Sadly, this is the last week for #WipItUpWednesday- 3 years of a run :) I invite you to consider my ponder about hops here and to always come back to my site to see what I'm doing. I'll share the link up to the other #WipItUp hoppers at the bottom of this post as usual.
Since it's the last week of this hop, I'm sharing a longer scene (like 1500 words), although I haven't managed to write an actual beginning or end to the whole scene, just the intimacy. Virtual intimacy between Ziba and Iovita because they are across the globe from each other (Georgia, USA and Auckland, New Zealand); I realized that I didn't try to write them being intimate until 94 pages into the book(s). Ziba begins; Iovita is physically in a mall food court.
“I trace your beautifully parted lips with my index finger, my slight nail teasing your skin. Leaning in, I trade my finger for my lips, kissing you softly at first, before easing my tongue into your loving mouth. Your gasps of arousal entrance me further and I lay us face to face on our sides. The fresh grass of this enclosed garden encourages me to remove first my head scarf and then my under scarf. Your wiggling then prompts me to slip out of my taupe abaya before laying back down beside you.”
Iovita pressed her fingers against her lips for a moment before typing, “I feel the need to be instantly naked with you, but can't encourage my muscles to cooperate with me.”
Ziba immediately continued, “I slip my hand underneath your silk blouse and caress the soft, downy skin of your stomach. My hand continues up the middle of your torso before help the blouse off your precious head. So much less fabric separating our bodies. I walk my fingers down your body before stopping at the waistband of your wispy rainbow-colored skirt. 'Can I'?”
“Of course, my love. I'm so glad for the looseness of my skirt, making it so I don't have to move too much. The sun's gentle heat amplifies the grace of our skin caressing as we move against each other.”
“Are you having a bad pain day, my sweet?”
“My legs. I think just my legs.”
“Can I rub them?”
“Please, love.” Iovita looked up from her tablet to see if anyone beside Davey had gathered yet. “Still about twenty minutes in offline time before we should be getting back on the bus for home.”
As if merely accepting Iovita's explanation, Ziba carried forward with, “I drag my fingers up your naked thighs. Would you like a lot or a little pressure?”
“I'm not sure, please just try, my love, and we'll see what feels good.” Iovita squirmed slightly in her chair. Good thing it doesn't show my movement like the plastic chairs everyone else uses.
“I start with light touches, teasingly moving between your thighs. I make slow circles against your exquisite groin muscles, my little finger just brushing over your labia. I kiss your soft lips as my massaging hand moves up onto the top of your thigh before moving to the other one. I lean in to kiss your lips again, catching an uplifting breath of your citrus hair products. I press softly on your right hip to encourage you to lay on your back.”
“I release a harmony of sighs and moans I settle into the grass in your sight. Please. My need.”
“Yes, my love. Alternating between cupping, kneading, and caressing your beautiful body, I move on to our outer thighs. My hair swings forward to hand over you.”
“I tighten my hands into fists to prevent myself from grabbing your hair and turning this from the tender, loving exchange that it is.” Iovita's midpoint clitorophallus grew hard in her underwear. Good thing I have a change of clothes in my basket if I need it. She squeezed her legs together for a long moment to give sweet pressure on her throbbing clit.
“My knee slips between your legs to press against your midpoint clitorophallus. I arch my back so my hands can travel down to your knees and calves with my knee ceasing its caress. Loving the sensuality and sexuality that flows through my body as you writhe underneath me.”
“I love to watch you move like this. It encourages my desire to orgasm without you needing to touch any of the usually thought of erogenous zones. My legs feel so much better. Please kiss me, my love.” Iovita's tongue moved against the inside of her bottom lip.
“Where should I kiss you, my sweetness? Here? I lean forward to kiss the tops of your thighs, two small kisses. Or maybe here? I brush a teasing kiss against the skin just below your navel. Don't tense up, love. You are beautiful with your extra pounds. I lift your right hand to my lips and kiss your fingertips. I suck your middle finger between my lips, taking it in just past your second knuckle. My tongue cups your finger, my saliva drenching your skin.”
Iovita's toes curled up within her comfy, white tennis shoes. “I love the velvety stroke of your tongue on me. Your hazy brown eyes drift over me like pools I want to swim in.”
“I can't help grinning at your lovely words. I slip your finger out of my mouth and lead it between your legs. I lower my chest over yours until our lips meet in an urgent kiss. Your gasp of pleasure just sounds into my slightly open mouth. My gasp echoes yours as your left hand snakes its way between us to caress my breasts.”
“Words, I've read people saying people shouldn't be able to talk during good sex. What is good sex? The warmth of your nipple teases my fingertips. The endorphins of orgasm rush through me, easing the bad pain and bringing me more inline with your energy.”
“Keep your hand going; keep that orgasm going. Feel it continue to rush through you, even if it is not visible within or without your physical body. I love you and I love holding the picture of your shuddering orgasm in my mind's eye.”
“Yes, love. I love you and I love our minds' connection.” Iovita leaned forward to take a sip of her lemonade; four community members had collected at the next table over. “What of your pleasure? What more would you like, allow?”
“Interesting, your word choice, love. I notice your arm slowing in its movements. Are you feeling physically able of giving me pleasure if I kneel about your loving mouth?”
“Of that, I think I capable. I giggle at that thought. I do stop stroking my midpoint clitorophallus, even as I continue holding it, while you move into place. The feel of your pubic hair brushing over my cheeks brings me such pleasure.”
“Are you sure this isn't hurting you?”
“Just lower yourself over my mouth, love. It's my legs that are hurting the most today. Imagine me holding onto your luscious hips. Tell me, love, if any anatomy words feel particularly luscious to you today.”
“I gaze down into your loving eyes, those endearing hazel wells of soul. 'Words that fit a cisgender woman are good for me today.' I feel a moment's hesitation at my unshaven body. Sometimes the differences in our cultures startle me.”
“It's okay, my love. I'm not so US in my focus to care how your body hair differs from Hollywood tries to sell the world. I let my nose dance through your beautifully fragrant pubic hair; it feels so good against my face. Feeling the edges of your labia majora with the tip of my tongue, I keep up the slow caress until I hear your low moan above me. Yes, I move on to kisses and licks on your labia minora, your clit, into your vagina. In the edge of my vision, I see your exquisite thigh muscles just starting to shake. Unh. I could orgasm again just watching your body begin to respond. Or did you really start orgasming when you were enjoying giving me pleasure?” She paused in tapping out her messages; Davey's chair squealed as he backed up from their table. Leaning forward to take a sip of her drink, she looked around to see most of their party gathered. Shit. I want her to feel release before I have to get on the bus.
“I reach up with one hand to caress and pinch my nipples as your loving mouth encourages a wonderful symphony of response throughout me. I may have nearly reached the moments before this point as I nudged you toward ecstasy. I groan as you shove your tongue into my vagina, caressing the now quivering inner wall. I lean backward and place my hand in the grass to keep from smothering you as my body shakes with orgasm. After a few seconds of panting, I ease myself down to your side and cuddle against you. Are your shoulders hurting? Would you rather I hold you in these moments?”
“Lay next to me, love, please. It seems every pain spot you need for a fibro diagnosis is hurting today. It looks like it's almost time for me to get on the bus. Wanna continue afterglow once I'm settled in?”
“Perfect idea. I must admit, physically, I'm still relaxing in bed. Mairead is sleeping after a late night at the restaurant and I came back for more sleep after dawn prayers.”
“Ah, that is a lovely way to spend the morning. I'm going to stow my tablet and get ready to get on the bus. I'll be back in about ten, my sweet love.”
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I debated and even asked Kayla's opinion on Twitter about what I'm going to share. Asked in my fan group on Facebook. The inspiration picture she chose for this week is certainly hot, but I already had this idea in my mind. If you read this week, you got to enjoy Audrey and I experimenting sexually after I came out as non-binary; this week, The Queen is going to help me process my gender and sexuality:
I haven't masturbated since I went on an anti-depressant; I just haven't been interested, although partnered sexual intimacy is good. I tried once and couldn't get into it... and then The Queen joined in...
My right hand between my thighs, my left hand worked the Kindle's buttons. Even my favorites to masturbate to weren't quite doing it.
Then The Queen appears. He grabs my legs and places my feet against his shoulders.
I feel the phantom lube as my fingers speed up over my clit.
“Think unbound clitorophallus,” he whispers. “Be my good little boy.”
My heart lurches. I didn't tell you already that I'm wearing my chest binder to masturbate in yet, did I? It gives me such gender euphoria.
Lubed up now, The Queen's unbound clitorophallus slides into my chocolate starfish.
“That's a good boy, pleasing your master,” The Queen laughs. He drives his phantom unbound clitorophallus into my ass and I come hard- my finger and the virtual penetration mixing with the binder's sweet pressure to overwhelm my seeming inability to masturbate to orgasm. “Such a very good boy. I love fucking my good boy.”
I cannot imagine this orgasm ever ending; how it rushes through me in wild circles.
“You kept me waiting. Bad, bad boy. I shall fill your ass fast.”
My fingers jerk against my bound clitorophallus at bad. “Please, my Queen,” I beg.
He grunts and pounds his unbound clitorophallus into my ass; he wasn't joking.
“Yes, yes, please, please!” I cry.
“Good boy, good ass.”
I shudder even as I'm held in place by his weight.
“Uh!” He clasps my ass cheeks and stills. “Good boy.”
I mentioned the Rainbow Snippets hop here in my post yesterday; I didn't make it the #RainbowSnippets post though because it was well over 6 lines long. I was thinking about how overwhelming similarities of the non-binary vloggers on YouTube made me think I couldn't come out as non-binary. I wrote a short poem of thoughts for this hop.
My non-binary transition is mine
… not to be confused with anyone else's, even a character of mine.
Happy changed joys name; I'm okay with mine.
Mandisa changed their pronouns; I'm pronoun indifferent.
Mairead, Iven, and Tonya changed part of their genitals
… I just want to wear a chest binder sometimes.
To a bunch more great LGBTQIA+ fiction and book recs, check out the Rainbow Snippets group on Facebook. And if you're beyond needing a 101 on non-binary gender as I am, here's an article by Sam Dylan Finch that I enjoyed today.
This is a somewhat link-heavy post.
Inspiration struck me for this post some time before 6 am, when mouth-ache on the right side of my mouth woke me. Sadly, Meredith O'Reilly has announced an end to #WipItUpWednesday; I don't blame her at all-running a blog hop is hard work and participation is almost nil. I tried my hand at running a hop- Women-Loving Women blog hop; it didn't lost long both because of poor reception/participation and also I had the sense that people who'd read such a hop wanted “Gold star lesbians.” Well I'm not a Gold star lesbian (ie. I've had sex with men and non-binary people as well as women) and I don't write Gold star lesbians either.
With that failed blog hop under my belt, I started thinking of existing romance/erotic fiction blog hops I know of and potential hashtags for themes I could just do on my blog. Most of the blog hops I know of are focused on cishets; again, I'm not a cishet and I rarely write such characters. Also, often enough, the names and/or themes of these hops irritate me from a moral ground; much of the word choice around sexuality still strikes me as shaming. So thinking of hashtags, anything that seemed shaming was quickly released into “not happening on my blog.” That left me with 3 possibilities: continuing “WipWednesday” without a hop to support it, “Therapeutic Thursday,” and “Sex (Gender) Saturday.” Of course, I will continue participating in Masturbation Monday and I can try to be more regular with Rainbow Snippets on Saturday/Sunday. While some people will say that “blog hops don't help [sell books or gain readers],” for me they are an important part of my mental health. To have something I regularly participate in.
As I imagined it in my bed, #SexGenderSaturday would be the hashtag for this post (although I will also share this in Rainbow Snippets- click here to see the weekend's post for that blog hop on Facebook). Including my understanding of my own complex sexuality and gender as well as my characters, I consider sex(uality), sex, and gender as separate but related things. I have an idea for a 6 line thing that I will write and share tomorrow for #RainbowSnippets, although Sunday is often about “Writing for Masturbation Monday” for me. I also have an idea for next Saturday already :D ; being inspired feels good.
So yes, I've spent more time in explaining “why the hashtag” than writing to the hashtag; I hope you'll forgive that because my sore mouth is messing up my ability to concentrate. #SexGenderSaturday feels rather appropriate for my site.
This coming Wednesday will be the last week for the #WipItUpWednesday hop and I do plan to take part. I'll be writing for Masturbation Monday soon after that; I know what I want to write, even if it isn't particularly inspired by the lovely image Kayla Lords selected for inspiration.
I was sad to read that this hop is coming to close, but I'll try to be sure to take part in these last two weeks. For today, I decided to edit a scene that i'd written during a writing sprint, but have since done a tiny bit of editing.
Iovita is a wheelchair user and is at a mall.
Iovita stared at the obstacle of the stairs. “My legs are too bad today.”
“Can I help you?” a salesperson asked.
“Are these stairs the only way to the second floor?”
“Definitely not. I was just heading to the elevator with this pallet of items. Would you like to follow me?”
“Yes, thanks.” What a relief. She lifted her head to scan his nametag.
Jack pushed on the bar on the cart. “I keep telling management that we have to have better signage about the elevator.”
“It isn't just a service elevator for employees doing jobs like yours?”
“No. We use it as well because there's only the one elevator, but it's kept clean and well working for customers to use as well.” Jack pushed his shaggy brown hair behind his ear before turning down a path between two areas of women's clothes. “Are you looking for a specific thing once you get upstairs?”
“I want to look around, no specific goal.”
Jack stopped in front of the large, silver doors of the elevator and pressed a button on the cart's handle.
Brushing her fingers over her power chair's direction knob, Iovita waited and adjusted her lap blanket. A nice, new nighty before Per time tonight. Her tablet made a small bell sound to alert her that Ziba had come online. Well it is already Sunday morning for her. She grabbed her tablet and touched the screen before entering her passcode. Clicking on Ziba's picture, she tapped out, “Hi, love. I'm just enjoying an afternoon at the mall.”
“That's lovely. I'm so glad you have the bus for trips like this, allowing everyone of any ability level to enjoy these outings,” Ziba replied.
I think they have that little coffee bar upstairs. I'd like a little treat. She carefully wedged the tablet under her blanket when the elevator doors opened.
“Going up?” Jack asked with a grin.
Iovita pushed the control knob on her chair to start her forward after him. “Thanks for not directly acknowledging my chair or making a big deal of it.”
“You're welcome. I think more people just learn to be decent and not wait until they or a loved one needs to use mobility aids. Although I should admit, I'm an occupational therapist student.”
Laughing, Iovita said, “Well people will always need OT. Who knows? Maybe I'll eventually have you for my therapist one of these days.”
Jack nodded. “If only we could get a real health care system so it's easier for everyone to get the medical help they need.”
“Too true.” The elevator came to a stop. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“You're welcome. I hope you enjoy the rest of your shopping.” Jack waited while Iovita exited the elevator.
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So I realized at 7:30p Tuesday that I hadn't signed up yet. Oops :D I'm managing to write a bit, although I'm working on "Typing My Love" again (for Camp Nano). 6 years after they started dating Happy, Ziba and Mairead move to New Zealand. I had some research, plus I have books waiting for me; people from New Zealand may very well have corrections for me from this very still in-progress. I'm going to share something sweet today.
“Mysie kitty,” Mairead called out as they walked into their flat, Ziba closing the door behind them. She dropped a few kitty treats on the floor beneath the coffee table. “Kitten, kitten?” As she was walking, she undid the pin on the head scarf and pulled it off.
Ziba followed after Mairead, turning on overhead lights. “Mysie? We’d like to pet you.” She removed her own head scarf and folded the navy blue chiffon rectangle before slipping the black under scarf off her hair. She slipped into their bedroom after Mairead and put away their head scarves and her under scarf before joining Mairead beside their bed.
“She’s letting me pet her head a little although she won’t come out,” Mairead said while still looking underneath their bed. “I love her all over ginger color with just this little patch of white on her nose. She’s too cute.”
“I’m glad you like her, habibti. I still feel bad for you giving up Seamus, even if it was your decision.”
“But we can both enjoy this little kitten. Do you have the catnip toy?”
She pulled the small hand sewn mouse from her pocket. “Here it is.” She passed it to Mairead. I’m not sure if I want to make love or simply sleep with her more. You wouldn’t think that we’ve been actually living together some years now. Looking around their room, she nodded when she noticed her prayer mat had been unpacked already.
A tentative meow startled her out of her thoughts.
“Mysie?” Mairead sung.
“Meow!” the kitten licked Mairead’s nose.
“She likes you!” Ziba giggled.
“Or she thought I have something leftover from dinner on my nose.” Mairead joined Ziba in giggling when the kitten slowly began to climb up her arm and onto her chest. “What a cuddly kitten.” She gently rubbed the back of the kitten's head. “You have a preference about where she sleeps?”
“Not really. Wherever she's comfortable is fine, whether that's in bed with us or she picks a spot she likes best. While I hope this means she's over hiding already, it may only be a moment.” We got her that other toy that might be good now. Ziba slowly backed out of the room on her knees before hopping to her feet in the hallway. Grinning, she hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the feather-on-a-stick toy. She returned to their bedroom and got down on the floor with a curious kitten still standing on Mairead's chest.
“I think she's decided my chest is hers,” Mairead said as Mysie completed small circle between her breasts and then curled into a ball of kitten.
“But I like your chest too,” Ziba joked.
“Awww.” Mairead stroked Mysie's ears. “So are there any fatwas about animals being in the room while I couple is making love?”
Ziba snorted. “I'm entirely unsure, but I'll look that up.” She brushed her fingertips over Mysie's back. “Maybe we did end up with a lap cat who'll be happy to sleep with us. Should we see if she'll allow me to pick her up and put her in our bed?”
“Sure. Can you go check thermostat? I swore I set it to 21.”
I wonder how Happy is doing with more of the metric system. At least joy had a few years with Mairead and I in Amsterdam. She sighed and glanced at the thermostat on the wall. It showed 19. She flipped a switch and the heat pump started working. A nice, scented candle; I hope Mysie will leave it alone. She returned to the bedroom and smiled to see her wife and kitten cuddling on the bed. She leaned over her night table and breathed in the scent of her rose candle for a long moment.
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I couldn't remember what I shared last week, but I noticed it was 11pm EST on Tuesday night and I hadn't gotten my post up for #WipItUpWedneday! So this is a little further from what I shared last week. Laura's being naughty- but is it in role or out of role? :D
Amy dropped to the floor and crawled her way to Laura. She whispered, “I'm wondering if being the sub is always so boring in this type of set up.”
Laura shrugged. He's totally paying attention to Tom. Her gaze still on Jack's face even as she leaned close to whisper back to Amy, she said, “Why don't you enjoy Chris, even if he's a Little now?”
Amy rolled her eyes.
“Are you girls whispering?” Jack asked sternly.
“Yes, Father.” Laura dropped her chin to her chest.
“Over my knee!”
“Please, Father. Not in front of others,” Laura whined.
Jack lifted one eyebrow.
Laura jumped to her feet and dropped her pelvis other Jack's thighs; she pushed her fingers into the carpet so she wouldn't fall off.
“Because we are in front of others, I will only lift your skirt.” Jack hitched Laura's skirt to her lower back before peppering each thigh and the middle of her butt with spanks without count. “When Amy crawled over to you, what should you have done?”
Laura sniffled, even if the spanking had been severe enough to make her cry, before whimpering, “I should have asked your permission to whisper with my friend, Father?”
“Did you answer my question with a question?” Jack growled.
“Sorry, yes, Father.” She cried out when her answer was met with several more spanks. Sniffling more, she focused on still keeping her voice even as she repeated, “I should have asked your permission to whisper with my friend, Father.”
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Ha! The inspiration picture for this week goes what was already in my mind! So in the post-going on anti-depressants, I've come out to myself as non-binary (if you're interested and would like to see the before-and-after hair, I have a 6.5 minute vlog about it). I've had a lot of ponder, as my regular blog readers can no doubt imagine. :D I joined some Facebook groups because I'm 40 and it mostly seems that white millennials are the people talking about being non-binary on YouTube. 2 experiences gave me the idea for the scene you're about to enjoy: 1. After nearly a decade of refusing to wear a bra after a medically necessary breast reduction, I got a fitting at Victoria's Secret, where I was able to explain what I wanted in a sports bra and the wonderful employee got me a sports bra that gave me gender euphoria. 2. A friend gave me a chest binder that didn't work for them and I put it on for a few minutes right from the mailing package... and I felt such gender euphoria that I was grinning like the Cheshire Cat for hours afterward. So the inspiration picture from Mrs. Robinson, the black hands holding the white breasts, almost led me to change what Audrey has been painting in my head...
Gazing at the pile of every possible color or pattern in the style of sports bra that gave me gender euphoria that Audrey bought me, I ponder which one I want to wear now. I select the white bra and pull it down over my head. I lift my gaze from the pouch of my belly; Shaman and Audrey tell me it's slight, but I struggle to believe them.
Audrey coughs to clear her throat. “I thought you'd decided on the bottoms; you aren't going to let your ponder overwhelm your euphoria, are you?”
I close my eyes and simmer in the feeling of my breasts mashed in such a comfortable way. This is one way gender euphoria feels in me; Audrey gifted me the chance to feel it many times over. Eyes still closed, I reach beside me on her bed for the wrap skirt she offered for this dance. My fingertips glide over the silk before I feel her warm hands wrap around my shaking hands. I let her pull me to my feet.
“Wrapping, not comprehension, like the conversation in your ASL learning group about talking about a chest binder,” Audrey murmured as she wrapped the silk around my belly at the navel. “Are you sure you want a sports bra, not your binder, now?”
“Sports bra. You offered a dance, love.” I press my face against her beautifully small breasts. I push my lower body back to allow her to finish wrapping me. The sensation against my skin startles me when she pulls the sash tight to tie it.
“There, love.” Audrey cups my ass to bring my lower body back against her.
My being vibrates with the perfection of the sports bra, the wrapped skirt, Audrey's embrace.
With my face still against her breasts, Audrey kisses my forehead as she leads us in a small circle across the carpet. “I can feel your mind racing. Have you decided differently on what you want now? Are you maybe being too limited in your understanding of what sex is?”
“True.” I breathe in to appreciate the vanilla body lotion she used to for me. “Please.”
Audrey cups the back of my head where the hair is buzzed short. “I trace the graceful slope of your shoulders, my fingers light on your preciously pale skin. Your thighs squeeze my knee. My fingertips continue down to your adorably tiny fingers.”
While her embrace doesn't change, I feel her words as actions. I sigh in time with another circle of our impromptu dance floor. I want...
“I reach around your shoulders to caress your back among the straps of your enchanting bra. I love how it aids you in feeling good about your chest. My hand continues to your lower back, where you feel so much more pleasure.”
The echoes of her touch caress my mind, lower back, and between my legs. A gasp of arousal escapes my lips to be swallowed by her soft skin. The image of her cock sliding into me wets my appetite for more of her words. I curl my toes into the carpet. “Gentle, love.”
“I wrap my hands around your slender hips. I simply clasp you as you move your hips in a simple infinity motion. That's my baby. You make me wanna come so hard when you dance on me like that. This beautiful person that I love so much.”
I nibble on my bottom lip; she changed to person instead of woman without me even having to ask. The release of orgasmic sensations spiral through me.
“Just like that, lover. You found yourself. I just had to start your journey. You're a person when we make love. Now I lift you so you wrap your legs around my waist as my cock slips into your cunt. Cunt still good?”
“Perfect, lover. I don't want that many words to change for me. Feels so good. Does it make you sad--“
“Baby doll, I'm good with what makes you comfortable. Why would what you need to feel good make me sad? I squeeze your adorable ass as I move you on me.”
“Come on my bra,” I whimper between moans.
She lifts one eyebrow even as she kisses me hard.
For one long moment, I concentrate on my bags of fat staying still within the sports bra. I squeeze my muscles around Audrey's cock for a long moment as I hear echoes of her “You're a person when we make love” stir within my mind. I kiss her neck.
“One suggestion, love. Think of Ash's binding video, not your hateful phrase. I love to think of your heart within your handsome chest.”
My legs from knees to toes press into her soft carpet. I press my palms against my silk-covered knees and tilt my head back to look up at her face. I close my eyes and open my mouth. Her left hand presses on my shoulder.
“Yes, yes, love you.”
Warm and sticky, I luxuriate in the feel of her cum where it lands on me. “Love you, sweet Audrey.”
So as I get this post ready, I haven't even opened my file yet; another author talked about having multiple files open because she's struggling with mental health too. I've been failing to connect to "Typing My Love," so I'm going to take a break from it and open up "Laura Learns"- the ageplay "week" from my planned trilogy with Jack and Laura. Not sure what I'll share just yet, but I found in the midst of adjusting to an anti-depressant, I hadn't managed to post on my site at all since Feburary 21st for this hop.
Then I opened the file, took the word count (I'm taking part in a writing challenge), and picked some to share with you all before I hopefully start writing. I'm sharing from a chapter of "Laura Learns" where Laura and Jack are at a dinner party where everyone is in some kind of BDSM role.
Laura turned a page in the paperback she'd found in a pile of books; she felt a giggle tickling the back of her throat. I'm already thinking of Jack's home as my home. Well we are engaged. She watched Chris rolling on the floor, his nearness to John giving her a chance to glance at the naked man without being too obvious. I'm so glad ageplay at my age doesn't allow for so much nudity.
"Ple, ple, book!" Chris gurgled at her feet.
"No, little boy. You tried to bite it," Laura scolded.
"Saawwy!" Chris batted his eyelashes at her.
Nadia sat on the couch beside Laura. "Whatcha reading?"
"Black Beauty. I just love horses," Laura gushed, grateful for the chance to talk in role.
"Would you like to see my model horse collection?" Nadia smiled.
Laura scratched her nose. "I should ask my Father. Didn't you say dinner would be ready soon, ma'am?"
Nadia grimaced. Whispering, she said, "Sorry. I know it's in role for you, but being ma'am'd makes me feel squiggly."
Whispering as well, Laura asked, "We didn't really discuss respect language for adults. Is there something other than ma'am that you'd like?"
"Not sure there is something. Any other title used for femmes tends to be icky to me, for me. Thank goodness you're normally a sub like me."
Jack and Tonya joined them in the living room then.
Standing in front of them, Jack asked, "So Nadia, how much longer to dinner?"
"Ten minutes, sir. Might I ask for Laura if I can show her my model horse collection before dinner? When I offered to show it to her, she was a good girl and said she'd have to ask you, sir."
Jack nodded. "Thanks for offering to show her." He glanced at Laura. "No wondering off from Nadia's side."
"Yes, Sir," Laura murmured. She handed the paperback to him before getting up from the couch and following after Nadia. Not sure how I should present as a ten-year-old of a strict father, but I do like him in role. I'm not sure about my own role though.
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So, it's been weeks since I did this hop; it's been almost a month since I saw a psychiatrist as I'm writing this. I've been struggling to start writing before 10:30pm, even though I'm taking part in a writing challenge. The good thing about the medication is that it doesn't seem to have any sexual side effects, but that equally says I've made a habit of not writing in my depression and I can't seem to undo that habit. Well, I'm trying; I'm starting to write the sexy part at 6:12pm. It's a start. :D Audrey's in purple...
New boots. Few things make me as happy as new boots. Even with fishnet stockings on, I've still put talcum powder in the feet part to help with breaking them in. The laces press pleasantly into my shins then knees then thighs as I tighten them. After the second boot is on me, laces tightened, I let my hair fall from the clip so it half hides my face.
Do the boots and fishnets balance out the hair style in terms of gender presentation?
It's been a long time, sweet Audrey, since you asked what my gender is when I'm making love to you.
I've been trying to get your attention since you had fun with your hair, love. The boots look good on you; remember to call your therapist back.
Killjoy! You're supposed to be helping me write something sexy. Come here.
And do what? Let me bend you over and pull these tights down a bit. Yup, I agree with Shaman. You have a damn fine ass that I just love to grab. Are you feeling gendered now? Or are you feeling too needy of my touch to care? Tell me what you want, little love.
Has it been so long that my yes, our relationship isn't enough? Or are you feeling too mentally greedy for my words? Because your nails are just long enough to trace over my labia, between them, over my clit. Did you think to tease me with Onyx's aftercare blanket folded on your luscious bed?
Yes, love. I do love your body shining as with your psychiatric medication and heading toward menopause. Now who'd think that was sexy? Though with you loving my 69-year-old self? Look up at the screen of my thoughts as I part your lips with the tip of my tongue. You don't want other words for body parts?
Nah. I'm just naming a sense that was always there. Well, maybe. You mind “bound clitorophallus” for me to read, hear, think the word about my own body?
Sure, let me trace the hood of your bound clitorophallus, let me tease that erect clit as it fills with more blood. I love the way your thighs tense, first to keep your legs apart, then to keep my head right where it is. It's too long; will you come fast for me, love? Letting my hands slip down these boots, these stockings on your beautiful legs is leading me to my own pleasure.
Yes, yes! Need your tongue inside me, please. Let it slide into my cunt. Yes! I can't control my thigh muscles anymore, love. Your touch feels beyond amazing. Like that, just like that. I love feeling your tongue swirl around inside me, pushing my orgasm to continue. A gasp and groan in one escapes my lips only to be smothered by Onyx's blanket as you grab my hips to pull me up onto the bed, my knees pressing into the softness.
My cock slides into your wet pussy, my balls swinging forward to tap your lips, your bound clitorophallus. Your muscles squeeze so I wait a moment, my unbound clitorophallus to the root inside your sweetness. The black constriction of your boots makes me worry a moment about coming too fast; I wanna feel you come when my cock's inside you at least once. I reach forward to brush your hair to the side so I can see your eye, your parted lips. Moan for me, love.
I can't hold back my rippling pleasure as you start a slow withdrawal and thrust. Practicing belly dance blips on my mind's screen before I can only think on you joined with me. Coming, love. Can you feel it? You feel so good.
That's my girl. Ha, my. Let's recast the my's and say vanilla can be my too. Can we say that my is plural, like you and you? Because my is we and we're both feeling good. I can't hold back too much longer. You feel so good and vanilla lovemaking with you always seems so short since we don't have the foreplay or the other play of BDSM interaction.
But you know I love to watch you with your subs, even if I don't take part in that way? God, yes, like that, just like that. You gonna fill me? Please fill me. Find your pleasure too.
You're just liking I can see your thoughts since your mouth's producing babble. Yes, angel girl, I'm coming in your cunt. Fuck, yeah. Here you go over, I'm gonna lick you clean so my cum doesn't drip on those boots. Come for me again, my tongue pushing into your cunt?
Yeah, yeah. Love you. Gods, yeah, how you make me keep coming!
Love you, babe. Ready to sleep?
Ready to sleep.