He breathes against my mouth. Our lips are a hair’s breadth away from one another, mine parted, aching, throbbing, with longing. Kiss me! I want to cry out, but this is not part of the game. He breathes against my mouth, and our eye contact is intense. I can feel the heat of his body, a long line of heat, so close to me, so near to me. I want to envelop myself in him. But this is not part of the game.
Take off your dress, he whispers into my mouth. Continue reading
I get them so rarely–comparatively, given the life of the blog, but my favorite emails are ones in which readers think they have spotted Sir and I out and about in public. If they don’t provide descriptions, I always email back and ask, because I find these both interesting and telling.
Some recent favorites:
Short redhead and tall, well-built man at a grocery store in (my city). She was wearing this retro pin-up dress and heels and a collar and the man kept patting her ass affectionately and tugging on her D-ring. Pretty sure it was you two out shopping for dinner!
Two hipster looking youths–early to mid twenties, both covered in tattoos, the man with an air of something hyper masculine about him. The girl, short and coquettish with glasses with no lenses.
Two professional looking types, early thirties, at an airport. The woman is a short redhead in high heels, and the man a brassy blonde in a well-cut suit. They are leaving on different planes and both carry suitcases. They are unafraid of PDA and share a passionate kiss before they part ways.
I swear I saw you at (name of local fetish/sex club). You look just the way you describe in your blog, and I’d know those full, pouted lips anywhere. He was spanking you in a crowd of people and you were wearing a bustier. There was a pseudo gang bang that you found yourselves in the middle of. I respect a man who can pull off leather pants.
I’ve been very lax in mentioning the city I live in on the blog, because it’s a huge city and giant tourist destination, so I’ve felt comfortable and anonymous even though everyone knows the name. Consequently, these don’t make me uncomfortable, but I marvel at the little things that people have right, and the large things that they have wrong. I like to peek over your shoulder and know what you think of Sir and I… the kinds of people you think we are, the every day bodies we inhabit outside of Fatal and Sir.
Kinky people are among us… and truly, you might find us in any of these scenarios, because we are normal people. I’ve never been approached by someone who reads my blog in person–I imagine this is because I don’t put many pictures up and the ones I do put up are not very revealing, but I wonder how I’d react. Probably deny, deny, deny, to be honest, but the tiny exhibitionist in me might say: “well… perhaps,” and blush, coquettishly, as one person described me. And maybe the arm of the man beside me would wrap protectively around my waist and he’d pat my ass affectionately, and smirk.
I don’t know about the leather pants though. *snort*
The long fingers of one hand wrap around my throat, his other arm snakes around my waist and he hoists me up and pins my back against the long line of his body. He growls in my ear; wordless, a raw, animal sound. My fingers automatically close around his wrists and stroke at his skin. His body is vibrating behind mine; he is heat lightning and raw thunder and energy. I feel small and vulnerable in his hands. His teeth close around my earlobe and he drags the flesh into his mouth. His thumb at my windpipe slows my breathing down until all I can take are deep, slow breaths, fighting for the little air he does allow me. His hand at my waist forces its way in between my skin and my clothing, sneaking past my skirt and rubbing against the outside of my panties, stroking me between my thighs. I can’t help but rock my hips, but let my fingers snake around his wrists. There is heat inside of him, an urgency born of jealousy and a fire that’s been simmering all day. Continue reading
