Sooner or later

Sooner or later, everyone with whom I share a relationship with a sexual aspect (talk sex with, have sex with, or reads my writings) asks me:
Are you a sub (or dom)?
I know there are people who are strictly dom or sub, but that sort of thing doesn't work for me.
For me, sex is almost always expressing some part of the relationship, or emotional context. Whether I'm making love with a girlfriend, fooling around with a 'friend with benefits' or pinning you against the wall, there's a reason our bodies are in contact, a reason you are touching me.

Which isn't to say that I'm always submissive to a particular person, or dominant to another, or just something else. Sometimes, whatever 'mode' I'm in, its only an expression of what I'm feeling about you, me, us right then and there.

I guess the best metaphor would be a discussion. Sometimes, its a topic I defer to the other person on, sometimes its something I know I know best, and sometimes its a topic I can't handle being wrong about (we all have things we don't talk about particularly rationally).

Or maybe...maybe right there, when I'm nowhere else but with you, when I let go of myself and give in to the moment, when we can learn secret things about each other, we are having a relationship as real, right then, as any other.

And maybe, just maybe, thats why you are there.

Read my flesh. I'll hear your sweat.

Rainy crappy

I love rain, I really do.
In the summer.
In the spring.
In the fall.
But notnotnot in the winter.
Every other time of the year, rain is a sensual event.
Raindrops are fingers and toungetips, and wet clothes cling like a hungry girl.
But in winter, rain is weight, and cold, and jagged edge.
Without fire.

me

and one of me
I feel beautiful in this one
like when she touched the back of my thigh
like just before she kissed me
like the look in her eyes as she knelt at my feet
and my nails drew upon her

poopie

hmmm...my background isn't quite right, now. I'd love to figure out how to change it so that the images never went over the background face.
help?

pics

So I live for photoshop. Below are a bunch of images I liked...flesh and lip and hair and mmmmm
first, the image I found, then my edits. I think some came out really well.
Hope you like!!

Dancing

It had been a long time since I was single, and even longer since I was alone on Christmas Eve.

“Jessi, this isn't working. I just need someone more...adult,”David had said, 4 weeks ago.

I thought about crying. Actually, I did cry, but not much. I agreed with him.

Not in that catty 'yeah, you sure fucking do' kind of way, but more in a 'You know, you are right, lets call it a wash' kind of way.

The thing is, we were both in our mid-thirties, both professional, both responsible, but, to be honest, he was a grown-up. And when I met someone new, they just assumed I was 25.

Its not a looks thing, though I have done a decent job with these curves of mine. Its an attitude, a way of looking at life.

I suppose I'll never grow up, not in the way David means, at least.

But thats OK.

But this wee lass was all on her own for the holiday (you couldn't have paid me to go home and deal with the family and THEIR reaction to the breakup).

To be honest, I just felt good. A twenty minute crying bout and then, well, I was happy. I could live my life again. Claire, my daughter from a much earlier relationship, had just gone back to her first semester at college so I was alone in the townhouse. I broke out the bottle of bourbon and had a couple of drinks, and then I knew what to do.

“Melissa, what are you doing tonight?” I whispered conspiratorially into my cell phone.

She giggled. “Nothing. Jerry took the overnight shift to watch the servers.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Pervert.”

We laughed, it was an old joke.

“Get decked out. We're going to Lansdown Street. Dancing until they kick us out. Digweed is spinning.”

“You are a VERY bad girl. I call Rachel and we'll pick you up in at 10:00.”

“I'll be waiting with bells on!”

And so it began. We went out every weekend night for three weeks. Just us, no boys allowed.

I felt a little bad about that, though I think Rach and Melissa kind of enjoyed it too. Men, boys, don't understand that dancing looks sexual, but its more sensual, not a good hard fucking, more like just touching before the first kiss. I don't know if that makes any sense, but thats how I describe it. And, well, the boys would have just been trying to get Rachel or Mel to come home, or at least to the car.

Not that there's anything wrong with that at all.

And me? I was going out even more often. This was a slow time at work, so I didn't have to be much more than conscious to get through. And every night I saw these two amazing girls. A redhead who glowed in the dark and her friend who had hair so black she must have dyed it or been part Asian. I was pretty sure they were too young to be in a 21+ club, but, then again, so were half the people here. Not that many people were drinking alcohol anyways, doesn't mix very well with Ecstasy.

We began to notice each other, just smile and wink, and sometimes they'd come over and dance with me for a while.

I loved that. I was straight, but the intimacy of dancing with these two, it was like I had made two new best friends. Our hands roamed, hips gyrated, and we laughed.

Each night they'd blow me a kiss as they left.

This was exactly where I needed to be. A sort of recess from the real world.

But now it was Xmas eve, and, of course, Rachel and Mel were busy, and Claire was spending the holiday with her father.

I went to the club's website, expecting to see that it was closed.

I should never have worried. In fact, they were staying open late and had an amazing lineup of Djs. I'm pretty sure I was listening to one of them the night I got pregnant with Claire.

I let that thought roll around in my head for a bit.

Then into the tub with a drink.

I shaved my legs, and then my fingers started to wander, the hot water making my skin so sensitive and aware. Running slowly up my thighs and hips, along my ribs. I bit my lower lip as they cupped my breasts, lifting slightly so the cool air could caress my nipples, now hard and eager.

I became detached from my hands, as if someone else was touching me.

I came loudly, as if I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

I spend a few lazy moments suckling on my salty fingers and finishing my drink.

Finally, I stepped from the bath, and looked at myself in the mirror.

I wasn't obsessive about exercising, but I used the stairmaster pretty regularly and it showed.

My legs were curvy but firm, and I knew from experience that I could crush the air out of someone between my thighs. My breasts were soft and luscious, as I've been told. A perfect, round c-cup, a stray lock of my auburn hair curling around on nipple. My tummy wasn't quite flat, and my ass was a bit big, but I was 35, what can you do? And, really, if my body had been perfect, I still would have found SOMETHING wrong.

It wasn't too bad outside that night, just a little chilly, so I put on a pair of black pantyhose that had little patterns that show up only in black-light. And no panties. Whats the point?

I grabbed a pretty, black babydoll top, with a nice bit of support worked in, and a purple mini-skirt slit so far up one side that David never let me wear it out. But it moved with me when I danced like a partner.

Then a pair of chunky black heels finished it out.

I simply could not dance on those spindly 3-inch heels some girls wore.

In the mirror I couldn't decide what to wear for make-up.

I giggled as I remembered the glittery eye-shadow and lipstick I bought that matched to color of the skirt perfectly.

I gave myself a once over in the mirror.

“Slut.” I whispered with a smile.

Then I gave myself a kiss in the glass, leaving a purple pair of lips.

The taxi was honking its horn.

I was surprised to find that there was actually a bit of a line to get in. Looking around at all the young flesh, it looked like some students just couldn't go home for the holiday. The Boston/Cambridge area gets a lot of students from all over the world. And with a lot of money.

Inside, I let the warmth wrap around me as I took it all in, the fog, the lights, the misters. No real music yet, it was still early.

And a long night ahead.

Surprisingly, I saw my two new 'friends' at a small table.

More surprisingly, when the redhead saw me and smiled and waved me over, I nearly blushed.

“Hi there, stranger!” Black-hair said.

“Hi yourself!” I smiled back.

“Come here often?” said Red.

We laughed.

I could tell from they way their eyes darted about that they were both rolling on E.

“You two look like you are having a good time.” I winked.

“Why else would we be here? Why else would you be here? I'm Moira,” Red introduced herself, “and this is Denise.” She extended her hand, which I took. It was warm and soft and she turned my hand, wrist up and placed a kiss on my pulse.

I must have gasped.

I know I shivered.

They laughed.

“Bad, bad babygirl!” I laughed with them.

“If thats 'bad' to you, then its a good thing you and your boyfriend broke up when you did,” Denise said.

“Wait, what? Did I tell you about that? I don't...”

“Nah, but for a woman like you, showing up here suddenly all the time? What else could it be?”

“Pretty smart for a kid, aren't you?”

All three of us shared a smile.

“Pretty Mommy isn't going to tell us her name, I think.” from Denise.

They both scowled at me.

“Oh jeez, sorry, I'm Jessica...everyone calls me Jessi.”

“We're you a clubkid from back in the day?”

“Oh my fucking god, know how to make a girl feel old, don't you, Denise? But yeah, some. I was never one of the serious ravers, but I never seemed to get it out of my system, I just pushed it all aside for a few years.”

I watched with interest as Moira took a deep, shuddering breath, a wave of E rippling through her.

“God, I remember that.”

“We've got more, if you want. You really should, the music will be like hands all over you, dancing with you.”

I remembered vividly. I felt the inside of my thigh quiver, my heart race just a bit, and a metallic taste came to my mouth.

“No...thanks but there may be some things I really am too old for.”

“Poor Mommy Jessica, no treats for her.”

“I can't imagine why she doesn't want to feel like...” Moira ran a fingernail down Denise's bare spine. The dark haired girl's mouth opened into a perfect 'O', held without breath, before half collapsing onto the table.

“Like this.”

My mouth was watering. I almost felt that fingernail on my back.

“This is what being young can be, Mommy Jessica. Don't you want to be here with us?”

I was feeling a little dizzy, overwhelmed at how strong the sensations were just from memory.

I couldn't believe I was giving in to peer pressure from girls my daughter's age.

I couldn't believe I whispered “Yes.”

It felt good to give in. Like I could now relax. It would all be OK.

My eyelids drooped as Denise placed the pill on my tounge and I swallowed with a sip of water.

“Be careful, Mommy Jessica, its very strong, and comes on very fast.”

My eyes closed, a “Yesss,” slithered from my lips.

They talked to me, but I was just lost in the moment of surrendering to myself, to who I wanted to be.

They asked me about Claire, about my other friends, about my club days.

Then I eased into the evening.

And they noticed as I came back to the here and now.

“We were getting a little worried there for a moment, we thought we'd have to kiss you to wake you up from your daze.”

We laughed.

“Kind of a flashback, I guess. Us oldtimers can get a little senile, too. But I'm here with you now.”

I could start to feel the drug coursing through me. I couldn't help but wonder if I was too old to make a booty-call to an ex.

The music started to ramp up.

And so did we. In a moment we were on the dancefloor.

Denise was dancing in front of me, our bodies were familiar after so many nights. We moved together as we had before. A very pretty boy, who showed potential, was staring at us.

I felt the bass moving all through me, I lived for the deep rhythmic sounds. The music grabbed my hips and tossed me about. It parted my thighs like a powerful lover before insertion. It pulled my hair with strength and delight.

Fingers in my mane.

I knew they were Moira's.

She was behind me, moving me, just as Denise was before me, guiding me.

Moira's hand moved down my side, then to my tummy. I could feel her pelvis against my behind. I could feel her strength.

The drug was electric. This was what it wanted.

I felt her fingers shape around the underside of my breast.

But, this was not what I wanted.

I started to twist away, but Denise moved closer, keeping me.

“Please...I'm not...” I whimpered.

“Yes, you are,” came Moira's whispered reply in my ear. Her lips barely touching my skin.

I'd been too playful. Given off the wrong signals.

The drug sang in my blood as fingernails ran along my outer thigh, putting runs in my pantyhose.

Adrenaline hit me.

I struggled more, gave one final twist of my body, but almost fell to my knees when teeth touched my neck.

I felt tears on my cheeks as their hands moved over me.

The pure need of the Ecstasy mixed with fight or flight.

I died as fingers pressed through the crotch of my pantyhose.

I lost to them, my hips grinding down.

My back arching, head back to scream as my orgasm crashed over me, only to have lips on mine, my voice swallowed into a pretty girl's mouth.

Where I wanted to be.

Between them, cunt wet and hungry, lost and drowning.

I couldn't tell how long we were there.

I just remember more...more...

Then Moira whispering in my ear, “We've chosen you, Mommy Jessica. Give in, and be with us.”

“I...I don't understand.”

“Do anything you want with us. Follow need and hunger. Follow flesh. With us. Our flesh.”

“I...”

“You must.”

I surrendered, again.

“I do.”

“Yes, Mommy Jessica. You do.”

To my Babygirls.

I awoke

I awoke to her weight on me, my wrists pinned
the noise of the party downstairs
her mouth swallowed my gasps, my feeble protests
her skirt rose against my leg and I felt wet cunt on my flesh
her thigh grinding against my own heat, instantly aroused
-she's always owned me
-her scent always on my skin
relentless
needful and undeniable
my first orgasm makes me dizzy
makes my sweat cold
she joins me in the second
her teeth deep in my neck
I go grey and wake with her stocking tied around my neck
and hear her laughter at the party downstairs

Hi There!

So....this isn't my first blog, but it is my first SECRET blog. I dunno, I just felt like I wanted to be able to write what I wanted, talk about what I wanted without worrying about anyone I know reading it.
Does that make me a coward?
I don't think so. I think that we interact with people in different ways, in different structures.
Sometimes you need to be free of those structures.
That's what this place is for me.
I expect to be open and explicit and hold nothing back.
Its cheaper than therapy ;)

Hello lovely things

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