dirty talk thought process: bdsm dirty talk events getting off gta orgy queer sex rope woah
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Sunday night was myth. the ening started out rocky. I missed getting into NYC when I wanted to. I went to the pre-myth munch but didn’t meet as many people as I had hoped to. Then we headed over to a friend’s to get ready. Alas there was a typo in the address and instead of walking 2 blocks, we walked 25 blocks. (there and back again, as I was apparently parked across the street form her place). We quickly got ready and rushed out the door. We got to Myth and there was a line and it took a while to get in. Argh. So the day of Sunday really frustrated me and made me feel bummed, but I did NOT want it messing with my night.
The party kinda totally rocked. I was in awe at the fact that everywhere I looked there were people who would interest me, and scenes that were hot to me. I bumped into a few people early on that I talked with for a while. My friend Tiger from back in the firespinning days was there and we talked a bunch. The ginger was with me as my buddy and I kept teasing him through the silk skirt I got him to wear. I orchestrated a suspension for Tiger with MrBlue. While watching them, in the background I kept watching another hot scene with seram wrap and strapons and other stuff. Between that, all the folks around me, and constantly teasing the ginger, I was going nuts, so off to the bathroom we went. I moved the garbage can away from the corner and we made out and fucked. Then He pushed his hand inside of me and got me so close to orgasm it was infuriating. There were other folks all around us walking past to use the bathrooms or sinks, or to find another nook or surface to play on. There was something kinda hot about moving a garbage can so you can fuck up against a wall in a nightclub bathroom in NYC. I mean really… I think the “dirty” factor makes it twisted and hot to me.
We finished up and headed out to wander around the party and see what was happening. I ran into Shair. I had talked with him perviously about playing at the party. i knew he wanted to play but he felt scared/intimidated by the thought of playing in public. We ran back to the bathroom and his Mythbuddy, Am, came too. We pulled an ottoman into the bathroom, I took off my underwear and put them down on the edge between my rear and the ottoman and leaned back. Shair put on a glove and lubed up and pushed his hand inside of me. Am was staying back because they didn’t know me, but I invited them closer and said they didn’t have to feel like a stranger. They did come closer and held a leg which became some petting as well. Next to us was another scene with about 4 people, the center person was hooded and having their thighs beaten between being forced to orgasm. The harley/ivy duo came in and cheered us on for a bit and then ran off again. We eventually broke up partly to see a nazi interrogation scene, and also because I didn’t want to be too sore for work the next morning.
As I was sitting waiting to voyeur the interrogation scene, Eisko came over and asked if they could hurt me, and I said “of course” and so they sat on me and tied my hands back and hurt me a bit. There were some unfortunate limitations because I had to be able to teach a breast and pelvic exam in about 8 hours. All of my backside was ok though so eventually they had me get up and lay across the bar and started sawing me. Yes, I saw SAWING. They had a cross cut saw and they dragged the blade edge against my body… It felt like constantly being scratched in the same place. It became super intense feeling. At first I thought, “well they don’t want to have to deal with open wounds in a place like this, so really, what harm could it do?” But it did manage to hurt a bunch and fuck with my brain a little. (The shower a few hours later HURT SO BAD, and I still have scratches)The last thing they did was grabbed my hair and held my face still firmly against the counter top, and then they ran the saw against the back of my neck. My brain flashed upon the videos I’ve seen of people being beheaded. I couldn’t tell if I was horrified, excited, or turned on. I do know my logic was feeling a bit warp-y though.
I managed to make out with a few people throughout the night and make some friends. It was fantastic. Then I poked my friend Aid and asked if they were still interested as I said we would play, but it was getting late. They were still interested. So they beat the outer parts of my thighs, and my shoulder blades and it hurt. I’ve hit people, I know mean spots… These were mean spots. Considering the limitations I put out though and the time contraint, quick and dirty in shitty spots was the ticket. It was awesome and I look forward to playing with them again when we have more time and more body parts available.
Annnddd then we went home, and I stayed up all night and went to work the next morning and finally went to bed around 4pm the next day next to the gingerboy.
It was lovely.
We’ve had sex many times before. It’s been some of the most amazing sex. I’ve had orgasms. That’s nuts. Yet for some reason I feel stupid giddy about the sex we had last night. There was a party going on we headed off to bed but there were other folks already sleeping in the room. We cuddled as we meant to fall asleep, but there was contact, lips, hands, heat… I wanted to feel him. He wanted me, too.
In n impulsive moment we decided to go out to the yurt. The chill had moved people inside and out of the yurt. By the glow of christmas lights he bent me over and entered me. Our fleece coats still on, my boots pressing into the damp earth… I was sore from him the night before. It hurt a little bit at first, which of course turned me on so much. He came. Our clothing was reassembled. We held eachother and kissed and talked and I felt so good. It felt young and stupid and passionate and silly and and and so many things at once.
In bed we held each other as we fell asleep. In the morning, I kissed him goodbye.
I wrote this quite a while ago. I slapped it up onto literotica. It has over 8k views. I’m not sure if it’s my cup of tea anymore. It was very much based off my romantic notions of a D/s or M/s relationship which was my fantasy getting into kink. Things have sure changed, although I do think that a kind of power exchange is necessary for me to enjoy most of my interactions.
He slides his finger along the ridge of my ear
you are Mine…
His finger traces down onto my neck
you will do what I say.
His finger swirls around to a point on my neck
if you are good you will get rewarded.
He licks and nibbles at my skin causing goosebumps of pleasure
His finger traces to the other side of my neck
if you are bad…
His finger swirls around again to a point
you will get punished.
He bites so hard I gasp and whimper
He grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back so I can see into His face.
He kisses me deeply taking pleasure in the awkward angle of my neck.
Suddenly, He shoves my head away.
I fall to my hands and knees, gasping for breath.
He moves around in front of me and sits.
Now, let’s get started.
It was actually quite an unfortunate experience. You see at the time I was with my ex, the fuzzy russian, and he was actually not interested. I, being a kinky fucked up soul, was *really* turned on by the idea. So after trying and trying to talk him into it, he finally relented and said we would that night.
So I was excited and tried to prepare. I found a bottle that was used to squirt/apply hair color and I washed it out SUPER well. Then I filled it with warm water and gave myself an enema. I cleaned up as best as I could. I even slid a finger into my ass to check and make sure I couldn’t find anything. I was excited.
Later came and we were fooling around and fooling around and I asked him if he wanted to try and he said that he just wasn’t in the mood. So we didn’t do it. I was bummed (harr!) but we did have sex and then fell asleep.
The next morning involved morning sex and he told me that he was willing to try now. Not thinking too hard about it since I was SUPER excited, I hopped on. He laid on his back and I lowered myself down onto him because he was still somewhat sleepy-like and also because then I could control the speed/depth. After I got him into me and settled past the discomfort, I started to ride him a bit. It felt so good. Unfortunately, I had to adjust. My legs were getting tired and he said he was uncomfortable and he needed to sit up. So we went to change positions. As he slid out of me, on the underside of his cock, stuck to the condom was some poop. My first thought was a feeling of embarrassment. His first response was “AAAHHH GET IT OFF ME!” I pulled the condom off from the base making sure to not allow any of the fecal matter to come in contact with him. I tied the condom and threw it out. He kept freaking out about it. My emotions kept swinging wildly from feeling mortified about it, to being pissed off. He was acting so fucking childish about it. Also, if we had just done it the night before when I was prepared this wouldn’t have happened. Then back to mortified.
Needless to say we didn’t try again. I still feel kind of bitter about it. My mortification over that inciden has worn off, but because of that incident I now feel super nervous about anal sex, and if accidents happen, then instead of dealing with it like an adult, I instead feel ashamed beyond belief and become somewhat depressed.
There was an ocean cross breeze. When we started the light bounced around the room giving everything a fantastic white-cool glow. His skin was fresh from a shower. The thought was actually a nap, but for some reason conversation kept happening. As I touched him and as he touched me, we kept talking. He told me how he touches himself. He told me about his body and what he thinks about. I showed him how I touch myself. I felt embarrassed but seeing his reactions helped. I felt desirable.
As we sat facing each other he entered me and we kept talking. The clouds outside were dark but they broke right around where the sun was, by this point, setting. I leaned my hands back against the rim of the fold out bed and worked my hips back and forth. The angle was fantastic and hit things that felt amazing. The sun was a dark red splotch on the horizon, the clouds pushing the last of the day away.
He came while on top of me, my legs wrapped tightly around him, pulling him into me. When his body shudders I can’t help but feel something well up deep inside by my solar plexus. Some stupid glee or joy.
I gave him back to the functioning world after that. He has a purpose and I won’t steal him away from what he needs to do. That’s not saying I didn’t want to though.
I’m always unsure of how others deal with mornings. When he started kissing me, I avoided opening my mouth because I wasn’t sure if he was sensitive about morning breath. When he started using tongue, I realized he didn’t mind. When I started kissing back and his hands pulled me close, I realized he truly did not care. I love that space where our foreheads touch, and our noses align next to each other and then our lips meet.
We started enjoying each others bodies, touching each other, enjoying the state of arousal. I again thought, “oh, well this is as far as it’s going to go”. Oh no! the clever one stashed some condoms on the window ledge next to his phone! I like that kind of forethought. It’s sexy, both in being prepared, and in perhaps planning this interaction. All remnants of nightclothes off, condom on, and he’s between my legs. Oh, does he feel good. He’s not gargantuan, and hell I’ve taken many a large fist in me so one might think I can’t appreciate a well formed cock, but yet it seems like he fits perfectly. Then comes the pain.
The previous night I had casually mentioned that if he felt sadistic desires when around me he was welcome to follow through. I wasn’t trying to push him to be sadistic, just saying that I was very open to it. I think he understood because he pushed on some pressure points as he grabbed my arm, and my thigh, then he bit me. oh man… I always considered biting to suck in a bad way. It was up there in pinching and pinching sucks, especially for people with lots of fat tissue.
So he bites me on my shoulder, and he bites me on my breast, and again, and again. Holy fuck does it hurt. Strangely though, with each bite there comes a point where I can’t tell if he’s still biting me. I feel pain, I hear myself whimpering in pain (which sounded extra pathetic thanks to being sick) but I can’t feel the pressure. I just feel myself getting more turned on. Apparently some people get turned on by saying dirty things, I get turned on by whimpering because of pain.
After he gets off, I can’t help but feel stupidly glowey and happy that I could do this for him. I feel pain, I feel peace, I feel blissful, and I feel beautiful.
The next morning it does not happen again. I’m somewhat saddened by this, but I am chalking it up to the fact that we woke up later then we probably should have. Bummer. Thankfully though, there should be a next time.
dirty talk tmi: bdsm dirty talk events getting off queer sex thinking
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We were on a purple and white hippie blanket in the middle of a gently sloping lawn at summer camp. I was wearing my thigh high fishnets, my lace neck corset, and my ox blood red 14 hole doc martin boots. He had on jeans and boots. The sun was shining which offset the cool of the day. The blue sky was filled with lots of puffy clouds. I was filled with his hand. It was not a small hand either. It took some work and some patience to get it all inside of me but he did. After a while he managed to relax and turn me on enough that he was able to push his entire closed fist inside me and pull it out semi-easily. My legs were shaking, a wet spot had formed under me, my throat had gone dry from moaning and whimpering, and the clouds floated past in the deep blue sky.
When it was over we laid facing each other, his hand running up and down the netting on my thigh. We talked and laughed and it was lovely.
dirty talk tmi: bdsm dirty talk getting off photos queer sex upthebutt
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I was wearing a linnen bogdress. All my undergarments were gone. It was essentially a sack of fabric draping across my skin. He was fully clothed. It was cold. We were kissing deeply and his hands had free reign under my dress. He was already warned, he was consenting, as was I. I bent over to move the dew wool from over my pallet and he pulled my dress up to my hips. He slid his hand up and down my cunt. Then one finger… two fingers… three fingers. I was moaning and wiggling at this point… 4 fingers. There was no lube. He just fucked me with his fingers until I was wet enough, and then he tucked his thump in and pushed. I moved forward, surprised. He grabbed my hair with his other hand and pulled me back onto his fist. It hurt. I whimpered. I bet it made him hard. That thought made me wet.
He got up a rhythm. (Un?)fortunately my wet was no match for the cold and I started to get dry. He just fucked me faster. He kept going until I was nearly in tears whimpering “ow”. I was squeezing my legs together as tight as possible. After he pulled his hand out of me, he laid back. My head was directed to his cock. My head was pushed all the way down his length and he just started to face fuck me. I had to pull away a few times as I felt the bile rise up in the back of my throat. That feeling like I was about to puke. After the first big wave, he looked concerned, like he was going to ask if I was ok. I sniffled back, wiped my face on my arms and swallowed his cock again. The next few times he just looked angry that I stopped.
After a bit of that he bent me over lifted my dress again. I thought he was going to fuck me, but he lined his hand up with my cunt and told me to push back on it until it was all the way inside. It hurt. It was puffy and mad and there was no lubrication. After struggling I finally got all the way down to his wrist. He then told me to fuck myself on his hand. So I started rocking myself forward and back, feeling my lips grabbing onto his hand. He then yanked his hand out of me and spit into it. He slid a finger down my back and found my ass. He wiped the spit on my asshole, lined his cock up with his finger, and pushed on in. He then fucked my ass until he came. His weight laid on top of me as his cock slowly melted inside of me.
We played the cleanup game. I didn’t want to wake up and step on a condom on my morning run to the port-o-castle. We kissed a few more times and I walked him out of camp so he wouldn’t trip and die on any guy lines.
That was easily the best “quicky” or one night stand ever.
thought process tmi: bdsm body image getting off petpeeves thinking
I’m actually impressed that it doesn’t. It has taken me a LONGLONGLONGLONGLONG time to get to this point. I used to be terrorized for my body, but honestly, when people were mocking me all I could feel was pity for them. I wondered what hurt them or what were they hiding that made them ache to tear someone else down.
Occasionally I goof off on webcam because i like to be a little bit exhibitionist. Today I was playing on some that are associated with some chatrooms. So, I was in a chatroom just to mess with the camera. I wasn’t actually talking or paying attention to the chat. I could see how many people were viewing me, who was viewing me and I had a little instant messenger thing that would relay me private messages. So, I’m goofing off, I show some face, some tits and ass and when I’m no longer entertained or I get hot enough that I actually want to get off, I log off.
So I go to log off and I catch the chat and people talking about, “Oh I wouldn’t be showing my ass off on camera if it was all cottage cheesy and pimpled and bruised like that…” and someone else said, “i get that, but don’t make fun of a heart surgery scar”, “But her pussy and ass looked so loose” So I chime in, “Yep, it’s bruised, it’s large, it’s lumpy, it’s got some pimples. I’ve got scars. I’ve got a loose vagina and ass. I’m fat… big deal. The bruises were earned having fun, the scars were earned in other ways, the loose vagina and ass dosen’t matter because I have the necessary muscle control of them. I’m fine, thanks, but you don’t seem to be. Good luck getting over your insecurities. Night!”
Like for reals, I’m not posting here because they hurt my feelings, but rather becuase I’m astonished they didn’t. I got a message this week from a friend about this new toy they have and the fantasies they’ve had of fucking with me with it. I got some awesome play by another friend on sunday (the bruises). I have a card on my wall filled with names of people who love the crud outta me. Sometimes it’s really AWESOME being me.
My body isn’t up to my standard of beautiful, but it’s my standard of functional. As long as it’s functioning I’m going to have fun with it. THAT is an important lesson I’ve learned.
dirty talk: bdsm body image dirty talk feminism getting off petpeeves queer sex
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By which I mean, hands go inside me easily. Part of me loves that, and part of me is freaked out by it.
On one hand, there’s the world telling me that it’s no fun to fuck a loose pussy. People want it tight. Guys and their GIANTMANLYPENISES are supposed to tear my delicate tight flower apart and all that jazz. While I’d like to say I’m above that, I still have moments where I’m embarrassed I can take so much so easily.
On the other hand. FUCK THEM. I mean for reals. My vagina doesn’t just exist to be all tiny and delicate and pleasurable for you while being painful for me (Don’t get me wrong, that’s totally spankbank material for me but it’s not the sole purpose of it) So If using my vagina to it’s full potential means it’s not the tightest little opening on earth then so be it. I’m gonna have fun with my body.