Greedy P

So I’m reading the other night. It was either some doctoral thesis or the Iliad by Homer and I come across this literary gem:

He increased the stroke of his cock, sliding quickly out and slowly back into her greedy pussy.

Huh?

This book was obviously targeted at us women and from a marketing perspective I just had to ask:

Should we really be naming the female parts after the one of the 7 Deadly Sins?

What’s next?

Apparently it was just too much effort for her slothful nipples to become aroused under his skillful touch.

Of course describing “down there” has also been a challenge for some romance authors.

Back in the day it was all about "the delicate pink flowered petals of her dewy womanhood" and "his engorged manroot."

There was a lot of gardening going in back then and as an impressionable teen who had not yet experienced the “rock hard evidence of his desire” in person, it kind of freaked me out.

Some time it still bothers me to go into Earl May.

I keep thinking I'll run into an engorged manroot in aisle 5

P.S. My all time least favorite is still “her sopping wet hole.” Stunningly unromantic. It does not get me hot it only reminds me I need to call Roto Rooter in the morning about possible water problem in the basement.

Terrific Tush Tuesday

Guess he's playing a game of hide and go seek.

If he's "it", who's going to put any effort into hiding?:)

Pleasure Before Business

Bare. Assed. Naked.

Are there three more delicious words in the English language?

That’s the question I ponder as you pad off to the shower, completely oblivious to the fact I’m ogling your beautiful bare body. So lean and athletic as if chiseled from the finest marble by Michelangelo himself.

Really darling, your beautiful soul may have won my heart, but the rest of you is simply too yummy to ignore.

I love those swimmer’s shoulders—broad, strong and well defined tapering down to a slim waist and hips.

And that derriere.

Absolute perfection.

Seriously baby, you have the most amazing tush. Some women prefer soulful eyes, or a radiant smile. I always had a thing for fine male behind. And yours is particularly fine.

So deliciously round and high and squeezable.

And noticed.

My girlfriends are always telling me how hot you look in your faded 501’s. I just smile and tell them you look even better out of them.

Oh is my baby blushing?

Yes darling, the topic of bare assed boyfriends actually comes up over cinnamon spiced lattes.

Our girl talk tends to be, well, a bit eclectic.

Of course if looking is great, touching is even better.

I especially love how that bottom fits so perfectly in my hands as you thrust into me. Sinking my nails into your firm flesh as I pull you deeper in my wet heat, thrust after thrust. The in and out, in and out, perfectly matching the waves of my climax.

Mmmm baby... Our bedroom’s suddenly a bit warm and the sound of shower spray stirs more erotic images within me.

Like sandalwood soap and warm water sluicing over your sexy body. That cock plumping impressively as your soapy hand glides up and down its length.

Snuggling into feather pillows, I cup my ample breasts, my fingers gently pinching the rosy peaks, tugging them to tightness. My clit begins to pulse as I brush over my smooth mound, a single finger teasing just enough so I’m slick and hot and ready when you return.

I bite my lip and smile. We’re definitely going to be late for work today.

Maybe it's the warmth of the bed or the rhythmic motion of my hand but my eyelids become heavy and I drift off.

Just for a minute. Unfortunately you're nowhere to be found when I awake. What, no soulful kiss from Prince Charming to awaken his true love?

Damn.

Sleeping Beauty is soooo not happy.

The week's been a whirlwind of late night meetings, deadlines, text messages and absolutely NO sex. Not even a quickie in the shower.

Sure, scorching the sheets is great, but what I really miss is the spiritual connection we have.
You’re so in touch with the nuances of my mind and body. So artistic in your lovemaking. Every time's a new discovery of my inner self and a beautiful new link between us.

God, I so wanted you inside me this morning.

And you duck out to get to the office early?

Hmmmm. Seems Prince Charming's been a rather naughty boy.

I smile, licking my full lips as I reach for my iPhone.

My text is terse. Blackstone Hotel. 1pm. Don't be late.

Checking into our favorite suite, the silk wisp of my panties is already damp with anticipation.

I want you.

Now.

But you're late. You're always late. Popping a Godiva truffle into my mouth, I'm seriously debating if men can be replaced by chocolate when I finally hear a knock on the door.

One glance through the peephole and a sensual warmth settles between my thighs. That charcoal grey suit. Those soft brown eyes and those full, oh-so-bitable lips. You my gorgeous man, are sex on a stick.

Irritation's replaced by abject lust.

Your paisley tie is yanked into the suite, our mouths meeting in a kiss that’s primal and demanding. Feasting on your bottom lip as if it’s a sweet, succulent peach, I run a French manicured nail down the seam of your zipper and I’m rewarded with the feel of that hot, hard cock jumping to attention

“You’re late."

"Traffic--" you sputter.

"Save it," I growl playfully feeling my inner tigress coming to life, crouched in the tall grass, sharpening my claws.

Then I pounce.

Buttons fly. The fine broadcloth in tatters as I split your shirt down the middle, baring your muscular chest to me. It’s masculine perfection and I could come just by licking it. Instead I settle for your soft groans as sharp teeth bite and suck and scrape until your nipples are wet, swollen and totally aroused.

Just like me.

“I love you baby but you’ve been a very, very, bad boy,” I scold, gently pushing you to your knees. My clichéd words massage your sex, making your cock swell and twitch in anticipation.

“Leaving me all alone in that big cold bed. You’re my personal plaything sweetheart and I wanted you to fuck me with that amazing cock this morning, but you skipped out early to the office instead?”

“Is that how you treat your wonderful, loving mistress?”

Some male blather fills the room. It’s an apology and it’s adorable but I’m not the least bit interested.

A finger on your lips gently silences you. There are far better uses for your mouth.

“Less talking, more licking slave boy,” I tease straddling your handsome face. “It’s time to atone for your sins and forgiveness begins with your tongue.”

“Now get to it.”

There's a muffled and obedient “Yes ma'am,” as the silk of my panties rubs across your chin, my sweet mound pressing into your lips. The wetness of panties and tongue collide, sending an erotic charge through us both. Catching the elastic edge in your teeth, you tug the silken wisp down my long sleek legs. Your breath, like your tongue, is hot and moist as you lap at the slick folds of my pussy, like a cat feasting on milk and honey.

“That… feels… so… good. Oh ... God! That’s it baby, right there. Show mistress how sorry you are.” Pushing against your face, I savor the heavenly feel of your tongue as it captures my clit.

Swirling, Licking. Probing.

Apparently you’re very sorry.

My breathing becomes ragged, my orgasm quickly building."Mmmmm. Good boy… Oh, yes...yes. Make your mistress come. Oh yes! God. Yes, yes, yes!"My pussy contracts tightly around your talented tongue. Waves of sheer bliss wash over me and I come, hugging you between my legs, drowning you in my orgasm. You continue slowly licking my lips, bringing me back down to earth down gently, lovingly.

Later, my legs wobbly, we bask in the afterglow on the sofa. I love that you’re a snuggler. Wrapped in the cocoon of your muscular arms I feel safe and feminine and cherished. There’s a reconnection as my soul’s nourished with your words of love and devotion.

Well that and a few a chocolate covered strawberries.

The sexual tension soon rekindles, both of us wanting our little game to continue as I push you down to the floor.

Eager hands rummage your pockets.

Your Blackberry, your keys, your wallet.

All mine.

“You won’t need these stud,” I tell you matter-of-factly. “You can fuck and you can drink champagne. Those are your two career options the rest of the afternoon. “And,” I add with mischievous smile, “If you’re a very good slave boy, I might just let you come.”

I give you a sweet kiss and playfully tap you nose. There’s was a metallic clanking as one bracelet is snapped around your wrist and the other to the sofa leg.

“I’m going to see the concierge about dinner reservations. I love you baby,” I blow you a kiss, wiggling my pert little ass at you on the way out the door.

I know you’re smiling.

It’s so easy. Just lift up the leg of the sofa and be free. The key’s on the coffee table.

Be back at work in 20 minutes.

Do another deal. Make some more money.

That’s the whole point isn’t it? You could easily go back to your world. One of command, of being in charge, of dominance.

You could.

But you won’t.

Terrific Tush Tuesday

The room is silent except for a sigh.

A sigh of blissful male contentment as your back is bathed in melted Belgian warmth.

Cocoa blends with French vanilla, the aroma enticing, the candlelight flickering across the muscular planes of your body.

Your breathing becomes ragged as you anticipate my touch, but I make you wait.

And wait.

Finally a manicured fingertip begins to swirl heart shaped designs onto your bare skin. You’re the perfect blank canvas for my erotic chef-d'oeuvre and I take my time. My tongue traces the outlines of each heart, blending and tasting them as my lips trail chocolate kisses down your spine.

You lurch forward, your cock pressing urgently into the bed as more carnal confection is drizzled over the curve of your behind.

Like a kitten eying a fresh bowl of cream, I survey my feast. Then I pounce. Lapping the sweetness off one taut cheek and then the other as you begin to writhe beneath me. When the cream runs dry, I still nip hungrily at your firm flesh.

I want more.

Much more.

Tight, chocolate slicked nipples slide across your back. My breath is hot in your ear as I reach for the bowl again and gently whisper,

“Time to turn over baby.”


You don’t have to be Picasso to have fun with body paints. Yes it’s a bit messy but also very fun and erotic. You can leave little messages or designs on your lover’s body. Edible paints are available as well. Here’s more info.

P.S Experts say it best to keep the paints on the outside of the body. Still fun though:)