Libidinal Lit 101

You know what, as I sit here thinking about it, I am just now realizing one thing: I don’t want the last interaction with you to just be myself being an awkward and annoying emotional wreck. So instead, I want to ask you if there is some way to fit this in before we part—please see if there is some possible way you can find the time for me to come by and just let all of my feelings vibrate out of me through my tongue and ring between your legs like bell. I want to feel and somehow also make you feel more intensely than we either have before. I want to start on your neck behind the jaw, I want to bite your collar bone. I want to do unspeakable things to your nipples. I was to kiss my way down your stomach and hold my lips and nibble just above your clit until you beg me to lower my face and nestle it between your thighs. I want your orgasm to black you out. I want you to feel like the only thing you have ever felt and will ever feel is my tongue and I desperately want to make you actually scream. And I want to hear that scream, but I will hear it like an echo underwater, because your thighs will have gripped my head between them so tightly that you moaning will only reach me through the vibrations of your flesh instead of air.

You want to be my boss? You want manipulate your secretary or your intern into satisfying your nasty, patriarchal, bruising and stiff dick because of all those little glimpses of the little shadows in the cleft of your assistant's tits and the tightness of that button just above the swell of her chest or how you imagine the soft crease between her ass and thighs when she sits down? Can you understand the kind of toe-curling pleasure I will give you if you are serious enough to give me the resources beforehand to attire myself properly, and make the right arrangements. Because I end up having you meet me in a conference room in the Flatiron district, with a long table and a large flat-screen TV for you to have your last meeting of the day on, video conferencing in to your colleagues, or Face-timing with your wife ... except your heart has started to quicken with the firm tap of my stiletto heels, knocking on the floor as you hear me come closer from across the room, and I stop, coffee-cup in hand, and take a long sip as I stand next to you and just off screen, legs parted and the hem of my pencil skirt tenting and your fingers climb my fishnet stockings like rigging until your hand is comfortably wedged between my thighs and your finger are stroking the wet crease of my pussy with a kind of casual and condescending ownership, twisting once or twice so you can rub my clit through my panties the hard stone of your wedding ring. You quickly mute your side of the conference call (or tell your wife to hold on a moment and you tilt your head to the side) and when I bend down with my half open shirt falling open for you, you whisper sharply in my ear that we haven't got all night, and with a brief flick for punctuation you undo the front snap on my bra and tell me to get to work. I take one last long pull of the hot coffee and hold it in my mouth as i squat down on my hands and knees and crawl under the desk–and I can hear a quick little yelp and then a groan from above the desk as I swirl your cock around in the hot coffee in my mouth before I begin to earnestly and enthusiastically service you with my tongue, your hanging belt-buckle swaying and tinkling and your bent cock swelling and throbbing while you talk to your wife, your conversation getting more and more heated as you get closer to spilling yourself in my still-full mouth. I hear in my mind your voicemail message: that obviously I deserve a proper bonus–a real token of your generosity and appreciation, and that when I walk out of this conference room at the end of the evening I won't have to worry at all about my resources or situation. That today, in this room, you are going to really properly take care of me. And then you slide your chair back and your slimy dick slides out of my mouth with a pop. I notice now that the call had ended, but now you are turning off the lights and I see Skype launch on the TV screen as I stand up, reaching to fix my skirt. You put your hand at the base of my neck and suddenly I am bent over the table in the dark room (except for the glow of the TV where the oversized face of a chubby, balding man who has Skped in to stare a my tits smashed against the glass table and panting wetly and masturbating off screen). I am holding the folds of my hiked up skirt against my hips and baring my naked ass, waiting to feel your tongue slither into my ass and worm around, making little smacking sounds in the darkness until everything is lubricated enough for you to slowly slide your finger into my tight and clenching ass. It comes to a stop as your wedding ring rests lightly just outside my asshole, nestled between my flushed cheeks and I wait, listening to the little moans that pop from your throat and the rustle of velvety fabric while you paw at your hard and wildly twitching cock over your pants. Until finally I hear the slow, rumbly unzipping of your pants, and you finger slides out with a sudden chilly gust and little sucking sound and you enter my out-thrust cunt almost arrogantly, your long and thin cock twisting like a snake before it snaps suddenly into a stiffness you can settle into a rhythm with. Pumping and slapping and at the same time talking to your friend on the webcam: telling him all the fine qualities of my grasping pussy and what a good little bitch I am, and how I really am just the absolute best when you need leave your nut in something, and telling your friend how he should definitely join next time. And you keep asking me in the lower and lower growl, 'isn't that right sweetheart? Wouldn't it be nice to have a toy for my mouth also? Why don't we call another one of my 'clients' now? Maybe I can call someone on the phone, and they can listen to me get really fucked right and dirty on the phone and hopefully they'll get here just in time to step off the elevtor and get their dick past my lips before you unload and that you will give me another bonus. And what a lovely slut I am when all you have to do is dangle the right carrot in front of me when you ride me. My eyes squeeze shut and my fingers clench around the edges of the table, and grunt and pull my feet a little off the ground when you spurt inside me for so long and with such pressure I can feel it slap my cervix. and finally my head slumps against the frosted glass of the table and check squashes hard against the glass and when my breathing finally slows I can finally stare at the check you put under my nose of the table so you could watch yourelf fuck my body forward so my face slapped against the check at every thrust–and I continue to stand bent over the table with shaking legs, looking at the check under my check while my fingers reach under me to play with your cum dripping out of my raw cunt.

I’d love to explore more cheating and cuckolding in my erotica. There is a boy that wants to date me but has a girlfriend, and I have a few ideas that could play with that, although if any of you out there are also interested in exploring that it could easily be you! I’d like to first make a straight blow job video where I either tell him about a tryst I just had or am about to have. I want to really get into the language their and emphasize the dirty talk. I also want to record both intentional and accidental ‘voicemails’ of myself with another man, and also write up the secret chats between myself and the man I am cheating with. Sometimes I even imagine setting up a live feed of me and that boy hanging out for the other man to watch while we sext surreptitiously. I’d also like to go even further, and strap the boy that wants to date me into suspended restraints against the inside of the bathroom door and film my self with another man on the bed while he is restrained in the bathroom with a gag in his mouth, able only to listen. And then when the other man cums in my mouth, I can quickly walk over to the bathroom door a swing it open slowly, carrying him with it, and proceed to blow him and swirl both my tongue and the other man’s cum around his cock.

Will you help me cuckold a boy who wants to date me? I want to tell him that I won't fuck him until I've watched him suck a better man's cock: on his knees with his lips wrapped around your stiffness rising through the open zipper and undone buckle of your belt. You and I can share a drink or even better party supplies, passing our treats between our mouths while his head continues bobbing below. Maybe you can take me from behind while I am riding his face at the same time, making him slide his tongue franticly along the wetness on your dick from where it slips in and out of me, grunting and thrusting until you pull out and cum on his face.

H

I. Hmm de would take the wedding ring he had slipped off and tucked away on the countertop so casually—I would put it in my mouth and roll it around with my tongue, slowly crawling towards him on my knees. And every time I hear him try to interrupt, muffled by the gag and keening, a long sort of half-begging/half-moaning exhalation will slide out of my throat so that it feels like the sound wraps itself around the ring in my mouth, too. With a tight, painful grip at the base I would roll my entire head around his stiffness, twisting my whole mouth around my tongue, twisting my tongue around the head of his cock; rolling the ring around and around and around like a ball-bearing or a washing machine or a filthy parody of a tongue piercing [...] "