Archive for December, 2008

Mouth Music

Posted in Erotica, Fleshbotted, Sugasm on December 24, 2008 by naughtysecretary

lipsYou recently confessed that you think about me daily.

That was a bad move on your part.

Why, you ask? Your admission only adds fuel to the already blustering fire, the need within me to make you seethe with an uncontrollable and dire lust for me. So to match yours, Mano-a-mano, I’ll give you a confession of my own.

I think about being on my knees and paying homage to that beautiful cock of yours often, daily in fact. I think about such things in the shower, whilst driving, when I fuck myself slowly on my bed amongst crisp sheets. My hands wandering over my perspiring flesh, my mind swimming with imagery of you. Has my admission started to stiffen you yet, even a little? Can you feel the blood surging down your length to the very tip of your thick prick, the heaviness of your balls begging to be taken in hand while you devour these exact words?

Mouth music.

What if I told you I can still feel the tingle of my own climax pushing through my body right now, this very second, the scent of my own arousal still lingering on my fingertips as I type, the wet of my cunt begging for your attention? What if I confess that only moments ago, I was sent spinning into my own heady orgasm, dreaming of you filling my mouth and pulling my hair as you came hard like a schoolboy deep into my throat?

I’d happily hedge a bet you are rock solid by now, pulsing, wanting, needing more. How I wish you could see the satisfaction spread all over my face. I warned you long ago that I was a temptress, I told you my aim was to seduce you from the beginning. Perhaps you’ll believe me as I up the ante and taunt you with the imagery of my own fantasy.

Let me set the scene: You sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, me nestled at your feet amongst the plush of the thick carpet, my naked reflection mirrored by the expanse of the suite windows in the half light behind me. Not only can you look down between your legs to see the green of my eyes, the flicker of mischief pass my lips. Oh no. Look beyond that and straight ahead. Cast your eyes upon the curve of my back, watch every muscle move and flex as I run my hands slowly up and down your hard thighs, my mouth following their path, my mood dark and my want piqued by the gift of your flesh presented before me. I can almost hear you moan as you feel my breath on the underside of your shaft, ever so lightly hitting the warmth of your skin with warmth of my own.

Oh fuck, you say? Oh fuck indeed. You know your pleasure ignites my own, your gasps only pushing me to make you tremble with raw anticipation further. Can you feel the heat of my lips taunting you yet? Are you stroking yourself now, reading these words, my desire burning through the screen as your cock burns through the fabric of your pants?

God I hope so.

And then to taste your excitement on the head of your cock, my tongue dipping hungrily over your flesh. Perhaps you’ll free your bulging erection then? Run your hand slowly down your length as you think of me finally pressing my soft lips to you, my mouth slipping down slowly around you, my tongue beckoning you to the back of my throat. Look beyond my frame and watch my head languidly bob in the reflection before you in the hush of the suite, the dark shimmering of the city planted before us. Run your hands through my hair and feel the urgency you’ve stoked in me. Let the pace of your hand quicken as you think about how much you want this, how much I want to service you, how wet and lust-sodden you continue to make me time, and time, and time again.

Are you ready to come?

I know you are. I can feel it in the strength of your hand wrapped around my locks, your force pushing me down to the base of your shaft, my mouth taking your length with ease, moving over your taut pulsating skin repetitiously, back and forth, back and forth. Alive with wanton abandon, me fucking you in one of the best ways I know how, you taking what is rightfully yours. Use my mouth, rub yourself all over my flushed cheeks when the sensation becomes too much, fuck me at your pace. What does that look like? Please tell me. And when I decide it is time, watch my reflection draw the ache from you. Feel your body tense as the swell in your testicles rises to the pit of your stomach and through your fingertips. I’ll greedily beckon you to surrender with my voracious lips and tongue, your hand gliding over your stiff cock quickly as you pump, you shudder, you tremble into orgasm, filled with thoughts of coming into my waiting and whore-like mouth as I suck the orgasm right out of you. Scarlet. Open. Ready. Clench down hard as you give yourself to me, a heaving mess, a blur upon crumpled sheets. Lie there and feel the warmth of bliss kiss your toes, your eyelids, as I wash over you and savor every last drop of your come on my tongue. Satiated yet hungry, you fully spent with me on fire beside you.

Mouth music. I play you over and over in my head. You happen to be one of my favorite tunes.

Meme me, baby!

Posted in Giggles on December 12, 2008 by naughtysecretary

The delicious Miss Lilly tagged me in a meme a few months back. I thought it an opportunity to share some of the oddities that add up to me. I’m not going to tag anyone, but if anyone would like to use the meme themselves, feel free. I would also love to know more about my readers, so please, I encourage you to leave a comment with a fun little fact about yourself.

I’m making it 10 facts instead of 7…

The Rules.
* Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
* Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog – some random, some weird.
* Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
* Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

~ I’m half Anglo-Indian. If I could have one last meal, anything at all, it will always be my Nanna’s Crab Curry.

~ I first masturbated to orgasm at the age of 14 whilst reading Harold Robbins.

~ I eat my popcorn with vinegar, salt, and chilli powder.

~ I once had a man travel from another country to meet me. I also once chased a man away to Chile.

~ My jaw pops when I kiss.

~ I’ve always been an animal lover. At 14 I frequently caught snakes with my Dad. I now have a hamster, a cat, and a very naughty chinchilla.

~ I snort when I laugh.

~ I have been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

~ I refuse to go to Outback Steakhouse. What the fuck is a Bloomin’ Onion anyway? And no, don’t ‘throw a shrimp on the barbie’, we don’t have shrimp in Australia! I guess we can file that one under ‘pet peeve’…

~ I’m a woman of polarity. I’m a girly girl who hangs with the boys. I love champagne, nail polish, and anything that sparkles. I’m also rowdy and likely to challenge you to an arm wrestle if I’ve had too much to drink. I claim to hate people in general yet I have a huge heart. I’m a lover and a fighter. My ego is massive yet I cannot accept or believe most compliments people dish out to me. I consider myself a royal pain in the arse yet worth the time anyway.

You want some more? Sugasm #154!

Posted in Erotica with tags on December 12, 2008 by naughtysecretary

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #155? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
“My heart raced as I watched him stare at me, wondering if he knew I was awake. ”

Hot and Handy Part 2: Handjobs for the Ladies in Our Lives
“Getting her wet has two big benefits when it comes to getting her off.”

Sales Report
“I’m the only woman in the room.”

Sugasm Editor
Sex Work And Compassion: Death In A Client’s Family

Editor’s Choice

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Sex News, Reviews, & Interviews
Does Legislation affect Porn Fetishes?
Kinklab Vampire Gloves
Lusty Lady Seattle
On The 1st Day of Christmas: Tracey Cox Supersex Bullet Vibrator
Pleasurists #6
Review: Mo’s Sexy Black & Pink Box!
Sex Tips for Husbands and Wives from 1894: Another Internet Hoax?

Sex Advice
Advice: I Fucked His Best Friend
Q&A: Humiliation
What Should a Girl with a Boyfriend Do About Her Lesbo Longings? You Decide.

Erotic Writing and Experiences
AudioErotic – It Never Hurts to Ask
Back to basics
Brush Strokes
Camera Shy, Part 1
Chapter 2
Not a real lap dance
Police Officer Fantasy
Razorblade Dreams
Salty sweet
A Welcome Home

Sex Work
A Picture of a Caller in Pantyhose
Another Cockteasing HHNT
Humiliation From My Cell Phone

BDSM & Fetish
Breaking you
Latest Gifts from brock
More on Baltimore
Rough Beating
Teased and Tortured

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Ask Miss Bliss
Better Barebacking for Bloggers
An Oral Confession
Poly Perfect. Confession #186
What’s it Really Like To Work for FetLife
Who Need Latex Fetish Briefs When You Can Get These?

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Andie Valentino removes her pink top to reveal her lovely naturals
Catalina loves Sunday Sin
Femme Fatale (part III)
Just a Little Something
Red Rose of love


Posted in Erotica with tags on December 9, 2008 by naughtysecretary

I’m haunted, I’ll admit it. The mere hint of you turns my world upside down. My existence is peppered with the translucent imagery of you, naked in the half light, your body glowing with desire and need, your ever-slight showing defined by the ache within and the havoc you constantly wreak in my mind. I’m left alone and burning and in want, seeking something that was actually never there to begin with.

My apparition, my phantom lover, my own phenomenon. The moment I reach out, whisper thin smoke curls from my fingertips. I’m left with your words heavy in the air, your desires firmly embedded within my own lithe frame. I cant help but laugh when I realize that your silence is one of the heaviest sounds I know.

I see you fully, and when I do, you’re gone.


Posted in Erotica, Sugasm on December 3, 2008 by naughtysecretary

It became a weekly affair, one cooking for the other, vying for the crown by a dazzling of the senses and a feast of fucking. He took my coat as I entered the living room, the aromas from the kitchen thick in the air, my nostrils filling with intoxicating scents. I could tell he had been working hard, and I smiled as I kissed him, tasting the familiar warmth of whiskey on his lips. His hands were immediately all over me, rubbing, grabbing, kneading my flesh as his tongue pushed into my mouth.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well hello there,” I giggled. I was always amazed and equally refreshed by his forwardness.

He looked at me and flashed me one of his broad grins. “Well, looking like that, what else did you expect?” He chuckled as his hands automatically slid under the sheer of my shirt, his palms rubbing over my stomach and against my sides. I immediately felt the well-known flush in my face, and I guessed my cheeks were shimmering that familiar rose hue, a shade he seemed to summon with ease. I instantly felt hot under his touch.

“I have some wine for you.” Grabbing my hand, he eagerly leads me into the kitchen. Turning to give me my glass, his brown eyes drink me in over the rim of crystal.

“You look good enough to eat,” he declares, his gaze following the lines of my shirt, the black of my bra barely visible, my cleavage peeking through at just the right angle. My grey skirt cut above the knee, soft and stretched comfortably over the small of my arse. I’m wearing a pair of my favorite black heels, picked specifically to even out the distance in our height. I look over at the shining metal pans on the stove, the gleam of silver bouncing across the black granite surfaces around the expanse of the kitchen. My curiosity is piqued as I watch the liquid bubbling, the steam snaking towards the ceiling.

“What do we have here, then?” I point to the multiple pots and sip my wine slowly, the deep berry of the Chåteaneuf du Pape exploding inside my mouth.

He hands me a platter adorned with an assortment of cheese, meats and olives, and insists I sample some of the Époisses de Bourgogne, a favorite of his. He pushes a piece into my mouth, the tang instantly hitting each taste bud, the soft of the cheese slowly melting and swirling into butter over my tongue. He points to the home-made stock bubbling slowly on the stove, the wild mushroom risotto he’s already started, the thick red cuts of meat seasoned with rock salt and cracked pepper lazing next to the grilled portobellos he’s already prepared. I can hear the hiss of garlic roasting in the oven. He suggests I go sit on the couch and get comfortable, and I do so without thinking twice. I take my wine and sit, easing back against the cool leather. Peering out through the huge panes of clear glass in front of me, the city shimmers in the dark. I lean back and let out a sigh.

“You know better than that,” I hear from the kitchen.

I open my eyes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard what I said, you know better than that.” I watch him stirring the risotto, ladling the stock gently into it, his focus never changing, his delectable arse wiggling with each stir. Not once has he taken his eyes from the task to look at me, not once has the tone in his voice changed.

“Take your shoes off.” There’s no part of him that’s asking, and I unbuckle the clasps quickly. I free my feet and tuck them underneath myself.


I watch him grate the pecorino into the risotto and throw fresh parsley into the mix. My stomach is growling at the thought of the beautiful tastes that await me. The beat of Lebanese Blonde pulses seductively in the background, and I’m taken into sensory bliss, so comfortable it feels as though I’m melting into the soft of the cushion behind me. I can feel the tension leaving my shoulders, the hassles of the week slowly seeping away. I’m somewhere else entirely until I hear the click of the stove turning off, I hear the movements of him freshening his drink in the kitchen. I open my eyes to him kneeling in front of me, his drink sitting safely on the side table under the warmth of the lamp. There’s no hesitation in him when he puts a palm on each knee and slowly pushes my legs open. There’s no hesitation in me when I allow him to do it and provide no resistance.

“And what do you have for me here? A gift no doubt.” He pushes the thin material of my thong to the side as he inspects me. With a grunt of satisfaction, he removes the undergarment completely. He stops to lick his fingers before he slides one, and then two, into my waiting cunt. My pelvis automatically pushes forward, my body buckling towards him in raw anticipation. I throw my head back and moan, parting my legs further. He licks at my clitoris furiously, the velvet of his tongue dragging deliberately over each moist fold. He suddenly stops, a devilish flash in his eye just noticeable above the pink creases of my flesh. In a swoop he reaches over and dips his fingers into the amber liquid of his drink. Seconds later, I am on fire.

I look down in shock to see the whiskey droplets slowly falling from the tips of his fingers onto my clitoris. Each time I feel the sting of the alcohol slither over my cunt, I buck, pushing my wetness further into his face. He moans as he suckles greedily. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, wondering how I was going to take you, when I’d have your taste all over my mouth and lips and tongue and face.” He pauses to look me squarely in the eyes, my heart feels like it is going to explode out of my chest. “There’s no way I could have even begun to imagine how exquisite you taste.” He reaches to the right and dips his fingers into his drink. The electric warmth of the whiskey hits my flesh once again, forcing me me to gasp and grab at his hair, his tongue licking over every part of me with fervor, pushing deep into my slippery heat. His left hand holds my thigh down, and every time I squirm, his fingers dig further into my flesh. He anoints my cunt a third and fourth time, and by the fifth round I am begging and pleading while I orgasm, obscenities flying out of my mouth, my flesh mashed against his face. He stands and I am left a quivering mess amongst the plush of the couch.

The hiss of his pants is audible as they snake down his muscular legs and land with a thud on the ground. Judging by the fire I see in his eyes, I surmise that all niceties have flown out the window, and there’s no time for charm, nor a need for politeness. At this point he’s adamant to take what he wants, whether it’s on the menu or not. The prospect both thrills and scares me, and I immediately feel a shudder of pleasure run down my spine. Baring witness to the deception of my body, he chuckles once again to himself.

“You’re a wicked little whore, aren’t you? You want this. Why else would you come over here dressed like that?” His cock strains and bobs with each word. I can feel my whole body aching for him, aching for him to fill me completely. As if to read my mind, he pounces on me. His hands are all over me, roughly pinching at my nipples, and then quickly finding the two halves of my blouse. With a thrust open, he sends a splash of black glass buttons ricocheting through the air. He lunges into me, his thick cock separating the wet heat between my legs, his hands roughly exposing my breasts, his mouth biting at each nipple, his cock pushing further into me. The heels of my feet dig into the sides of his buttocks as I arch into each one of his thrusts. It’s not long before he is growling and beating his fists against the thick of the leather. He reaches forward, and with a grunt, rips the delicate material of my brassiere in two. I squeal in shock, and at that moment he withdraws his cock from me, showering me in beads of his come, over my clothes, my breasts, my neck. He’s left heaving, steadying himself against the weight of the couch until he regains his composure. Touching my cheek, I feel wet, and involuntarily lick my fingers, the slight metallic taste of his come dancing on the tip of my tongue. He finally lifts his head to look at me, his gaze raking over my body, disheveled, and marked, and his, and I see the wash of satisfaction ripple over his face. He sighs and stands, grabs his drink and takes a triumphant swig. His cock happily pulses, still half-erect.

I sit up, dazed, and giggle.

“That was just the appetizer.” I watch him take another sip of his drink and pull his pants up. His hands rake through his hair.

“You can freshen up in my bedroom.” He reaches down to kiss my forehead, pausing for the briefest of seconds. “I saw a black cocktail dress today and thought of you; I couldn’t resist. It’s hanging on the door. I want to see you in it. Dinner will be ready in 20 minutes, and then it’s time for dessert.” He winks at me before pivoting for the kitchen to finish the meal.