, covering all vital parts. But there was a lot of cleavage. And I still wore my fox tail. And my hair, care of Boymeat, was huge.

We ordered our meals. Ate them hungrily. Chatted about this and that. When D3 stepped away to use the restroom, I grabbed the bill and paid for his food. Upon his return, he cursed me for my cunning.

We headed back to his hotel room.

I unlaced my moccasin boots. Took off my Vixen apparrel. Stripped down to Minnesota naked, my boot socks still on. Got under the covers as D3 prepped for bed.

We chatted as he went about his nightly routine. I mentioned my fun with Boymeat. D3 mentioned the one time he happened to have stayed at Boymeat’s home and cleaned his bathroom. Life is random like that.

Fully naked, D3 joined me in the bed.

We continued to chat with the lights off. Until we weren’t talking anymore, but kissing. Writhing in his bed. His body against mine again. That familiar feel of his chest. His flesh. His lips.

I wanted his cock in my mouth. I shoved the sheets aside. Went down on him. Licked and sucked as I pleased. Heard his noises. Smiled at my ability to pleasure him.

Then he pulled my mouth back onto his lips. And pushed me onto my back. And his mouth was in my cunt.

I worried about his neighbors. Worried they might call in a noise complaint. But I didn’t stop fucking his face. Didn’t stop moaning into his pillows.

My hands gripped his bald head as his tongue worked on my clit. Obscenities spilled from my lips, as did his name. I came multiple times on his mouth, bucking and writhing my hips against him.

His lips returned to my mouth, kissed me again, before he passed out, his head resting on my chest, both of us sweaty and exhausted.

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Boymeat

“I was disappointed I missed your class. I was demo bottoming for another presentation at the same time. So, if you don’t mind me picking your brain, how did you get over piss play?”

“I’ve liked piss since I was a kid. The class was about piss play and different ways to use piss.”

“Oh, well… Um, then may I ask your opinion? How can one get over their hangups about piss?”

“There’s a few ways. Some people simplify it; think about it like it’s just warm water. Others will take the degradation route. Like, say… There are a few drops of piss left on my boots from my class, and only a filthy fucking slut would want to lick the piss off my boots.”

I met Boymeat last year. We spoke less then ten words during our initial introduction. Hellos were exchanged as Boymeat began punching a mutual friend. I quietly excused myself as to not disturb the two of them.

The Thursday night of Fusion, I patiently waited for my shift at Playdate with the Pros. I had arrived early in case Shay needed help; she didn’t. So I found myself with an hour to kill. And then in a conversation I desperately wanted to have. And then in a situation that both scared and thrilled me.

“Boymeat, do you want to sign up for one of my playdate shifts?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“It’s so hard, the torture of deciding what to do. Knowing that you’ll have to ask for it. Get my permission to lick piss off of my boots. That I won’t give you any help. That you will have to make the decision yourself.”

I bent and twisted inside. I was wet, wetter than I wanted to admit. The idea of piss play had been on my mind for some time. Readers of this blog may have noticed its occasional appearance in pieces of erotica as of late. And now here was this sick-twisted-incredibly-hot man pushing me to do the things I wanted but feared.

And so, I leapt.

“Boymeat, may I lick the piss off of your boots?”

“Drop.”

I sunk down to my knees.

“All the way down.”

On all fours, I stared at his leather. At the drops that would soon be in my mouth. I crept towards his boots, stuck out my tongue, and licked. Lapped up his piss. First one boot, and then the other. The event swirled around us, but the people were far way. My world held only my body, writhing in pleasure, and Boymeat’s boots for my tasting.

When I finished, I stood, a huge grin on my face. Boymeat adjusted himself.

“The problem with not cuming after your pissing class, and then having someone lick piss off your boots.”

He must’ve seen my smile. Must’ve noticed the extra perk in my face. Boymeat is great at reading people.

“I’m gonna go sit on a bench over there and light a cigarette. Only a filthy fucking slut would randomly sit down, pull out a cock, and suck it from a guy she’s never met. Let’s see if a filthy little whore is going to come by and service me.”

As soon as he walked away, I dashed about looking for safer sex supplies.

“Where are the condoms?” I asked Shay in my rush. She pointed me towards a small table in the middle of the room.

“Poetic, what’s wrong?” asked Stefanos as he mingled among the guests.

“Oh, nothing. I just need a condom, now.”

I found the condoms, grabbed one, and scurried through the crowd.

Boymeat had just lit his cigarette when I stood in front of him. He looked up and smiled at me. I handed him the condom. He ripped open the packaging, pulled out his cock, and put it on.

In a breath, I was down on my knees with his covered cock in my mouth.

As my mouth bobbed up and down on him, took all of him in. As Boymeat gripped my hair, guiding my lips along his cock, he spoke sweetnesses into my ear.

“Such a filthy little whore. Such a dirty little slut. Sucking on some stranger’s cock. You don’t even know me.

“You licked piss off my boots and we barely know each other. You want me to piss on you now, don’t you?

“Tonight, when you’re lying in bed, touching yourself, you’re gonna think about my piss in your mouth. When you masturbate tonight, you’re gonna cum to the idea of me pissing all over you.”

He fucked my face til he came.

“Are you one of those lucky few whose clit is hard wired for pain?”

“Yes.”

He grabbed my shoulders, turned the flesh. He hurt me as I writhed in his crotch. First my head brushed against him stomach, then lifted closer to his face. My body snaked across his chest. My hands rested on his thighs. My noises came. He enjoyed them.

He gripped my breasts, pulling, twisting at the flesh, deep under the muscle, rubbing against my ribs.

“Please. Please.”

“Please. I love to hear that.”

I was so wet, so slick from his work. I begged. Whispered my pleas.

He allowed me to cum. I twisted in ecstasy from my pleasure and his pain.

He started punching my chest. Concentrated on one side. And planted the seed of yet more fun to come.

“Sometime tomorrow, when you least expect it, I am going to find you, throw you to the ground, rip off your clothes, and pee on you.”

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The Need

I was laden down with bags, three total. Two were my bootblack kit and the other backpack. I’d dressed up as a Vixen for the event that night. I made my way across the grass towards the pool, my moccasin boots sexy but with no arch support.

And then I saw him sitting on the bench, reading Hunter S. Thompson, engaged in his own small part of the world.

I dropped my things. Dropped everything, including my jacket. Rushed over and hugged him. Held him. Didn’t want to let him go.

“It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s great to see you too, Kristen.”

We chatted for a moment or two about pleasantries. About our lives since he came for his visit. About what I had in store for my camp. And about how he just wanted to relax for his stay. He got another hotel room again; he needed the mental break. I was busy, as is my way.

All the while, I stayed in close to him and he to me. My body wanted to be near him. I wanted to do more than talk. I saw the need in his eyes, too.

We kissed.

The familiar feel of his stubble on my lips. His smell. The way I lost myself in his embrace.

I can’t say how long we stood there. How long we let our lips dance. Our tongues dash about. I just know I didn’t want to ever stop.

But I had to stop.

“I have to go. Playdate with the Pros, and I’m a Pro.”

I gripped his hips. Imagined all the things I wanted to do with him. Clenched my teeth.

“You want to play tonight?”

We settled on a 1am meetup at the dungeon.

And then I made myself leave.

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Snoozed

We landed, he texted at 6:52am. I didn’t get Stefanos’s message til 8:46am.

I’m having breakfast, came his next text. I scrambled to get ready.

As luck would have it, I caught a ride from a taxi all the way around campus.

But, just as we were about to make the turn towards the Dining Hall, the driver noticed a problem with the cart. My ride had me disembark by cabin 15/16 so that they could take the vehicle back up the hill.

When I turned around, I saw him. The leather kilt. The smile. I scurried up the hill and into his arms.

We hugged, and hugged, keeping hold of around each other.

He looked exhausted. His plane ride had been a red eye, so I was sure he needed sleep. But he wanted to chat with people who walked by. He wanted to be engaged. I delicately extracted him and encouraged him towards his cabin.

“You know, you could help me sleep.” His suggestion was music to my weary ears.

We crept into the cabin. With a gentle hand, I put down my bag. Shay was already in bed asleep, blindfolded and ears plugged. She was smart.

Shay and Stefanos had yet to receive their linens. Shay snuggled with a blanket.

I only took off my shirt, but kept my bra, skirt, and tall socks on. I was glad for my tall socks.

Stefanos and I got into the bed, got back into each others arms. Closed our eyes.

I snoozed, drifting in and out of sleep. As I rested, I imagined energy pulsing from me to him. Imagined a glow forming from my body to his frame.

We kept changing positions, kept trying to find the best way to arrange ourselves in the bed. But with each configuration we chose, some part of me was always touching some part of him.

I listened to their combined breathing, two people that I had missed so. I smiled, knowing I had four days to spend with them.

My first moments with Stefanos and Shay were golden.

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Vignettes

When I dropped off Gray at his cabin, off loaded his things, and made sure he was good, I stepped up to hug him. I kissed his cheek. He turned his face into my kiss. He wanted more than a peck.

His lips met mine. We kissed. And kissed. And kissed. I stood up on my tip toes. My arms around his chest.

Eventually he ended our embrace.

“You better go. My cock’s getting hard and you have to work.” 

He slapped my ass and sent me on my way. I, regretfully, went back to setup duty.

~

“I just wanted to ask for your advice on running for Dirty Pig.”

“Well, you’ve seen the show before. You know what to expect. I think the only thing that might harm you is wanting it too much.”

Brakes screeched in my brain.

FULL STOP, yelled a voice in my head.

~

“Maybe I’m trying too hard? Maybe I’m taking this too seriously? I’m gonna stop. I’m not going to talk about Dirty Pig for the rest of the night. And as far as bribing the judges…”

“When it comes to the judges, I think they need to get to know you. You can’t just be the next person offering them something. Not just another pretty face. They need to remember your name.”

“You know, I was thinking. I went to Del’s class at GKE. And I saw Carol at CatalystCon. And I just got an email about possibly getting a short story published. What if I spoke to them about those things first? Make myself a person instead another contestant just trying to get a vote.”

“I think you’ve got this, Lil Sis.”

~

“I just wanted to thank you for teaching Top of the Boot at the first GKE. I was fairly new to bootblacking then, and it was the first time I’d seen a class from the perspective of the person receiving the blacking. I really appreciated the presentation.

“Also…A little birdie told me you were one of the judges for Dirty Pig. I’m running for Dirty Pig. How would you like me to bribe you?”

~

“Yes, you can use rope for breath play. You can use twine. You can use piano wire, but then you’ll run into other issues.”

“Mmm,” I moaned, while stroking my neck.

“You are one sick and twisted chic.”

~

“Other fun activities can also be used for breath play.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rough turned me, noting my sly smile as I stood in front of the class.

“Really?”

“Yeah, last night.”

“Good on him.”

“Indeed,” I said.

~

“How do you want me to prepare for your Basic Suspension class?”

“Don’t eat a big meal beforehand, and don’t die in Rough’s class.”

~

“Now, I’m at a disadvantage for my class. Poetic is an experienced suspension bottom. She’s suspended herself and others, and can make up for any mistakes or discomfort this suspension may cause.”

Wow, I thought. People, even Gray, actually notice my rope-y-ness. I may be kind of good at this.

~

“Now, what if she fainted in her suspension?”

I let my body go limp in his ropes. Listened as Gray explained how to get someone down to the ground quickly. Felt as familiar hands lifted my frame, loosed the ropes, and rested me on the floor. Kept my eyes closed, and my body unmoved, as people “scrambled” around me.

“Okay, you can get up now.”

I popped up to sitting, smiling at the class.

“Okay, everyone spread out on the frames and try your suspensions.” Gray looked down on me. “Can you…?”

“Yup.” I scooted my butt across the floor, ropes still tied to my body. In the corner, I started untying his ropes and leaving them in neat-ish lines to be coiled.

~

“If he were at Summer Camp, he would totally win Fresh Meat.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a competition.”

“Well no, it’s a popularity contest.”

Rough looked at my friend.

“Can you hold this please,” he asked. My friend took up Rough’s bag.

Rough’s fist slammed into my chest before I had time to register his movement.

“Thank you,” he said, taking back his things.

“Thank you,” I said to Rough as he left class.

I was a smiley-happy-floaty girl again.

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Second Wind

We met in the Dungeon soon after parting by the pool. He chose the suspension rig to the left of the stage. I sat down my things, slipped off my sandals.

“Should I take off my clothes?”

“I like to unwrap my presents.”

He unrolled what he had dubbed his ‘big bundle of ow’, a blanket with implements nestled inside of it. One of them included his piece of graphite (shit), but one of his toys was not the Twisted Bitch (thank Christ). He had two floggers, including his big whomping flogger, as well as three or four canes and some rope. I stretched, prepared myself for what was to come. He rigged his ring to the frame.

I stepped to the center of the rig, relaxed, hands resting behind my back. He uncoiled a length of rope. Dragged the chord across my chest. Wrapped it around my neck. Stepped behind me. Pushed his body against mine. My hands felt his cock through his pants. Massaged him as he ran the rope along my skin and breathed into my ear.

He pulled my hair tie from my head. Let it drop to the floor. Let my locks flow down my back.

His hands slid down to mine. Raised them. Bound them. Brought my hands into the air above my head. Secured them to his ring.

He kissed my cheek. Punched my back. Stepped in front of me. Punched my chest. Kissed me more. Traced his fingers from my face down to my chest. Pulled my strapless dress and bra down. Wrenched my boobs. Pushed my dress to the floor. Grabbed my ass. I kicked my dress away. He unhooked my bra. Tossed it aside.

He slapped and punched my chest and ass.

Picked up his flogger. Attacked my back. My ass. Hit my boobs. Went for my nipples, occasionally catching my rings for a split second.

He picked up a cane. Wailed on my ass. Grabbed my hair. Pulled me into a back band. Caned my breasts. Came across my nipples. I cried out.

And then a hand was inside me. He fingered my pussy, dancing his digits in my wetness. And another strike came from his cane, burning sensations on my ass. More fingering. More pain. Alternating the mean with the sweet.

He put down his cane. Picked up his paddle. Again attacked my ass. But, again, his fingers found my cunt, working his magic inside me. I begged, pleaded to cum.

“Not yet.” He had one specific demand. “On the third strike.” I knew they would be brutal. I always had to earn my orgasms. One hard smack. A second. And then finally a third.

I pulled myself down onto his hand. Rode his fingers for every single molecule of my cum. Screamed and cried out my ecstasy.

He stood. Loosed my wrist rope. Dropped me down to my knees. Kept my hands elevated. Secured the rope again. Pulled out his cock.

He grabbed my hair. Pushed my face onto his cock. Fucked my face. Sunk deep into my throat. I relaxed into his will. Until I had to breathe. Until I could take no more. Until I pulled away. But he held my head. But he insisted. But he wanted his cock inside me.

He pulled my head back. Let me breathe for a moment. Then did it again. And again. And again. I gagged, yet yielded to his will. Took all of him in me.

He rubbed his cock against my face. Let me suck on his balls. Let me play with his cock with my mouth.

He reached up. Let down his rope. Brought it between my legs. Pulled me down into a reverse hogtie. Secured my wrists to my ankles.

I felt his cock rub against my pussy lips and ass cheeks. Felt how hard he was. Felt as he reached over to his bag. Slid on a condom. Slid inside me. I moaned my pleasure. Moaned his name. He grabbed my hips. Pulled my body onto his cock. Fucked me hard on the floor as I took all of him, yet wanted more.

He came. Slid out of me. Reached his fingers inside me. Finger fucked me til I begged for his permission. He gave it. With his yes, I felt the race of orgasm through my pussy out to his hand. Out to my lower back. Down into my thighs. Up my spine. My thank you. My sounds. My cum.

He untied my ankles. Untied my wrists. Pulled me into his lap. Stroked my hair as I curled up into him. Lightly kissed my head. Sunk into his exhausted state, his second wind spent.

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Menage-a-trois

* If you’re free, rough & I have some cigar ash here at the tiki bar with your name on it.

– Be there is a quick moment.

I had no plans for my Wednesday night. Class practice with Rough had me riding a cloud of glee through dinner into my prep for the evening. Even without any plans, I showered and put on a cute outfit, just cause.


As I gathered my things to head out and find something fun to get into, I got Gray’s text; perfect timing.

I grabbed my cigar play box, as well as my bottle of red wine, and headed down to the tiki bar.

When I arrived, I found Gray and Rough sitting at a table near the center of things, smoking their respective cigars. I sat my things down, draped my hoodie on the concrete, and knelt next to Gray.

“Only naked girls get ash.”

As I knew he loved, I gave the men a show as I disrobed. I draped my dress on the ground as well, giving me more room to move about comfortably. I sat up on my knees and patiently waited for my treat. Gray held his cigar above my outstretched tongue, then delicately rolled his ash for me to eat. After watching it sit there for his amusement, he gave me permission to swallow.

Both Gray and Rough bemoaned an unhappy circumstance: in the short moments between Gray’s message and my arrival, Rough’s ash had fallen to the ground; a true sadness.

I sat down on my hoodie, Gray’s hand casually brushing my shoulders as I looked over at Rough.

“I asked Gray a question and now I’ll ask it to you. What is your relationship with Gray?”

“And it’s not like you’re being judged or anything,” said the voice behind me.

I could’ve been nervous. Any other time I might’ve been nervous. But having Gray behind me, and Rough being the person asking the question, gave the moment a calming air.

“We have our title, Sempai/kohai or Teacher/student. It’s sort of a friendship plus.”

“Is that like friends with benefits?”

“We do fuck; we do play. But… I have friends and then I have friends I can talk to. I talk to Gray. I care for him.”

“You know, some people would use another word for that.”

“Yes, I love him. He knows this. I’ve told him this.”

“Okay.”

I reached over, sipped my wine, washing the remnants of Gray’s ash down my throat. Slightly awkward moment ended.

“What are you drinking,” asked Rough.

I smiled, taking the bottle up in my hands, and tilting to towards him.

“Funny you should ask. Menage-a-trois.”

Rough lifted his eyebrow, possibly only half believing me. He picked up the bottle, examined the label.

“Very apropos, no?”

“Gray, she’s drinking Menage-a-trois.”

“Really?”

“She told me what wine she was drinking temptingly.” For the record, my selection was a happy accident, much like the entirety of my camp.

For the next hour, Gray and Rough alternated their opportunities for my cigar service.

Once, as I sat nearer to Rough, he held his cigar to my face. Close to my eyes. I stayed still, allowed his heat to fill my face. He moved his cigar closer. Closer. Until the tip touched right in between my eyes, leaving a small fleck of ash in its wake.

Another time, Rough grabbed my hair and pulled me close into his lap. He lifted my strands and blew smoke once, twice, thrice into my hair. Gray followed Rough in turned, bringing his lips to my head and blowing his smoke into my hair. Unlike Rough, Gray patted my hair, pushing small puffs out. He liked that trick especially.

Gray used several different ways to puts his ash on my body. One instance he had me lean into his lap. He dabbed his cigar along my back, five strikes on each of my shoulders. I jumped at each touch. After each set of five, he wiped the ash along my back, then scratched my flesh. Another time, Gray had me stand in front of him. Ash in his hand, he slapped my breasts hard, rubbing the flecks onto my flesh. Another instance, Gray rolled his ash into my hand. He then instructed me to rub the flecks all over my breasts while looking up at him as I did so.

During our evening, an individual sat next to Gray and struck up a conversation. While the two of them spoke, the newcomer also smoked a small cigar. They were interested in learning about cigar service, so I agreed to eat ash out of their hands, first the right and then the left. When I finished my service, they remarked, “I think my clit has migrated to my hand.”

When Rough’s ash grew long enough for a treat, I swiveled back towards him. But, in the split second before he was to lean over to deposit the ash on my tongue, again the head dropped, half on the ground and half on my jacket.

“Lick it up,” said Rough.

Without thinking, I got on my hands and knees and licked up his ash. Licked at my hoodie. Licked at the concrete ground. Darted my tongue, strategically picking up as much as I could in the most efficient way possible.

I felt Gray’s fingers against my pussy lips as I worked. Felt him massage my outer folds before inserting a finger inside me. And then another. And another. I moaned as I worked. Delighted in the moment.

When I finished licked up the ash, I turned to Gray, who stuck each of his fingers into my mouth. I lapped up my juices before he smeared the remnants on my face and in my hair.

With yet another head of ash for Gray to give me, I stuck out my waiting tongue. He rolled the ash; I held it. Gray then licked around my mouth, tickling my lips. Then I was allowed to swallow.

“Do you have anything planned tonight,” asked Gray. I shook my head no. “Good, cause I want to beat on you. This week, I’m going to work on marking you.”

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Practice

“Poetic, you like breath play.”

“Yes.”

“And I know you.”

“Yes. Rough, do you need a demo bottom for your breath play class?”

“Yes.”

“We should probably practice.”

“Yes.”

Rough stood and beckoned me from the porch into the cabin.

It was early in the event; most people had yet to arrive. We crept through the cabin trying our best to not disturb Gray was napping before dinner. We found an empty quad in the back, new beds barely broken in.

Whispering in the empty room, Rough asked me about my previous experience with breath play. I informed him only one other person had used blood chokes on me: NHF in Minnesota. I described NHF’s technique; Rough was familiar with it. I also mentioned how NHF had taken about 7-10 seconds to get me out.

Rough had me stand at the edge of a bed. He stepped behind me. Asked me to lift my head. Point my arm up and to the left at a forty-five degree angle. He wrapped his arm around my neck and squeezed.

I felt my body fall through the air, but I didn’t feel the impact of the bed, though I may have heard it. It was as if I were moving through water, as if I were a marionette and the strings on my body had been cut. I never went out, never forgot where I was. But for a moment I lost control of my muscles, lost the ability to stand.

Rough stood over me. “That was faster than seven to ten seconds.”

I smiled into the mattress. I talked to him about my experience. Explained what it felt like.

“You were in that sweet spot, loss of body without the loss of consciousness.”

We decided to go a bit farther. Again, my arm rose. Again, his arm wrapped around my neck. He squeezed and I held my arm up. Held it with all my might. Held it until…

When my eyes opened, I had forgotten where I was. I don’t know what I dreamed, but I know I dreamed something. I looked up and saw the ceiling. When I registered I was in a different place than I had been, that what I thought was real was actually a dream, my memory came crashing back.

I was at camp. Rough was behind me. And I was high as a fucking kite.

I was so gleeful, so full of the awesome with life, that I couldn’t stop smiling. I picked my body up off the bed. Rested on my knees on the floor. Looked up at Rough. I couldn’t remember feeling this good in so long. I was so appreciative of Rough for giving me this gift, for imparting these feelings in my brain, I asked him an odd question.

“If it is not against your dynamic, may I kiss your boots?”

“Of course.”

I bent over and met my lips to his leather. I kissed both his boots in appreciation and adoration for my experience.

My Wednesday had been shit. Setup had been difficult. And hot. And full of starts and stops. And took so long. Before I laid on the porch of the cabin feeling dejected. My camp had just started, but it felt like all my possible glee was gone.

And then Rough’s arm had been around my neck. And my world felt right again.

Rough had other material he wanted to go over before class. I stood, my back to the wall, Rough standing in front of me. With a quick move, he clamped his hand over my mouth and nose. I tried to hold back my lizard brain, tried to keep myself from struggling. But soon enough I couldn’t stop my hands from grabbing his hold. His other hand found my face. I flailed about. I pulled; he followed.

And then he let go. And breath rushed back into my lungs.

For his next practice, he instructed me to give him a double tap when I wanted him to stop. Again his hands clamped over my mouth and nose. My hands twitched. My feet stomped. I held out for as long as I could trying to stop my lizard brain from reacting. But, eventually, I tapped on his arm four times.

“You know, since that was a quadruple tap, I shouldn’t have let go.”

He pushed me up against the wall. His fingers pinpointed on my neck. I slipped once, twice, before I felt my muscles about to give out. Rough slipped his knee between my legs to stop my descent.

“How are you?”

“Excellent.”

“How do you feel about face slapping?”

“Absolutely.”

Rough hit me hard across the face, left to right. He grabbed my head and bashed it against the wall. All the while, my arms lazed at my sides, scratching against the wall.

“What’s with the gripping?”

“When I’m cuming, or when I’m about to cum, I grip. When I’m turned on, or wet, I grip. It’s fun when I’m on a bed.”

Rough sat on the bed to my left. I settled against the wall for a moment, perfectly happy, before transitioning to the bed on my right.

“Why would anyone take drugs when you can do things to make your body this high?”

I rested my head against the wall, lazing in my post play haze. In that moment, I was completely uninhibited, and decided to be bluntly honest.

“You have this look in your eyes. You always have it. It’s… gripping. Intoxicating.”

I saw his satisfaction at my revelation.

“You know I’m gonna write about this, right?”

“Kinda figured. Just wait til Tuesday.”

In that moment before dinner, before it was time to wake Gray, I realized I didn’t have my notebook on me. I needed to take notes, now. I made my way back to my cabin.

As I skipped towards my temporary home, a giddy-happy-bubbly-girl, I stroked my neck and said over and over again to everyone and no one in particular, “My life doesn’t suck. My life doesn’t suck. I love my life.”

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Little One

~ erotica ~


She rode his face, her hips rising and falling with the bend of her knees. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her pussy to his lips, as he enjoyed every last bit of her. She reclined her head back, body rolling, as his tongue moved just the way she liked.

I had the perfect view. My mouth around his cock. My hands resting on my lower back. My eyes focused on them.

It wasn’t everyday they allowed me to participate, let alone watch. It wasn’t every day that I got see them, both of them, this way. But this wasn’t any normal day.

One year. One year since we started our interactions. One year since I walked through their front door, got down on my knees, and asked them to have me. One year of learning what they wanted, how they wanted it. One year of being at their beck and call. Doing this. Completing that. And always, always ready to be on my hands and knees, all holes open for whatever either wanted.

I circled my tongue around the head of his cock and flicked just underneath. I moved the way I knew he loved, playing with his dick as I pleasured him, taking glee in my work. Closing my eyes, I sucked hard, and slowly filled my mouth and throat with him, sinking his cock inside me. I slid my mouth up and down his shaft. Slowly. Slowly. He never wanted to cum too fast. I never wanted to stop sucking his cock.

I felt the grip of my hair. Felt the hand pull my mouth off his cock. Opened my eyes, and saw her, still riding him, a fury in her gaze equal parts anger and lust.

She stared at me forever before slapping me across my face. Then again, backhanding my cheek.

“Try harder,” she said before forcing my mouth back onto his cock. I clenched my hands. My pussy quivered. I was glad she couldn’t see how wet I was.

She pushed and pulled my head on his cock, quickening my pace, bringing him closer and closer to his cum. He started moaning into her cunt. She purred at his sounds, the vibration adding that much more pleasure to her fun.

“That’s it, little thing. Make him cum.”

Her hand released my hair, but I felt her will pushing me still. I continued my speed along his cock. Continued my tongue dancing along his shaft. Continued to take him into my throat. It wasn’t long before his hips moved. His cock twitched. And he screamed and spewed his cum into my mouth.

I heard her, too, as she came on his face. Her guttural growl as the wave of ecstasy rolled throughout her body.

I swallowed his semen, licked my lips, and sat back on my feet, eyes lowered, waiting whatever they asked of me.

“What do you think,” he asked her as he wiped the pussy juice, saliva, and sweat from his face. He wore the grin I loved, the one he always had after I made him cum.

She stood, her stiletto boots making her tower over me. She stared down on his unassuming frame.

“She’s useful,” he said. “And talented.”

“I had to coach her.”

“You had to encourage her. And that’s only cause you weren’t patient. You never want a long slow fuck.”

“But she does.”

I made sure not to look up, not to move.

“You love sucking his cock. Would love to do it all day and all night, I’m sure. Is that right?”

She had asked a direct question. I had to answer.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“What about my pussy? Would you lick and suck it til the Sun rose?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Hmm…”

“I told you,” he said. “She’s useful.”

“And eager. I think I will teach you how I want my pussy licked, since you seem to have mastered his cock just fine. I think we will keep you around a bit longer. Does this please you, little one?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

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