Showing posts with label Erotic. Show all posts

One Text Special

My afternoon's focus and concentration broken by an unexpected sext from Mr Text, flashing up while I'm on a dull conference call.

I'm thinking about you astride me, leaning forward to kiss me as you slowly ride up and down my length.
I move my hands from your hips to grab and caress your hair, neck and face.
It's so perfect I can hardly breathe.

Mmmmmm; as Dirty Harry might say ....make my day.

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A No 19 Special

A frisson of pleasure on board the No19 bus heading up Piccadilly. Frantic sexting with Mr Text. Doubtless there are some who'd say this is all wrong (wrong, wrong), given all the other messy stuff that is going on in my life at the moment - but I don't care. I love it. I am sooooo frustrated.

So, the woman you see - the one demurely holding a copy of The Times, wearing pearl earrings frantically tapping away at her Blackberry - don't just assume it's all work, work, work.

I am thinking about you.
What are you thinking?
Nice thoughts. Lazy, sleepy sex with you slowly screwing me from behind.
I like how deep I can get from behind, especially when your arse is pushed right back and your cunt really juiced up. I've barely got my eyes open and already you've made me really hard. This bodes well for Wednesday.
I'm grinding my hips against you in slow, circular motions. Can't you feel it?
That's better! At least I too have a smile now. No time for more though, tragically.

Shame.

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Delia Smith's One Is Fun..

As the saying goes (or maybe not...) you can take the girl out of the Home Counties, but you can't take the Home Counties out of the girl (que?)

This is my rather fumbled, clumsy way to introduce my own favoured term for female masturbation - or rather, as I like to call it 'doing Delia'.....because, as we girls all know, one is most definitely fun.

So, no, you won't find this definition in the Urban Dictionary, whose other euphemisms for this very pleasurable activity include flicking the bean and smacking the pony, but I like to think this is infinitely more classy.

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Introducing Mr Text

Well; here we are. Tuesday morning and a busy day ahead with three back to back meetings. Need my head switched on. Woke early to find a text from...Mr Text, my erstwhile dissaffected Brummie friend:

I don't want to do anything involving gratification for myself. 

I just want to kiss your whole body, and (when you tell me you're ready) hold your arse and lick your clit for at least an hour, while you grip the back of my head and buck your hips like a wild animal.
 

Not so much a Fuck Buddy or Friend With Benefits (we've only ever met once and it was all perfectly above board) but more of a Sext Buddy, if indeed such a term exists.
Late 30s, he's also entrenched in a ltr with a (much older) woman who has 'gone off sex' for the past 10 months. I suspect he's still in denial mode, despite my telling him very clearly that without sex, a relationship is on shaky ground. I don't think he hears me.
 

What started as a mutual interest in French cinema, literature and politics turned into the bizarre situation we now have in front of us, which frankly bears no relation to any of the afore mentioned high falutin' interests. Learning that we both had shared the same unwilling celibacy gave us a connection in more ways than one and so it slid progressively further into such forms of ?intimacy?. Whatever.
 

I don't love him; I don't want us to get together as a couple and I don't see us having what would be termed a 'proper relationship'. But for the moment, whilst I am in my adjustment phase and moving from long-term unwilling celibate to fully-fledged sexual being - it's enough.
 

As Survival Tactics go, solo masturbation on the back of such finely honed words will set me up nicely for the day, thank you very much.

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