Some of the best spank bank material is aural; soundbites, soundtracks, moans and hard breaths. My husband still conjures the memory of Euro Girl’s accent when she gasped “Ohhhhh (insert hubs name here)! That’s so deep,” just as her husband walked back into the room.
Speaking of which? Kinky Casey unveiled some super sexy audio today. It’s a fantasy that is oh-so-dear to my heart. You have to listen if you haven’t already. (Only when you’re able to take down your pants and cum because that is what will happen when you hear it. Promise.)
Also why did nobody ever tell me you could add /chrono after a tumblr tag url and see a chronological version of the posts? (I linked to the Euro Girl stories above in chronological sequence for an example of why this is awesome.) Are there other cool tricks I’m too inept to know about? Please share!
I’ve always been plagued by my memory when it comes to the calendar.
I’ll never forget that my first boyfriend asked me out on June 22nd, and on February 15th I fucked a girl for the first time, and my husband proposed to me on October 12th, and the girl with whom we entered our first poly relationship was born two days before my husband, and our first date with our girlfriend & boyfriend was October 24th, and Cub first kissed me on March 5th, and a year ago today I was counting down the minutes until I picked Sunny up from the airport.
I can’t remember a phone number or my bank balance to save my life, numbers swim from my head like minnows fleeing shadows, but these dates stick.
They stay with me, year after year.
Can you conjure, in your head, the way it sounds when your name escapes their lips? The particular inflection, the rise and fall of the syllables? The way it sounds when they’re laughing it, shouting it, exasperated and forcing it, sleepily dreaming it, or moaning it against your lips? What do they call you in those moments? How does it command your attention, ply your heart, pull you to them? Nobody else says it quite that way.
Say My Name - Cyril Hahn Remix
Fuck to this.
When I look at this picture (from 4 years ago) I see so many things; the shot of whiskey in my hand, the cross around her neck, the zebra-print bra under my batman shirt, the brownies she made, his arm around her, my messy pigtails.
I remember that we played Pictionary that night and giggled a lot. I remember we had just started dating and we were celebrating a little milestone that night and I still had butterflies in my tummy when they walked through our front door.
But mostly when I look at this picture I remember how she smelled, and how her mouth felt against mine; small and needy and eager. Just like her.
Current status: Tea and daydreaming. <3
She was sitting on the bed wearing nothing but a silk tie wrapped around both wrists.
Her hands were behind her back and her chin was up. Her chest was rising and falling with short quick breaths and her lipstick was smudged just enough. I turned the music up so loudly that I couldn’t hear her, and I closed my eyes as I undid my belt. I leaned back just enough as my hand slipped into my pants. And I remembered.
I remembered the first time I slapped her face, and I recalled our first kiss. I remembered her crying as I told her she was almost enough; she came for me so gently I had to press my ear to her lips to hear her moans. I thought about her begging and pleading when I took her ass, and I thought about how pretty her eyes get when she’s lost in need.
My hand moved faster as each memory surged through my body, but it wasn’t until I was close to the edge that I went to her. She laughed with joy as I pulled her head back by her hair, and she opened her mouth in relief.
As I came I remembered the first time she used my name when she told me she loved me.
So I was looking for something on my old hard-drive and I came across this beautiful mess of a photo of my (ex)girlfriend and I.
This was taken almost 3 years ago in her driveway at about 3am after a very long night of drinking and silliness. Her good friend was visiting from out of town and she wanted to get some shots of pretty girls on her fresh new BMW… and of course my girlfriend and I were completely game. We basically fucked on the hood of her car while her friend snapped pictures. It’s such a sexy blurry memory; half naked in the streetlight, ignoring the few cars that passed by (slowly!) since our city never sleeps either.
I love the way her hand looks cradling my cheek.
We smoked a joint in our living-room afterwards. It was really nice. My husband and Ben in their underwear, Bette in my husbands hoodie and nothing else, me naked. Bette and I sat on the couch together while my husband played a little guitar and we all blabbed and giggled. She doesn’t identify as bisexual, isn’t so sure about the label, but she likes me, I can tell.
We passed the joint around and she stretched and rearranged herself so she was curled up on my lap with her head on my shoulder. I snuggled into her, smiled to myself. Her hair smelled so good, and I love how it felt to have it tumbling over my skin. She nuzzled against me and sighed. I’m a sucker.
I stroked her hair, running my fingers through it and gently massaging her scalp with my fingertips. She closed her eyes. My heart was in my throat. I hardly know her, but it felt so familiar to touch a woman this way. It made me ache.
And then she said something stoned and ridiculous and we all laughed and my husband played a happier song and she moved and the moment passed.
Just as moments do.
When I was a little girl they always warned us in the winter that if you fell through the ice you would drown because you couldn’t tell which way was up. Because you wouldn’t have the sunlight to orient you. The cold, they said, would be the least of your worries.
I used to close my eyes under the waves in the summer and imagine what that would feel like.