Tag Archives: sex

Post the Twenty-Seventh or Chocolate Mousse

The candles were lit. The table was set. And the music was playing. John Coltrane, hir favorite. Everything was ready and everything was perfect. All that was left was for hir to arrive. I paced back and forth about the living room, checking my watch every two seconds. I was nervous. And ze was late.

I walked back to the mirror and gave myself one last check. I adjusted my tie and shifted my skirt. I looked fierce. Where was ze?

I entered the kitchen, gave the curried lentil soup a quick stir, checked on the stir-fried tofu with noodles and made sure that the vegan, gluten-free, chocolate mousse was properly set. All hir favorite things. All made by yours truly. All smelling and looking absolutely delectable. So where was my partner in crime?

I moved back into the dining room and sat down with a restless sigh.

A knock at the door and I leapt up in excitement. With my heart pounding, I quickly moved from the dining room to the foyer to the door. Taking a deep breath to steady my shaking body, I opened the door gracefully, a dazzling smile across my face.

And my heart almost stopped for the beauty before me. Six feet in height, wearing skinny jeans that covered legs for days and in a tight red top, it was all I could do to stop myself from jumping on hir there and then. As it was, it took me a minute to recover the power of speech and invite hir in. I could tell that ze was already enjoy hirself, watching me trip over myself.

How was it that ze could do that to me so easily? I still don’t know.

I did all the things that a gentlequeer is supposed to do. I asked for hir coat and pulled out hir chair. I asked how hir day went and what exciting projects ze was working on. I inquired after hir mother’s health and what ze thought about the latest Beyoncé video. My thoughts were absolutely not on how I wanted to lick hir thick thighs. Nor were they focused on the shape of hir lips and how I wanted to bite into them. The notion of plunging my tongue deep into hir ass did not enter my mind once. Not at all.

As I was clearing the soup, ze said, “You want to fuck me.”

I nearly dropped the bowls.

“That wasn’t a question, was it?” I replied.

“No, it was not.” Ze said, rising from hir seat. And in one fluid motion managed to take the bowls from me and, placing them down, pinned me against the hard wood of the table. Hir lips brushed against mine, teasing a moan out of me. How did ze disarm me so easily?

“Perhaps,” ze crooned into my ear, “we should skip the main course and go straight to dessert?”

I could only manage a shaky nod.

Ze wrapped my tie around hir hand and pulled me toward the bedroom, stopping on the way to collect the mousse. In the bedroom, ze pushed me gently unto the bed and climbed on top of me, straddling me, pressing down on my already raging boner. I groaned, bucking against hir.

Ze dipped hir fingers into the mousse, covering hir fingers in dark chocolate. I parted my lips slightly, eager for hir fingers to enter me. Ze was only to happy to oblige, running hir mousse coated fingers around my lips. I tried to take them into my mouth but ze pulled up saying, “Tut tut, my love. Patience.”

Ze continued to tease and taunt me by running hir fingers across my lips while hir other hand searched under my shirt to find my nipple. Ze gave it a good twist, causing me to gasp. I wanted so badly to suck on hir fingers and taste not only the mousse but also the softness of hir skin but I knew that if I got ahead of myself ze would punish me. So, I endured the sweet torture that ze was inflicting me.

I nearly came when ze finally allowed me to suck on hir fingers. I sucked on them earnestly, throughly enjoying the feel of hir fingers inside my mouth and savoring the sweetness of the mousse.

I made damn good mousse.

After I had consumed all the mousse from hir fingers, ze pulled hir fingers out of my mouth. Ze then took hir fingers and placed some mousse on hir lips. Ze leaned in close, inches away from my own lips. I was breathing heavily, smelling the combination of the chocolate and hir breath. It made for a heady combination.

“Lick my lips.” Ze commanded. I did so readily, exploring the contours of hir mouth and enjoying the softness of hir lips. I ran my tongue across and back again. Hir lips parted slightly, so I began to explore the inside of hir mouth but ze quickly clamped down on my tongue.

“I did not give you permission.” Ze said when ze finally released my tongue.

“Forgive me.” I muttered.

“Forgiven.” And ze kissed me. And what a kiss. Hard it was, and yet gentle. Intense, and yet, subtle in its intensity. With hir tongue down my throat, I was in heaven.

After a time, our lips separated with a sigh and I stared into hir eyes. Dark, they were, stormy. Irises that seemed to be one uniform color and yet when you looked, really looked, you saw the riot of color that was. You saw the bands of gold and pools of green. Tiny spots of amber and a subtle, pervasive brown. But more than all, hir eyes held a deep tenderness, a love that would engulf me, consume me. I was willing to be eaten.

“You have been such a good servent, my love,” ze said, “I think that deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

“If it would please you, mxtress.”

Without a word ze got up and slowly took off hir clothing, revealing the dark skin underneath. Skin that has remained soft despite the harshness of the world. Skin that was engraved with scars and stretch marks, symbols of the struggles that ze had fought through and won. Beautiful trophies of living.

“Hike up your skirt.” Ze commanded.

I did so, revealing my lack of underwear and rock hard cock. Ze admired the sight for a moment and then reached into the desk drawer, pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. Ze easily placed the condom around my cock and applied lube, rubbing my cock for a few moments that made me arch my back in desire.

Ze straddled me again. Ze rocked back and forth, rubbing my cock against hir pubis and stomach. I groaned and thrust against hir, I wanted to be inside hir so bad.

“Please,” I pleaded, “The teasing is too much… Please…”

Ze smiled wickedly and said tauntingly, “Whose cock is this?”

“Yours, mxtress.” I said meekly

“Correct. So, since it is mine, does that mean that I can tease it all I want? That I could, in fact, do whatever I wish with it?” Ze asked, while still rubbing hirself against my cock.

“Yes, mxtress.”

“Then, I will have no more complaints from you.” And with that, ze grabbed hir shirt off of the bed and gagged me with it. Ze started to move down, rubbing my cock against hir pubis and hir lips. The gag muffled my groan of frustration but ze heard it and moved back up, rubbing hir belly against my cock.

“I said, no more complaints.”

I nodded as ze began to move down again. Ze moved at an agonizing pace, moving only a few inches at a time. I didn’t make a sound. Slowly, slowly, my cock reached hir lips. Ze ran the head of my cock around hir lips and slowly eased the length of my cock inside hir.  Ze closed hir eyes in pleasure as ze sat on top of me, my whole length inside hir.

I was lost in the same bliss. Lost in the same love.

We started to rock back and forth together. Moving at the same rhythm, the same pace. I thrusted into hir as ze pushed down against me. Our fucking progressively got faster, more frenetic, more intense. And as we started to move more quickly, I began to lose my sense of self. It was almost as if I were falling into hir and ze was falling into me. The boarders that separate where I begin and ze ended became blurred and then erased. I could feel what ze was feeling, the passion, the exhilaration. It was almost as if I could feel what ze was feeling, the feel of my cock inside her, the sliding in and out. And I sensed that ze too felt what I was feeling.

I ceased perceiving time and space. It seemed that this moment of fucking spanned eons and yet only lasted a second. It seemed that I traversed the length and breadth of my history in that moment. I saw the past clearly and at the same time saw the future. I knew that I could stretch myself and land at any point in that convuluted line but I knew where my place was.

Here. With hir.

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Post the Twenty-Second or On Why Sluts are Awesome

I am a slut.

There. I said it. I said the unspeakable and admitted to the gravest of sins. I admitted that I enjoy sex. I admitted that I enjoy sex with many people, sometimes at the same time! I admitted that I have ownership over my sexuality and that I can choose who I have sex with and, more importantly, who I don’t have sex with.

But being a slut is more about than just enjoying sex. It’s about enjoying pleasure and my body for its own sake. It’s about recognizing that pleasure is good and allowing myself to enjoy pleasure. It’s about denying a sex- and body-negative culture that teaches us every day to hate our bodies and the beautiful things it can do.

Being a slut means that I prize consent. It means that I know yes only means yes and no always means no. It means that when someone says no, I don’t ask or cajole them to change their minds. It means that no is a complete sentence and requires no justification or explanation. It means that I always ask permission before hugging someone. It means that I know that consent is fucking sexy.

Being a slut means that I am honest about my emotions and where I am coming from. It means that when I’m angry or upset with my sexual or romantic partner, I tell them. It means that I disclose any pertinent sexual history that I have to my sexual or romantic partner. It means that I make sure that I communicate my boundaries and limits clearly. Being a slut means that I advocate for myself. Being a slut means I take care of myself.

Being a slut means that I know how to keep myself safe. It means that I know how to put on a condom and use a dental dam. It means that I know the risks involved in certain acts and I can revaluate whether I want to take that risk at any point. It means that I take the time to protect myself and my partner and still enjoy myself.

Most of all, being a slut means that I love myself.

At this point you may cry, “But Morgan!! How can sluts love themselves? They are indiscriminate slatterns who wreck homes and only have all this sex precisely because they don’t love themselves! They use sex to boost their self-esteem!”

To which I would reply that yes, people like that do exist. People use sex to harm themselves and others. Just like some people use alcohol to harm themselves and others. I’m not denying that. What I am denying is that all sluts are like that. What I am denying is the heterosexist, monogamy-centric culture that tells us that the only healthy way to have sex is in a committed monogamous relationship. What I am denying is the erroneous assumption that sex should only be had as a means to an end. That sex should only be used to get a relationship. What I am denying is that I can’t be a healthy, well-adjusted (whatever that means), young adult and also have a lot of sex and enjoy it.

What I am affirming is that sex is a means in itself. What I am affirming is that I love myself because by making the conscious decision to have sex with who I want, I am affirming ownership over my own body. I am affirming that I can do what I want with my body. Conversely, by consciously making a decision to not have sex with someone, I am reaffirming that ownership by withholding sex when I want to. I am affirming that I won’t let anyone have ownership over me, unless I consent to it.

Don’t get me wrong. If monogamous relationships work for you, then I encourage you to follow your bliss. I merely would like to motivate you to think critically about the narratives that you have been given by society, and question whether those narratives reflect what you truly desire. If they do, fantastic. If they don’t, that is also fantastic and I would say that it’s time for some exploring and experimenting. Its time for all of us to create our own narratives.

For can we truly consent to something if we don’t know all the options?


Post the Second or Our First NSFW Post

She stood above me. All 170 pounds of strong muscle and black leather towering overhead. I was kneeling before her, my hands and arms bound together behind my back, my head down turned. She took her riding crop and placed it under my chin, forcing my face up towards her. I could see the contempt in her eyes. I could see the love.

I was unworthy for the honor. But she was so beautiful. Dark intense eyes framed by powerful lashes. A strong jaw and firm red lips. She was beautiful and I was unworthy. But I was grateful.

“You are a filthy fucking slut. A dirty little whore. A harlot with her legs spread so wide they would accept the Titanic. A strumpet with no shame. A hussie with nothing on her mind but the next cock. Do you know what I do to sluts like you?”

I said nothing.

The hit, when it came, was sure and swift. With her riding crop she struck me across the face, the stinging slap awakening parts below.

“When I ask a question I expect an answer, slut. Understood?” She said firmly.

“Yes mistress.”

“Good…” She purred, “I ask again. Do you know what I do to sluts like you?”

“You punish them, mistress.” I said softly, the color rising in my checks from excitement and shame. I was so dirty. Filthy, even. And I needed to be punished. I needed to be disciplined.

“That’s right. I punish them.” She replied, using her riding crop to slap me again.

She grabbed my hair and yanked me to standing, my eyes watering as follicles parted company from my scalp. I tried to turn my face away from hers but she yanked harder with a snarl, forcing me to look at her. I looked into those dark depths and quailed. I knew what was coming.

She leaned in, caressing my ear with her lips, her words. I shivered.

“What are you?” She whispered.

“A dirty slut.” I answered, my voice cracking with shame.

“What was that? What are you?

“A dirty slut.” I replied, trying to put force in my voice.

My ear burst into flame as she bit into the lobe. Hard. My knees buckled.

“What are you?”

“A dirty slut.” Trying and failing to exult in the words.

She growled and bit again. I would have collapsed but she held me up by the hair. Supported me with her strong body.

“You know what I want. What are you?”

“I’m a dirty slut.” I breathed, feeling the words finally wash over me as i embraced them. I was a dirty slut. And I loved it. I was filthy whore and I reveled in it. I was a depraved pervert and I felt power there. Such power.

She kissed my ear and I could feel the smile there.

She released my hair and shoved me back on the bed. She told me to roll onto my belly and giggled as I struggled to move with my hands and arms bound. I felt the riding crop caress my ass as she crooned, “How badly do you want me to punish you?”

“I need you to punish me mistress. I have been dirty and I need you to discipline me. Please, I need you to correct me. To punish me for my transgressions. Please punish me.” I replied, with an edge of desperation in my voice.

“Why do you need me to punish you, baby?” She asked as she gave my ass a light swat.

I moaned, replying “Because I’m a filthy slut.”

“Yes. You are.”

She hit me with the riding crop. Hard. I cried out in pain and she hit me again.

“Don’t make a sound.” She said as she began to methodically strike my ass, slowly at first but quickly gaining speed, frequency and force. All the while I was biting my lip to contain my moans and cries. The pain was exquisite.

And I was in heaven.

At some point she stopped and I let out a sigh of relief, my ass still smarting from the beating it took. She grabbed me by the rope binding my arm and flipped me over on to my back. She looked straight into my eyes and I didn’t look away.

“Good…” She said as she climbed on top of me, “I think you deserve a reward.” She leaned in close to my face and I could feel her hot breath on my skin. She smelled of lavender and sweat. She placed her head on the nape of my neck and ran her lips down to my collar bone. I shivered. She then ran her lips lightly up my chin to land on my lips.

She kissed me. Sweetly, gently. She kissed me with warmth and love. She kissed me with passion. She reached around to grab me by the back of my hair and pulled, exposing my neck. She bit into my neck. I jerked and bucked against her as she bit down more fiercely. She pushed herself up and placed her hands on my shoulders, pinning me down.

“Beg me to fuck you.” She commanded.

“Mistress, please fuck me. I need your cock. I can’t live without you fucking me. Please… I need it so bad.”

She slapped me. “You can do better than that.”

“I need your cock Mistress because I am a dirty slut. I need your cock to correct me, Mistress. I need your cock to assuage the heat in my horny cunt. Your cock is all I can think about. Your cock is all I need. Give it too me… Please…”

And she did.

I was in heaven.