Monthly Archives: November 2013

Press Play

You glance over your shoulder as you click play.  Your earbuds nestled in your ears, the quiet dark of your living room surrounding you.  She’s asleep upstairs.  She turned in hours ago, but your guilty conscience keeps you glancing back at the staircase, ever vigilant even though she wouldn’t be able to see the screen from her vantage point.

You exhale softly as the recording begins, not even realizing you were holding your breath in the first place.  You laugh quietly at yourself.  Your palms are slightly clammy and your breathing is quick and shallow.  You feel like a teenager sneaking a peek in your dad’s Hustler magazines.  You feel naughty, excited, guilty, horny.  And you love every second of it.

Your jaw falls open when you hear my voice.  It is deep, sultry, my words breathless because I had been teasing myself for over 20 minutes before I started recording.  I tell you that I am pinching my nipples into stiff little peaks and you can tell by the tension of my voice the exact moment when my fingers tighten on my hard buds.  As my voice narrates, my hands find their way down my stomach, to the sensitive skin on my inner thighs.  I cut myself off, my words turning to gasps of pleasure as I rake my nails up my thighs.  I am quickly losing my words, but I keep myself together enough to tell you how incredibly wet I am growing.

Then you hear it.

The wet, sticky sound of my sinfully aroused pussy.  As I flick my fingers over my clit and delve into my honeypot, my gasps turn to moans, my words growing dirtier by the second.

You can barely breathe, terrified to miss even a second of the experience.  Without even realizing it, your hand has found your lap, freed your swollen cock, and started stroking it in rhythm with me.  As my fingers tease and plunge, your mouth waters at the thought of my drenched pussy.  There is absolutely no mistaking the sensual deluge when I plunge the vibrator in.  It hums happily, my pussy slurping away with each thrust, my voice growing louder as I beg to be fucked senseless.

You would give anything in that moment to be wedged between my thighs, slamming your cock into me.  But instead you are home in your living room, no longer glancing at the stairs, cock in hand and head back as you mercilessly jerk yourself off to the sound of me getting off hard.

You can hear the orgasm coming.  You hear the strain in my voice, the tenseness of my body, the gasps and moans, the dirty, dirty words that accompany those dirty sounds.  You can barely hold off and as I scream out in pleasure, gushing fluid over my blanket, you fill your palm with cum.

You slump back in your chair and listen to me as I laugh delightedly.  We catch our breath together and the last sound you hear before my sexy voice bids you goodnight, is the tight, sucking sound of my vibrator being pulled from my juicy hole.



Filed under Erotica

Morning Kiss

I emailed him back almost immediately when I read his request.  A morning meeting at my place? I couldn’t think of a better way to start my day than with strong arms around me and hot lips pressed passionately to my skin.  Only a fool would say no to that kind of invitation.  And I am no fool.

I prepared carefully, shaving in the shower, running my hands over my legs, testing the silky factor of my skin and making sure it was as perfect as possible.  I wanted my skin to unhinge him.  To make him want, no, need to touch more.  I scented my body, a light floral scent that blended well with my natural smell.  As I went about my ablutions, my clit tingled like an antenna receiving a distant signal.  I watched the minutes tick by, marveling at my own chutzpah.  I barely know this guy.  By the end of our morning tryst, I will know him far better.

He arrived a bit late, having gotten lost and sending me an apologetic text.  He was chilled from the cold November air.  He took off his coat and settled himself, watching with amusement as I fumbled nervously with ice trays, trying to fix him a drink.  He laughed at me and I laughed at myself. How could I not? I was all thumbs just from the intense stare of his icy blue gaze – he hadn’t even touched me yet.

He took his drink and settled comfortably on my sofa, all long legs and confidence.  I prayed I looked cooler than I felt.  I was like a teenage girl on prom night.  And like prom night, I took a deep breath and dove right in.  I sat next to him and immediately he reached out for me.  There would be no time wasted with small talk.  He was there to press his lips against me, to taste my mouth and touch my body, and he was not going to wait for my girlish shyness to subside.  Rather than let my nerves settle on their own, he kissed me senseless instead.

When was the last time you just sat and kissed someone?  Not kissing as means toward fucking, but kissing for the sake of connecting intimately with another person? I am a big fan of the kiss.  A dying art, and something that when done skillfully, will vault a man to the top of my fuckable list.  He was skillful.  He absolutely vaulted.

I had to pull myself back more than once. Pull hard on the reins of my desire to keep myself from tearing off his clothes and mounting him like a thoroughbred about to be put through his paces.  At one point, his large hand was lingering above my breast, teasing the soft skin of my chest where it peeked out of my blouse.  I tried to hold back.  I really did.  But I broke down with a moan, grasping his hand and sliding it down lower, filling his palm with my breast.  He smiled at that.  By that point he knew enough of me to recognize the hunger I kept barely in check.

He paused, pulling away from me with a breathless whoosh of air and a mischievous grin.  He reached for his drink, eyes alight with a hunger of his own.  When he returned to my mouth his tongue was cold from the ice in his drink and I took great pleasure in warming it again.  As I licked and kissed his mouth, it was all I could do not to demand that cold mouth on my nipples.  Oh god.  I wanted to fuck him so badly it hurt.

He went down on his knees, spreading my legs and wrapping his arms around my torso, lifting me to his kiss.  I heard my pulse pounding in my ears and I pressed my breasts eagerly into his chest, my legs wrapping instinctively around his middle.  My hands roamed his back, taking in the sheer size of him, wondering what he would feel like, naked and buried balls-deep inside of me.  My pussy was drenched by this point.  He pressed his lips to the skin at the base of my throat, his hands sliding up the legs of my jeans.  He groaned into my chest as his fingers grazed the silky softness of my calves.  I smiled at the ceiling, a jolt of sensual victory that went straight to my dripping cunt.

He started pulling away at 7:30, telling me he needed to get to work.  But he kept coming back for more.  Another kiss led to another.  His hands roaming my body, still not touching the primal parts of me I knew he craved the most.  It was sweet torture and we were happy, captive participants.

As he took his last kisses, drinking in my mouth like a fine wine, he told me the next time he came over, he wanted to push me against the wall and frisk me.  His voice was husky as he told me how much it turned him on to think of touching me wherever and however he wanted.  I readily agreed.  Then he surprised me.  “Tonight when you are lying in bed,” he said thickly as he pressed kisses to my neck, “I want you to think about me frisking you, and I want you to touch yourself.”  I don’t even know if I said yes.  I think I just groaned a little and nodded.  It was enough for him.  He left for work late and smiling, adjusting his jeans as he walked out the door.

I came like a freight train on downhill track that night, shuddering and soaking the blanket beneath me as I thought of his hands on my most intimate parts.

I can’t wait until he visits me again.



Filed under Erotica

Question Mark

Pressed together, pulled apart

Navigating the emotional landmines.

Body wet and shrieking

Finding faith in the gray between.

A sweet dance of insanity.

Masturbation with a question mark.

Drenched and untied
No salt left inside
Blurred vision, perspective askew

Skin tingling
saline mingling
For you.

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Final Act of Wistful Sin

Author’s note:  I wrote this back on March 1, 2013, when one of my favorite bloggers, The Wistful Sinner, deleted his blog.  I had enjoyed many hours of wet abandon in front of my computer on his blog site, and I felt that I owed him some kind of tribute.  So I wrote out my own little fantasy of meeting him in person.  I never did meet him, but I am pretty sure had I done so, the result would have been a wet, gushy mess and a Pussy that purred for weeks afterward.  🙂  I suggest you check out his blog.  He doesn’t post as often as he used to, but the man still knows how to reach down and stroke your clit with his words.


I wasn’t sure you would agree to meet me, but you did.  As I strolled along the paved path that wound through the park, I was glad I wore a coat. The air had a chill to it that matched the feeling in my belly.  Icy dread mixed with anticipation.  I figured I could count on you, as I always did, to add the heat.

I saw your figure on the park bench and my heart began to beat faster in my chest.  This was nuts, but there was no going back now.  You were focused on the phone in your hand, intently staring down and did not see me approaching.  Whatever you read was making you smile.  A lascivious grin, I could well imagine the nature of the story.

“Sinner?” I asked, coming to stop a few feet from the bench.

Your head snapped up and the grin grew wider. “CJ.” It was a statement, not a question. Your voice was mellifluous, flowing over me like warm honey.  You rose and extended your hand, slipping you phone into your other pocket. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Slight emphasis on the word pleasure, as though your mouth caressed the word as it passed over your lips.

“I brought you a present,” I smiled, reaching out and stuffing my black thong into your coat pocket.  They were still warm from my body heat. Warm and damp.  “A memento for later.”

You raised a brow, the grin widening by another fraction. “Excellent.”  You replied.

I suddenly felt awkward as I watched your eyes rake me from head to toe.  I resisted the urge to shift my weight from one foot to another.  “Totally fuckable.” You declared with a glint in your eye.  I felt my thighs clamp together under your gaze.

Before I could answer, you stepped forward and took my hand.  “Come with me.”

I walked beside you, our hands clasped together as you led us down the path a few yards.  As I held your strong, warm hand, I couldn’t help but wonder what that hand would feel like cupping my…

“This way.” You said, showing me a small, worn footpath off to the left of the paved walkway.

I walked in front of you my eyes on the path, your eyes on the firm curves of my ass.  The footpath led past a copse of trees and shrubbery.  As we passed the line of tall, leafy shrubs, there was a clearing with one lone, ancient oak in the center.  I stopped momentarily, not sure where to go.  The firm pressure of your palm against my low back propelled me forward, toward the oak tree.  As I walked your hand stayed on the small of my back for a moment before dipping lower and running over my ass cheek.  “Fantastic.” Came your low voice from just behind me.

I felt your hands on my shoulders gripping me and turning me to face you.  The next thing I knew, your mouth had found mine, our lips beginning a sensual dance that our bodies would soon emulate.  The hard bark of the oak was pressing against my back, the hard planes of your body against my front.

Your hands undid the tie on my coat, pushing it off my shoulders and to the ground.  The cold air caused an immediate reaction in my nipples.  Well okay, maybe the cold didn’t cause them to harden into stiff peaks.  But it sounded good.  Your fingers traced me, pinching me through my shirt as you caught my gasp in your mouth.  Your tongue slid between my open lips, tasting me as your hands undid the buttons on my shirt.  Your mouth was hot against my skin, the lace of my bra not posing much barrier to the hungry nipping of your teeth.

My fingers wound into your thick hair, nails raking against your scalp as the first of a hundred moans of pleasure escaped my lips.  I felt your free hand sliding over my hips, pushing up my skirt.  “Oh God, yes.  Sinner, please.”  I opened my thighs, inviting you to taste me.  You went down on your knees in the dirt, pushing my skirt up over my hips and spreading my thighs aggressively. Your tongue traced me, teasing my inner thigh before lapping at my dripping slit.

I cried out at the feel of your mouth, hot and hungry against me.  Pushing my pussy against you, grinding my hips as the filthy words began to flow almost as fast as my honeyed juices.  I could hear you groan, feel your mouth taking me in, sucking on my clit before plunging your tongue into me.  Your fingers were not far behind, stroking and delving my softness until I was bucking against you, swearing to the gods as my orgasm washed over both of us.  You lapped it up, licking me thoroughly before standing up.

I grabbed you then, pulling you against me and kissing you hard, tasting my own essence on your mouth, smearing me on both our faces.  My hand went to the front of your pants where your hard cock was straining to be let out of its cage. I tugged open your belt, unzipped you and freed your beast in one swift motion.  As I wrapped my fingers around you and squeezed, you groaned and braced your hands on either side of my head.  “Oh fuck, CJ!”  You exclaimed as my fingers traced and teased you before my warm hand surrounded you again, squeezing.

You grabbed me by the hips, lifting me up and burying your cock in me in one hard stroke that left us both making animal sounds.  You thrust hard, your cock taking up substantial residence in the hot confines of my body.  More moisture flowed as you pressed yourself into me.  I wrapped my legs around you, moaning into your ear, urging you on.  You fucked me thoroughly, with utter command.  Just as I thought you would.  The feel of you filling me was almost more than I could bear, the orgasm threatening to reduce me completely.  You wound a hand into my hair, the dark color between your fingers a stark contrast to your skin.

I thrust against you, using the tree for leverage to propel my hips up and forward against you.  I could feel your own orgasm building, just as surely as I could see the fire of the beast in your eyes.  I lost myself in that moment, ignoring the scratching of the bark against my back, only able to feel you, feel your body pounding mine.  “Fuck me, Sinner!” I shouted, not caring who the hell heard me.  I no longer cared about anything.  Not the blogs, not the readers, not the public park you were fucking me in.  All I cared about was you.  Your strong hands gripping me, your lips crushing mine, your cock filling my hungry pussy to the brim.  I wanted your cum.  Like the desert sands craved the rain, I craved, I needed your cum inside me.

I felt my orgasm ignite, the flames roaring to life inside me, the heat coursing through me leaving every nerve ending scorched and twitching.  My cries were joined by yours as you shuddered violently and fed my desert a feast of sticky sin.  We held on to each other as the spasms rocked our bodies and you smiled again, that beautiful, lascivious grin, at the sound of my indecent little laugh in your ears.

When we could stand without trembling, you pulled away, lowering my feet to the ground and returning my skirt to its original position with a wistful sigh.  You adjusted yourself, pulling up your trousers while I fixed the buttons on my blouse.  I expected it to be awkward, maybe even shy.  But as we looked at each other we couldn’t help but giggle together, like naughty children enjoying a private joke.

As the laughter died down, I tried to think of what to say next.  I bent to retrieve my coat and as I stood, saw you were walking away, heading back down the footpath.

“Wait!” I called, reaching out towards you, “Where are you going?”

“It’s time for me to go.” You said softly.

“But you didn’t say goodbye.” I pointed out, dumbly.

You looked at me, the smile returning to your face again as you shrugged. “I’m not one for goodbyes.”  You turned and took a few more steps down the path before stopping “Thanks, Sweetheart.  That was sublime.”

I felt a gentle wind blow through the ancient oak, rustling the leaves above me.  I watched silently as your tall figure disappeared beyond the shrubs.

“Goodbye, Sinner.” I whispered.

Copyright 2013 CJ Riordan

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