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May, 2012

  1. Strength in Submission

    May 30, 2012 by Heather Cole

    “He kissed her now on the mouth for the first time. He kissed her like he owned her, as he owned her. He kissed her like her mouth was his mouth, her lips were his lips, her tongue was his tongue. They were one flesh. They needed no wedding ring, no ceremony to know that was true. She had the collar around her neck.”  – THE SIREN

    I finished THE SIREN at the tail end of a visit from M. The fascinatingly complex relationship between the main character, Nora, and her Dominant, Soren, spoke to me, tugging at my insides like familiar echoes. I had to stop and re-read, soaking in Tiffany Reisz’s  words like a balm to my tattered heart. For the first time I was reading a novel that captured an accurate view of what it feels like to be a collared and owned submissive. I wanted to weep for a story so achingly beautiful, and shout from the rooftops that I found an author who truly understands.

    It is no easy thing to submit. There is the instinctive struggle against another human being striving to Dominate me that simultaneously coexists with the internal struggle of two opposing forces; my need to submit grates against my need to stand alone. I am a woman with a business, a child and a full life that requires my leadership and attention outside of my kinky preferences. It’s my fierce independence that fights against my need to give control to another. But I understand how it may appear weak to others. I know this perspective first hand because, during the times in my life when I doubted my submissive instincts, I used that same word…weak.

    When I choose to kneel at the feet of a man with a thick leather collar around my neck, striving to please Him with my manner and actions, I have, for a moment in time, completely surrendered my body and will to Him. I need to submit. It’s part of my emotional make-up like my need for physical affection or my need for love. It is with love and complete trust that I give Him my body to wound with a flogger, a whip, or a set of lacquered canes that I both fear and adore. I have two words, my safeword and my slow down word. One will halt our play in an instant, and the other pauses our game to give me a chance to re-center myself and allows M the opportunity to adjust in order to continue the scene.

    “After so many years together she’d learned how to prepare herself for a flogging, for the whip and the strap. She knew tricks, ways to breathe, ways to hold herself, to alleviate the pain even as she received it. But when it came to the cane, nothing helped. And when the first strike landed on her lower thighs, she could do nothing but cry out.”   – THE SIREN

    At first glance one would assume that M holds all the control. After all, he’s the one with a whip in his hand. But who has the final say in how we play? I do. More importantly, if I do not choose to kneel in the first place, if I refuse to submit, there will be no play at all. In a Master/slave relationship, it is the submissive who ultimately holds the trump card…the gift of submission. I can honestly say that M has never steamrolled me into doing something I didn’t want to do. Yes, he pushes me, but I have my magic words. Like Nora says in THE SIREN, “if at any point you want to stop everything and just go home, you can say [safeword] and we’re done. We’ve all safed out. It’s completely okay.”

    My empathy with Nora is contrasted by a different character with whom I’m intimately acquainted. It’s a different book written by a different friend. He called me his Muse and felt inspired to write a love story of sorts that was supposed to be a version of us in a different life. The main character shared my name and some other details from my real life. She was also kinky. At the end of the story, she killed the man she loved, her true love, at the behest of her Master. She literally ripped out her lover’s heart because her Master commanded it.

    I felt insulted. A person whom I had considered a close friend saw my submission as a mindless, weak-willed, compulsion. He viewed me as a victim, as something that was preyed upon by a stronger personality. What was even more alarming was his obvious need to “save” me from the evil clutches of my Master. I bit my tongue and didn’t tell him that if he ever tried to take my collar in real life (in BDSM language when a slave leaves a Master’s service then he/she no longer wears their collar) I’d kick his ass my own damn self.

    I chose M as surely as he chose me, and our M/s relationship is carefully constructed and more negotiated than any traditional relationship I’ve ever experienced. We have a contract and a safeword and a hundred other things that ensure that our relationship is safe, sane and consensual. Trust me when I say this, a weak person makes a shit slave. No way could a lesser person wear my collar and succeed as I have.

    Nora, the heroine of THE SIREN, is a woman after my own heart. Her kinkyness is a facet of who she is but not the summation of her entirety. She’s a force of nature who is intelligent, courageous and kind. She’s complex and takes responsibility for her choices, good and bad. Regardless of what you may think of her character, I doubt you’ll see her as weak. She is charming and human, and captivating in her flawed beauty. As I told Tiffany after first reading Nora’s adventures, “I don’t know whether I want to hug her and bake her cookies, or have sex with her.” Yeah, she might be my hero.

    Category D/s | Tags: ,, | 9 Comments

  2. WEEK OF THE SIREN with TIFFANY REISZ

    May 29, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Yes, my darlings, it’s finally here: WEEK OF THE SIREN! I know y’all are as excited as we are. Not only do we get a guest post by the famous Ms. Tiffany Reisz, but she’s giving away two signed copies of her latest release, THE SIREN. To enter the giveaway, just leave us a comment on any post this week. The winner will be announced Friday at 6:00 p.m. EST.

    Starting off the week we have a review written by Ben Wiebe. He’s the thoughtful blogger at misanthropoeia. So sit back, have a good read and keep some lube on hand…literally. This week is gonna be a hot one, and I’m not talkin’ the weather, y’all. 

     

    In the world of kink authors, she’s the top.

    Notorious Nora Sutherlin is famous for her delicious works of erotica, each one more popular with readers than the last. But her latest manuscript is different, more serious, more personal, and she’s sure it’ll be her breakout book…if it ever sees the light of day.

    Zachary Easton holds Nora’s fate in his well-manicured hands. The demanding British editor agrees to handle the book on one condition: he wants complete control. Nora must rewrite the entire novel to his exacting standards in six weeks or it’s no deal.

    Nora’s grueling writing sessions with Zach are draining…and shockingly arousing. And a dangerous former lover has her wondering which is more torturous, staying away from him…or returning to his bed?

    Nora thought she knew everything about being pushed to the limit. But in a world where passion is pain, nothing is ever that simple…

    ******

    A Review of THE SIREN by Ben Wiebe:

    In every book I read, no matter what genre, I look for a couple of key things. Most important of these is three-dimensional characters. Characters that become living, breathing people as I get further into the book. Characters that are revealed slowly. Characters that I love or hate, or if I feel indifferent about them, I get the feeling that they may become important as the story goes on.

    The sad reality in erotic fiction is that things like plot and character development barely exist, and when they do, they merely act as a bit of a rest period between sex scenes. Perhaps erotic fiction is so lax in things like plot and character development because it helps readers imagine themselves in the story. Perhaps some of the authors are just lazy. Who knows?

    In The Siren we have something different. We are given characters that leap off the page. For myself, it wasn’t so much about identifying with Nora, Zachary, Søren, or even Wesley (whose background most closely mirrors my own). It was about being able to see them, watch them, as individuals in part of a bigger story. Take the “whiskey chaser” scene in Chapter 13 as an example.  Yes, it made me take a moment to sit back, close my eyes, and fantasize about what I’d just read.  However, the story is written in such a way that I was more interested in being a fly on the wall watching the interplay between Nora and Zach than watching her go down on him. A scene that provokes both personal fantasy and voyeurism all at once? Brilliant.

    Perhaps because of my personal background, the most striking (no pun intended) feature of this story is that it contains elements of faith and belief. Rather than shying away from the polarizing issue of religion, we are presented with characters for whom faith is an important part of their lives. All without judgment or prejudice. It’s simply one part of what makes these characters captivating. Their beliefs are presented in a way that feels as if they’re not necessary for the story to “work.” Except in hindsight, they’re crucial.

    Having read the book, I can’t picture Nora as anything but a woman who is trying to be completely true to herself, to be a good Catholic who sometimes fails miserably. Her sexuality and spirituality have found a tenuous balance. And Søren. An imposing, charismatic, mature and self-assured priest who has his life in order. A larger than life man who understands himself, and who seems to understand Nora better than she knows herself. And then there is Wesley, who seems to be struggling to find that balance. He has the outward self-confidence that only a 19-year-old could have, but personal experience tells me that there is a deep and unresolved guilt (for lack of a better word) surrounding his sexual desires.

    Of course, how I read this story is different from how others will read it. For some, the religious elements will be a distraction. Perhaps even a turn-off? However, by the end of the book, most readers will feel like they know these people, some of their history, some of their motivations. Like all erotica, readers will see the physical: whom and how these characters fuck. But they will also understand (or at least begin to understand) what drives some of them, how they are broken, and how they are working toward redemption or fulfilment. And none of these little details by themselves really define the characters. They are the shading and perspective that give depth and substance to the people in this world created by the words of Ms Reisz.

    Category Contest | Tags: ,, | 2 Comments

  3. Anal Sex – Part 1

    May 22, 2012 by Heather Cole

    This week is my birthday, and I love celebrating it. Which naturally makes me think of anal sex. BECAUSE IF YOU CAN’T GET ANAL SEX ON YOUR BIRTHDAY THEN WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT?!

    Just kidding.

    Mostly.

    I like anal sex. I’ve had good experiences and bad. When they were good, they were fucking phenomenal. And when they were bad….oh geez….you *never* forget a bad experience with a cock up your butthole. I have yet to meet one person who is ho hum about anal. One man I know hates it and described it as, “some tightness then a whole lot of nothing.” From what I read on many Twitter timelines, anal will never feel pleasurable to some. Then for others, it’s the holy grail of all sexual encounters.

    Nikki and I discuss anal sex a lot, mostly because it’s a regular item on the sex menu between her and her partner. In my eyes she’s the Queen of Anal, and I bow to her expertise. After weeks of talking about it amongst ourselves, we’re devoting this week to anal sex and discussing the many facets of the anal sex encounter. Whether you like it or not, the conversation is an interesting one.

    Tips for Exploration

    1. Know Thyself – If you’ve never stuck a finger up your butt…the time is NOW. The next time you’re in the shower, gently probe your anus. This is a good exercise because A.) The better you understand your body, the better you’ll know what you like and don’t like, and B.) This is a simple way to begin preparing for anal sex with a partner.

    There are two different muscles that surround the entrance to the anus:  there’s the internal sphincter and the external sphincter. The anus is the brown flower at the center (or bleached, if you’re into that) that you can see and the internal and external sphincter muscles encircle it.

    The external sphincter muscle is a voluntary muscle. It’s what you clench when you’re trying not to fart in front of your partner, and it’s possible to strengthen the external muscle with exercises. Like kegels but for the butt. Heh… The internal sphincter muscle, on the other hand, is completely involuntary. Some of us were born with a strong internal sphincter muscle, and others not, and we can’t do a damn thing about it either way.

    Beyond the anus and the sphincter muscles lies the rectum. If you look at a diagram of this system, and trust me I most certainly did, the rectum looks big. What I’m trying to say is…you really can be full of shit. And darlings, this is what leads me to Number Two…

    2. Clean That Shit Out – Believe it or not, this is the perfect application for douche. YES, your great-grandmother wasn’t 100% wrong when she bought a bottle of douche, she just used it incorrectly. For those that don’t possess vaginas or who aren’t aware, douching upsets the natural pH balance of the vagina, and is a big no-no. However, it’s perfect for cleaning out your rectum and anus. Take that douche marketing campaigns!

    Nikki prefers to empty the solution and use the douching bottle with water. In her words, “no one wants to lick an ass that smells like vinegar.” The applicator is really handy in the shower, and if you’re sensitive to chemicals, you might prefer to go the soap and water route. A gay friend, on the other hand, prefers to use an enema before date night.

    I admit. I haven’t always cleansed beforehand, and my partner ended up with fecal matter on his cock. Embarrassing but true. To be completely honest sometimes the moment is so hot and intense that it doesn’t even cause a hitch in the play. But remember this, no matter how well you clean your poop chute, there will always be fecal matter present even if you can’t see it. Which means…

    3. Don’t Cross Streams – Take it from the Ghostbusters and girls who know, do not place a cock or toy from the ass directly into a vagina! Take the time to clean the cock or the toy before continuing in a different venue. The bacteria present in the anus and rectum will cause a bacterial infection in a vagina faster than you can say “double penetration.” An easy solution is to keep antibacterial wipes in the nightstand or in your “fuck me” kit along with condoms, lube, Visine and chapstick. Wiping down everything with wipes ensures that all play is sanitary, and you and your toys can utilize all the holes safely.

    4. When You Think You Have Enough, Use More – There is no such thing as too much lube during anal. I’ve done it without and it has been amazing, but I prefer to use lube in copious amounts. K-Y brand is my favorite for anal.  I think lube is especially crucial if you’re anxious about the pain. Because hear me when I say this, if it hurts and you don’t enjoy it…STOP.

    Enjoying anal sometimes means working your way up in size, getting familiar with what feels good and what doesn’t…in other words, experiment. If you don’t like how something feels, stop and try something different. Sometimes changing position helps. Sometimes stopping and waiting a couple days works. Was it something you ate? Maybe your mood?

    My advice is to start with a finger then a toy, like a butt plug, then a dildo or your partner’s cock. If my approach seems overly scientific, it’s because I believe in trying something a lot of different ways before rendering judgement. Let’s face it, you might try anal sex in a hundred different configurations and still dislike it. Or love it. Either way, at least you’ll know your asshole better. BWHAHAHAHAHA! How’s that for a silver lining?

    Category Anal Sex | Tags: ,, | 6 Comments

  4. May 28 is Week of The Siren!

    May 16, 2012 by Heather Cole

    You’re probably well-versed in the Greek myth of the Sirens; beautiful women that lured sailors to their deaths by singing them into an enchantment, dashing their ships to pieces against the rocks. Well, this ain’t your Aunt Arethousa’s siren of ancient times.

     

    Announcing THE SIREN autographed copy giveaway!

     

     

    “Dazzling, devastating and sinfully erotic, Reisz writes unforgettable characters you’ll either want to know or want to be. The Siren is an alluring book-within-a-book, a story that will leave you breathless and bruised, aching for another chapter with Nora Sutherlin and her men.”  -Miranda Baker, author of Bottoms Up and Soloplay

    “The Original Sinners series certainly lives up to its name: it’s mindbendingly original and crammed with more sin than you can shake a hot poker at. I haven’t read a book this dangerous and subversive since Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club. The most shocking thing, however, is how much you’ll feel for the characters. If your heart doesn’t break at least ten times over the course of The Siren, check yourself into a morgue.” -Andrew Shaffer, author, Great Philosophers Who Failed at Love

    “Provocative, smart and downright cheeky. The Siren put me through my paces and had me begging for more.”  -Emma Petersen, author of Reign of Pleasure

     

    Leave a comment during our WEEK OF THE SIREN (beginning May 28) here at Vagina Antics and be automatically entered in our giveaway. The multi-talented author and one of my favorite kinksters, Tiffany Reisz, will be giving away two autographed copies of her latest release, THE SIREN, to celebrate her birthday in June. She’s even writing a post to add to the celebration!

     

    During WEEK OF THE SIREN we’ll honor strong women with the added bonus of giving away a hot new release.

     

    Or rather…we’ll help you have a hot new release. *snicker*


     

    Category Contest | Tags: ,, | 5 Comments

  5. I Was His First

    May 15, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Bashiru had the most beautiful skin, as dark as coffee, and his body was composed of long stretches of lean muscle. Whenever we stood in close proximity my hands inevitably found their way underneath his shirt to make their way over the satin ridges of his abs. He smelled of shea butter and laundry soap, and when we kissed his thin dreads tickled my cheek.

    We met my freshman year of college through mutual friends. He studied business and took English Literature classes for fun. The first time he visited my room we sat on my decrepit couch and discussed Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. Bash was articulate, intelligent and completely off limits sexually. Not only was he a devout Muslim, but his parents had sent him to the US for an education; he was not to be seduced by an alcohol-consuming, sexually active, American blonde girl of questionable morals. He was a man on a mission, and he devoured textbooks and intellectual debate with a fervor that I admired. He possessed the academic discipline that I did not, and it was his good example that inspired me to finally settle into my studies. (My mother still thanks him.)

    I first noticed a change in my feelings during one of our college soccer matches. I was bundled up against the fall air, perched on the edge of frozen metal bleachers as I watched the players sweep up and down the field. Bash ran the entire game, every step fluid yet calculated. It appeared effortless to me, and I found my gaze focusing on him more and more. I recognized the signs, those feelings stirring deep within my gut. I wanted Bash, but I immediately pushed the thought away. He was too innocent. Too pure.

    I must confess that Bash has been the only man that I have ever tried to resist. Oh, in my dating life I’ve questioned whether or not it was a smart move to have sex with someone. But my attitude has always been that once I decide to have sex with a person, then I’m going to fuck them. Skip the coy games and let’s get to it is my motto. I’ve also never had sex with anyone I didn’t desire except for my ex-husband. How about that for some irony?

    While I had been tossing and turning over Bash, fighting my feelings, he had made his own plans. He kissed me one random night as we were studying, his lips full and warm against mine. I didn’t hide my surprise. I gave him a moment to flash a self-conscious smile, and then I literally jumped on the man. Books slid to the floor and shoes were kicked off as we got horizontal. As I stroked and teased him with my hands and kissed my way over every inch of exposed skin, I silently wondered when he was going ask me to stop. He returned my kisses with enthusiasm and ran his hands over my breasts, but not once did they wander below my waist. We spent an interminable amount of time kissing and caressing until I was a throbbing, needful mess. I was ready to scream with frustration.

    “We need to stop or I’m going to take your virginity,” I said and pulled away, panting.

    “Take it. I love you.”

    I didn’t give him a chance to reconsider, and I never regretted it.

    We dated for a year and a half until I left to study abroad. We had a terrible breakup preceding that, and it still makes me cringe when I think about it. Enough time has passed that we’re able to be friends on Facebook. I can’t help but wonder how he thinks of me. Does he remember that night with fondness or regret? Is he happy with the things I showed him or does he wish he had waited for someone else? I’ll never know for certain, so I try to focus on the positive aspects of our shared past. I’m honored that he chose me to be his first, and a part of me will always love him for it.

    Category Sex | Tags: ,, | No Comments

  6. Like Mother Like Daughter – Part 2

    May 10, 2012 by Heather Cole

    It took me a long time to get pregnant. Years. When I finally did, I wrote long letters to my baby girl full of all the hopes I had for her life. I wrote over and over again that she could achieve anything she wanted for this world if she worked hard enough at it. I still believe that, and if you could see my three-year-old today, you’d have no doubt that she believes it too. She’s a firecracker, ready to do anything you suggest if it doesn’t require “cleaning up.” She’s also a nudist.

    Those naked tendencies are genetic. I passed most of my early childhood sans clothing as well. My mother laughs at my naked child anecdotes and swears this is karma in action, the payback for my own nudist beginnings. More often than not, the old family polaroids show me standing with my cousins, grinning ear to ear without a stitch of clothing on me. I even had my nursery school interview naked. (I was accepted, by the way.)

    My three-year-old also loves breasts, mine especially, and she’s not averse to squeezing the breasts of her grandmother or my girlfriends. She likes nipples too, and with summer just around the corner, our excursions become fraught with the peril of public embarrassment. Trips through the grocery store turn dangerous.

    Inevitably she will point and yell, “look, mama! NIPPLES!”

    Sure enough, there they are, poking in our general direction. Someone didn’t care to wear a bra, and my girl noticed. Then she had to gleefully announce it to the rest of the store.

    For right now she’s very young and oblivious to any sexual aspect related to nudity. She’s innocent yet enthusiastic about appreciating the female form. Honestly, I can’t fault her. Hell, I love to enthusiastically appreciate the female form. Let’s not throw stones, shall we?

    I try to curb her exuberance without associating any judgement or shame with enjoying her body or admiring others. I’m acutely aware of how I view my own body and know that any negative comments I may make will impact her opinions of her body and others. Like a lot of other parents, I can’t help but worry about how her self-image will develop.

    My biggest fear is how my ex-husband’s criticisms will influence her self-esteem. Now that we’re living apart, I can’t shield her from his stony silences or cutting words. I worry that he’ll watch everything she puts in her mouth like he did me, or pinch her waist to measure any extra inches. I’ve tried to address his vocal criticism of overweight people, or the people he finds “ugly,” and how that might affect how our daughter views herself. He was deeply offended, of course, that I implied that he would impact her negatively. He still doesn’t understand how his disparaging words hurt me, so how could he possibly understand his influence over a child? It’s an unsettling thought that her biggest challenge in developing positive body image may be her own father.

    But fostering healthy body image is only one of the parenting challenges ahead of me. I realize that it’s easy to get caught in the trap of ‘what if’ as a parent. I have years (I hope) before we have to talk about sexual intercourse, but the future is a minefield of ‘ifs.’ What if she’s kinky like me? When will the questions start about my bi-sexuality? Will she question the poly aspects of my life? The list of questions may be a long one, and if I think about it too much I start to hyperventilate.

    Someday it will be me perusing the search history on the computer and calling Nikki on the phone to yell about chastity belts and garage imprisonment for my daughter. At the moment, though, she’s wearing only a diaper and painting at her easel. The rest may happen or not. I love her regardless.

    Category sexuality | Tags: ,, | 2 Comments

  7. Want to See Our Ladygarden?

    May 4, 2012 by Heather Cole

    We’re guest blogging at The Ladygarden Project. Why should you care? Because all ladygardens are beautiful, and Anna’s philosophy about celebrating female sexuality is brilliant. Inspiring! Plus, you’ll get to read about Nikki and me cursing and fucking.

    Wait…we do that all the time? Like on a regular basis?

    Oh hush…just go and read it.  SHARING SEXUAL SHENANIGANS

    Then while I was tooling *snicker* around the blogosphere, I found Anna’s post at Eat the Damn Cake. Oh my lovelies, her acceptance of herself and her sexuality gives me goosebumps.  Do yourself and your body a favor and read SEX ON THE BATTLE FIELD.

    Happy Friday to y’all.

    xo Heather

    Category Announcements | Tags: ,, | No Comments

  8. Penis in Public

    May 3, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Anna’s fantastic piece of erotic fiction made me reflect fondly over my experiences of sex in public. Most of them were thoroughly enjoyable, hurried but intense. Except for the first time. I’m wincing at the memory. I cringe in sympathy for my high school self, when I was a bundle of hormones and inexperience. And the poor souls I experimented with! Dear boys, you have my heartfelt apologies. Except for you, Mike. I will forever hold a grudge about how crappy it was when you took my virginity. Two minutes? REALLY??? (He has since friended me on Facebook. I can say these things.)

    But I’m thinking specifically of a different boy. I was a senior and he was a junior. Brian was active in his youth group, the president of student council and an all-around nice guy. We shared a study hall, and he enjoyed scooting his desk next to mine under the guise of needing tutoring with his English Lit class. He was sweet and funny, and I knew that dating him would be a mistake. My mind had already fled the halls of high school and was permanently fixated on the summer before I entered college. I wasn’t good girlfriend material, and commitment was not part of my vocabulary.

    My parents had a maroon Dodge Caravan that was an eternal source of embarrassment for me in front of my girlfriends. However, it was spacious, a fact that I felt needed repeated testing. Brian was my willing accomplice, but his mother stayed at home and was extremely vigilant about her youngest son’s activities. I was not on the approved youth group list nor in parent-sanctioned after school activities. She knew where my mind was better than Brian did.

    I, on the other hand, lived in the middle of nowhere. My family tree consisted mostly of farmers, and growing up, I lived down a twisting, unpaved road that was popular with local teenagers who wanted to make out unmolested. (Until my grandpa appeared by their rear window toting his shotgun. But that’s a different story.) Both my parents worked, so we decided that if we were going to use the minivan to its fullest capabilities, then we should go to my house.

    I parked the minivan in the driveway an hour before my parents were due home. It was winter, and it was already dark. I was feeling adventurous and naughty (probably a permanent state at that age) and decided to give Brian a treat: a blowjob in a car! He sat in the back seat, and I knelt between his knees. To my credit, I applied myself vigorously to this task, and to his credit, he was very appreciative.

    Except…except…

    sigh

    I used my teeth. Not in a biting kind of way, but still…

    I can practically hear the shrinkage happening as you read those words. I’M SORRY!

    Here’s my one point of rationalization and then I’ll go back to apologizing: I didn’t know any better, and at the time, Brian said it felt amazing. We were both caught up in the scandal of oral sex a few feet from my front door, our hormones racing, out in public (as close as one gets to “public” in farm country) under a canopy of stars. He orgasmed minutes before my father drove up and parked behind us.

    I didn’t know it, but that night began a love affair with me in the outdoors. Not necessarily fucking outside, but the joy of me and another naked body exposed to the elements. There’s nothing quite like the tension between fear of discovery and lust. It can be a heady and intense combination, although they’re somewhat tainted with regret now. I will forever feel bad about hurting that boy’s penis, even though it was purely unintentional. Should I post a belated apology on his Facebook wall? Or is there some statute of limitations on penis apologies?

    Category Oral Sex | Tags: ,, | No Comments

  9. Guest Fiction: The Good Boy

    May 2, 2012 by Heather Cole

    I can’t remember how I stumbled upon Anna Sansom’s The Ladygarden Project, but once I discovered it I was hooked. She’s thoughtful about sex, a woman who explores sexuality with the philosophy that you can be sexy at any size. She hosts fascinating guest bloggers who cover a range of sexual topics, and I’ve found humor and have been touched by the experiences written there. When she agreed to guest blog for us here at Vagina Antics, I was thrilled when she volunteered to write fiction. Hurrah for us! After reading her story Nikki said, “damn, she’s GOOD.” But you can discover this for yourself. –Heather 

     

    The Good Boy

    I handed the plastic tray back to the air stewardess, most of the food untouched. The movie had finished, it would be a few hours before the next meal was served, and the lights in the cabin were being dimmed. I walked my feet up and down on the spot. If the plane did manage to stay up in the sky for the duration of the flight, and I survived this long-haul ordeal, the last thing I wanted was to arrive in Australia and promptly die of a DVT!

    Australia had been a lifelong dream and it had taken me until now, until the grand age of 43, to finally pluck up the courage to get on the plane. I wasn’t enjoying it one bit.

    “You could try and get some valium,” my friend Susie had suggested. “Or take a dirty book – that always takes my mind of the flight.”

    I’d gone for her second suggestion and pulled the book I’d borrowed from Susie out of the seat pocket. This had better work. The drone of the plane filled my head and every slight change in its sound signalled how close we flew to disaster.

    As I reached overhead to switch the reading light on, the young guy in the seat next to me did the same. The backs of our hands brushed each other for a second and we were both illuminated in the blue-white spotlights.

    He extracted his book and held it in his hands. I glanced across. I saw a well-read, leather-backed book and long, slender fingers. He moved his hand slightly and I read the title: The Bible.

    As I looked up I noticed that he had also been checking out my choice of reading. The cover of Master at Midnight featured a picture of a woman, head thrown back, neck exposed, with a man’s hand entwined in her hair. I refused to feel embarrassed. This guy was simply a stranger on a plane, in another eight hours we would arrive in Sydney and I’d never see him again. I opened my book and started to read.

    I hadn’t even got past chapter one when the plane started falling. It suddenly dropped, bumped us in our seats, and then rose again as we hit what the pilot called “a spot of turbulence”. I clutched my book and squeezed my eyes shut. “Please god,” I muttered.

    “Are you praying?” His voice was warm and rounded with an upward, Australian inflection.

    I opened my eyes. “I’m scared of flying,” I admitted.

    “Do you want to hold my hand?” I nodded and his smooth fingers wrapped around my own. The plane stopped bumping. “Better?”

    “Thank you,” I tried to draw my hand away but he added his other hand over the top, now clasping mine gently.

    “Reading helps,” he said motioning to the discarded books in both our laps. “I’ve done this flight a lot, it’s best to find something to distract you.”

    “Thank you,” I repeated and he released my hand. We picked up our books again, he opened his but I just help mine in my lap. He looked serene and calm as he read on through the passages of Corinthians. A theology student? I wondered. He didn’t look much older than 21 or 22 and, even in the unflattering, artificial light of the cabin, I could see he was boyishly handsome.

    The plane started lurching again and I automatically grabbed at his hand. He held it tightly and, with his free hand, switched off both our overhead lights. “I know something that helps,” he told me.

    “Please,” I told him, “Oh lord, just make it stop.”

    His free hand worked under the blanket that was covering my lap and I felt his thumb rub firmly over the top of my thigh. “Just focus on my hand,” he whispered.

    I pulled my concentration away from the bouncing plane and honed in on the sensation of a stranger’s touch. His thumb moved closer and closer to my groin in tight circles. I was still grasping his other hand and felt an invisible line connecting our bodies. As long as he keeps touching me, we’ll be safe. It was an irrational thought, but it was all I had.

    His thumb reached my mound and kept on circling. I shifted in my seat to open my thighs and allow him to continue his journey. The circles moved down, working a path along the length of my pussy lips and back up again. The pressure was consistent and he kept to a steady pace. It was hypnotic.

    I wriggled a little further down into my seat and felt his thumb make contact with my clit. The layers of fabric between his touch and my flesh were beginning to annoy me. I wanted him to touch me. As if reading my mind, his fingers worked open the button on my jeans and deftly slid the zip down. Now his fingers walked a path underneath the elastic of my knickers and slipped smoothly into the well of moisture he’d created. He stroked me gently and my clit grew hot and swollen.

    He soothed and stroked over and over, up and down, and round and round. Every now and then he dipped a finger inside me – just one slender finger dipping in and stroking up.

    He held me in this place of languid bliss, making no effort to hurry me to orgasm.

    My entire being was poised under his fingertips as he caressed my clit and lips. I relaxed under his touch while my body responded; I grew harder and slicker.

    Another dip inside me, a sweep up and over my clit, and I felt my orgasm begin to release. With each touch my body rose higher and higher until I was flying.

    He cupped his hand over my cunt and whispered, “It’s okay now.”

    © Anna Sansom

     

    Anna Sansom is on a mission to encourage and support women to enjoy and celebrate their bodies and sex! She blogs at The Ladygarden Project – sharing entertaining and inspiring stories, videos and experiences by herself and other ‘ladygardeners’. And also runs Sexy at Any Size – a website and workshop dedicated to helping women feel sexy and enjoy their bodies whatever their size and shape. She has been published in an erotic short story anthology by Alyson Books and is currently finishing her first erotic novel.

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