The Curse

It's Masturbation Monday time!

The Curse

I was indignant when I discovered what Aunt Elise meant when she called her period ‘The Curse’. That it was a punishment bestowed on all woman kind forevermore because of Eve tempting Adam with an apple and getting them both banished from the Garden of Eden.

I tell you. I was only very young but my fury was full and deep and huge.

So here is my Masturbation Monday as an ode to that fury. Special thanks to my beautiful model who let me feed him tempting evil fruit from my very own tree of knowledge in the garden.

The Curse

“Eat it.”

My hand is on my hip and he kneels before me.

“Eat it,” I repeat, holding out the succulent orb, twisting my wrist to get the most beautiful angle on my outstretched fingertips. I wonder if he notices the tilt. He ought to. I wonder if he even realises that every single motion, word or action that comes from my body is carefully orchestrated to trap him. To make him do things. To tempt him into sin. Sin that would only be committed should I be around to make it so.

Why is he hesitating?

My heels are sinking into the lawn. I tense my calves arching my back to wrench them out without moving my feet to another position. My legs feel long and mighty. I have them spread to just over hip width apart. Plenty wide enough for him to watch beads of desire pool at the apex where my dark curls ruffle in the breeze.

He keeps his gaze low but lifts his chin, opening his lips just a little. Just enough for me to see his tongue flick quickly across his teeth. That’s good. That’s it. His mouth must be watering.

I yearn for his gaze to travel up my shins and thighs. I hold the apple out just under his nose and watch his nostrils flaring as he inhales the ripe heady scent. Oh my pussy is clutching as I imagine it’s me he’s savouring. My legs are cramping a little from trying to stop sinking and I have to give in and move.

He flicks his eyes up my legs to my groin as I twist my feet into a better position. The act of standing here waiting on him to follow my command has me almost beside myself with need. Yes I want him to eat the bloody apple – but not really, what I really want him to do is snatch it from my grasp, throw it to the ground and devour my cunt. I feel a trickle of desire on my inner thigh. He remains static.

“Here,” I say and thrust the apple at him and he catches it.

I watch enraptured as he lifts it to his lips and takes a smooth long bite, the crunch and slide of the flesh dribbling juice down his chin.  All the while he stares at my cunt.

I reach down with both hands. I pull my sex open wide for him to see and thrust three fingers from my right hand deep inside. I bite on my lip and let my head hang forward as I fuck myself in front of him. He just keeps staring, chewing the flesh of the fruit as he does. The sinews in his cheek and jaw flexing make me growl in my throat with animalistic desperation. My pussy is convulsing around my fingers and I’m soaking. I don’t care about my shoes any more and let my heels sink firmly into the turf as I bend my knees to fuck myself deeper in front of him. I grind the fleshy pad of my hand onto my clit and reach to grab his hair. He ducks back just out of reach and I shudder and howl as I come on my hands and fingers, rocking and twitching into the soft ground as he watches, taking another bite of apple…

There you have it.

Thank you for stopping by! If you want more Masturbation Monday – Click on this big purple square!

Trudy - Masturbation Monday Birthday Post

It’s Masturbation Monday!

Not only that – it’s the first birthday of Masturbation Monday!! Whoop! If you pop on over to the Brit Babes site, we are lucky enough to have MM founder Kayla Lords there sharing a very personal post into why she started making Mondays one of the best days of the week :D

The prompt this week is simply knee trembling – here’s my tale, Trudy – utterly inspired by the prompt pic – thank you Kayla!

Remember to click on the big purple square for more saucy tales.

Trudy

I always wished I was a Trudy.

Trudy is strong yet wears her vulnerability like a Siren’s call. She knows how to draw you in. Her self-assurance  and poise let you know she is utterly in control of her destiny. She is completely at ease with her place in the world and feels perfectly entitled to all she experiences.

Oh to feel that way, Trudy!

Trudy would assume that you intend to let her come home with you tonight. She wouldn’t be guessing. She’d just know. And she’d be right. She’d take you by the hand and lead you to your own bedroom door as if you’d never been there before – like it was a new place that she and only she could unlock.

She’d take you to the large windowsill overlooking the city and bid you strip. You’d do so nervously, trembling with buttons while she simply lifted her hair at her nape, flicking a catch to let her dress fall to the floor.

You’d watch her stepping out of it, still in heels, flesh gleaming under the night’s gaze. You’d still be in your rumpled skirt, sweating in silk wishing you hadn’t worn stockings as you fumble.

“Here, let me,” she’d say approaching you and you’d let her. You’d let her take over, peeling garments from you like a whisper of a gentle breeze while you burn and freeze with equal ferocity.

Oh Trudy would have you do things. She’d have you perch naked on your windowsill and she’d pause for a moment to admire her work before slipping up beside you. Her porcelain skin reflecting hues of desire pouring from your own.

“Spread your legs,” she’d say, staring into your eyes, looking for hesitation. You’d do it. You’d spread your thighs until you think your hips will break. You’d hook one heel on the sill and she’d slide her forearm under the knee of the other to hold it up.

“That’s it, that’s it,” she’d say, her voice snaking through your senses as she holds your gaze, bringing you in to the here and now...

You try to retreat into yourself but she’s insistent. She makes you look into her eyes while her fingertips hook into your cunt. Your wet, clenching cunt. Your pelvis moves all on its own, trying to catch another of Trudy’s slender fingers. You flick your eyes to her shoulder and upper arm where you see the muscles flex and release with the rhythm she’s playing on your dripping flesh.

“Uh, uh yeah,” is all you can mutter as she shoves fingers into you and kneads your clit with the heel of her hand and your chin drops to your chest as your teeth grind out the start of a frantic climax. She’s fast. She pumps your cunt harder and you feel dirty. You get wetter. You want more, you want it harder, deeper, wider. She obliges but only until you start bucking your hips then she stops. She stops and shifts position a little to grab the hair at the nape of your neck with the other hand. She grabs it hard and pulls your head back.

“Look at me,” she says exposing your neck as she starts fucking you again and you jerk and spasm off into that silent space, staring into her eyes. Just as you hang in that place of nothing with your eyes wide, she smiles and leans in devouring your mouth with hot hard kisses as you crash and come hard over her hand as she keeps pumping. Her tongue fills your mouth and you respond, wanting to eat her whole, take her as she has taken you.

Trudy.

Your Trudy.

The Trudy you wish you were.

The Trudy you are.

You open your eyes to the sight of your bedroom. The window is cold on your back. The windowsill is slippery where your bare ass and pussy are pressed with your fingers still deep inside yourself.

You shiver a little as you look round your empty room.

Hope you enjoyed that! Now pop on over to the Masturbation Monday site for more saucy birthday posts!

The Kelpie

Hello - here's my newest piece of art/fiction for you.

I'm talking about this and story inspiration over at the Brit Babes today - come on over and tell me what inspires you...
T
x x x

A Quickie

Here's a quickie - or Flash if you will...
I took part earlier this year in a flash fiction challenge hosted by Leone Ross.

Here's the final exercise where we had to start with a short story then half it and half it again. NOT edited so excuse any nonsense, I'm trying to bat it out to you as raw and uncensored as possible.

I wonder if they still hold their meaning. I quite liked the last one but then I wondered if it only made sense to me as I'd read the other two first... (apart from writing it!)

Anyway - what do you think?

By the way - Flash is FUN!!!

The Last Day (299 words)

The last day drips slowly covering everything in it's woozy hypnosis.

All I want is to race outside and stretch my cramped toes into the grass. We'd made pinhole cameras from oatmeal boxes, That's the thing I'll remember. I'd sat cross legged around the wire holding up a telegraph pole and positioned my camera between my feet aimed at my crotch. The picture itches at me through the canvass of my bag. I want to see it again. Want to see the perspective of the spooky almost Victorian image of myself. The cable appearing like my own huge silvery cock mighty and probing the sky high above my head. I love it. I love the picture of me, so feminine with my cock penetrating the clouds.

Fuck yeah, I thought when it slowly and magically appeared in the shallow solution. The darkroom oppressive with the breath of Mr Paul at my shoulders trying to hold my rigid arm and guide my perfectly capable hands in the chemical bath.

How to politely shrug him off in such a confined space?

Luckily, when the image appeared, for the briefest of moments the appendage looked real. He stepped back quickly, dropping my hand and clearing his throat.

The memory of this moment only an hour or so before has me lifting my bag and peering inside at the image. My face in the shadow of my long hair, I could be anyone. Anyone. You can see my breasts through my shirt and my huge huge cock between my skirt.

It is utter confusion and utter perfection. I have just discovered a new part of my existence and now I want to run through the grass in my bare feet.

Cock swinging.

The Last Day (143 words)

All I want is to race outside and stretch my cramped toes into the grass.

We'd made pinhole cameras from oatmeal boxes.

I'd sat cross legged around the supporting wire up a telegraph pole with my camera between my feet aimed at my crotch. The cable thrust high like an erect cock.

Fuck yeah, I thought when it slowly and magically appeared in the shallow solution. The darkroom oppressive with the breath of Mr Paul at my shoulders trying to hold my rigid arm and guide my perfectly capable hands in the chemical bath.

When the image cleared, for the briefest of moments the appendage looked real. He stepped back quickly, dropping my hand and clearing his throat.

I have just discovered a new part of my existence and now I want to run through the grass in my bare feet.

Cock swinging.

The Last Day (77 words)

The image burns into the shiny paper, scaring off the advances of my teacher in the darkroom. He recoils at the picture appearing of me with a cock between my legs. My cock.

The pinhole camera had been perfectly positioned – an optical illusion. Sitting cross legged behind a cable shooting up to steady a telegraph pole. Feminine transformed.

The bell ends the last day.

I run to freedom stretching my toes in the grass.

Cock swinging.

This is inspired by a true event - I did make this photo - sadly it is either lost, or worse languishing somewhere in the attic!

Flash Fiction

Hello cherubs

Well, the amazing Remittance Girl alerted me to a flash fiction course this week run by Leone Ross. It has been hard, exciting and actually made me sit and write something. So, thanks RG.

Here are some of the results...

Inspired by the Scottish Kelpies - 120 words
I see her
She is luminescent, ethereal even. She could be one of us. Her form is human – yet, there's a turn to her instep that hints at a hoof.
Could her fringe be a fetlock twisted in strikken fingers as she gallops men to their doom?
Or is she simply a weary traveller in need of a broad back and four legs to carry her home?
I step from the loch, engaging my most placid gait and make my way to the maiden.
She breathes into my nostrils and I consume her essence. Human all right.
“Hop on,” I whinny. Her eyelids flutter and she exposes her throat. She climbs on to my back.
Just as they all do...


55 words - inspired by a photo of a patch work quilt
The Barren Seamstress
She spends her days cocooned in the quilt she's making. Her own dark space, womb like and separate from the emptiness outside.

Each new patch a souvenir.

“Shhh,” she soothes, “be still my lovelies.”

The slivers of fabric squirm as she stitches in the tears.


Love letters to Mamman and the Devil
1 - baby

I was one of the first to wear disposable nappies, you said. Like astronauts. You felt cumbersome and awkward while the milk dried up allowing you to work four weeks after giving birth. The men in the office gave you papers to file in the bottom drawer, just to watch you bend over in your mini skirt.

You will be able to see the others and perhaps join in if you catch this by the 4th Sept - on Leone Ross's facebook page

The Birthday Cake - Every Day Kinky Challenge

So today I'm taking part in Every Day Kinky writing challenge for Mr Team Blisse's birthday :D Click HERE to read other flash fiction pieces x x xx 

The Birthday Cake

I plucked one of the candles out of the thick frosting and held it out to her, still smouldering.

“Why don't you wrap your lips around it and lick it clean?”

Her face was stony and her exasperated breath matched the look in her eyes.

“Don't be crass Quentin.”

Quentin. She'd been calling me my full name for the past few days. I was still unsure of what had caused this most recent mood but it was certainly something of my doing.

“Oh go on,” I persevered, waving the sticky candle over the table. It hadn't escaped my notice that she hadn't gone to the trouble of buying those little coloured birthday candles but had plumped instead for the emergency dinner ones from the bits and bobs drawer. At least she'd made a cake. That was something. An olive branch of sorts. “It would be a shame to waste this creamy celebration.”

A flicker at the corner of her mouth hinted at a thaw. My groin twitched at the thought of watching her ease the sugary shaft into her pout and tease me, undulating her tongue around and around. I could even hear the slide and pop as she pulled it out, clean and slick with her saliva. I waggled it again, urging her to take it from me, lifting my eyebrow in that way I hoped was sexy.

She rolled her eyes but then very slowly, reached out.

I thought about snatching my hand away and making her come closer but relinquished it in favour of holding the fragile moment. It was time to play by her rules precisely. Her fingers hovered slightly and for a moment I thought she might withdraw them. I held my breath as she took the candle and the ice thawed.

I didn't want to be too eager so I settled back into my chair and just watched. Her gaze met mine and she lifted the frosting to her lips. Her pupils dilated and she shifted in her seat. Had she felt it? She must have. The rigid pose softened and she smeared the soft butter icing over her red red lips easing them open with the end of the candle. It was exactly what I'd seen in my mind just a few seconds before.

White blobs of frosting clung to her lips as she opened her mouth, wrapping her tongue around the candle, sucking and licking it clean. Her mouth was such a sensual thing, moving and teasing me, just as I wanted. My cock swelled and strained in my jeans but I stayed still, not wanting to break the static spell that hung between us.

The skin at her throat blushed crimson as she sucked, pushing the candle in deeper. It was a good sign. She moved a little more and I knew if I peeked under the table, her legs would have parted. Lust hung heavy on her expression now and I inhaled deeply, feeling confident this was the start of something. Something to heal and shatter the chill from the past few days. I ventured a hand to her knee and it yielded to my touch, falling to where I pushed. Running my palm up her inner thigh I shivered when I felt the nylon change to lace.

Stockings.

She'd known there'd be a reunion tonight. She'd planned this. It was her seduction all along. Not mine.

I fell into her heady trap and all I could hear was the slide and pop of the candle as she pulled it out, slick and shining with her saliva.

Now pop on over to Everyday Kinky for more flashers :D Happy birthday Mr B  x x