Inappropriate hand gestures have become the next generation of dirty talk between human beings. They’re a way of telling people “hey, I like to party” or “I’ve strongly considered attending a Craigslist orgy.” Dirty hand gestures are a subtle way of expressing your sexuality in public and they’re also a way of telling random people that you like glow in the dark condoms, remote-controlled panties and you often wear nipple clamps to work. Most importantly, dirty hand gestures are a way of showing random attractive people that you want to have sex with them when they’re not looking.
#10 The Wanker – The wanker is a timeless classic often used to communicate that something is lame. It’s also a way of telling your friends that you’re really attracted to a woman after she walks by you on the street.
#9 The Crotch Grab - Whether you’re publicly saying “screw you” to an authority figure or telling someone to “suck on this,” the crotch grab is a great way to express your animal dominance. It’s also the best way for hermaphrodites to cover their junk in a pinch.
#8 The Penetrator - Let’s say you spot an attractive member of the opposite sex across the bar but it’s way to crowded to make it to the other side. Well, The Penetrator allows both women and men to let their prey know that they would like to penetrate them or be penetrated… if you will.
#7 The “Up The Butt” - The UTB takes The Penetrator one step further by involving the middle finger. It’s often used by sailors, people from Germany and people with STD’s.
#6 The Shocker – Otherwise known as “two in the pink and one in the stink,” The Shocker hand gesture rose to superstardom after Dane Cook claimed he invented it. Yeah, he ripped that off too.
#5 The Vagina - The vagina is a pretty straightforward form of hand communication. It’s a way of saying, “hey look, my hands just formed the shape of a vagina.”
#4 The Fister - The fister is a classic male power play move. It’s a way of informing a woman that you’re an absolute monster in the sack and your have no problem eating meat that isn’t cooked properly.
Cred că e bine să scriu ceva și despre asta ca să curpind imaginea de ansamblu.
Nu inventez roata, dar nici nu trebuie, cu riscul de a suna banal totuși voi înșira ce am observat eu.
Moralitatea excesiva strica sexul. Mulți au impresia ca sexul e ceva rușinos sau păcătos. De aici ies o serie întreagă de deviații. Sunt oameni (nu fac distincție acum pe sexe) care simt vinovăție când fac sex. Sunt oameni care iși impun dinainte ce anume sunt dispuși să facă. Mă fut dar nu sug pula. Mă fut sug pula dar nu ma fut în cur, ce sunt eu curvă? Ma fut peste tot sug de toate dar cu lumina stinsă ce sunt eu curvă? Hai să ne futem dar stinge lumina să mă dezbrac.
Replica de mare valoare, nu ma fut decât în cur că ma duce mama la ginecolog, aau să nu te uiți la mine când iți sug pula. Ce faci, mă ți de cap, da ce sunt eu actriță porno?
Aceste tampenii nu vădesc decat o mare dezordine în mintea unora. Nu iți faci tu planul ce faci, vezi ce simți atunci. Poate că nu trebuie să sugi nimic sau poate ca iți vine să o sugi de te piși pe tine. Lasăți mintea liberă să poată să se bucure de ce faci.
Tot din reprimarile partenerilor de sex apar si perversiunile excesive ale partenerului care nu e așa de moral. Dacă tu nu mă lași sa te vad goala pe lumină normal ca atunci când schimb partenera o să o pun să stea goala și cand scoate cartofi. Mă rog, fiecare ce si-a dorit să încerce și s-a reținut dezvoltă o obsesie pt acest aspect și ajunge să îi acorde mai multă importanță decat merită.
Altă greșeala frecventă este planificarea. Se tratează sexul așa ca o competiție încât nu mai e lasăt la voia întâmplarii. Nu mai merge așa acum, trebuie puse condiții cât să dureze cum să te fuți cate pozitii să schimbi de ce firmă să fie lenjeria și cate lumanâri să arda în flacări.
Alții vad sexul ca pe ceva foarte serios. Nu se face cu cine vrei, nu se face cu cine merită. Hai voi, prea frumoase purtatoare de păsă, în momentul în care vorbiți de sex ca de o favoare se vede clar că nu știți despre ce vorbiți. Mie personal mi se taie tot cheful. Nu am venit cu miloaga frate, vrei bine nu drum bun. O femeie care a cunoscut ce înseamnă sexul nu mai trebuie mințită, ea când vede un partener care îi place și dacă nu e implicată într-o relație îl dorește. E sinceră nu face bravadă de aia mică a ei.
Sexul e un joc, atunci când faci prea multe calcule pe hartie despre ce relație trebuie să fie între tine și el nu mai e joc. Nu spun sa ne-o tragem ca chiorii, dar nici tu să vrei el să vrea si sa nu ne futem ca nu suntem încă la a 7-a întâlnire cum scrie la cosmonapolitan. Sau mai stiu eu ce jeg obosit de revistă plasticată si blindată cu reclame unde se manifesta o jurnalistă de 22 de ani ce nu face diferența între sex și hărțuire sexuală.
În sex nu există reguli când ai venit cu o regulă de orice natură ai pierdut ceva. De asemenea nu faci ceea ce nu iți place ca nu ești tonomat de muie. Nu spui ca nu iți place ceva dacă nu încerci. Nu ma refer acum să verificam varianta homo. Totuși nici sa iți inchipui tu ca ție nu iți place să stai capră ca e umilitor.
În mare după ce oamenii trec printr-o relație de mai lungă durată ajung să depașească aceste prosti, sau poate sunt eu optimist. Sexul chiar e un joc și noi venim cu prea multe regului si frici si constrangeri. Doar prezervativul ar trebui să fie o regulă peste care se trece greu.
Marnia Robinson is the author of Cupid’s Poisoned Arrow: From Habit to Harmony in Sexual Relationships. See full bio July 27, 2009, Sex
What If She Were Always in the Mood?
The Coolidge Effect can trump our best intentions.
Excerpts!!
A few years ago German researchers reported that as the duration of partnership increases, sexual desire generally declines in women—while desire for tenderness generally declines in men. Usually the more frustrated partner (of either gender) quite logically assumes he would be perfectly happy if only he could have as much sex as he wants. In fact, the situation is a bit trickier than that. Mates are actually up against a rather nasty subconscious genetic program, which often pushes them out of sync sexually—and even onward to novel partners.So what would happen if your mate were always in the mood? Chances are good that you soon wouldn’t be…at least with her/him. The sad truth is that if your spouse isn’t having orgasmic sex with you as often as you’d like, he or she could be preserving your union by preventing you from satiating yourself sexually too frequently. This is not an ideal situation, however, because without frequent affectionate contact, the emotional bonds between couples weaken, and, unfortunately, many couples drift into engaging in conscious affection only when pursuing orgasm.
How can sexual satiation drive mates apart? When scientists looked into the brains of mating rats, they discovered that a neurochemical called dopamine (the “I gotta have it!” substance) was behind the phenomenon of mate fatigue. As a rat copulates repeatedly with the same partner, less and less dopamine is released in the reward circuitry of its brain.
Yet when a novel potential mate shows up, dopamine surges again. It’s the same mechanism that causes you to say “yes” to a sugary, fat-laden dessert even when you’re full of turkey and mashed potatoes. Dopamine surging in your reward circuitry can override your feelings of satiety, regardless of what your rational brain may think about overeating or infidelity. Surging dopamine is a “yes!” while low dopamine is a “not so much.” As we’ll see in a future post, dopamine also naturally drops after orgasm, which plays right into this phenomenon. Our genes can be heartless puppeteers.
When I was young we used to say that variety is the only real aphrodisiac!
Scientists call the tendency to tire of a mate with whom one sexually satiates oneself, while mechanically perking up for a new one, the Coolidge Effect. They have observed this phenomenon widely among mammals, including females. Some female rodents, for example, flirt a lot more—arching in inviting displays—with unfamiliar partners than with those with which they’ve already copulated. In keeping with this phenomenon, when couples divorce because their sex lives have gone out of sync, the formerly uninterested spouse is often startled by a raging libido when a new lover enters the picture.
……
Are we doomed to allow biology to make us restless? In future posts we’ll look at an option that various cultures throughout history employed: a way to make love that helps stave off habituation. It’s based on the idea that exhausting our sexual desire frequently speeds up the Coolidge Effect by setting us on recurring quests for surges of dopamine to counteract the periods of low dopamine that naturally occur after sexual satiation.
Don’t Hold your breathe!!
The Gypsy Kingsd have a song called “Quiero Saber,” that captues this idea, but I cannot find it on Youtube.
Just found that HIV infections in Sri Lanka are rising rapidly. As Perambara reports there is a 49% increase of HIV cases in Sri lanka during the last 6 months.
The number of HIV infected is like an Iceberg. We see only a small fraction of the real number of patients as number of infected as there at the society, unaware of the infection, and spreading it to other people.
This is an alarming situation and i think it’s the right time for the leos to raise awareness on issues like this. I have seen leos distributing leaflets , going house to house to raise awareness. So how about doing a campaign about HIV/AIDS / STD ?
Decades ago talking about sex and sexuality was taboo. HIV/AIDS patients were discriminated and cornered from society. Today the world had changed and Sri Lanka has also changed to some extent regarding the attitude towards sexual issues. It’s youth who could take the fore front on talking on the issues like this as they would be the key risk factor.
One day a leo , a girl approached me and said, there was an area where the youth were uneducated about the STDs and the rate of STD is increasing. I praise her courage to think of a project like that.
More than 1000 abortions are performed daily in Sri Lanka. What is the key factor behind the large number of abortions ? It’s lack of awareness about family planning. If we as responsible youth leaders address these issues we would be able to minimize such unfortunate happenings.
Even the education system should take some burden of this situation. As i think it’s still prohibited to teach school children about contraceptives. As students from year 9 onwards are sexually active (biologically) they should have to right to know about their body and how to care themselves.
Blaming the system or institutions will not do any good. Yet lets take ACTION. If leos could promote the ABC’s of HIV prevention that would be great. The ABC’s are
Abstain – Do not have sex , avoid sex
Be faithful – Be faithful to one partner
Use a Condom – Use a condom during sex
So a person can Abstain , if they do not like abstaining they can Be faithful to one partner and they do not like that option as well they could use a condom.
So who would take the “challenge” of organizing an HIV/AIDS awareness program ? Who would do a project on Sex education ? AIDS day is on December 1st and I hope to see leos doing projects to address this problem.
Find resources on World Aids day can be found here and here. They provide project ideas , resources , etc.
Nu har myndigheten PTS beslutat att spärra ordet “bank” i svenska domännamn. Det är bra tänkt att hindra oseriösa namnkapningar som sweddbank.se att dyka upp på nätet men alla andra namn som “blodbank.se”, “dimbank.se”, “sandbank.se”, “bankerydsif.se” måste granskas innan de får registreras. Förryckt!
Jag reggar www.bankrån.se i protest innan det är för sent. Vad blir nästa ord som spärras i svenska domännamn, “sex”?
Akina now stood erect, poised, arms outstretched and nude before The Designer and The Groomer. The high, stiff, leather collar made her neck look regale like the Ancient Queens of Africa. The warm Mallorcan breeze air-dried her freshly shaved and showered body. She had been bathed in milk, vanilla and honeysuckle and all her body hair had been removed for the evening’s event. The Groomer knelt before her trimming the remaining stubborn hair from her pubis. His nimble fingers worked quickly. Akina was beautiful and she was her Masters’ favorite.
Akina was the eldest of nine girls and had grown up in a small backwards town in the Midwest. By the time she was 19, she had been molested by her dentist, ganged raped by her boyfriend and three of his friends and had won a language scholarship to Berkeley, she spoke three fluently.
She thought of herself as a hard shell with a soft center – detached, realistic, yet compassionate. She had learned a lot in her life. The PhD in Public Policy she had scratched out from the clutches of a system that denied her most things was sweet vindication. She never thought of her failed marriages and she hadn’t heard from her kids in four years.
Working My Magic
She swallowed the tears hard. “No crying now, you’ll ruin your make-up,” she chided herself. Her children were spread to the four winds. Antonio was a professor of Theology at Tennessee State University; Dallas was touring with Missy Elliot as her hairstylist and makeup artist. Ashley was a pediatrician at Children’s Hospital in Oakland, and Alexander was in the Air Force. He was in basic training the last she heard. She had taught them well. Be independent. Live your lives as you see fit. Have no regrets when you die. And above all acknowledge and respect your Higher Power.
She was more spiritual than religious growing up a religion mongrel – her mother had practiced Baptist, Southern Baptist – there is a difference, Jehovah’s Witness, AME, Seventh Day Adventist and Catholicism.
She had experienced it all in her mother’s attempt to find solace for a life she believed not worthy of the air her God provided. If religion was truly the opium of the masses as Akina had heard, then her mother was an addict and overdosing on it. She had carted Akina and her sisters around to every tent revival she could find. “Looking for peace, some inner peace.”
Akina had opted for the older religions, Ifa, had set her free and Religious Science had quenched her intellectual understanding of Spirit. She’d have none of that hell and damnation just for being born.
This, this was about her Healing. The choosing to be submissive, especially in satiating her libido. Before, she had no choice in the sex and the beatings. Life with Khane had taught her a lot about the many facets of pain and endurance. This time all were on her terms and she was being well compensated. Her philosophy was one of strength and power through submission. Akina felt that those who needed to control were themselves weak and scared. Only the truly strong could relinquish the need to be in control.
It wasn’t about money either. She had worked as a VP of Business Development for a major investment firm, so this was NOT about money. It was nice; she chuckled deep within, but this was definitely not about money. This was about power and choice. This time things had been negotiated and contracts signed. Taureans love order and consistency. In her mind she had achieved both.
Her fetish had developed from a dark desire that perceived deviant behavior as sexually appealing. It had started with small things. The drive down Highway 80 from Oakland to Berkeley, Flanagan’s dildo jammed up her cunt while she sat on her lap to drive.
Both hands engulfing Akina’s breasts, tweaking her nipples between her thumbs and index fingers. Her musky, warm breath invading the fields of hair on Akina’s nape, followed by showers of little kisses, all the while whispering that she’d better not wreck her jag.
Then came the trips to P.E. and finger fucking her bi friend, Kitty, in front of a small crowd. It wasn’t her fault the video was arousing, she’d rationalized. It started out innocent enough and it wasn’t like the crowd was watching them exclusively. The video was playing and the girl on girl action was good. Scenes got better; her hand slipped down the front of Kitty’s blouse and touched her nipple. Kitty moaned. Akina tried it again, and again her friend moaned.
She continued massaging her breasts as Kitty braced herself against the wall for support, slightly moving up and down in anticipation. Her delight fueled Akina’s desire to please her, to make her cum. Kitty pulled up her blouse to give Akina better access to her small, round nipples. She sucked and teased them until Kitty’s hips began to fuck the air. Gyrating with little forward thrusts accompanied by grunts was enough to let Akina know she wanted to be taken. Akina buried her face into Kitty’s cleavage. Kitty had one hand on each side of Akina’s head rotating it to her liking while Akina supplied the moisture and suction. Akina’s arms wrapped around Kitty’s small waist and up her back. Her palms laid flat against her back, moving to match the rhythm of her hips.
She moved her right hand from her back and began to massage her way down Kitty’s torso until she reached her zipper. She slid her hand down her pants without unzipping them. Her fingers met a shaved cunt with a throbbing clit. It was fleshy like a firm piece of albacore. Akina could tell it was large because she felt it before she felt her labia. Her panties were soaked. She rubbed her clit gently using its own juices as lube. Kitty’s thighs began to shake and tighten as she thrusted her hips up trying to maneuver Akina’s fingers into her cunt.
“Beg,” Akina whispered. “Beg me for it. Now!” Kitty melted in her arms. Akina teased her until her cunt lips engulfed her fingers. She used her pinky to gently part her labia.
With her middle finger she circled her clit a few times to get some moisture and then inserted her finger. Kitty bit her lip; her chest caved in as she exhaled that first sensation of penetration, almost doubling her.
Akina’s fingers found fleshy warmth. Kitty’s walls pulsated, squeezed and then released their grip on her fingers. She moved her fingers excitedly in her like a bank robber with a shaky hand on his first job. As Kitty began to cum her walls became tight and unyielding. The pulsating became rapid and then dropped to intermittent jerks. Kitty’s head was thrown back, her throat exposed and her mouth opened wide towards the heavens. Only a low growl escaped on a gasp of hushed ecstasy.
Akina reached around with her left hand and placed it over Kitty’s mouth to muffle her cry. Cunt juice trickled from the tips of her fingers down her hand like drops of sap escaping a tree. If this had been her lover she would have licked the nectar. Suffice it to say they both had to scrounge through their leather bags for tissue to clean their exhibition.
And as far as her friend, well, what happened there, stayed there. It excited them both to test the waters and to have sex in public. That’s what P.E. was for.
But all of those antics were just the prelude for this. Akina had come to understand her desire for domination was insatiable. It took on a life of its own. After a few failed str8 lesbian affairs she stepped into the more “dark” side of female domination. She placed the following ad:
African Beauty Sub…
Greetings, I am an attractive, educated, African American femme, sub in need of training. I am very good at pleasing and seek to serve. I require firm training and a gentle touch. I am quite the Sacred Whore and learn very quickly. Trust, safety and honesty are very important qualities to me. In order to unleash the true submissive in me, I require a very strong foundation consisting of the 3 qualities mentioned along with a few others. Please be emotionally and financially stable and available for this venture. Additionally, a positive disposition, a sense of humor and adventure, a grounded spiritual foundation and a willingness to go the distance are my assets. Until we chat, peace.
It was Mistress who replied. They had talked for seven months. Attorneys were retained, medical tests exchanged, backgrounds checked, contracts drawn and trust accounts activated. Everything was legally and properly ironed out.
Akina had requested that her identity remain anonymous and that only the attorneys would meet face-to-face. Mistress was leery, but agreed. They had also agreed that they would write to one another to learn more and to talk for two hours, once a month, by phone. It was a strict schedule, if you missed the call no extra time was added. This was Akina’s sense of control. It fed her fantasy, she’d justified. After all it would be hypocritical to control anything based on her philosophy, right?
A tug on her collar’s lead ring brought her back to the present.
She was usually adorned in leather strappings with an elaborately plumed dildo resting snugly in her firm ass. But today would be different. Today was her Mistress’ birthday and she had instructed that Akina be shaved, cleaned and dipped, full body into a vat of chocolate and served as dessert to her party guests. The Mistress’ birthday parties were infamous.
Everything, except for the elaborate orgies and a few intimate details, was reported in the society pages.
The Designer had concocted a smooth blend of java mocha chocolate, Bavarian white chocolate and milk chocolate along with a secret binding ingredient to ensure that the chocolate stayed on Akina’s body and that it wouldn’t melt before the guests ate her.
She secured Akina’s hands in the harness and lowered her into the vat of warm chocolate and then removed her briefly to allow the chocolate to harden. This was repeated several times to achieve the desired thickness. The chocolate was warm and made Akina horny as it crept into her private parts.
As it reached the outer lips of her cunt the tingly feeling she was experiencing changed into a throb as the heat and rising smoothness of the chocolate further aroused her. She thought of her Mistress and the many guests who would be using her as a party favorite and her cunt became wet – even more stimulated. She would have to control that. She wanted her cunt to be like those chocolate Easter eggs with the white creamy centers. She wanted it to be a surprise for the first guest who explored her. She wanted her juices to flow out white and creamy just like those eggs. Hard shell with a soft center.
Once she had been properly dipped she was laid on a bed of white chocolate and walnuts four feet thick and wide enough for two people to lie on. The Designer added a muted semi-sweet, milk chocolate blend to build Akina’s breasts. Her nipples were accented with strawberries. A combination of sweet, milk chocolate; dark, semi-sweet chocolate and butter white chocolate was used to create Akina’s pubic area. She built the labia out of sweet, mocha chocolate and grated almonds; a cherry made the clit and the butter white chocolate represented the cum escaping Akina’s cunt. The Designer then took a cake-decorating tool and using frostings and various food colorings created an enchanted garden scene of exotic orchids, rare flowers, fairies and cherubs on Akina’s body. All fucking, even the flowers.
The party came to an excited lull as everyone watched as Akina was rolled in on her bed of chocolate. Her legs were spread wide revealing little fairies hungrily eating at the chocolate and whip cream adorning her cunt. First, one clap, then another and another until the entire room resonated with adoration for the feast set before them. The Mistress had exceeded even herself with this, exclaimed one guest.
The Mistress was a striking woman standing 5’7”, 155 lbs., firm breasts, long strong legs and a small round ass. She was very feminine in appearance but as strong as any man.
She had the complexion of a porcelain doll. Ruby lips and piercing, sea blue eyes made the fact that she was of Asian decent elude many voyeurs. Her hair was the color of midnight, groomed into a polished pageboy. Sharp, long bangs cut her face in half and she wore little makeup.
Mistress was born into a wealthy family and lived most of her life abroad. Spain was her favorite country. She had attended Ivy League schools and received debutant training from the best ladies of high society. Her IQ was 203 and she was fluent in several languages.
A consummate clarinetist, her current social obligations required that she travel five months of the year. The rest was spent practicing and indulging her isolation. She loved music and her library consisted of tracks by Nina Simone, Chet Baker, Melissa Etheridge and Prince.
This was a common interest she shared with Akina. Charlie Pride and The Buena Vista Social Club were a few of Akina’s favorites she had learned. They had spent one of their two-hour sessions talking about nothing but music. It wasn’t a waste of time.
Her family indulged bi-sexuality as an unspoken taboo – a fad. To them it was like a Rolex, commonplace. It was considered a sign that one was bored and needed a pleasant distraction. The intrigue of a homosexual lover, however pleasing to the elite’s gossiping grapevine, caused her family reason to worry. Thus, her decision to buy the villa in Mallorca, Spain was approved without a fuss. Her stepsister had co-signed immediately to the idea, declaring that it was too stressful for her to explain to her unborn child that auntie was a bull dyke or whatever. Spain was too hot for her so the chance of an impromptu encounter would be minimal.
“Besides, I didn’t know pretty girls were lesbians. You can get a man!” her sister exclaimed as she slammed the dining room door behind her.
Her family knew that she hated pretentiousness so they knew her lesbianism was no fad. Pretty or not she had been queer since before the time her mother had caught her in the pool house intertwined and nude with the French Governess’ niece who had been visiting for the holidays.
Mistress had learned about the “secret society” in college. She dabbled at first, only partaking in humiliating grimy old rich men and stoic professors who promised better grades if only she’d let them eat her untainted, young cunt. “Humph,” she often thought, “old men give you worms!” “I’ll beat you, mistreat you and make you lick my boots,” she was heard whispering to a Texas oilman who had disrespected her at a casino night fundraiser by groping her breasts. Two day later her first million as a Domme was deposited into her bank account. She didn’t look back.
When news of this new “fad” reached her family, her mother feigned a heart attack to dissuade her new course. “Ladies don’t do such things,” her mother’s trembling voice pleaded.
“You a pretty girl. You marry nice man, give me babies.” Her mother’s weak English annoyed her right now. With all their money and social status her English only changed to this to enhance the guilt trip. Mistress responded in their native tongue signaling to her mother that the conversation was closed. Her mother’s hand fell to the side of the bed in anguish. She rang for the doctor as she exited her mother’s room leaving her to her private pity party. That was five years ago.
It was the Texan who had introduced her to Master. It was amazing how the extraneous activities of the rich were so deviant in nature. Another tidbit she shared with Akina.
Master was ten years older than Mistress. He pissed her off initially by assuming that because she was so beautiful, that she was submissive and not his equal. It took him two years to win an audience and another three to give her a contract she would sign.
He learned early on that she had a penchant for women. It didn’t bother him, at first. All his previous Mistresses were too insecure to have another woman around and had opted to indulge his bisexuality. He relished the thought of two women sharing his bed. It wasn’t until she donned her own strap-on during one of their scenes did he realize how truly equal her view was. When she had finished fucking him and the woman he’d chosen for that night, he realized how much better a man she was, then he. Especially when he found he wanted her to fuck him that way again.
When Akina was to be purchased he had to complete the transaction. Mistress had not been in the society long enough and she was too young. Thus, officially, Akina was purchased as a house slave. When she arrived that first day she felt the tension, the lust and the fear. There was something else too, but she couldn’t call it.
Master began to salivate and quickly looked at Mistress to see her reaction. She was stunned by Akina’s beauty. Putting a face to the letters and sultry voice made her heart flutter and a look Master had never seen, but one that worried him came to her face. Master had moved quickly that day. “Look at those legs. They’re made for running and prancing. And that ass is definitely a dancer’s ass,” he smacked it as he took inventory. “Yep, this one is for the races,” he declared definitively. Master decided then and there that Akina was to be a pony and everyone, except Mistress apparently, knew Master’s ponies had only one sexual partner. Strict training and synchronicity required it.
Pony training also required an overseer, thus, Mistress was tasked to watch Master take Akina, ensuring he did nothing to damage the “house property,” but she, herself, could never touch her. This was his way of disciplining HER; there was nothing Mistress could do and initially this was okay. She hadn’t put much stock into the letters and had kept the conversations strictly within Master/Slave guidelines. She had refused to think of Akina as anything more than a slave; after all it never crossed her mind that she would not be able to partake of her.
But now after seeing her and only being allowed to interact with her in general household ways, a yearning to know this slave on a more intimate level consumed her.
They had found ways of interacting – virtual sex could be just as exciting. The thought of being denied intrigued them both, thus, secret acts of defiance were deployed, but no public or obvious disrespect was ever displayed toward their Master.
Those seven months of preparation for Akina’s addition into their household had piqued various curiosities and Mistress often found herself in the library during Akina’s personal time. Akina was an advent writer and had a mesmerizing voice, like a phone sex operator. She could often be found in a pristine retreat reading aloud. Mistress began leaving books or excerpts of material she wanted to hear glide up Akina’s beautiful throat, the words sailing through those luscious, pouty lips to resonate the hidden codes of lust and desire to her ears. On a few occasions she found herself in a secluded foyer masturbating to the readings, jerking the dildo determinedly in and out of her cunt, it was frustrating. She wanted those reciting lips to talk directly to her yearning pussy.
Akina simply sat, not missing a beat in reading or breath as she too let her throbbing cunt release its own orgasm, sticky, warm juice greasing the upper part of her inner thigh.
Knowing glances and slight touches were exchanged in passing. Mistress would often stand in silence as Akina was being washed or whipped; after all she was the overseer. Denial was a more powerful stimulant than either had realized.
But now, after three years of watching in secret anguish to meld with this slave she had grown to love, through elaborate, clandestine meetings, she would finally have her. Tonight Akina’s ownership would be transferred to her while their Master sulked in a corner of the room over a lost wager.
The guests watched in an enthused hush as Mistress’ strong fingers began to stroke Akina’s chocolate covered clit. Akina couldn’t respond to her Mistress’ touch, she had to remain still in order to not break the chocolate. This was another reason she was chosen for this task – her endurance – it too, was infamous.
She had been in a whipping contest and was paddled for 45 minutes non-stop. She didn’t shed a tear nor cry out from the pain. She won her Master a quarter of a million dollars that day. Ten percent went into her trust account. Yeah, Akina had endurance all right, especially when it paid well. But sitting still now was harder than any endurance training she had experienced, especially with her Mistress playing with her clit.
Her Mistress bent over and began to lick the whip cream and fairies from between Akina’s legs. The large dildo hanging from her leather strap-on was a birthday gift from her lover who stood salivating among the guests. She mused thoughtfully at how The Designer had used all of her favorite chocolates and nuts. She would be sure to thank her properly later. She licked and bit until the chocolate melted away.
Once she reached Akina’s fleshy clit she began to make figure eight motions with her tongue. She reached up with her middle finger and began to massage her hood.
The teasing was deadly and Akina was wrecked with lust, but, she remained still, her eyes fixed on her Mistress, taking in every moment of the experience.
A fist found its way into her cunt. In a matter of minutes chocolate pieces pelted the floor as her Mistress’ fist disappear and reappeared from Akina’s inviting cunt. “Moan bitch,” her Mistress whispered. “Moan, I dare you.” Akina felt her firm fingers tickling her cunt walls. She may not have been able to respond on the outside but she could show her Mistress gratitude by responding with a very wet cunt – and so she did.
Her Mistress, striped down to nothing but her strap, climbed on top of the chocolate bed and pushed Akina’s legs further apart to break the chocolate. She positioned the dildo at the entrance of her cunt without the use of her hands, tickling it, making it even wetter. She leaned forward and pushed a little, met with some resistance, and then with one powerful thrust she was in the center of Akina’s chocolate Easter egg. She drew her tongue down Akina’s cleavage until she was at a 90-degree angle with both breasts. She then began to draw that wonderful figure eight again, encircling both nipples, devouring the strawberries that were adorning Akina’s breasts.
The ache, the yearning to pull her Mistress’ head hard to her bosom was extinguished by remembering her status in all of this. Akina relaxed and enjoyed it.
Her Mistress reached under and grabbed her ass and dug her nails in for what seemed like dear life. She was busting the first of many orgasms her head flying forward and then back as she maneuvered in and out forming an almost perfect “U”.
Her primordial chant took Akina back to passionate nights in Paris with her first Mistress. She remembered the libidinous acts in the glow of the fire’s ambers and it made all of this feel so right.
Whispers were let loose throughout the party that the Mistress had taken her, cum royally and that it was now time for the others to have her. Akina withdrew her gaze as her Mistress slapped her appreciatively, popping the cherry into her mouth as she sauntered off toward the music. The guests now began to surround the table fueled with their own ideas about how to truly enjoy sex and chocolate.
One guest lingered in the shadow of the bandstand. Working at the WTC in New York had opened many opportunities to meet some interesting people. She had earned an invitation to this unique gathering by saving a client a small, yet significant amount of money. She was considered a young and up-in-coming guru in the financial service industry and had developed a small, but wealthy following.
“Akina, huh?” “I knew you when you were Summer,” Trinity smiled to herself, pulling another drag from her blunt…
For our first guest post (Why didn’t I think of this before), the lovely “intelligent hedonist” known as Kelly Shibari shares insight on sex and culture, having an independent approach to the job market, and the grand scheme of things. Enjoy and be sure to check out her links, at home or at the office (hey, live a little!):
“Most of the time, I tend to shy away from talking about my own experience in the adult industry. My blog, Hourglass8, has evolved from a handbook for ladies entering the industry (how to avoid scams and sleazy people) and more into how to utilize social media more effectively for that industry (although a lot of non-adult-industry people seem to read it too, and for that I thank you!).
Despite my on-camera personae (which people are more than welcome to see at KellyShibariXXX), I’m less of a slut-in-public and more of a lady-in-public, whore-in-private (or at least on camera). My upbringing makes me that way (the lady-in-public thing, not the whore thing). My parents are awesome people who are still rather happily married and really went out of their way to raise me in a way that made me someone I’m rather happy with – a silver-lining-seeker, a survivor, and someone who has this innate need to be intellectually stimulated.
I was also raised by older parents – people who themselves were raised in the 1950s, not the 1960s like most of my classmates’ parents – and their ideals. I was raised to be seen and not heard as a child when my classmates were all running wild because their parents were free-thinkers. I was openly punished for misbehaving and prohibited from dating until I was in college. As a result, I am still rather shy in public and prefer to people-watch rather than be the center of attention. I still blush when I talk about naughty things (even with other adult talent), and still lower my voice in public when talking about things that probably should be private.
On the other hand, I was also raised outside of the USA, in a society where sexual innuendo was commonplace in manga and anime, and was a regular source of comedic levity on television. Japanese television shows like “11PM” would regularly have girls coming in to do funny sexual contests, such as weigh their breasts on scales, and have reviews of porn films. My dad’s office always had a calendar or two on the wall with nude stewardesses. My mom and I, even now, talk rather openly about sexual things.
So I was brought up in a household that didn’t shun sexuality, but also promoted behaving like a lady in public. So it only makes sense that I turned out the way I did – and I’m really happy that I did.
I’m a hedonist at heart. I know that I’m on this planet (this time around anyway) for a limited amount of time, and the years at either end of that time are either limited by youth’s limitations of money and legal allowances, or by frailty. The years in between pass by way too quickly. I want to be able to not have any regrets when I’m in that rocking chair. Lessons, probably. Things I probably shouldn’t have done, definitely. But regrets? No.
I’ve always been a freelancer. I’ve never held a corporate job. There are times I wish I had a 401(k), a company-paid health plan, and/or a pension. Trust me, in this current economic state, I really wish I had those things. But I’m just not built that way, I guess. I was raised to be an ever-curious, adaptable survivor.
But I’m also not careless. Because being an intelligent hedonist means that you do think out the outcome of adventures before embarking on them. That’s why you won’t see me doing much of anything to excess. I still like to enjoy good food, good drink, interesting adventures and life experiences – but in moderation, and with careful choices. Nothing dangerous or addictive. And definitely nothing that would cause harm to others.
And when I’ve grown tired of it, I move on.
So in a way, this adult industry period of my life is only a small part of my overall story. The journey’s not over. I still have a lot of things I want to do – and have already started working towards a few of them. I hope I get to all of them before I’m not able to. But one thing I know is that when I’m in a retirement home, I’ll have all sorts of stories to tell – and I’m hoping that I won’t have forgotten any of it”.
