Me: What are you doing?

Lover: I’m at a bar drinking with my buddies. What’s up?

Me: I’m horny, and I want to fuck.

I didn’t have the time to give him a long story or butter him up. That’s not what this “friendship” was about. We both knew what this was about; besides, he’d been drinking, so perhaps this was the best time to ask him. A minute later, he sent a text with the address of the bar. While waiting for his reply, I had cooked up a game plan in my head of how I was going to get out of the house. I only knew one person who would be more than willing to be my alibi. I called up my best friend Chloe, and told her simply “If my husband asks, confirm that I went to your house and stood there all night (maybe into morning).” She said, as I knew she would, “Alright,” and after fine tuning the details, I awoke my sleeping husband, with her on the phone, and told him she needed me at this moment and that I was leaving; I’d be back in the morning. After hearing her voice on the phone for mere seconds, he drifted back into sleep, and after I sent a gracious text to my friend, and a confirmation text to my Lover, I ran to the bathroom to shower quickly. In 15 minutes, I was showered, dressed, and groomed. I went simple: a white sleeveless t-shirt, red bra, and a denim skirt. I  put on my favorite red patent leather pumps, and was ready to go, slipping a pair of flats and black tights in my bag before leaving. I kissed my husband good-bye and slipped away, grateful for the darkness of night and his sleepy haze that he had not noticed my attire. I hailed a cab and gave him the address, the lights becoming more and brighter as the car drove deeper into the heart of the city, exposing the variety of open establishes open at this time of night, hosting those looking to have a good time.

I arrived in front of the pub, and entered, scouring for an empty spot somewhere. I found a chair at the bar, sat on the stool and swiveled around towards the waiter, ordering a shot of Tequila, and a glass of champagne. I figured I’d creep in some courage before going into this. It was the first time we were going to meet up, let alone fuck, and although I was horny, I was also a bit nervous. My phone vibrated in my purse as I was half way done with my glass of champagne.

Lover: Are you here?

Me: Yes, at the bar having a drink.

Lover: What are you wearing?

Me: That depends…want to play a game?

Lover: What’s the reward if I win?

Me: Play and find out…

(Very long pause)

Me: I promise it’s an easy game…

Lover: Sure. But the reward better be worth it

Me: It is…First, the rules. I will give you a clue of what I am wearing, one item at a time. You have five minutes to find me after each clue.

Lover: Hmmm…sounds too easy.

Me: Well, this place has two floors. For every five minutes that pass, I move a little higher into this building, making the game worth playing.

Lover: What’s my first clue?

Me: I am wearing red shoes…

I looked at the time on my phone. 12: 22 am. I continued to finish the small amount of champagne in my glass, scanning the bar, trying to single him out. And at the left side of the bar, moving slowly clock wise away from me, his head pointed down to toward the ground, I saw him, looking for me. Every so often he would stop and speak to woman sitting at the bar, asking her (I presumed) if she was me. I looked at my phone. 12:26 am. He had one minute, but he was on the other side of the bar, still looking. I kept my gaze on him, masking my intent on by scanning the crowd every so often.

It was time to text him the second clue.

Me: Time to follow a woman wearing a white shirt…

He looked up quickly, standing straight, the full length of his height extending itself. His eyes skimmed the crowd, as his body moved toward the staircase, focused on a woman who was climbing to the next floor. I slid out of the seat, following the small flood of people heading upstairs, standing about three feet away from him. I followed him up, analyzing him as we climbed. He wore khaki’s that fell perfectly an inch off the ground, and moved well with him. I found myself blushing slightly as I the words “Nice ass” scrolled across my eyes inside my head. His hand gripped the banister, twice the size of mine. His black watch told me we were two minutes into the second clue. We reached the landing and he approached the woman, asking her simply “Is your name Scarlett?”

I moved away to the right side of the room, forcing my legs to cooperate with my brain and not with the quickened throbbing of my pussy, heightened by the sound of his sexy deep voice saying my name. The second floor wasn’t much of a floor, but a large balcony that half way surrounded the floor below. There were two doors on this level; one led to another room that played some other type of music; the other door was painted black, blending into the darkness except for a “Do Not Open” sign. The door swung open and back inside the building strolled a man and a woman, looking cautiously about them. I noticed one of them had been a waiter at the bar. The other was a busty, creamy skinned brunette, who hadn’t noticed that she had a small tear forming on her tights located on the left knee.

My Lover continued to scan the small balcony area, stopping a woman here or there to ask the same question. I stayed in dark corner, taking out my phone. 12: 31 am. Time to send him the next message.

Me: Hey there cutie with the nice ass! How about walking it towards the next room and following a woman wearing a (short) denim skirt.

I could see his face become more determined, looking behind him quickly and tensing his jaw. Once again he did a quick scan of the area, looking for next place to go. He saw the door to the other party room and entered it. I on the other hand made my way toward the black door, making sure no one could see me. It was dark, and for a second I thought it had been another room, perhaps an office. I took out my phone, and quickly inspected the room. I found a light switch and turned it on to reveal and small set of stairs going upwards. I opened the door at the end and wedged a brick on the ground between the entrance to hold it open. I found my self on the roof of the building, an ornate wrought iron fencing encasing its border. There were tables scattered across the roof, umbrellas erected in the middle of each one, many closed, some open. I walked a little, making sure no one else was here, and took out my phone to check the time. 12:36 am. It was time for the final message.

Me: Last clue will take you to the last floor possible, where you will find a woman wearing a very visible red bra under her white shirt.

I walked to the edge of the building, the fence reaching just under my nose. I looked down through the metal bars, observing yellow cabs and their passengers, who they were picking up and dropping off; watching cars of all types flash by, every so often a bubbled sound of cars honking to clear the green light in time. I placed my bag on one of the tables  with an open umbrella and held on to the cold iron, closing my eyes and listening to the hum of the city, a slight crisp breeze tingling my exposed inner thighs. I felt a drop of water, almost microscopic, fall on my right arm. A moment later came another one. I threw my head back and felt one on my left cheek, a slight breeze picking up and spreading the smell of oncoming rain. I had forgotten what I was doing there for a second, and innocently enjoyed the silence before the approaching storm.

I had been so enthralled into this small moment that I had failed to hear the roof door creak open. I was snatched out of my reverie by deep voice whispering my name.

“Scarlett…”

“You’ve found me,” I said, turning to face him. I took in the intensity of his brown eyes, slightly glazed from the intake of hops and distilled alcohol. As his gaze fell onto me, taking in the sight of me from top to bottom, I reached for his left hand and placed it on my hip. “It’s time to claim your prize.”

I reached up with my right hand and swam my fingers through his fine brown hair, grabbing the back of his head and lowered it to mine, kissing his full salmon colored lips. His other arm circled my back, searching for the edge of my shirt and crawled underneath, his large hand soft against my skin. My left hand began to work on his belt and pants zipper, until it was grazing the outside of his underwear. His cock twitched under the warmth and grasp of my hand as I rubbed and went lower, cupping his balls, pressing my body tighter against his. The hand under my shirt began unclasping my bra, scratching me slightly as his finger tips hungered for the touch of more skin. A drop of rain fell on our attached lips, and I noticed then that my arm had hundreds of tiny droplets beginning  to roll off.

His navy blue sweater began to darken in color about his shoulders, his hair collecting water easily and sliding down his forehead. All it did was make him look even sexier. I pulled off my unclasped bra, my slightly darkened areola and nipples visible through the almost shear white tank top that was slowly collecting water. He glanced down, a hungry look in his eye as he hastily took his shirt off and placed it on top of my bag. He lowered himself to his knees, his hands taking my breast from each side and biting each nipple through my moistened shirt. He had me currently pressed against the rooftop fence, working his way lower. He reached under my skirt in an attempt to roll down my underwear, and pleasantly found that I had none on. He kissed the inside of my right thigh as he placed it over his left shoulder. I held on to the fence with my left hand and reflectively grabbed his hair with my right as he dived in and began to eat my pussy. I could hear the honking and revving of cars two levels below me, the rain increasing in intensity, and my heartbeat pounding in my chest, my body flowing like the rain and evaporating on his tongue.

I internally debated whether I should post this or not; I mean, mainly the writing on my blog is sexually based. Besides, I know there are some people out there who hate to read sob stories. And then I realized that 1) If you don’t want to read it, you just don’t and 2) This is MY blog, plain and simple. I will write what ever the hell I want to write! Also, seeing as the title is A True Unfolding, this is my story, my life, my desires and fantasy’s. I can not mask everything with sex, and as some of you will understand with all the shit I’ve been going through, that sex is not the very first thing on my mind, and so writing about it has been uncomfortable for me. Whenever I begin, I start to think about something else that is more important, and my writing (sexual or not) has been pushed aside. Although I will say that my sex life has suffered little, and I am still having sex at least twice a week, which compared to other people that I know, is pretty good. I know eventually I will get back to doing what I love, back to my old horny self. It’s just going to take a little longer than I expected…

Staying afloat...

I hope you are all doing well. I haven’t had any time to keep up with some of my fave bloggers, but I will. Expect to see some new comments soon!

-Scarlett

The other night I had sent a text to Henri: “Ready to give me some inspiration tonight? ” to which his reply was “Of course!” But four hours later, when Henri arrived, after having cooked dinner, cleaned up, showered the baby and put him to bed, I was exhausted. But he still wanted to have sex, and I never like to say no. So, I went into our plan B during these situations: “Let me be your sex doll,” I told him. Awhile ago I came up with the idea of being Henri’s living sex doll. It eliminates the foreplay and the time that it takes for both of us to get in the mood (because to be honest, sometimes I just want a quick fuck). So, if he is turned on and wants to have sex, and I don’t feel the same but I also don’t want to deny him, I become his sex doll, and he can do with me what he pleases.

He is already hard as he slides down my panties down one leg; I guess it wasn’t necessary to take them completely off. Without any other words, he sinks down on top of me, bites my nipple and enters me, slipping in easily. Apparently, I am just like one of those high-end dolls who wet themselves with the slightest sensory touch because there was no rubbing, no foreplay, but my pussy was as slick as always. Not to mention very tight, seeing as we haven’t had sex as much as we would like to. Eventually, it’s impossible to just be a doll; my hips gyrate against his pelvis, digging in, going deeper, breathing faster, moaning louder. Before I know it, we’re having a full on sex session. From here it can go anywhere; but it always leads to somewhere nice…

-Scarlett

And so Happy New Year every one! Let’s see what 2012 will bring…

-Scarlett

It seems to me that now that I am a mother and wife, the holidays seem to bring more stress than happiness. Thanksgiving went well enough at my in laws home, but now I have stupidly offered to have a Christmas Eve feast at my place, and my home still is not up to par from this summer’s crisis. If you are wondering, the bugs are gone; but we had to throw away furniture, bag everything we own, and literally move back into our home. I thought everything would be done by Thanksgiving, but I was struck with debilitating back pains and headaches. I thought it was that time of the month, and it was; but it stuck around for near a month, and all that came with it. I was in bed for days at a time, and only got out to take care of my son. My sex life suffered, hence so did my writing. If I’m not having sex, I find it hard to write about. Now I have about two weeks to put this place in shape, along with the Christmas tree, which is still in a box. Slowly but surely, I’m trying to get things back together, and hoping to gain my Christmas spirit along the way. Thank goodness for my Henrí, who has agreed to completely take over every responsibility this weekend so that I can sit and write. I hope by Sunday to present to all of you the next installment of the Visitor Returns, and perhaps another story I have been working on.

Now I leave you with a Family Guy episode that completely resonates with how I feel (as Lois, the matriarch of the family). Enjoy.

-Scarlett

1. Why did you sign up for writing your blog?

I did something terrible almost a year ago that I felt I needed to write about, and in the process I realized that the most difficult thing in the world to endure is a relationship, marital or friendly, so my blog became about my relationships in different spheres.

2. Why did you choose your blog’s name? What does it mean?

I chose A True Unfolding because it began with true tales of my own life. Gradually, it became a name for my own personal progression throughout this year; an unfolding of myself along with my relationships.

3. Did you ever had another blog? 

Many actually; but this one is the only one to have as many followers as it does. I deactivated the other two and use this one as my main blog.

4. What do you do online when you’re not on your blog?

Anything and everything from porn to history research. I’m an habitual web surfer.

5. How about when you’re not on the computer?

Taking care of my son, my husband, and my home. That includes my brother-in-law Pierre, the atypical collegian who can and probably will eat me out of house and home.

6. What do you wish people who read your blog knew about you?

My ethnicity. I wonder what the reaction would be if I told people I was ___________. As much as some would like to say they don’t judge people by it, where I come from, I get stereotyped.

7. What is your favorite community in the blogosphere?

Not apart of one, I guess. I write about relationships, and erotic material, but I associated with anyone whose writing I deem intriguing.

8. What is your philosophy on your blog layout?

In the beginning I changed it quite a bit, and then a few months ago I settled on this one. The colors are subtle and sexy, and little grungy like I like it.

9. Tell me about your picture you use to represent you on your blog.

I try my best to choose tastefully sexy photos. Seeing as I had “transitioned” into sexier context, I wanted a sexy photo without it being crass and too raunchy. I felt that the one I chose was sexy, intimate, loving, and artistic; a perfect photo for this blog.

10. Pick 3 random blogs from your blogroll and tell us about them. 

Certified Slut: a blog I have been following for about a month. Her work is different with detail and almost a history. It is as though she is writing a memoir. I love her site.

10 Years in: Anisa, a married woman after my own soul. I connect with her because we have so much in common in our marital and personal lives. Plus, she is of the rare long time married women that love to have sex, and do it well.

Sparklebumps: This one is the most like me that I have found. Charming, completely intelligent, had my dream job (working in a bookstore), and so funny! I have trouble keeping up with her posts because she seems to write as she speaks; but every time I do, I leave with a smile.

11. What features do you think your blog should have that it doesn’t currently?

I’m not sure, but I’m open to suggestion.

12. What do you consider the 10 most “telling” interests that we would infer from what you blog persona?

Marriage, sex, erotica, friendships, fantasies, blow jobs (because I love to do it to my husband), life, love, women, and breasts (I have big ones and I love big ones)

13. Do you have any unique interests that you have never shared before? What are they? 

I’m really crafty. I enjoy creating things from nothing, so I was always great in arts and crafts and I love to cook. It’s probably why I love to write.

14. The best thing about blogging is all of the friends that you make. Beside from those folks, do you think your blog has fans?

I hope so!

15. What’s your current obsession? What about it captures your imagination?

Domination and submission. I’m entering a stage in my life where I want to explore new things sexual, and dom/sub role play has been something I’ve been interested in for a while, it is only now that my husband and I have begun taking strides in making it happen.

16. What are you glad you did but haven’t really had a chance to post about?

Phone sex with another man, whom I consider my phone whore. It was interesting, to say the least.

17. How many people who first became a blog friend, have you met face to face?

None. It was never actually an option.

18. What don’t you talk about here, either because it’s too personal or because you don’t have the energy?

My deep-rooted past, and every single detail of my marriage.

19. What’s a question that you’d love to answer?

Depends on the question and who’s asking it. I’m pretty much an open book though.

20. Have you ever lost a blogging friendship and regretted it?

NO.

21. Have you ever lost a blogging friendship and thought, “Was that overdue!”

NO.

-Scarlett

I was still on my laptop, making my usual last-minute rounds. He pressed up close against me, his hand resting on my ass. “I see you wore these shorts expecting to get fucked,” he said, intensely grabbing my ass, his finger very close but barely touching my anus. I had on a pair of terry cloth jogging shorts, no underwear; his favorite. I continued on my computer, stretching out this manic grabbing, getting wet. But he was getting tired and I was soon to lose him to sleep.

11:50 pm

I turn off my computer and faced him; he stopped touching me and I was so turned on by now. I knew he had to wake up early the next day, but I just wanted him. I began calling him names, taunting him: “Yeah, you have to be at work tomorrow like a good little bitch!” When that failed I called him a “pussy” and began pulling his hair, scratching his back. He ignored me and I soon became resigned to another sexless night. I stopped bothering him, turned to my side, my back to him, and went to bed. Not a second went by that I felt him grab my hair and pull my head back.

“I’m a bitch?” he said, as I laughed. I never give up easily. “Yes, you’re a bitch!” I said, still laughing. Smack! It was a hard slap to my ass, very welcomed. And then another, and another, and another until I realized it was beginning sting and I could no longer laugh. Actually, I did nothing and stood silent; I could not muster the breath to speak any words due to the burning sensation on my back side, but also I felt that if I did speak or scream and didn’t take it, he would smack harder. “Get on your fucking knees!” he said, sharply using my hair to pull me up to my knees, as I felt the ache swelling over my ass from his rapid spanking. He continued to ask me the question, but I don’t think he wanted a real answer; my body spoke for itself. He stopped spanking me and pulled my hair all the way back, arching my whole body until my head was at the other side of the bed, upside down.

He went to grab my nipples, but my breasts have been utterly sore, and from reflex, I attempted to cover them with my arms. He didn’t like that. He pulled my hair harder, making it impossible for me to resist. “Those are my fucking tits, and I will touch them when I want to,” he hissed into my ear, grabbing a nipple and squeezing it between his thumb and forefinger. I yelped out of pain, but I couldn’t avoid that my pussy was staining my clean shorts and it felt good to be his property. “Open your legs,” he said, and when I did, he slapped my pussy  over my shorts as they rode up against my clit and anus. His slapping and the cloth rubbing was blissful torment. It felt so good I closed my legs slightly. He slapped the inside of my legs “Keep your fucking legs open!” he said, slapping my pussy with every syllable. He made me remove my shorts, and hold my legs open, fondling my clit, his hand still pulling my hair. He placed his lips at my ear and asked me again, “I’m a bitch?” This time he expected an answer. I told him no; he said he couldn’t hear me, so he slapped my pussy hard. “Again! Am I a bitch?” I said no, very loudly, short of screaming.

“I’m going to let go of your hair now. But understand that you are my bitch,” and he attacked my nipple with his mouth, his fingers rubbing my clit and my ass hole, now wet from my cunt. He began to be nice and soft, licking my pussy and attending to me. He noticed that my arms began to tire, and asked me if I wanted to stop holding my legs. When I said yes, he said that was “too fucking bad; keep holding your legs open!” And I did. When he thought I had enough, he told me to suck his cock. As his dick neared my wanton lips, he pulled back suddenly.

“You said I was a pussy, therefore lick my pussy.” I was confused; what should I do? I knew that he didn’t have a pussy, and if I went to lick it, he might hurt me. And I so want to suck his dick. So I told him that I was sorry, and that he didn’t have nor was he a pussy. He accepted my apology and allowed me to lick his cock nice and slow; that he would tell me when I could speed up and go wild. After sometime at my slow pace, he told me “Now work your magic,” and I deep-throated him like a starved animal. His balls, his shaft, the bed–all soaked from my saliva. He took me and turned me around on all fours, fucking me from behind, choking me gently. My pussy was on fire, spreading the heat through out my body, his dick working like a piston in my cunt.

It was well past midnight by now, and he was getting tired. He stopped, and laid down; I knew he was exhausted, but I wanted him to cum. “Can you jerk off into my mouth?” I asked him, praying he would say yes. And he did. He jerked himself off over me as I licked his head, tasting his pre-cum, desperate to swallow his load. But he couldn’t; he chose to fuck me instead. He got on top of me, thrusting hard and fast until he unloaded inside of me, I partially upset because I wanted to taste him; but his cum, warm and stuffed inside me turned me on even more. I took my Rabbit and fucked myself, begging him to finger fuck my ass. I came in seconds. I can’t remember the last time I came so fast. As I settled into my pillow, I felt the welts of his smacks still on my ass, his cum and mine oozing out of pussy and I felt sore and used. I slept very well last night.

-Scarlett

This post was featured on Fleshbot

I personally can not accept that a person should have to sacrifice one for the other. To be clear, I am not talking of just marriage but of long-term and/or life partners in general. If this one person is meant to be by your side until the day one of you die, why should sex be one of the trade off’s to full happiness? This is but my own opinion, but I feel that if this person is truly your soul mate, they should have an overall package. I’m not saying they need to be perfect, or that even the sex should be. But you should be able to at least enjoy having sex with your significant other (this excludes physical, mental, or any other health problems). I’ll be the first to admit that sex with Henrí isn’t always phenomenal; but I do enjoy having sex with him all the time, and trust me, after ten years, I still yearn for him in every single orifice.

In the end, it’s not about my opinion or anyone else’s; if he makes her happy and this is what she wants then I’m happy for her. I mean, she makes a valid point: good men are hard to find. I know people that are more satisfied with shows of affection rather than sex; they actually prefer it. And she says that the connection she has with him is stronger than with anyone she’s ever met; one of those loves that shakes your very foundation, and she feels like this is their second chance.

So, I leave this to my dear readers and followers: What is your opinion? For the sake of eternal love, should sex be an option?

-Scarlett

PS: Excuse the delay on the continuation of “The Visitor Returns” but I’ve been sick with a cold and harboring some very intense headaches. Plus, I don’t know what’s going to happen next, so it will be a surprise for all of us when I post part 4 -S

“Hi, my name is Elena and I’m from hotel management,” she said quickly, rushing through the introduction. “I received some complaints from some of your neighbors and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Everything is just fine, as you can see. I’m sorry if we got a little carried away,” I had closed the door slightly, as I was not sure what her reaction would be if she saw Matilda. Just then, her blonde hair comes into view behind me.

“Mr. Visitor want’s to know who’s at the door,” she said before I could do or say anything else.

“Matilda?” Elena’s face grew red in seconds, and her nostrils began to dilate quickly, her hand balled into fists as she pushed herself into the room. I expected Elena to be surprised and a bit angry, but not to this extent.  I closed the door behind her, not sure what would happen, but not wanting an audience.

“What are you doing here having sex with a hotel guest? You need to leave right now!” Elena shouted, huffing through each word. “Listen, this was my idea. Plus, she is not on the clock; how can you fire her if this is not being done while she is working?” I told her, trying to abate the situation so that at least poor Matilda could keep her job.

“Don’t tell me how to do my fucking job!” She hissed, her eyes piercing through me. By now, I had figured out that Elena was showing more anger than necessary over this. Something was wrong with her, and it had nothing to do with us. Plus, I was not going to let anyone talk to me that way. I walked up to Elena, now standing at the center of the room, Matilda next to the bed telling the Visitor what was going on, reassuring him that everything was okay, lifting his blindfold so that he could see what was happening.

“Look, I’m sorry for the noise we caused, but there is no need to be so rude. As for Matilda, you know that she is doing nothing wrong. She is doing something personal, and may I add pleasurable, after work.” I kept my tone of voice level and steady, noticing how her face twitched at the word pleasurable. I stepped closer, my tone softer and slower. “Why are you really angry? I know it’s not because you caught one of your employees having sex with a hotel guest.”

“It is not your business what I’ve been through.” She spat out the words through gritted teeth; but the gaze in her eyes softened a bit.

“Your eyes give you away,” I said to her, almost to a whisper. In fact, her whole body gave her away. I was close now, close enough to smell the mint on her breath; the freesia and jasmine in her perfume mixing with small beads of sweat on her temple; to see the ticking of her jugular vein, the tweaking of her facial muscles as she struggles to stick to the facade she’s created. I noticed no ring on her finger, no jewelry with signs of commitment. Her body involuntarily swayed with the blood rushing through her veins, her fists still by her side, not as tight as before. “I’m not sure what you’ve been through lately, but whatever it was it already happened; there is nothing, no matter how much you want it to, that is going to change that. Nothing can assure you that you won’t get hurt again, or that whatever is bothering you is going to go away an instant; however, I can assure you that being angry only brings bitterness, and that no one can begin to be happy if you still hold on to that anger.” I stepped closer; she didn’t move back. I boldly reached out my right hand, collecting some her loose hairs in my fingers and gently curling them, smiling at her and looking directly in her hazel eyes.

“I also know you just can’t get over the pain in an instant, and sometime you need to let out that rage, those emotions causing you to burst at the seams. There are not many outlets for releasing that tension. But I do know one,” I said, walking slowly behind her, my lips at the her ears, her hair shivering in the wind of my whispers. “We may not be professionals, but if you’re up for it, we can at least provide you with a distraction for the next few hours.” Her eyes widened and her fists completely unfurled; the look of shock was quite honestly laughable. I had no idea how she would react, but I figured we really had nothing to lose; if she were to accept, it would add to the fun. If she rejects, we continue from where we left off.  I saw it as a win-win. “This is one of the few moments in life that come around, and if you don’t take it now, it may never be available again.”

“If we fuck now, I won’t have the energy to continue cleaning. Do you understand?”

I stubbornly said “No, I don’t.” He placed the broom aside, took my wrist and dragged me off the bed to the ground on my knees. He then pulled his pajama bottoms down and pinned both my wrists above my head and face fucked me. I gagged, and resisted; he’d take it out, give me a moment to breathe, and push back in my throat. His dick was hard and covered in veins. I said I was sorry, that I understand. He grabbed me by the hair and pushed his dick back in and I moved my head and sucked his cock. He took my hands and placed them behind his thighs for leverage, allowing me to suck at will. With his hands still in my hair, he pulled me up to my feet and shoved me on the bed, pulling down my shorts and panties. He fucked me missionary, shoving his cock in me, knowing that I’d already be wet, and fucked me hard. Then a few moments later he pulled out, and said “You’ll get more later. I have to clean.” Before pulling up his pants he told me to sit in front of him, crotch in my face. “Now say sorry, and kiss it.” So, I said sorry and kissed his dick. It forgave me because later, he took me doggy style with both my hand pinned behind my back.

I was kind of scared and confused. I naturally resisted, but he over powered me; he slapped me a little and right before our second session, he’d slapped my ass and pussy relentlessly. I felt submissive, the control in his hands. And I got wet, I screamed, and I wanted more. I still want more. I’m not sure what we’re doing, but I like it and so does he.

-Scarlett

This post was featured on Fleshbot