These eyes ...

I'm being haunted by beautiful eyes. They smile at me and crinkle at the corners. They are warm and sexy. And they make me feel beautiful.

They seem to belong to an angel, my angel.

I am loved. Wholly.

The eyes are set in a beautiful face, attached to a beautiful body.

Sometimes, the daydream extends to the physical act of "making love". Having sex.

Sometimes, just holding on to me. Cuddling. Extending physical comfort makes my heart open, my soul sing and my muscles relax.

I want to write this. To share the story, but it feels too intimate.

It's also unfinished. And ever changing. Flowing.

It's just a fantasy. Writing it makes seem more real.

Also I'm dealing with another bout of depression. My first in more than five years. I want to just wallow and whine and give in to the apathy. I have to fight this compulsion to give in.

Vanilla no go

I tried to masturbate using a vanilla fantasy again. 

It's impossible. 

Unless there is some power imbalance in the relationship, it never works.

 If there isn't some force, reluctance, non-consent tint to the situation, it never works. Usually it's just outright abuse. 

Sometimes, I feel broken. 

I heard Barbara Carrellas on a radio interview and she said she was talking to an abuse survivor and the survivor felt guilty about her fantasies. She told the women that her fantasies were just fantasies, and she should embrace that she could bring herself to orgasm with her mind. 

I shared this blog with a friend and he pointed out how lacking my last post was. At first I was a bit defensive. But I came to realize it was true. It wasn't my best effort. It was a friend I hadn't talked to in several years. It felt like the universe sent me the message "DO BETTER." So I will try to honor that. 

So thanks for constructive criticism. I will do better. I sent my next book to my editor, so I'm working on something for the blog. This one has a more romantic tone.

http://asraidevin.tumblr.com/  Something I've been playing with. Highly infrequent.

Fucking

He grabbed my hair and pulled just enough to make sure I was paying attention. I felt his breath on my ear and cheek before I heard his voice. His other hand was between my legs, tracing the outline of my slit through my sopping underwear.

"I don't need to ask you. I can feel it, right here. Tell me what a slut you are."

The words got stuck in my throat. My lips moved soundlessly.

His grip on my hair tightened and I yelped. I shuddered as his tongue flicked my earlobe. "Tell me, slut. Tell me how much you like being teased."

My voice shook, but I got the words out. "I love when you tease me. It makes me so wet." Cough. "Sir."

He relaxed a little. His finger slipped under the crotch and rewarded me with skin to skin contact. "That's my girl."

I closed my eyes as his finger swirled around my clit. He removed his hand and a moment later it was pressed against my lips. Without instruction, I sucked the digit into my mouth and licked it clean of my juices.

"Such an eager slut. Would a spanking help you slow down?"

I shook my head. "I doubt it Sir."

He stroked my ass. Then he slapped it. It made a nice crack and my eyes flew open. "Would a little pain turn you on?"

I nodded eagerly. "Yes. Yes, please."

He slapped me again. "Another time." He grabbed my panties and pulled them down, leaving me in only a peach tank-top. He pushed me forward to kneel on the bed. "What do you want?"

"You to fuck me."

His hand slipped from my hair.

I turned to watch him removing his pants and boxers. His cock waved at me. I felt a surge through my body.

He shook his head.

My shoulders sagged. He wasn't going to fuck me even?

"I'm going to fuck you, love." He caressed my ass. "Don't worry."

He grabbed my hair again, yanking my head back. His cock pressed against my ass. "Do you want it?"

I nod, vigorously, unable to say it aloud.

"Ask me then."

"Fuck me," I whisper.

His free hand winds between our bodies and pinches my nipple. "You're a slut. You can beg me better than that. Think how much you want it. Spread your legs a little further."

I spread my legs and try again. "Fuck my ass Sir. I want to feel you come in my ass."

He slaps my bare pussy. The shock waves roll through my body for several moments. Or hours. "I want to hear how you'll enjoy it."

"I want you to fuck my ass sir. I need my ass filled with your cock, making me come over and over. I need you to fuck me like a dirty whore. I need your cock. All I want is to feel you inside me."

He slides himself home. My ass stretching from his girth. The rest of my body quivering with anticipation.

He yanks my head back without warning and starts fucking me. Pounding my ass, making me squel with pain and moan with pleasure.

His free hand pinches my clit, twisting it. I let out a deep moan. I mutter his name and he yanks on the nub. "Sir," I quickly amend. "Master."

He slides one finger, then two inside my pussy and I thrust my hips trying to ride them.

And finally, gloriously, the orgasm hits me. Shocks of pleasure making my legs shake.

I slide to the floor as the door closes behind me.

No apologies

Story to be up in a bit. No apologies for my absence. No promises to post more often now that I'm back. Just something I wrote a bit ago and saw on my desktop tonight and thought I'd post.

Maybe there will be more, maybe not.

The problem with writing erotica, smut, porn, is I get turned on. And I just want to get off and once I get off, I have no interest in continuing writing. I have this idea for a novel, maybe a novella, but I write part of a scene, get off and then I'm done.

At least my libido is back.