Archive for the ‘Wicked Wednesday’ Category


Dirty Boy’s birthday is coming up. He wanted a “special” blowjob. With my cough and breathing still on the rocks even a regular (yet still totally super fantastic) blowjob seemed out of the realm of possibilities. I didn’t want to leave him unsatisfied though.


Click the link below to see what other wicked things people were up to this Wednesday. ūüėČ


Read Full Post »

Looking Back

I am going to look back and do something new this week. I am going to look back to the very first post I ever wrote for Wicked Wednesday, and I am going to post it again here in audio format. In addition, I will also be starting one of the items from my 101 Things in 1001 Days. Mind the itchy scratchy voice. I’m still recovering from the cold that just won’t go away!

Here goes…





Read Full Post »


I was going to do an audio blog of one of my “first” pieces. Had it all planned out. Did a couple practice runs and everything. Problem is, I’ve a cold with massive coughing and sore throat. I may be able to pull Smelly Cat off but no way can I pull off sexy and seductive with all this going on. So sadly, audio will have to wait for another day.

A first I can share with you is my new corset. She was waiting for me when I got home today.


Isn’t she all dark and satiny and lovely?



I had¬†her on for a little while this evening as I have to break her in before Saturday. The videos make it look so easy but reality is, she’s a bitch to tighten all by yourself.

Oh, I haven’t mentioned Saturday? You’ll have to wait to find out what happens. Maybe another first if the meds kick in and knock this cold out.¬†ūüėČ




Read Full Post »

“More tongue, Baby. Use that fantastic tongue of yours.”

“Yes, Daddy,”¬†she obeyed. She would never disobey him, even when¬†obeying was a challenge. Nothing worth having , nothing worth achieving, ever came without a challenge. That is what Daddy always said and she knew he was right.

Julie¬†took the cock into her mouth again, determined to make it pleasurable this time. She let her tongue slip out and trace a trail along the bottom of the shaft to the tip, taking a moment to flick the underside and swirl her tongue around the head. A groan escaped the lips of the man attached to the cock. See Daddy, she thought. He’s enjoying it. I can be a good girl, Daddy. She stole a look and saw approval in his eyes.

The man groaned again as she continued to suck and lick. “She really is spectacular Bob. That mouth of hers, that tongue. Damn! You are a lucky man.”

“That I am, ” he responded. “That I am.” Then, turning his attention to Julie,¬†“Come on Babygirl, show this old bastard some lovin.”

Julie was happy to hear her Daddy talk about how lucky he was to have her, although she knew that she was truly the lucky one to have such a loving and thoughtful Daddy. She would do anything for him and she knew he would always be there for her, supporting her, guiding her, loving her the way only he could.

As she went back to the task at hand she thought about her tongue and the fantastic things she could do with it. She had used it on many a man, and¬†woman. She enjoyed it, the feeling of power she got from knowing how much pleasure she was giving them. It gave her pleasure as well. The feeling of a woman’s body reacting to her tongue lapping at her clit and invading her pussy. That was hot. The feel of a man’s cock going from soft to rock hard in her mouth with her lips firmly around it and her tongue swirling about the head. That was pure delight.

There were times, like today, when she couldn’t find the pleasure in it though. It wasn’t because her partners weren’t into it, often they were the ones being more vocal than not about how awesome she was. She did have a fantastic mouth and tongue,¬†Daddy told her all the time, but it was not for everyone. It was different when it was someone else, though having him there with her helped. Just knowing he was there and hearing his voice helped her get past any initial nervousness or apprehension she might have, usually.

Today she couldn’t get into it. She sucked and licked, she caressed and kneaded, she opened up her throat and took every bit of him in. He groaned in appreciation enjoying every moment but she just couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. She imagined it was Daddy’s cock in her mouth. She¬†loved sucking Daddy’s cock. To her,¬†his was absolute perfection. Big and firm, but not too big as to hurt her jaw, and it was smooth, so smooth, with a little tuft of hair at the base.¬†Julie closed her eyes and imagined.

The man’s groaning became louder and he started pumping, driving his cock into her mouth. She fought to keep up with him, to not just open up and let him fuck her mouth. She grabbed his ass and held him¬†firmly, letting her mouth do the moving rather than him. She was more than ready for this to be over but she knew she had to do it right or Daddy would not be pleased. She had to show control and allow him to release at the right time.

“Are you ready Babygirl?”

She managed a nod while¬†continuing¬†her action on the man’s cock.

“Do it, Baby. Make Daddy proud.”

Julie knew what to do. She took the cock into her mouth with her lips about half way down his shaft. Then quickly moved her head back while her tongue kept pressure on his cock and flicked the tender underside of the head as it slid out of her mouth. A few quick strokes with the same movements, then it was time. She opened up her mouth, her throat, and took the cock all the way in. At the same moment she pressed one finger at the base of his scrotum behind his balls and inserted another well lubricated one into his ass.

“Arggg…” She felt the hot cum sliding down her throat as his body twitched and bucked trying to release every ounce. He was done.

“Great job, Baby. That’s my good girl.”

“Holy fuck! That was amazing! I don’t know where you learned those moves but you are one talented young woman.”

Julie gave him a little smile, thankful it was over. She couldn’t wait to get back to their hotel room, have a nice hot shower and snuggle with Daddy.



This week’s challenge was to make bad sex sound good. I may have come up with the challenge, but that does not mean I¬†was able to¬†meet it.
Click the Wicked Wednesday button below to see how others rose to the challenge.




Read Full Post »

firemen - image from Google

firemen – image from Google

She arrived at her doctor’s office just as the fire alarm started sounding. Just great. Another delay after her previous appointment had been postponed two weeks when her doctor had decided to take a last minute vacation. She was livid! At first she stood outside with the other people from the building then decided her car would offer more comfort and warmth. She sat there, getting more pissed off by the second, until the fire truck arrived.

What was it about firemen that got women so hot and bothered she wondered. Yellow overalls, steel toe boots, and a bright red hat. It doesn’t sound like a well dressed combination, yet somehow it is one of the biggest turn ons for many women. Maybe it is the protector aspect of what they do. They are big and strong and courageous. They put out fires, rescue people and save lives. You really can’t help but swoon over someone like that, risking their lives in a matter of fact way to protect your life. Yes she thought, that was it.

Half a dozen or more firemen descended from the truck clad in their bunker gear and helmets. She wasn’t quite so livid all of a sudden. As she watched them ready themselves to enter the building she felt a flush and heat began to build within her. Her breathing became shallow and her nipples perked up. She brushed a hand across one nipple¬†giving it¬†a little tweak. Then¬†she¬†slid her hand inside her shirt, and cupping the soft flesh of her breast she pinched her nipple between her fingers. Again, again, she pinched it hard.

Her eyes still on the firemen and hand still at her breast, she moved her other hand down between her legs. She was protected by vehicles on each side of her but she didn’t care. Her finger reached her clit and it was like an electric shock went through her. Her breath caught. The heat between her legs brought a sweet wetness. She pushed a finger inside, moving her hips against the motion, her thumb rubbing her clit. She opened her legs and inched her bum towards the edge of the seat, her skirt now up around her waist.

She pushed her finger in again, then a second. She wanted to be filled, to feel the pressure of a large cock inside her. What she really wanted was for one of those firemen to come offer her some help, to lean her back on the hood of the car and fuck her right there with his gear on, his pants turned out and his cock deep inside her. The thought was propelling her as she fucked herself with her own fingers, her hips moving up to meet them.

Her other hand was still inside her shirt. She pinched her nipple again, not too hard but enough to cause her cunt to pulse and react. She could feel her juices covering her hand. She could smell herself, her hot horny cunt, and it completely turned her on. She was ready. As she drove her fingers inside her cunt she gave her nipple a hard pinch and twist. Her back ached then her hips pushed forward and she showered the floor of her car with a wetness all her own.

She leaned back in the seat with her eyes closed, her hands came out of their intimate places to rest on either side of her, and her¬†shallow breathing soon became deeper and more regular. After a few minutes she opened her eyes and adjusted herself. Thankful she had worn a long skirt today she grabbed her purse and got out of the car. She was a little wobbly on her feet at first and couldn’t quite focus. Looking around she noticed that the people had all gone back into the building and the alarm was no longer going off. She smoothed her skirt and her hair and walked into the building.

Opening the front door she saw that several firemen were still in the lobby. As she walked past she couldn’t help but giggle.




Read Full Post »


hovering over “picture post” ~ by Artist Wife

We all do this to some degree. We take a picture or two then hmm and ha about whether to post to our profile or send to someone. That is hard enough, but what about us bloggers? What we post is available for the whole world to see should they be so inclined.

The concern isn’t about these pictures being available to anyone at anytime just by a click of a button. It is about whether we would be ok if they knew the pics were of us, our true identities, rather than our blogging alter egos. It’s one thing for Stella Kiink (yes, I am going to refer to myself in the third person, thank you very much) to have her bits on display but what if it were Jane Smith (also not my real name) from the Parent Teacher Association? Would Jane be ok with having her bits posted on the internet? Would she care if the principal of her kids elementary school knew the boobs he was drooling over belonged to little Jimmy’s Mom?

We are all ok with Stella Kiink’s pictures because she is an adult blogger and she’s expressing herself through her words and pictures. Many of the people who view Stella’s blog are generally other bloggers or people who are open-minded enough to know that breasts aren’t pornographic, it’s the way we perceive them that makes them so. We can see the artistry of Stella’s words and pictures. We can relate to her insecurities. We also share her secrets, the one’s Stella shares but are never known in Jane’s world. If we ran into her in the street or at some event we’d likely just say something like great blog or nice post you did for that meme, or I really didn’t like that picture or your arse the other day. We may not like everything that Stella posts but there would be no judgment of her about what she does post.

Would we be ok knowing it was pictures of Jane Smith’s vagina or breasts we were seeing without wanting her kicked off the PTA? Would we be ok reading the stories of her attending play parties or being turned on by pain without having that negate the wonderful parent she is or the valuable contributions she makes to the PTA? Would we be ok with Jane Smith chaperoning our child on a week-long school trip if we knew about the things she did with that young man 17 years her junior? Would we put her in charge of the fall fair if we knew she submitted on bended knee to the man she calls MySir?

You or I would be ok with it, at least I believe we would considering we all have stories that are similar in many ways. We all have parts of ourselves we only show at certain times, with certain people, or on certain media. Many wouldn’t be as understanding though. Too many people are unable to compartmentalize, to separate the different parts of themselves. They assume that because you blog about sex it must be part of every moment of every thing you do. Truth is, it is often on my mind to some degree, but I am quite capable of accomplishing many other things in life that have nothing to do with sex or blogging.

Truth is, the people who would have issue with Jane having pictures of her vajayjay on the internet, they believe that people who participate in a non-vanilla lifestyle are deviants and degenerates. Not because they think we are awful people really, but because they have the same feelings and urges and don’t know how to reconcile them with the good, decent people they are. They have bought into the brainwashing. They have been told that good people don’t do such things for so long that they believe there is something truly wrong with themselves because they do desire those things.

It’s like telling a 100 lb girl that she’s fat. She isn’t of course, but when she is told she is over and over she ends up believing it. She will starve herself until she can’t handle it any more then start binging in secret. That’s what people do who suppress their sexual urges and desires do. They lay judgment on those who freely express and give into their desires while they suppress their own until they can’t any longer and end up doing something very stupid in response. Often they cheat on their spouses, start lying to them and hiding things from them. Men get blowjobs from random women or prostitutes because they’ve married a “good girl” who won’t do that. They don’t even know if their wives would do it because they have no experience and they’ve never asked. Women have affairs with “bad boys” who tell them they’re dirty little sluts, pull their hair, and make them call them Daddy. Somehow these things are more acceptable to them than coming out and being honest about their desires.

What we need to do is stop making other people feel bad for the choices they make and the beliefs they have. Sure, let’s make the murderer feel bad, but not the woman who gets off on having her ass whipped or the man who likes sucking cocks as much as he likes getting his own sucked. We need to stop judging those who live their lives different from us and treating them like they are somehow broken because of their lifestyles. We also need to accept the parts of ourselves that are different, the ones that keep us up at night worrying that somebody might find out. We need to stop hovering and jump in.


Read Full Post »

Broken Silence

The silence was broken only by the ticking of the clock that mocked her. It mocked her for thinking this time would be different, for accepting his word at face value knowing full well he had never kept a word ever made. It mocked her for believing him and giving him another chance to do what he always does, hurt her.

There were times when the hurts were small. So minute in fact that they ceased to even register until so many had accumulated they could no longer be ignored. She tried though. Oh how she tried. Sitting here now she could not help but see the truth behind the veil of ignorance she had been wearing all these years. By ignoring what the rest of the world easily saw all she had done was let herself be played the fool.

From the near second of his lateness she knew she had been played yet again. She was done with it. She would be played a fool no longer. He would regret every missed moment, every forgotten date, every promise broken. He would regret every single hurt he’d given her, every bruise and broken bone, when she returned the favour.

All the times she had let slip by, unnoticed or unaddressed, were like tiny nails in a coffin. Eventually the coffin would be complete and ready for it’s eternal occupant. Her coffin was finally complete, though she would not be the one resting in it. Soft and comfy though it may be the body inside would never know. The body inside would be dead and cold, and she would be anything but.

Tonight the tables turn. Tonight he becomes the fool, he endures the hurts, he ceases to be.

She got up from the table leaving the full plates of dinner, the open bottle of Shiraz and her half empty glass. She also left the candles that had burned nearly completely away, though not before knocking one of them over. Wax spilled out over the cream linen tablecloth and the flame followed. The table was soon engulfed in flames. The chairs quickly followed.

The house they lived in, the home they had built, was crawling in flames and filling with smoke. She hardly noticed. Her mind was already elsewhere. On her way to the front door she stopped momentarily at the entryway mirror to check her appearance and fix her lipstick. She didn’t bother closing the door behind her.

She knew where to find him. All these years he thought she was clueless but she knew. She had never been inside the bar before now. Not once. It was his place, the boys club, where he went to drink and gamble and pick up whatever woman struck his fancy. Oh yes, she knew. She had always known, she had just refused to believe.

The place was just as she had imagined. Dark, dingy, and smelling like a day old beer with about an inch left in the bottle and half a dozen cigarette butts swimming in it. The men were a reflection of the bar. The women were the same, but in high heels, short skirts, and frosted blue eyeshadow. There were four pool tables, a larger snooker table, and one of those golf games at the far end if the bar. This end was occupied by a plexi box of pull tab tickets and two tabletop slot machines.

She walked past the machines towards the far end if the bar and stopped in front of the snooker table. “Hello, Jimmy.”

Jimmy looked up from the table he had been intently studying. The other player had left him snookered on a coloured ball. “What the hell are ya doin here lass?”

“I came to tell you I’ve had enough.” She watched the anger rise in him. Bad enough she was confronting him, but to do it here was much worse. His snooker buddy conceded the game and backed away from the table.

The bartender called over to Jimmy. “Jimmy man, that was the Darla. She says yer house is on fire.”

Jimmy looked back at her, eyes as black as night and a coldness in his tone that nobody could miss, but she didn’t flinch. “What the bloody hell have ya done lass?” He was beside her now, his hand at her neck.

In one swift motion Lynne took her hand out of her pocket and stabbed him twice in the chest with his own hunting knife. He fell backward against the table, blood quickly turning his grey shirt crimson. Shock and disbelief registered in Jimmy’s eyes when he looked down at the growing sea of blood. More began to drip from his mouth before he finally succumbed to the injuries and fell to the floor.

Lynne turned to the bartender. “Would you be a dear and call an ambulance? The truck I came in is in the ditch and I think my water just broke.”

The bartender could only stare at her in silence.


Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »

Smut Marathon

Dare to challenge yourself... take a deep breath and start writing!


Friends. Photography. Adventure.

Steeled Snake

Reality Check on Chivalry, FLR/M, Kink, Chastity and Life ~ 21 and older only

The Other Livvy

My secret alter ego...

%d bloggers like this: