Perfect triangle

I want to sit on his cock while I watch you fuck yourself.

I want to pulse my cunt around his stiff cock, breathing hard, feeling him pulse inside me, feeling his balls grow thick with cum as my cum drips down on them. While you fuck yourself.

I want to watch you dip your fingers into your swollen cunt, your other hand on your clit, rubbing in small circles while your face begins to strain and I begin to see your juices drip down, out of you, onto the floor.

I will tell you "harder" and you will fuck yourself harder.

I want his hands to hold my hips, just pulling me down hard on his cock and squeezing periodically, not fucking but simply holding there, feeling my cunt pull and wrap and curl around his swollen, beautiful cock as you sit on the floor, back arched up on pillows, fucking yourself.

I want to sit on his cock while you begin to whimper, dropping your head and rolling it back as you push your hands harder, moving them deeper inside your cunt, pushing your fingers inside your pussy.

I want to grind down on his cock, my cum pooling underneath me, drenching his lap and cock and balls as his hands move up to my tits, pulling on my nipples and pinching so tightly I wince, keeping my eyes just open enough to watch you debase yourself.

You will beg to cum and I will tell you to shut the fuck up and add another finger.

I want to watch you squirm as you push harder and wince, knowing your cunt is stretching over your own fingers, eager to heed my commands enough to where you are pained - I can see it on your face.

I want to watch you fuck yourself as he leans up and bites the back of my shoulder hard, hard enough to leave a welt which will turn into a purple bruise that I will stroke and push for days just for the electric shock of pain which will hit my clit and make me wet. I will touch it in the street, on the subway, in church, in front of people who have no idea that I received such a delight while I was sitting on his erect, hard cock, watching you whimper.

I will point to a large toy and tell you I want you to use it, seeing you get eager, seeing you get excited that a hard cock will be inside of you, too, and when you go to slide it in your pretty little dripping, open cunt i will tell you no. I will tell you I want you to put it in your ass and just sit - sit with it and rock your hips, knowing it is all the way to the hilt inside your ass.

I want him to lean forward once his teeth are removed and whisper in my ear what he would like to see. I will nod and you will be curious, but distracted, struggling not to focus only on the fingers bring shoved into your cunt, the large dildo which fills your ass, both moving under your hand but my control.

I want to stand, watching your eyes get big as you watch his slicked cock leave my pussy, cum dripping down over it, letting it stand straight and swollen and ready to explode in a wet, warm hole. You will wish it was yours.

I want to watch you fuck yourself hard as you get curious, watching me walk forward, wondering what is next. I will stand over you, legs spread, and tell you to look up, and to open your mouth. I want to watch you do as you are told, still whimpering, still wanting, still so curious what is coming next and still too nervous and too scared to ask.

I want to watch you tremble as a stream of my hot piss stream down into your waiting mouth, as you lap it up, as you whimper, as you hate it, as you take it, knowing it is the only way you will be allowed to cum, allowed to do anything more than stand, dress, and leave. I will watch you swallow, watch it run over the sides of your mouth, watch you struggle, and watch you take it.

I want to watch him stroke his cock, absent-minded as he watches and enjoys and lavishes his attention on the pretty cunt he will fuck, and on the girl he will cum on.

I want to kneel down, pulling your fingers from your cunt and slide my own in their place, and I will ask you what you are. You will tell me many things - a dirty slut, a cum slut, a warm hole, a pathetic little twat waiting for cum, but only when you get the answer right - that you are ours, will I begin to fuck you with my fingers, three then four in your tight cunt.

And while I am on my knees, he will come up behind me, and slide his still-slicked cock inside my cunt.

And he will begin to fuck - to brace himself hard with his hands on my hips, and pound me with his hips until it hurts, knowing that it hurts, knowing that I am struggling in moments with how hard he is ramming his hips, his beautiful cock inside my wet pussy, which is simply begging for his cum.

I want to push my fingers, four and then five, and then my whole fist, inside your cunt as you wiggle and squirm on the dildo still in your ass, knowing you are almost filled, knowing that you are being used.

I want to push you down on your back and use my other hand to thrust the dildo, fucking your ass as you buck against my hand, push against my fist, which is curled up inside your cunt, using you until you break, demanding perfection, excellent, and complete devotion with your cunt.

I want to push back against him as he fucks harder, knowing that we must use her mouth as well, knowing that as much as I wish he would fill me with his cum, it is more important now to make sure she is marked, dirtied.

I want to fuck you harder as he pulls from my cunt and moves to sit on your chest, locking your arms in place as he slides his cock deep into your throat, making you clean it of my cum, making you lick off my juices.

I tell you that you may cum after he down and you begin to suck his cock harder, knowing that he is already painfully close, already ready to explode in your throat, and you will swallow every drop.

You will swallow every drop because I wanted that cum, and if you waste it I will make sure you never, ever waste another drop again. I will give you regrets.

I want to watch as his shoulders flex and his lower back arches.

I want to feel you pulse around my fist hard, pushing, whimpering, struggling to breathe and be so good.

I want to hear him explode only seconds before you do, knowing that he is unloading his hot cum into your throat, knowing because you are struggling and shaking and cumming so hard it hurts to remain inside your cunt.

And more than anything, I want him to stand, and I want to see a single drop wasted.

And then I will smile.

"It's a green light Mr. Maxwell. That means you can go."

This morning was soundtracked by the 1969 film The Babysitter. It's an absurd movie which takes way too long to get anywhere interesting, but it had one of my favorite things in the world... the sweet good girl seducing the older man, which is the one thing that saves the movie.

I love to submit, I ache to bottom, to take someone's hand hard on my ass. I get antsy when the marks that are left begin to made and I no longer feel the sting on my thigh when I touch them. I beg to wear the red welts of a belt strapping. I squirm if it's been too long since I have been turned over and spanked and then fucked until I hurt. I want to submit, I want to be taken, I want to feel like I have no choice but to suck his cock, to clean it of my cum and feel it in my throat.

But as I am always quick to say - that every Daddy who adores his little girl... every Sir who owns his prized toy... is wrapped around that babygirl's finger.

There is something that just makes me light up when I know I'm turning on a top. When I know that I am getting him hard, sliding my skirt up just slightly and making sure to touch my thighs. I love to open my legs, brushing his so he knows that if he wants to slide a hand between, it is his choice. But I love to know when he's struggling a little not to.

I bite my bottom lip, letting it pop out slicked and full and ready to be covered in cum. I want him to think about what his cock will look like sliding over my bottom lip. I want him to picture my lip lowering to take the head into my mouth, staring up. I want him to lose track of sentences mid-way through because he can feel the pulse in his cock as I open my mouth to eat or drink or just to show him I want more, and I want it then.

I like to bend over for him. To pick things up off the floor, to show him am ass ripe for the beating. I arch my back and want him to long to grope and to touch, where ever we are. I want him to shift in his seat as he thinks about the spanking, the paddling, the caning, and the fucking which will ensue. I want him to get lost in his thoughts about how it will feel to squeeze the soft flesh of my ass before he takes it, claims it, marks it.

I love to tease. I love to sit on his lap and grind through my panties onto his stiffening cock. I love to feel it get hard against me, love as his eyes remain fixed on mine. I get wet knowing that I am turning him on. I get soaked knowing that I will give up all control; that I will give him everything, every hole, and still - knowing that may only be moments away. Nothing gets me wetter than knowing that no matter what is to come, and no matter how much he will push me, how much he will own and control and destroy and rebuild, that in this moment I have made him hard and I have made him want. This is where I am powerful.

An ode to functional furniture

The thing about bar stools that's always nice is that they're often a perfect height. Not just the seat, but also the bars on the bottom. Granted, I'm not too tall, but the way my knees bend and my heels can hook into the bar is perfect to open and close my legs.

It's ideal, though, to be able to order a drink at the same time that a man (or a boy, lets not discirminate) can get on his knees and eat my cunt right there. I can arch my back, lean forward into him, put my hand on the back of his head, unemcumbered by soft, squishing cushions or had wooden arms. I have a full range of motion to keep my legs wide, pull my skirt back, and slide to the edge of the wooden stool.

And he has all the access he needs. His mouth can stay on my clit for as long as I want, and while he may have to turn his head a bit to suck on my swollen cunt, it is only going to offer a fuller range of options ofr how he will make me cum. Because he will make me cum.

When I want his fingers all I have to do is arch forward a bit more. I shift my hips and slide, and he can immediately push his fingers deep into my cunt, curling forward as my shoulders drop back.

I can pull his head forward as hard as I want, legs wide as I begin to grind on his face, as his knees begin to ache and as my skirt, no longer held back by my hands, delicately touches his forehead. I can grind my wet cunt into his face over and over as he sucks and licks me. I can whimper and close my eyes, as this stool is not moving. I can pull my legs forward a bit, not worrying that they will move, as my heels remain locked into the pole, so well placed on the stool for me.

And when I cum, when my cum runs out over his tongue and down onto the chair, over his lips and into his mouth and over his chin and down onto the slicked wood of the stool, clean up will be so easy. I will make him lick it up, every drop, before shifting my hips back, and finishing my drink.

Flight

"Walk slowly."
My hands grip a little tighter on the side. I consciously try and place each foot purposely on every step. Once the heel of one foot is securely on a step, then and only then can the step begin and I raise my heel on the previous step.
"Good girl."
He is behind me. I expect him to pull my skirt up. I was instructed to not wear panties (nor a bra) and so I know that if he walks far enough behind me, he will see the curve of my ass as I walk in front of him. If he looks hard enough, he will see the wetness that is spreading down my thighs.
Every step is achingly slow and methodical. I feel him come up behind me and know he is not interested in looking at my ass. His hand slides over my hip and stops at my stomach, holding me mid-step.
My breath catches and my cunt tenses. I can feel it begin to ache. His other hand moves under my skirt and my breath simply stops. It holds in my lungs, waiting. All energy, all thought, all blood goes immediately to my aching pussy.
I ache and I listen. Standing in the stairway of my apartment building there are 15 doors outside of mine and any could open and see. They could all see that I am him slut. That I belong. That I am weak and owned and a dirty little wanton cunt. I am dripping and at any moment, a door could open and people I must face, must live above and below and beside would know. I hold my breath to hear better, but all I can hear is his breath in my ear.
His fingers move against my swollen clit. I want to moan but I hold on. My mind is broken, trying to focus on the noises of the rest of the building but it keeps slipping towards my cunt. It is a tilting slab of slicked ice, and I am gripping desperately and failing miserably.
His fingers press and slide up and down my slicked, soaked clit. My hips move back and forth as I try and get more of his hands, more pressure. I step my legs wider, my hand covering his and pushing myself harder.
"You slut." I nod. God, I want him desparately. I would let him do anything to me, here or anywhere. "You're so wet." I nod again. "Is it because you're my little whore?" I nod vigorously.
I tremble as his fingers leave my clit and tap me on the ass to keep walking.
My feet begin to move fast but I quickly catch myself. Every step becomes slow and thoughtful again. I focus on the steps. I don't want to focus on my dripping pussy. I don't want to focus on him behind me, or the stiff cock that I want inside me. I just want to think about each step.
I turn, ascending another staircase. I take one step, then two, then three, then he stops me. My breath stops with my feet. My heart, on the other hand, pounds. My breath is quick, chest rising and falling in short staccato.
I feel his hands move under my shirt, finding my tight nipples. He begins to twist, to pull.
"Breathe, baby." I nod, my chest rapidly rising and collapsing. My heart is all I hear, thought I try and listen for doors. Recently realizing that I'm still afraid of the dark, I struggle to hear every sound and fight to ignore them at the same time. I can hear as someone turns on a television, begins cooking, openings and closing cabinets recklessly. My bottom lip trembles and I am consumed with fear that someone will see that I am a slut, violated by hands and fingers of this man.
That someone will see me for who I am.
I will give him everything. I will give him all my holes. I will give him boundaries and wetness and orgasms and spit and my throat and tears and pain and flesh and pain and whimpering and begging and absolute devotion.
My heart pounds as I hear more movement, as the genuine fear that someone will open a door and I will not be able to pull away are all very real. I desperately want to hide. I don't want anyone to see this vulnerable, shaking, needy little cunt. I cannot control myself with him behind me, around me, inside me.
And in this hallway, on this staircase, as I am fucked, as his fingers slide into my cunt and I grind down into them. I push downward and lower my head, giving up and hearing all the noises. I don't care. I want them to see. I want them to see how I will do anything for him. I grind down onto his fingers, my cunt dripping. I haven't been this wet in longer than I can remember but this moment has brought back everything. It has made my cunt swell. It has made my pussy ache to be filled by his fingers and cock. I fuck his fingers, holding with one hand onto the railing, a flight away from my apartment, knowing that I could not wait. I couldn't stop him and beg him to fuck me behind closed doors. I needed it now - needed to feel as he slides in and out, as cum drips down my legs. I drop my head, not noticing but also not caring if someone sees. I am a dirty slut. I am a begging whore. My cum drips down his fingers, down into his hand. This cum is his. This cunt is his. These painfully tight, cruelly pulled nipples are his. This open, gasping mouth is his. This tight asshole is his.
And in this moment, all my dignity, all my shame, all of it. His.