7.29.2005
I'm all about pictures lately, so I had to share another. This is joining my Evil My Little Pony in the running for my next tattoo. The artist, Greg Martin, is probably my favorite artist, and the sinister and alien beauty of it just makes me quiver. Well, maybe not quiver, but I do love it.- Well, a couple of my stories have been posted on Literotica. I'm hoping to get some feedback, so if you got here after reading one of my stories, please, let me know what you think!
Life is getting better, waiting for His mother to come to town, then away with the sex-repressing pills!!! I can't wait, though the past couple of days have been good, wonderful hot sex first thing in the morning, great way to start the day (or in my case, end it). It's nice to know that my sex drive is still there, it just needs a bit of jump starting!
Anyway, thanks for being patient with me.
- Wow, who knew you could have a mid-life crisis so early? I think I had mine already. And, I think it might be over. Here's hoping.
I've made a few changes (including taking out two piercings, one a nipple ring), and have made an appt to get on different happy pills (I'd rather be sad and have an interest in sex again, thank you very much!), and things seem to be brightening up again.
Hopefully I'll be back to posting soon (I know, I say that a lot)
So, I'll leave you with some pics of Jennifer Ellison, the incredibly hot Meg from the Phantom of the Opera
- I lay on the edge of the bed, naked, knees pulled up and spread, waiting. A shiver broke over me, leaving goosebumps and hard nipples in its wake.
After what seemed an eternity, He came into the room, closing the door lightly behind him. His hands were full, and the small bowl and washcloth made me wince. He set them down on the dresser, next to a razor and shaving cream, before turning to look admiringly at me. I couldn't help but bite my lip, a mixture of dread and excitement filling me. The thought of letting a man, hell, any other person, use a razor on me, much less on such a delicate part, was rather frightening.
He took his time dribbling warm water over me and lathering up, fingers occasionally slipping and rubbing bare skin that obviously didn't need lather. I kept my eyes closed, trying to master my discomfort. Once his fingers disappeared from me, I took a deep breath and held it.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded, not able to voice my agreement.
The first, hesitant stroke removed approximately three hairs. I blinked down at him in surprise. "That tickles!"
He threw me a small grin, and gestured me to lay down again, and started in earnest. Long smooth strokes, frequently water laden, had me nice and warm in moments. Wandering fingers mixed with the threat of the steel had me fighting to keep still. Occasional taps on my hood ring or fingers up the ass, however, broke through my determination.
When he finally declared that he was finished, my hands immediately reached to feel. I protested as soon as he batted them away, but received only an evil glare as an answer. I frowned back, then groaned as he brought out the camera.
No immediate picture was taken, he just turned it on, and set it on his lap. After washing all the spare lather off, he slowly bent down, and flicked my clit with the tip of his tongue before transferring his attention outward, long slow licks up and down, warm, hot, wet. My moans brought no response, but my hands, sliding over his head, encouraged him to latch onto my clit, sucking it into his mouth and nibbling it while sliding a finger into my pussy. This little bit of heaven ended much to soon as he sat up and grabbed the camera.
Before I totally registered the loss of his mouth, I hear the click of the awful camera, popping my photographic cherry before I could even protest.