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Posts Tagged ‘group sex’

  1. An Almost Threesome

    March 13, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Happy girl kissed by two young boys

     

    Ever since my friend told me about her experience with the pizza delivery man, my fantasies have run rampant with visions of sir tying me up and offering me to a stranger. I’ve had threesomes before, but they had all been F/F/M. I’m usually the wingman to the main couple (a male and a female) in the threesome, and I was comfortable in that role. Being the main dish, so to speak, had never been a fantasy of mine until the delivery man anecdote. That situation changed everything and gave my spankbank a jumpstart.

    I shared my ideas with sir, of course. We talked about my past threesomes and what I enjoyed about them and didn’t. The truth was that I liked orders, and when left to my own devices, I had a tendency to be reticent and observe. So having someone tell me to, “get on that dick” was really helpful to me. I also liked having a plan. Now I knew that sex didn’t need a map to every nitty-gritty detail, but I liked having an overview of activities for the threesome.

    What can I say? I’m a planner.

    My experience with “just let it happen” usually meant that nothing happened, or the orgy you hoped for evolved into something different entirely. None of that was wrong, and sometimes it was awesome when I got the unexpected. When it came to satisfying my personal tastes in the bedroom, though, I wanted someone else to be the boss who gave me orders and who followed a general plan negotiated upon the desires of everyone involved.

    The more sir and I talked about it, the more the fantasy threesome became something we both wanted to try in real life. He wanted to give me the gift of a M/M/F threesome, and I wanted to be his fucktoy to be shared and used. We discussed the details and negotiated the rules. We agreed that: I would be blindfolded the entire time, there would be no double-penetration (I was too nervous to relax enough for anal penetration), and I didn’t want the stranger to kiss my lips (on my face). And sir had a friend that he thought would be perfect as our third, because the friend had had previous threesomes and was sexually adventurous. Our stars had aligned.

    The night arrived and sir left me tied spread-eagle to his bed and blindfolded to answer the door. I had watched him light the cluster of votives on the bedside tables, and the lights had been dimmed before I was blindfolded. Music played quietly near my head, and to calm my nerves, I focused on my breathing. I thought I was managing rather well, all things considered. I could barely make out the soft murmur of voices through the closed bedroom door, and my heartbeat accelerated when I heard the scrape of chairs against the tiled floor of the living room. It was almost time.

    The bonus of being blindfolded was that I could focus on my other senses. I didn’t care if I found the friend attractive, and being unable to see helped reinforce the parameters of my role as a pleasure toy. You don’t ask your toy if they’re in the mood to play. You just play with it. And that’s what I wanted. I offered myself as a fuck toy to my sir, and he had seen fit to share me. I felt thrilled, and simultaneously, like there was a cloud of butterflies trying to break free of my stomach. Gross but true.

    It was sir’s hands that touched me first. He kissed me, and I recognized the feel of his lips and the scent of his skin immediately. I responded eagerly as his hands began to explore my body, and when they hovered over my pussy, I silently begged him to fingerbang me. I wasn’t disappointed. He made me orgasm several times in that position, and then the bed shifted beside me. I heard the clink of chain and recognized the sound immediately. Sir had a flogger in his hands. I struggled against my bonds, knowing that he was going to flog my thighs and pussy. Again, I wasn’t disappointed. There was the rush of air as it was thrown, and I squealed and thrashed as the strands landed on my most sensitive parts. At different moments I wondered when the friend was going to jump in. I thought that since he wasn’t into BDSM per se, that he might wait until we turned from the bondage aspect and toys to straight up sex.

    Sir didn’t give me much of a chance to ponder the situation. He stole my breath as he rode my body, his large hand squeezing my neck. I felt the keen edge of a blade scrape against the curves of my breasts, and then the stinging slap as he brought the edge of his palms across my nipples. I was buffeted by sensation and unable to anticipate any of it. Eventually he untied me and made me sit up. He snapped the leash on my collar and led me stumbling from the bed. I was ordered to bend over and present myself to the stranger, and I did so with my face burning. I couldn’t see the man, of course, but I could feel his proximity. My ass and pussy were on display for his approval, and the fine hairs on my body stood at attention, waiting for the feel of his skin against mine. Every particle of my being waited in anticipation for the stranger to touch me, but again, I was mistaken.

    Sir pushed me to the bed and thrust his cock in my mouth, and I was distracted from the question of our third by a trip down the spiralling rabbit hole of hypnosis. Sir painted a tale of wealthy men at an elite club, where I was the entertainment for the evening. After he brought me out of my trance, he put me on all fours and fucked me from behind until my arms were too fatigued to hold my body in position any longer. Briefly I considered the other man in the room with us, but my thoughts didn’t dwell on him. My body was being pushed to endure, and at that point, I only had enough energy to hold on tight for the ride.

    After sir had finished with me, I lay in a heap on the bed, not even trying to peek around my blindfold to see what the men were doing.

    “Stay,” sir told me. “Good girl.”

    I had moved beyond caring about the stranger. My body was spent and thoroughly used. I had fucked, sucked, and taken all the pain and humiliation that my owner had chosen to lavish upon me. I wanted nothing more than a shower, an extra thick cheeseburger, and a bunch of snuggles. And water. Water would have been nice too.

    I think I might have dozed off, and then sir was beside me again, tucking me into the crook of his arm. I asked if I could take off the blindfold, and he said yes. It took a moment for me to catch my bearings again, and then I inquired about his friend.

    The man had gone home without ever touching me.

    I met the friend the next night, and we all had dinner at a Turkish restaurant. He was humorous and gruff, and despite his reticence the evening before, I liked him thoroughly. I suppose we never know how we’ll act in a situation for certain until we’re actually in that situation. And I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was a teensy bit disappointed that the friend didn’t participate. Apparently we had blown his mind with the stuff we did in bed, and he had only wanted to watch. He told sir later, on an occasion when I wasn’t present, that he had felt like he was watching a sex show. I think that’s a compliment? Sir joked that he should have ordered the friend to fuck me while he went into the other room and watched The Walking Dead.

    Nah.

     


  2. Conversations From the Workplace

    December 20, 2014 by Heather Cole

    I worked with a woman who I would classify as a dominant personality. I had lots of evidence to support my determination as I observed her in action, her confidence skillfully overriding those more hesitant or reluctant. She classified herself as a dominant depending on the  situation, and when we worked together, that’s the side she chose to present most often. She was charming in her absolute certainty of action around the workplace, so you can imagine my delight when she shared her stories about being a submissive. The dichotomy between who she was professionally and who she played with in her personal life appeared to be polar opposites. The more time I spent in the kink community, however, the more I came to understand that these two sides often belonged to the same coin.

    I listened to her submissive tales with wide eyes, my jaw dropping when I saw the photos of the predicaments he placed her in, bound and immobile with her breath restricted. Her Dominant had a wide sadistic streak that made my toes curl with trepidation. My friend, though, embraced this in a way that made sparks fly and my panties drop. I might not have felt compelled to do some of the things they chose to experience, but I sure as fuck loved hearing about them. I was dying to hear about their latest visit together, of course, and this is what she told me.

    They decided to order pizza after work one night. She was at his place, and while they were waiting for the pie to be delivered, they began messing around in the bedroom. One thing led to another and she ended up naked and on all fours. He bound her in place and lowered a blindfold over her eyes.

    The doorbell rang.

    She said she waited, listening for his footsteps to enter the room again. It was quiet. Suddenly a cock pushed at her lips. She pulled back as much as she was able, still unable to see, and tried to make sense of what was happening. She tasted latex and knew there had to be a condom, but she didn’t see why he needed it.

    “I don’t understand,” she said.

    “Be quiet. Do what you’re told,” he replied.

    She did, and she did it willingly. She started fellating the cock, and after a few moments, a second man entered her from behind. She was spit-roasted, caught between her Dominant and a stranger, none of whom she could see. She said it was one of the most erotic things that had ever happened to her. Or maybe that was what was going through my head as I listened.

    The man using her mouth had an orgasm, and after he pulled out, she heard him say, “I have to finish delivering the pizzas.”

    As soon as she told me this, I burst into laughter. It turned out that the pizza delivery man was a college buddy of her Dominant. It was like a Penthouse Forum letter come to life. I have to confess that I felt a flash of envy. Delivery suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

    I wonder if he took that blowjob in lieu of a tip.

     


  3. Game Night

    January 14, 2014 by Heather Cole

    The great thing about having kinky friends is that many sexual things are possible. There are many instances, however, when sex doesn’t happen and we do completely traditional things like playing board games. When I was asked to host Game Night, I anticipated mostly wholesome behavior until I received a reminder text from the lovely Ms A that none of us should wear “granny panties.” If I had any doubts after that, sir dispelled them when he told me not to wear any panties at all. Being the good sex slave that I am, I complied and wore a black cotton minidress, pink argyle knee socks, and nothing else.

    The evening began innocently enough. Wine flowed and pizza was served. We talked about regular things like air travel, microbrews, and how old we were when we bought our first vibrators. Then at the urging of his girlfriend, DS shed his pants to show us his fabulous flame covered briefs. Everyone was impressed by his underwear and its well-endowed contents. You know you’re with a good group of people when even the hetero men feel comfortable complimenting another dude on the size of his dick. I was inundated with a feeling of goodwill  and camaraderie. Disrobing seemed to dissolve any restraint in the evening, and from that point on things got raunchier.

    I stood to clear the table and sir beckoned me closer. I didn’t need to ask what he wanted, because I could see the desire on his face. My heartbeat raced. His hand slipped between my legs, and I felt his fingers push inside me. I was already slick with excitement, the titillating view of a half-naked man fueling my fires. Sir’s fingers expertly swirled inside me, and I was ready to orgasm.

    “Announce what you’re doing, slave,” he said.

    “I’m coming,” I gasped as my muscles clenched around his hand. My orgasm caught everyone’s attention, and I was overcome by pleasure and embarrassment. I stared down at the table until I could pull myself together enough to continue clearing the table.

    Sir said that I no longer blush when he makes me orgasm in front of people. Maybe my embarrassment didn’t show on the outside, but part of me remained mortified that I indulged in such exhibitionism. I felt this weird cycle of excitement, embarrassment, shame, and joy. Part of me was horrified that I got off on other people watching me come, yet another part of me was exultant. It was an uncomfortable way to be sometimes, but when I was surrounded by kinky friends, I felt less appalled.

    When Ms. A came into the kitchen with dirty plates, I had to kiss her. She wanted to talk about scheduling our next date, and I just wanted to feel her lips on mine. She was too sexy not to touch, and I wound my hand in her hair to press her closer. If sir hadn’t reminded me of my task, I think I would have spent an hour exploring the sweetness of her lips and voluptuous breasts.

    The next couple of hours were spent playing Scribblish and then Jenga. The tequila flowed, and we laughed until we cried over the ridiculous pictures we had drawn. When the Jenga tower was assembled, I groaned out loud. Two margaritas were going to inhibit my coordination considerably, so sir gave me the option of blowing him under the table. As much as the idea appealed to me, I didn’t want to miss out on the gaming fun. When it was my turn to tease a block from the stack, I felt someone’s hand ease between my thighs. I wanted to say something witty about an unfair distraction, but someone’s cool fingers were already caressing the lips of my pussy. The fingers had a delicate touch that could only belong to Ms. A. I can’t explain how I managed to get the block free without tipping the entire thing as I orgasmed, but I did it. There really needs to be an award for that kind of tipsy coordination. Or a badge. I’ll add it to my dirty Girl Scout sash right next to my deep-throat award.

    I had been made to orgasm at least five times by the time Kuma suggested that we take a break, and it felt like the perfect segue to my living room floor where I leaned against sir as the beautiful Ms. A knelt between my legs. There was no unanimous vote that the toys would come out and cocks would be sucked. It just kind of happened. Ms. A licked and sucked my clit until I came, her peppermint lip gloss making me tingle in all the right places. I writhed on the floor surrounded by some of my dearest friends, my orgasm made more intense because of the added element of voyeurism. The tableau was seared into my brain. The sturdy warmth of sir behind me, holding and supporting me, the lustful magic of Ms. A’s amazing oral skills, and her creamy pale skin spread before me like some pagan goddess. Directly behind her sat our friends and lovers, watching and enjoying our sexual offering. It was a heady concoction.

    Ms. A’s clothes came off, and then sir practiced some florentine flogging on her. The flogging spurred her toward orgasm. She fell into the arms of her partner, and he helped her finish with his fingers on her clit. I had the opportunity to watch two people connect in a cloud of lust and love. I felt incredibly lucky to have friends who were comfortable sharing facets of their connection with me, because it served to feed and foster my own.

    DS then got his cock sucked by his girlfriend which was super hot because from my vantage point I could admire her shapely ass plus expert blowjob technique. This in turn seemed to inspire sir, because he motioned me over to his chair. He nodded at the fly of his pants, and I began to unbutton them. I took him into my mouth as the conversation continued around me. He was incredibly hard, and I relished pushing him deep into my throat. I heard the words “daisy chain” and then Ms. A’s fingers found my labia again. My mouth remained on sir as she played with my body, an orgasm building rapidly inside me. I shouted around sir’s cock when I came, and it took all my concentration not to dissolve into a puddle at his feet. The generosity of my loved ones continued to astound me.

    We talked until late, reluctant to end the fun-filled evening. After the last of our friends had left, I was ready to fall into a sound sleep. I’d had more orgasms than I could count. As I snuggled into sir’s arms, he told me to sleep and that he would wake me up in a couple hours to slake his desires. He whispered in my ear as I drifted off, telling me how incredibly sexy it was to hold me and watch as Ms. A pleasured me. I burrowed deeper into his arms, and I had just enough presence of mind to smile and thank him for the amazing experience.

    “Such a good girl,” he said, and I fell asleep.

     


  4. Heather and the Gangbang

    December 16, 2013 by Heather Cole

    I sat on a thick oriental rug and watched the other masters and slaves from beneath my lashes. I felt shy, butterflies of anxiety erupting in my gut. I had been told to sit and wait for my master, so that’s exactly what I did. I didn’t recognize the faces around me, and I felt too awkward to approach any of them and start a conversation. They sat or stood, the chairs grouped in a loose semicircle at the center of the room. I stared at the pattern on the rug and tried not to fidget.

    Finally sir strode over to me with a smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a mischievous look. He pulled me to my feet and into his arms, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like soap and sandalwood, and part of me calmed at the familiar scents.

    “I love you,” he murmured into my ear. “You are my treasure. Do you know this?” One of his hands grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my head back so he could see my eyes.

    “Yes, sir,” I replied, wincing slightly at the small pain.

    “Good girl.”

    He laced my fingers with his and led me to a sage green couch at the side of the room. I hadn’t noticed it before, but its wide cushions looked more like a bed than a couch you would see in a living room. My butterflies came back with a rush when I saw the dark leather circles of my cuffs resting on top of it. I turned to sir with a questioning look as he pulled out a silk blindfold from his pocket.

    “Do you trust me?” he asked. I nodded wordlessly, and I felt the cool material smooth down my forehead and over my eyes. “Do you trust me to make all your fantasies come true?”

    I could feel my lips tremble as I tried to form the response he required. Some of my dark fantasies should not have been forged into reality, because they often strayed into that gray area of consensual non-consent with strangers. But I couldn’t think of what to say other than ‘yes.’ There were no stipulations made with sir. I either trusted him with every ounce of being or I didn’t trust him at all.

    I couldn’t see the other masters and slaves in the room, but I heard their movements. I recognized the heavy fall of a flogger against tender flesh and the wet slapping noises of rough sex. There were moans and cries, and even though I wanted to see, I was also grateful for the blindfold. That way I wouldn’t know who was watching, and I could focus completely on my owner.

    Sir stripped me and then gently pushed me back on to the couch. I felt the warm slip of cotton rope around my wrists and ankles, and sir eased me into a spreadeagled position. I felt completely exposed, my flesh rippling into goosebumps. I also realized that I was growing wet between my legs with anticipation. I squirmed against my bonds, trying to sense where sir was. In that moment all I wanted was him inside me, claiming me and easing away my nervousness.

    I felt movement beside me and then the familiar weight of my master. His cock slid inside me, and I eagerly raised my hips to take all of him. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm as he thrust inside me, but the couch dipped again, and I felt another set of hands on my body. The rope was loosened, and someone pushed me so that I was on my side. Sir was still inside me, but he had changed position too and my leg was now held up in the air. I stiffened when I felt a second cock push against my anus. I gasped at the size, and my master’s voice was in my ear.

    “His cock is huge, and you’re going to take all of it. It’s going to feel amazing.”

    He was right. My misgivings about the man’s size vanished as soon as sir said the words. He told me I would love it, and my body obeyed even as my thoughts struggled to keep pace. I was safe with sir. He would protect me even as he pushed my boundaries. Silently I embraced the new intrusion with each movement of pleasure. The man’s size stretched me open in a way I had never experienced before, and I was awash in a mixture of shame and excitement and unadulterated lust. As I was impaled by sir and the stranger, a feeling of ecstasy washed through me. I held my position as well as I could, relishing the double penetration with my quivering body. I cried out when the orgasm took me, my fingernails digging into my palms.

    Suddenly there was a hand in my hair, and my head was pulled back. I felt the blunt head of a third cock push past my lips, and instinctively I opened my mouth to accommodate it. I was overwhelmed by the sensations overloading my body. The cock reached into the back of my throat, and my thoughts clicked off. I was nothing but a body caught and stretched like a butterfly pinned to a mat. I came again and again, my moans swallowed as the cock moved in and out of my mouth. The man above me grunted as he came, and then the man in my ass ejaculated. I swallowed, thinking that we would stop, but two more men took their places. As my master whispered encouragements and maintained his steady rhythm, I relished the feeling of submitting to him and being used as his pleasure toy. The sensations were intense, hedonistic indulgence overriding all logical thought.

    I was still licking cum from my lips when I felt the two men leave my side, and then sir was untying the ropes. I frowned when sir told me to keep my eyes closed as he removed the blindfold. Sir hadn’t finished, and he was the one that I wanted to please the most. But I felt like I had no bones. I was a puddle of sweat and sex, and my body ached from being penetrated. Even the back of my throat felt raw. Sir scooped up my sore body and moved to the edge of the couch and grabbed my hair.

    “On your knees at the edge of the couch.”

    I knew better than to protest, and part of me wanted to finish him. Master had gone to the trouble of making this fantasy come true for me. The least I could do was repay him with an orgasm. I felt my way to the floor and knelt between his legs. No further instructions were needed as I found the sensitive flesh between his thighs. He used my mouth roughly, always one hand twisted through my hair, angling my head in the way he preferred. Saliva dripped from my chin to the floor, my excitement growing at the sounds of sir’s pleasure. I hoped he would finish on my face, and the act was all the more precious because it was a rare event. With a final guttural yell, sir pulled out of my mouth and came on my face. I smiled as the sticky, wet cream covered my nose and cheeks and dripped down on my chest. I waited, still grinning, for the command that I could open my eyes and get up.

    “As I count backwards from 5, you will gradually awaken from your trance. You will remember everything we’ve done here, every word and every sensation. 5… 4… 3… opening your eyes and beginning to stir… 2… 1… fully awake.”

    I opened my eyes to find myself kneeling beside my bed in a pool of saliva and cum. There was no room full of masters and slaves, no rope or strangers penetrating my body. It was just me and sir and my vivid subconscious. I looked up at him, amazed and slightly chagrined.

    “I figured that a hypnosis gangbang would be as much fun as the real thing without the added hassle of finding and organizing the participants or the risk of contracting an STI,” he said.

    I’m sure I responded, but what came out was probably a stuttering garbled mess. I was in shock. Good shock, but shock nonetheless.

    As we cleaned up and eventually climbed back into bed to snuggle, I went over and over the events of the evening. It felt like the gangbang had physically happened and I had experienced a triple penetration. I think I said “I can’t believe it” a million times before sir shushed me to sleep. That night is now tinged with a dreamlike quality, but every part of me believes it happened. In fact, my ass was sore the next day like it had been stretched to accommodate a very well-endowed man. It was the most amazing mindfuck I had ever experienced.

    I wonder where we’re going next.

     


  5. My First Orgy

    February 5, 2013 by Heather Cole

    This past Saturday I experienced a first. I attended my very first orgy with absolutely no idea of what that would entail exactly. I had some general impressions from Hollywood, of course. I’ve watched Rome on HBO, people. If orgies were like TV, then I knew what was supposed to go down: barely clothed, toga-wearing people eating and drinking, sprawled across chaise lounges, the space full of writhing bodies and wandering… hands. I had the Hollywood idea in my head of a free-for-all sex party, but it wasn’t the nudity or sex that made me nervous; I was anxious about the “free” part.

    Over the past month I’ve realized that I share best, both physically and emotionally, when I’m grounded in the surety of my relationships with my partners. This shouldn’t have been a shocking revelation, least of all to me. But when my girlfriend, Liri, invited me to an orgy thrown for her boyfriend, Matt, the free-for-all sex party sparked some anxiety. I suddenly felt uncertain. The fearful voice in my head whispered that no romantic partner of mine would want me to attend such a thing.

    I felt torn by the contradiction. On one hand I identified as a sex slave, and part of me got off on being used for sex in whatever way my partner wished. I enjoyed multiple partners in various configurations, so an orgy would appear to be right up my alley. If the writers for Rome were correct, Saturday was supposed to be about letting go to have sex with whomever crossed my lap. The flip side of that desire was that I was painfully aware of boundaries, and it was my worst nightmare to go bungling through them. Or worse, I feared that I could make a sexual advance or indulge in a sexual act that somehow jeopardized a friendship or my romantic relationships. I asked myself if it was possible to enjoy an orgy at all while honoring the parameters of my relationships and the boundaries of others.

    Some days I feel like I over-articulate my emotions, but I’ve survived a relationship where I relied on a traditional construct, a marriage contract, to convey my love and loyalty without actually voicing those sacred feelings. I’ll never take such things for granted again. And I think what I needed to hear from Zen and Liri and Boy Scout was that they felt as committed to me, in their unique and different ways, as I was to them. I needed them to know that no matter who I had sex with at the orgy, none of that jeopardized my love and relationships with them.

    I felt better after I talked to everyone, but there was one last piece I was missing. My safe haven of rules and commands where I have one focus, to serve my Sir. My poly relationships don’t work because of a list of rules we give each other. My D/s dynamic, however, works precisely for that reason. I confessed that I needed some rules in order to navigate the orgy to both Boy Scout and Liri even though it was difficult for me to voice that need out loud. I articulated that I craved to be put in my place and marked. I needed to go into that situation knowing I was owned, and even though it was a sexy free-for-all, I had to be grounded. My poly relationships were all in order. I needed my D/s dynamic to be too.

    How does this slave go about getting her needs met in the face of an impending orgy? I called it “full-blown brat mode,” and I learned some valuable things as a result. For example, I can’t say “shut up” to Sir. I can’t call him a “good boy.” And I sure as fuck can’t eat his fresh-off-the-conveyor belt Krispy Kreme donut while he’s out walking the dog. When I opened the door to Matt’s house on Saturday, I had bruises on my back and ass, compliments of Sir and his belt.

    I walked into the kitchen wearing a short black dress and red heels and got a drink. Several guests couldn’t make it, so it was going to be in intimate orgy of seven. We stood around the kitchen island making small talk and eating hors d’oeuvres until Liri asked, “why the fuck are you still wearing clothes?” I blinked at her in surprise and replied, “you didn’t tell me otherwise.” Naturally my clothes came off (I’m a good girl that way), and she invited everyone upstairs to play the game, “let’s see how many times we can make my girlfriend come.” That’s a kick ass game, by the way. I have to add that it was also a bit surreal. At one point there were four people covering parts of my body with kisses and bites as my girlfriend used the Hitachi on my clit and Laccaria used the nJoy on my G-spot. Then there was the roundtable of friendship spanks while kissing the sweet lips of the woman across the table from me. There were ice cubes on my clit as I breathed in the sweet cleavage of a voluptuous female, and I squealed against her skin when Liri left teeth marks on my red, paddled ass. Yes, I believe that can be classified as some wanton sexual revelry.

    It wasn’t an episode of Rome, though. For one thing, we weren’t paid actors who had to pretend to have sex with people that they pretended to be attracted to. There wasn’t a casting agent to ensure that every person who attended had the correct attitude for the orgy. Nor was there a script to follow where everyone fucked and was sexually satisfied. We were real people, most of us good friends, and we had regular human concerns like having a bad bout of PMS and being stressed out from an impending move. There were relationships in flux, and people who weren’t in the mood to fuck… we were regular people at an orgy with our own baggage and our own expectations that sometimes didn’t mesh.

    I had my clothes pulled off twice before I could finally get out the door, and if I wasn’t the dedicated blogger that you read here every week, I would have stayed naked and stayed a helluva lot later. But I drove home like a good writer should and texted my people that I was safe and sound and in bed. That was the best part… saying I love you to all three of them before I closed my eyes. I really am one of the luckiest girls in the world.


  6. Flash Fiction: Change of Plans

    April 10, 2012 by Heather Cole

    “I’m feeling slutty tonight,” he said. He knotted his wingtips with a decisive motion and stood, staring at me in the reflection of the vanity mirror.

    “Alright.”

    I concentrated on threading a gold hoop through my earlobe and felt his words in my gut as if I had eaten too much ice cream too quickly.

    “Looks like it’s the corner bar then.”

    I didn’t change out of my red dress and heels. My only concession to this evening’s new plans was the string of condoms I added to my purse. I wasn’t the architect of tonight’s fantasy come to life, and like some masochistic Girl Scout, I decided to be prepared for anything.

    Two hours later we were ensconced in the dingy hangout, our best dinner clothes standing out like beacons along the coast of the bar’s midnight patina. I tapped a heel on the rung of my bar stool and shook my head slightly. It was the third potential I had rejected that evening. Women flocked to him. They always had. Something about the deadly combination of his slightly nerdish glasses and devil’s smile were a siren’s call to almost every vagina in the vicinity, but I always had the final say in who was to become his plaything for the night.

    I finally settled on a petite, young-ish woman, painfully thin with long blond hair. Almost the exact physical opposite of me. We drove her to a nearby hotel as he explained that I would enjoy watching him fuck her. I remained silent, observing her take note of the details of our clothes and the make of our car. When her hand settled on my thigh, light as butterfly wings, I knew she had committed herself.

    At the hotel he stripped off her thin top and micro-mini as I settled into a corner chair with a splash of whiskey in a hotel glass. Something inside me eased at the knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to please him fully. She was too much inexperience and not enough flesh to cushion his sharp desires. Even after he turned her over his knee for a brief spanking and had freed his cock for her to suck, I felt reassured.

    I stood silently, letting the thick glass drop to the desk, the sound almost completely obscured by the sounds of her enthusiasm. My dress fell to the floor with a soft swoosh, and I stalked towards them. His gaze turned from unfocused to sharp as he watched my approach, his eyes hungrily sliding from my heels, to the stockings and finally my corset and gold collar.

    I tapped her on the shoulder, almost laughing at her startled expression. “Let me show you how to do this properly.”

    I barely had time to brace myself before he had a fistful of hair and was pushing me to my knees. I wasn’t graceful, and he wasn’t gentle. Forcing his way past my lips and deep into my throat, I almost gagged on his thick cock. He didn’t slow his rhythm, the grip on my hair forcing me to meet every thrust. I stared up at him, watching the nuances of desire flit across his face, knowing that he was mine again.

    When he came, there was nothing but the sound of his guttural cry and the taste of cum. He collapsed back on the couch with a boneless motion.

    “She’s gone,” he said.

    It was only the two of us again.