I’m sitting curled up near the head of the bed and he’s lying on his side facing me. He’s playfully pulling the chain attached to my collar, softly pulling it, winding and unwinding it around his hand.

We’re drinking wine, listening to music and talking. I’m relaxed and happy, and I begin to think that we were done fucking, and that this is how we will end. Sexy, friendly and flirtatious. So sophisticated and grown up, I think to myself. We’re naked of course, and I’m working on my third glass of an outstanding Malbec. I’m feeling slightly buzzed and slightly horny.He’s watching me with a lazy smile on his face. Occasionally he takes a sip from my glass. His eyes travel down my body and back up to my face again and again, as if he’s trying to memorize me.

“What are you going to do?” he asks. I laugh, because I know he means how will I be able to deal without our…fireworks. “After a mourning period,” I joke, “I’m sure I…and I trail off. The words dry up in my mouth. We will probably never encounter lovers that replicate the explosive chemistry we have. The insatiable hunger and the orgasmic intensity we’ve experienced together happens once in a lifetime. We will recall each other with a nostalgic sigh years from now, our affair a fading memory. Or will it remain as vivid and immediate as it feels now?
I take another sip of wine and say, “I don’t know and I don’t want to know until the last possible second.”

He sits up takes my glass and puts it on the side table and takes me in his arms. Our kiss feels like a hurricane storming through my veins, a hurricane of fire that ignited a deep and immediate need for him.

My mouth moved to his chin, which I licked and bit softly; to his strong jaw which I lick slowly; to his neck, which I kissed and nibbled and down to his chest; I kissed my way down to his cock and licked my way back up to his abs. He flipped me onto my back and kissed my neck and my breasts and I moaned in protest. I wanted him in my mouth again.

“I’m going to give you what you need,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m going to fuck you ’til you beg for mercy.”

His hand was already between my legs stroking me until my pussy is silky we and my clit is peeking out, straining for relief. Just when I hope he’s going to slide that monster cock into my tight, wet pussy, he slides off the bed instead.
“Where are you going?”

He doesn’t respond, but at the corner of the bed near my left foot he slides his hand under the mattress and pulls something out. He grabs my left ankle and closes a cuff around it. It’s attached to a chain which disappears under the mattress. My hearts starts beating a mile a minute in excitement because I know what this means.

He quickly cuffs my other foot and then both my wrists to either side of the mattress and wraps a chain around my neck, then under me, between my ass cheeks, up between my pussy lips, over my clit and on up the front of my body to the front of my collar and attaches it there. I gasp when he attaches it because its tight. It’s deep in my ass, tight in my pussy, every movement against its cold hardness is sweet torture. Every time I move it tightens and rubs against some soft part of my pussy and ass. He’s leaning over me watching me. I’m splayed out like a letter X on his bed. I pull against the restraints and feel a thrill in my pussy.

“You’re safe, pussy. I won’t let anything happen to you. Anything bad (smile). Remember the safe word,” he whispers, bending over me and softly biting my nipple.

He moves away again and a few seconds later returns to place a cushion under my ass to tilt my pussy upwards and raise my pelvis off the bed so that the restraints are taut and pull on my hands and feet ever so slightly. And the chain. The chain is so tight against me I’m madly writhing against it because it’s touching my clit and I have to come. It’s maddeningly impossible because I’m restrained, but I’m pulling and writhing and yanking, trying to get relief.

“Settle down, you horny little slut,” he smiles.

“I need to come,” I say.
“Be careful what you wish for, pussycat.” He slides his delicious ten inches into me, and we both groan as my pussy twitches and tightens around him. She’s taking him, claiming him.

Then the delicious agony of his sloooow pull out, and omg the chain. He slowly slides in and I feel my ass closing around the chain as it pulls against me. He starts pumping faster, every thrust bouncing me and yanking the restraints and the chain in my pussy. I’m in heaven as he starts thrusting faster and faster, pushing and rubbing and pulling that chain against my tender, hot wetness. I’m feeling so many sensations: his cock hitting that itchy place deep inside me, the chains stroking all my hot spots, the collar pulling my neck, the restraints yanking against my wrists and ankles, I’m breathless and intensely aroused.

I hear his harsh breath as he pumps me hard and steadily, so deeply that I’m just grunting in response. I want him to fuck me like this forever. He pumps me harder and faster and I start coming, moaning and squirting, and he fucks me harder and faster, making me scream (in delight) and squirt again in a spray. He slams through my triple O: Anal, vaginal and clitoral.

He continues fucking me like a piston, his dark pulsing cock slamming in and out of me like a machine, pounding me harder and harder, making me moan and scream and plead: “Yes, yes fuck just like that, fuck me harder, give it to me, oh I love it like that, destroy me….”
He grabs my hips and thrusts tight small thrusts hard into me, really pulling the chain against my pussy, making her grip him tight. making me push and push against him, sending me over the edge in a screaming squirting orgasm that has me thrashing against the restraints.

He continues pumping me, sweat coats his ripped chest and stomach. His face looks hard and focused, his hips never stop. It feels glorious because he’s hitting that spot that makes me purr. I mean my pussy loves being fucked, but there’s that little spot deep inside that when it gets stroked is magic. The spot that loosens your spine and makes you walk with a swing in your hips. The spot that makes you melt like butter against him after you come. That’s the spot that turns your voice into silk velvet when you speak to him. The spot that makes your knees buckle. The spot that’s both itch and scratch. That’s the spot he’s pumping now, with intent fury, and I’m howling with pleasure. I become aware of his iron grip on my hips and his angry thrusts seem to be marking me as well as giving me pleasure. I start screaming with wave after wave of orgasm, my pussy convulsing, my clit straining against him, gushing again, thrashing, and it doesn’t break his furious pace for a second.

He surprises me by stopping suddenly and pulling out. Slowly, because my pussy has a death grip on him. I see his impossibly big tool glistening and dripping from my juices. He uncuffs me and says roughly: “Get on your hands and knees.” Of course, I comply.

He shoves his dick into me from behind and starts pumping me hard immediately. When he pulls on the chain and yanks my neck, I feel a delicious twinge and I push against his cock, scratching that itch until he’s not pumping me anymore, I’m fucking him, squeezing his cock with my pussy until he says, “I want you to sit on my dick. I want to watch your ass while you fuck me.”

He lay down and backed onto him, slowly lowering my hot pussy onto him. I can feel his cock throbbing against my g-spot as I squeeze him, work him, twerk him as he squeezes and slaps my ass. I love twerking him (why did we never do this before?) and when I start to come, he flips me down on my stomach and shoves his cock into me, and continues fucking me in a frenzy.

Even I after I come, howling and screaming, he continues fucking me violently, his arm around my neck. I’m so done I feel like a rag doll. I lay there and mindlessly take it for a few minutes because it feels good, but when I can’t lift my head off the bed to speak, I decide it’s time to give in. It takes me a while and I can barely get the word out:


Image: Neotantra Sevilla

32 Buy Me a Coffee at


We finally left the house at around 10 p.m.

The night was sultry and warm, the soft breeze a sensual invitation. Terminator and I had our arms around each other’s waist as we walked down the street, partly holding each other upright and partly out of affection. I thought that if we let go, my legs would give out and I would wind up on the pavement.

“My legs feel like spaghetti,” I whispered, laughing. He tightened his grip around my waist as we made our way to the corner to hail a cab.

We fall into the back seat in content exhaustion, our eyes closed. The warm breeze feels like a whisper on my skin.  Our hands are laced together between us on the car seat.

Five minutes later the taxi pulls over and we get out. “That was quick,” I say. I’m feeling woozy from exhaustion. He holds me around the waist as we descend a short staircase leading to a restaurant. “It’s a neighborhood spot, I just couldn’t walk it,” he responds.

He leads me into the place, where they obviously knew him because very quickly we get a table in a quiet corner, a bottle of wine, and a pitcher of water on the table and waiter promising to return for our order in a moment. Impressed, I turn to him and ask, “Do you own this place or something?”

 He laughs and pours me a glass of wine. “No, the owners are friends of mine.” As if on cue, a platter of shrimp in oil and garlic is placed in front of us and a small plate is placed in front of each of us. It smells so good I feel faint. I hear the waiter say something about steak. Whatever. Food. We fall on it like ravenous dogs. We don’t say a word until the platter is empty and we’re mopping up the sauce with hunks of bread. We look up and start laughing.

“Well, that was classy. You can’t take me anywhere.” I sit back, wipe the corners of my mouth with my napkin and fold my hands in front of me, pretending to be dignified.

“Yeah we both went at it, so to speak,” he jokes.

“Oh no, did you just make a sexual reference?” I laughed. “I’m shocked. Shocked.”

“Actually, you looked beautiful eating,” he said. “You eat like you fuck — you savor every second, you taste every bite.”

I blushed. I didn’t know what to say. I took a sip of wine.

“Are you embarrassed?” he asks, amused. Really?

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

He moves closer to me, refills my wine glass and whispers “How are you feeling?

“I thought we would kill each other…but now I’m feeling much better. You?”

“Me too.”

“I need to tell you…” I started. “I need to stop seeing you. I know this is the worst time to say this, but –”

“You already said everything with that look on your face. I know you’re walking out on me.”  There was no hurt or accusation in his voice; he sounded completely neutral.

“What look?”

“When you saw how I set up the tub, the candles, you looked like you wanted to run.”

“No, no that’s not —”

“Flattering by the way,” he said ruefully.

If you missed it, that’s the notoriously contained Terminator, having feelings. Quel surprise.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” I explained. “It’s just that I’m in a relationship now, and I care about him.  I can’t keep lying, it’s not right and he deserves my full attention.”

“I thought that was over,” he said.

“We had a fight. We’ll reconcile. We just need some time.” I realized this as I said it. J and I would, and did reconcile.

He was silent, head lowered, listening.

“We’ve already talked about how a relationship between us isn’t possible, right?

“I can’t do it right now,” he responded.

“And ordinarily I would be fine with the way things are, but…”

“I hope it works out for you, I do,” he said. “I want to you to be happy. But I’ll miss you like hell.”

“Me too,” I said.

“Can you stay for the weekend?” he asked. “So we can bring down the rafters and so I can do some of the things I’ve been thinking about.”

“Like what?”
Why did I ask this? I know perfectly well what he wants to do. Or I have a very good idea.

He doesn’t answer, but the look he gives me floods my entire body with heat. I actually feel moist between my legs.

We look at each other for a long moment, and he touches my hair. “I want to have you to myself,” he says softly.

“And I want total control over you.”

Image: Photo Lovers in a Small Café Near the Place d’Italie by Brassai, ©Réunion des Musées Nationaux, Paris
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Terminator’s Wrath

The reunion (see next post) happened because in late July I lost my mind and broke up with Mr. Jones again. I will spare you the details except to say that I had another anxiety attack after our first anniversary. Deep down I knew that our relationship was reaching a deeper level and I panicked. That’s what happens when you’ve never experienced total and unconditional love. You suspect it. You mistrust it. You’re afraid of it. You think it will destroy you in the end, so you destroy it first.
 Mr. Jones understands me and loves me deeply. He knew what the deal was, and we reconciled after a couple of weeks. As you will see in the post below we are more in love than ever.But first, this happened:
Twenty-four hours after I broke up with Mr. Jones I received an email from the Terminator. When I saw it in my inbox I screamed and laughed out loud. It was very late on a Friday night, I had just come home after a night out and checked my email before going to bed. Ha.The subject line read “missing you.”  The message itself was brief: a picture of his shirtless torso flexing his abs and another of his beautiful erect cock. I thought this was unnecessary. I mean, I wasn’t likely to forget what his cock looked like. And the caption under it: “I hope I’m not still cut off.”
Cocky bastard, I thought then laughed at the unintended pun.The timing was uncanny.  It was as if he had my phone tapped. I didn’t tell him anything about the break-up and yes, I would be fucking him as soon as humanly possible. In my mind, Terminator was the perfect way to launch myself into singlehood and back to Planet Me, where I could fuck anyone I pleased.

As usual, Terminator came to the door freshly bathed and with a towel around his waist. He takes my hand and pulls me inside. We are both smiling and silent as he leads me up the stairs. When we get to the bedroom he takes my bag, tosses it on a chair and begins to undress me. His face is serious, the smile is gone. Desire radiates from him like waves electrified heat. The look on his face astonishes me. Blatant love. Hurt. Anger. I move closer to him and in a flash, all emotion is gone from his face.

He meticulously unbuttons and unzips me until I’m standing naked before him. He lowers his eyes to my dark red toenails and they travel up my tanned legs and along the curve of my hip, to my stomach, breasts and up to my lips and eyes in a lustful caress. His gaze feels like fingertips grazing my skin. I have goosebumps when he embraces me for a deep kiss. But surprise. I can’t kiss him as before because I still had feelings for J. At that point Mr. Jones and I were over. My heart was protesting but I was determined to move on as soon as possible.
If Terminator notices this, he says nothing. He buries his face in the hollow of my throat and guides me towards the bed.

As we sink into the pillows his mouth moves to my breasts, which he teases mercilessly with his tongue and lips as his hand moves to my pussy and softly plays around my clit. I’m lost in the sensations as his head moves down between my legs. His tongue invades me softly but ignites my hunger for more of his mouth, of his tongue, of his cock.  He is kissing, licking and nuzzling the area around my clit, kissing my pussy from north to south but ignoring my increasingly engorged clit. He is interested in the rest of my pussy and when I try to guide his head to my clit grips my wrist hard, so hard I gasp, and moves it away from his head. I’m vaguely aware of his tongue sliding out of me (I try to grind against him but he won’t let me). I feel him watching me and I open my eyes and smile, shoving my pussy in his direction, in case he’s forgotten my clit. My hand is about to go to my rescue, but he stops me. His hands slide under my ass and squeeze hard. “Spread your knees,” he says. I obey. As my pussy spreads beneath him, already wet and swollen from his attention, he gives me a look that excites and frightens me. “I’m going to tie you down and then I’m going to make you come over and over until you beg for mercy. And you will beg. Do you trust me?” He licked me like a lollipop.
I smiled and melted under him. He pinched my ass. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”  Whatever, I thought. Just don’t stop licking me.

To be continued


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