Moochie’s Musings (and a pic or two)

hotcpu said:

Love doing this to my lover, paying very close attention to her movements till I have her writhing in total pleasure. Wonderful way of describing it Sexy Lady! Gorgeous Pic!

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You have a very lucky lover. Thank you for your kind words about my writing and visuals. I really appreciate it.

Mustang Sally said:

What gorgeous words to go with your gorgeous pic. Lovely thread, Moochie. ❤

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Oh wow! Thank you, Sally! I’m a huge fan of your thread! Thanks for stopping by mine and saying such kind things.

Dribble said:

I find myself visiting this thread more and more. Just some kinda of magic here. You make smiles happen easily. That is special. Not all people have that ability.

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Im so glad I’ve sparked a little something here... I don’t know how sustainable it is considering I have such a difficult time with filtering my thoughts and I tend to hurt people I definitely don’t mean to. Words can be wonderous and full of magic sometimes, but I still am learning how to use them the right way in order to not cause pain... I’m glad they brought you smiles instead.

30bandits said:

mmmmmmmm….

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*raises eyebrow* Yes?

Todger65 said:

You have such a way with words, it is clear what your thoughts are and what is actually happening without giving explicit details. So erotic to read. I feel sure you could write a decent story that would get good reviews here on Lit.

I love the photo, such a gorgeous body, and how I would love playing with your nipple bars.

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I still am unsure about writing anything at length (I know, I know: my posts keep getting longer and longer... I realize that). I fear my imagination is too wild to focus on one particular scene for very long... but thank you for your encouragement. I will keep the thought of a story in my mind for some later date. And thank you for your kind words about my photo. I’ve been playing with light a bit in my pictures and I feel the shadows in this one are nice.

Love the way you combine short stories and amazing pictures. Thanks for sharing!

Moochienanu said:

We were on his couch for maybe a minute. We looked through some movies on the television and kissed. He’s a really good kisser. Our first kiss had been only moments before, after we had decided to leave the pub and go back to his place to “watch a movie.” He had me ride in his car for twenty feet to take me to my own car: so chivalrous. When he dropped me at my car, he leaned over and we kissed for the first time. It was shiver-inducing. Jaw-dropping. Unfathomably miraculous. When we finally came back to ourselves and parted lips he let out a little happy noise and mumbled to himself “and you’re a great kisser. Damn.”

On the couch, kissing him was even more sublime... if that is even possible. We looked at a couple more movies and discussed their merits... and then we were full-on making out. His hands were on me, consuming me with his touch. He climbed on top of me on the couch and I could tell that he was excited through his pants. We grinded against each other there, kissing and feeling each other for a few minutes before he got up and lead me into his bedroom, apologizing for what we had to do next: we made his bed together (he washes his sheets on Thursdays and didn’t expect our first date to go so well, let alone get to the bedroom). I was wearing a jersey dress, see-through panties, and a pretty lace bra. He has a sizable mass over me, which I like so very much. It feels like he’s a real man, all muscle and fur... the thought crosses my mind that he can toss me around and use me how he pleases. Once we were done making the bed (he had to mansplain hospital corners which I actually found endearing in the moment), he picked me up with ease and laid me back over it so that he could kiss his way up my thighs. He slipped off my panties to kiss and lick at me, sucking at my clit until I was close to cumming. I haven’t had this kind of attention in a long time, so it didn’t take me long to get close to the edge of falling. But then he stopped and smiled and sat me up reluctantly. Still smiling, he removed my dress and bra in one fell swoop. It was so charismatic. He had charmed me naked and I was enraptured. Then he laid me back down, looked up at me from between my thighs and told me something I needed to hear: “you have a truly beautiful pussy.” He then went diligently back to work until the whole world became a blur and my entire body was feeling shockwaves and floating away.

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your texts are so erotic and your photos are so sexy pure happiness

Oh my hun- Its been a while since i logged in - life eh getting in the way of lit.

Love the transparency - love the ups and the downs - enjoy the voice, enjoy the you that shines out through your words in print or sound

x

Moochienanu said:

We were on his couch for maybe a minute. We looked through some movies on the television and kissed. He’s a really good kisser. Our first kiss had been only moments before, after we had decided to leave the pub and go back to his place to “watch a movie.” He had me ride in his car for twenty feet to take me to my own car: so chivalrous. When he dropped me at my car, he leaned over and we kissed for the first time. It was shiver-inducing. Jaw-dropping. Unfathomably miraculous. When we finally came back to ourselves and parted lips he let out a little happy noise and mumbled to himself “and you’re a great kisser. Damn.”

On the couch, kissing him was even more sublime... if that is even possible. We looked at a couple more movies and discussed their merits... and then we were full-on making out. His hands were on me, consuming me with his touch. He climbed on top of me on the couch and I could tell that he was excited through his pants. We grinded against each other there, kissing and feeling each other for a few minutes before he got up and lead me into his bedroom, apologizing for what we had to do next: we made his bed together (he washes his sheets on Thursdays and didn’t expect our first date to go so well, let alone get to the bedroom). I was wearing a jersey dress, see-through panties, and a pretty lace bra. He has a sizable mass over me, which I like so very much. It feels like he’s a real man, all muscle and fur... the thought crosses my mind that he can toss me around and use me how he pleases. Once we were done making the bed (he had to mansplain hospital corners which I actually found endearing in the moment), he picked me up with ease and laid me back over it so that he could kiss his way up my thighs. He slipped off my panties to kiss and lick at me, sucking at my clit until I was close to cumming. I haven’t had this kind of attention in a long time, so it didn’t take me long to get close to the edge of falling. But then he stopped and smiled and sat me up reluctantly. Still smiling, he removed my dress and bra in one fell swoop. It was so charismatic. He had charmed me naked and I was enraptured. Then he laid me back down, looked up at me from between my thighs and told me something I needed to hear: “you have a truly beautiful pussy.” He then went diligently back to work until the whole world became a blur and my entire body was feeling shockwaves and floating away.

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Wow! Your pics are always so creative and stimulating, and then your musings create somehow even more passion and the effect is some wild reactions to my body! Love the thoughts you add to your pics...so hot, such a turn on!

Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes

Hold back the river, so I
Can stop for a minute and see where you hide
Hold back the river, hold back

A river of tears often mixes with the water that whisks down the drain with the soap suds. In the shower I can really let it out because the sound of the water covers my sobs from being heard by the owner of the scampering feet outside the bathroom door. Lately I’ve had so many ticks in my “negatives” column. I can’t seem to catch a real break. More physical stuff, even more mental, and the emotional has been worst of all. I want to hide away and let everything just blow past me. Perhaps I could if I just surrender to this feeling of ineptitude.

I’m so tired. I’ve slept over 25 hours in the last two days, and my body still wants nothing but to lay here and cry, my pillow collecting my tears as the sandman decides whether to waste his time on me or not.

So, I stand here in the shower. Alone. Battered emotionally by what I know to be truth. The deep hurt makes me even more angry. Such issues with trust. And jealousy. And fears. I’m supposed to be the smart one. The one who is strong and patient and kind. I’ve had enough of myself, though. It’s becoming harder to hide myself away. I want to scream everything, and I do as the water splashes against my skin. I can say it now because he won’t look anymore. He won’t hear me cry it into the drain.
I love him.
I hate myself.

Edit: 2/23/2022 - removed picture

Moochienanu said:

Hold back the river, so I
Can stop for a minute and see where you hide
Hold back the river, hold back

A river of tears often mixes with the water that whisks down the drain with the soap suds. In the shower I can really let it out because the sound of the water covers my sobs from being heard by the owner of the scampering feet outside the bathroom door. Lately I’ve had so many ticks in my “negatives” column. I can’t seem to catch a real break. More physical stuff, even more mental, and the emotional has been worst of all. I want to hide away and let everything just blow past me. Perhaps I could if I just surrender to this feeling of ineptitude.

I’m so tired. I’ve slept over 25 hours in the last two days, and my body still wants nothing but to lay here and cry, my pillow collecting my tears as the sandman decides whether to waste his time on me or not.

So, I stand here in the shower. Alone. Battered emotionally by what I know to be truth. The deep hurt makes me even more angry. Such issues with trust. And jealousy. And fears. I’m supposed to be the smart one. The one who is strong and patient and kind. I’ve had enough of myself, though. It’s becoming harder to hide myself away. I want to scream everything, and I do as the water splashes against my skin. I can say it now because he won’t look anymore. He won’t hear me cry it into the drain.
I love him.
I hate myself.

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Hang in there, my dear. This too shall pass.

Moochienanu said:

Hold back the river, so I
Can stop for a minute and see where you hide
Hold back the river, hold back

A river of tears often mixes with the water that whisks down the drain with the soap suds. In the shower I can really let it out because the sound of the water covers my sobs from being heard by the owner of the scampering feet outside the bathroom door. Lately I’ve had so many ticks in my “negatives” column. I can’t seem to catch a real break. More physical stuff, even more mental, and the emotional has been worst of all. I want to hide away and let everything just blow past me. Perhaps I could if I just surrender to this feeling of ineptitude.

I’m so tired. I’ve slept over 25 hours in the last two days, and my body still wants nothing but to lay here and cry, my pillow collecting my tears as the sandman decides whether to waste his time on me or not.

So, I stand here in the shower. Alone. Battered emotionally by what I know to be truth. The deep hurt makes me even more angry. Such issues with trust. And jealousy. And fears. I’m supposed to be the smart one. The one who is strong and patient and kind. I’ve had enough of myself, though. It’s becoming harder to hide myself away. I want to scream everything, and I do as the water splashes against my skin. I can say it now because he won’t look anymore. He won’t hear me cry it into the drain.
I love him.
I hate myself.

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I am sorry to learn you are now in a dark, uneasy place ... I have been there too and found solace in speaking out the pain under a shower that washes all away and prevents others from hearing.

Moments come and go, even the dark ones

I headed west. Packed my car with individual items cause boxes took too much space. I was leaving everything else. I was so tired of the lies. The abuse. Three days later, the road stopped. I was on a beach south of Astoria. And I sat there and cried cause it wasn't far enough away.

15 years later, after being beaten to a pulp by drugs, I got clean. And I realized I didn't cry that day because I couldn't get far enough away from my life...I cried cause I couldn't get far enough away from me.

I only learn about myself through my mistakes. My hurt. My pain. My confusion. Funny how perspective works.

I am sending hugs. Thoughts. Because I see no ineptitude in this thread. If there were no words in this thread...then I would say OK. But someone capable of sharing pain...is not lost.

In my past, I have on several occasions locked myself away, not looking, talking, interacting, eating or drinking for up to 36 hours at a time. Sat in a corner, covered over, so that if I can’t see out, no one can see in. My mind a confused jumble of thoughts some light, but more dark. I have sobbed and cried through these times.

After the last episode a few years ago now, something clicked and I came out renewed. Nothing changed in my life except for one thing. That was the thought, the feeling that I was now in charge of my life. Since then I have controlled me, no one else gets a look in. I may take advice from others but the final decision is mine and mine alone.

You will come through this as sure as I did. You will take charge of your life and feel better for it in the end. Push the pain, and those causing it away and start renewed.

Take care my beautiful girl.

Guyblue82 said:

Love the way you combine short stories and amazing pictures. Thanks for sharing!

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It’s my pleasure and I’m usually very grateful to have the outlet.

gateau66l said:

your texts are so erotic and your photos are so sexy pure happiness

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Such sweet things to say! I’m blushing!

mackkjackk said:

Oh my hun- Its been a while since i logged in - life eh getting in the way of lit.

Love the transparency - love the ups and the downs - enjoy the voice, enjoy the you that shines out through your words in print or sound

x

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Real life does have its way, doesn’t it Jackk? I can’t help but voice what’s on my mind, a habit that sometimes fuels the negativity that builds in my mind. I’m happy you found that little Easter egg.

thinkingofyou3000 said:

Wow! Your pics are always so creative and stimulating, and then your musings create somehow even more passion and the effect is some wild reactions to my body! Love the thoughts you add to your pics...so hot, such a turn on!

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So glad that you enjoy the glimpses into my mixture of wild imagination, real life, and thoughts on life as well as the accompanying pictures. I hope you continue to find something that brings you back to my thread.

Post 1000!!!

Re-written for those who pay attention:

And if you took to me like
A gull takes to the wind
I'd've jumped from my tree
And I'd've danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would've fared well

The Shins are playing when he lets me in the door. Of course he has the Garden State soundtrack (one of my favorites since the movie was released in 2004) on vinyl. I put down my things and he takes me into his arms, holding my head to his chest. Why does my heart beat so fast around him? Like a little bird’s heart: fluttering every which way and making me feel so fragile and light-headed? It even beats wildly out of control when I see his name on my phone every time he messages me. “What are you needing tonight?” He asks me, like I know how to answer that? He quickly realizes I have no idea what I need and says, pulls me to arms length, looks me up and down and answers himself with “I’m going to use you how I want, and you’re going to enjoy yourself.” I appreciate this so much about him, and allow a small sigh of relief and a “Thank you, Daddy” as I hug him again.

He breaks our embrace to lead me by hand into the living room where he sits in the recliner, a drink already sitting on the side table next to it: he must have been waiting for me to arrive while sitting here. He puts me on my knees in front of him and I unbutton and unzip his pants, aware of my task now. I know doing this service pleases him because he has told me many times before and we discuss it at length when not together. Daddy likes my little mouth so much, his cock quickly hardens in it and I diligently work as he tells me some trivial things about his day, siping his drink, and giving small approvals or directions for me every now and then. We hear a pot start to boil on the stove over the music and he taps my shoulder for me to stop, sets his drink down, and puts away his hard cock.

I pout a bit, stand and compose myself. I didn’t know what the night would hold, so I went with an easy, short polka dot dress and fishnets, when I squeeze my legs together I can feel the smooth, creamy wetness between my thighs that comes whenever I make him happy. I look over at his drink, an amber fluid with ice floating in it and ask him what it is. He tells me to try it, so I do, and find my favorite: bourbon. Basil Hayden’s Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey to be exact. Really good whiskey. Daddy drinks rum usually, so I am very surprised. All I can think is that this drink is for me, not him, and I smile. I sip a bit more as he asks “what do you think?” With an inquisitive look on his face. “I enjoy it very much. Thank you, Daddy,” I tell him with a smile. He smiles back at me. “Bring it into the kitchen, then kitten,” he says.

I walk over and sit on a stool at the island in the kitchen, setting the drink down in front of me as we chat more while preparing a simple dinner of grilled steak for him, a mushroom for me, some steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. The potatoes having been the boiling culprit, were done cooking and ready to be mashed. “How are your mashing skills?” He asks. Putting on my serious game face, I reply, “I can mash with the best of them.” He points to the drawer where the masher is. I take one last sip of the Bourbon and walk to the drawer, open it, and feel his body behind mine. It’s like electricity whenever I feel him near me. He tells me to turn around and face him, so I quickly obey. He kisses me so sweetly, deeply, longingly, forcibly, and my whole body surrenders to him. He pushes me to my knees again with a hand on my shoulder, and says “Do your job and get me hard again.” I take out his cock again and start to lap at him while looking up into his penetrating eyes. As soon as my rhythm starts to make him buck his hips into my face he stops me with a hand on my cheek and a “Good Girl” from his lips that makes my whole world fall apart in all the perfect ways; more than anything else ever could.

He commands me with a touch to stand and turn around, my ass to him now. I do and he sets the pot of potatoes on the counter in front of me. “Start mashing them,” he says. To my astonishment, I still had the masher in my hand. As I thrust the masher in, he slips a hand up, under my skirt and into the front of my panties to find how wet I’ve gotten. When he touches my clit, I moan and forget the potatoes. He stops what he’s doing and explains “If you stop mashing, I’ll stop touching. Do you want that, kitten?” “No, Daddy. I want all of your touches, please,” I say. “That’s what I thought,” he replies and goes back to deliciously moving his fingers across my slick lips. I continue to mash, slowly and deliberately so as not to over-mash and not to find a stopping point any time soon. I can’t help myself after a bit and start to lose focus, so close to the edge of cumming all over his fingers as they rub in lazy circles and dip inside me. It is at that point he peers over my shoulder into the mash. “I think that’s done,” he declares, pulling his fingers out and shoving them into my mouth where I lick them clean.

He walks over to the stove to check the vegetables as I compose myself, taking a sip of the whiskey and smiling over at him. He looks over to me and says, nonchalantly, “Oh kitten, I’m nowhere near done with you yet. You’ll cum soon, I promise.” A shiver runs through my body that has nothing to do with a chill and I reply, “Yes, Daddy.” I move the mash to the table and walk back.

He walks up behind me again and pushes me between the shoulder blades so that my body is bent over the island’s counter top. A hand grabbing a fist of my hair and pulling it a bit so my back arches. He lifts my skirt and slips down my fishnets and panties. “Grab hold of the counter with your hands.” He orders me, and as I do, I feel his hard cock slam into my tight, wet center with little ceremony. My whole body shivers again as my pussy stretches to acquire his girth, and I let out gasps with his every thrust. It was only a handful of sweet, delicious, slow, deep thrusts into me before he pulls away. “There’s a tool box by the front door near where you put down your things. Go get the permanent marker that’s on top of it. Now,” he commands. This seems like an odd thing to request of me, but I go and get it, hand it to him, and he indicates to get back into my bent position in front of him. I do, and he then takes a hand and places it on my ass, holding it still as he writes. I know better than to ask what he is writing. He then caps the marker sets it on the counter next to me so that I can see hes done. “That’s nice,” He says, and shoves his cock deep inside me again, pounding my hip bones into the counter top. I quickly lose myself in his thrusts and find he’s kept his promise. I cum as he smacks my ass hard.

Once I’ve floated back to consciousness, he pulls up my panties and pats my booty lightly over my fishnets. “Mmmm...” He says, grabbing something behind him from the counter by the sink. “You know what this tush needs now?” He asks. “Uh uh.” I reply shaking my head, but kinda knowing what he is thinking. “A bit of this.” He says winding up like Babe Ruth at bat before swatting me with a wooden slotted spoon meant for the veggies. “And I think we should count, don’t you?” He asks rhetorically. “One?” I cringe after a gasp of surprise. “That’s my girl” He says, landing another stinging blow. “Two!” I cry out. He rubs a hand on one of my ass cheeks. “I like these fishnets. They’re fun.” He is grinning as he lands some consecutive smacks with the spoon. “Three!
Four!
Five!
Six!”
I let out a grunt from almost exhaustion. I know I’m already sopping from the exercise, and want him to fuck me again, but I don’t dare to say a word about it. Instead, I continue counting aloud with his stinging spoon-falls:
“Seven!
Eight!
Nine!”
He stops. “Ah,” He says, “We’ve made it to my lucky number, Kitten. Shall we stop here? Or double it?” I know he isn’t actually asking my opinion, so I stay quiet and allow the stinging fire feeling on my bottom to sink in. “Yes, you’re right.” He says and gives me one more hard swat, “one to grow an inch.” And I can’t help but giggle with him. “I don’t think I’m getting any taller without a new set of heels, Daddy.” I tell him matter-of-factly, standing, and letting my dress fall back down over my reddened bottom.

His face quickly changes. “Did I say you could stand?” He asks.

Uh oh.

He pushes me back down over the counter. “This is where I want you until I tell you to get up.” He says, pulling my skirt back up and yanking down my fishnets and panties. “Yes Daddy. I’m so sorry.” I say, backtracking and trying to make right. He walks over to the back screen door and I hear him open it and walk out to the grill. I don’t dare move an inch or say a thing. All I can think is about the air hitting my burning bum and how I have to be really good and stay super still... and also what did he write back there? ... and how long has it been? ... and why is my face so close to the counter, I can’t see a thing! ... and how much longer will the grilling take? ... is he going to come back in still mad? ... do I get more ouchies? ... I’m okay with more swats... I deserve more... OMG, Daddy! How long has it been?! Basically I go a little crazy until I hear him open the slider again and walk in with something that smells yummy. I hear him set the plate down on the dining table and feel him walk past me to the stove. I stay still. I don’t move. I want to be the goodest girl. I have a lot of work to do until I get there. I hear him scrape and move things around. I imagine he is serving up the food he’s prepared and is elegantly plating it. I then feel him pass me closely, feel his breath on my neck, then he’s gone and I hear his chair at the table as he sits. I hear him start to eat and imagine him glancing into the kitchen every once in a while during the meal to see me spread there, bent over the island, scribed ass in air. I must be quite the sight to digest to.

I feel humiliated.

This is his goal, I know.

It’s working.

I am so wet I’m dripping now. I feel it coating the inside of my thighs almost to my knees. It may be my imagination, but I think he must see it too, as I hear him get up from the table and walk past me to put his dishes in the sink. He gets unnecessarily close to me again, like he wants to touch me but also doesn’t (He told me later that I looked like a priceless piece of art like that).

I feel him there, admiring me. Then he asks my question. Our question: “Who do you belong to?” I answer him, and hear the genuine smile in his voice as he smacks my ass. I feel him behind me now, feel his cock head rub up and down my pussy lips, lubricating him. I then feel him grab a handful of my ass cheek, pushing his cock against the tight, little hole of mine he likes so much to claim. A wave of pleasurable pain fills me with his slow, deliberate entrance into my ass. My body raises against him and he pushes me back down whispering in that voice I would do anything for, “No, my sweet little slut. Get back on your flat feet.” I do as I’m told as he slides deeper in, stretching me more. He uses the counter to push inside me deeper and asks me the question again.

“You, Daddy. I belong to you.” I whimper as I cum.

(I had “Daddy’s Property” on my ass for days. *grin*)

Moochienanu said:

And if you took to me like
A gull takes to the wind
I'd've jumped from my tree
And I'd've danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would've fared well

The Shins are playing when he lets me in the door. Of course he has the Garden State soundtrack (one of my favorites since the movie was released in 2004) on vinyl. I put down my things and he takes me into his arms, holding my head to his chest. Why does my heart beat so fast around him? Like a little bird’s heart: fluttering every which way and making me feel so fragile and light-headed? He asks what I need from the night, like I know how to answer that? He realizes I have no idea what I need and says he will use me how he sees fit. I appreciate this so much about him, and allow a sigh of relief.

He breaks our embrace to lead me by hand into the living room where he sits in the recliner, a drink already sitting on the side table next to it: he must have been waiting for me to arrive while sitting here. He puts me on my knees in front of him and I unbutton and unzip his pants, aware of my task now. I know doing this service pleases him because he has told me many times before. His cock quickly hardens in my mouth and I diligently work as he tells me some trivial things about his day, siping his drink, and giving small approval or directions for me every now and then. We hear a pot start to boil on the stove over the music and he taps my shoulder for me to stop, sets his drink down, and puts away his hard cock.

I stand and compose myself. I didn’t know what the night would hold, so I went with my usual home uniform of jeans and a t-shirt... when I squeeze my legs together I can feel the smooth, creamy wetness between my thighs that comes whenever I make him happy. I look over at his drink, an amber fluid with ice floating in it and ask him what it is. He tells me to try it, so I do, and find my favorite: bourbon. Basil Hayden’s Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey to be exact. Really good whiskey. I sip a bit more and he asks what I think. As I don’t usually drink alcohol around him (the occasional cider doesn’t count), he genuinely doesn’t know he has a whiskey fiend in his living room. I tell him I enjoy it very much and he smiles and tells me to bring it into the kitchen, then.

I walk over and sit a stool at the island in the kitchen and we chat more while preparing a simple dinner of grilled chicken breast, some steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. The potatoes having been the boiling culprit, they were done cooking and ready to be mashed. He asks how my mashing skills are, and I replied that I could mash with the best of them, so he pointed to the drawer where the masher was. I took one last sip of the Bourbon and walked to the drawer, opened it, and felt his body behind mine. It’s like electricity whenever I feel him near me. He tells me to turn around and face him, so I quickly obey. He kisses me so sweetly, deeply, longingly, forcibly, and my whole body surrenders to him. He pushes me to my knees again and tells me to do my job get his cock hard again. I do while looking up into his penetrating eyes. As soon as my rhythm starts to make him buck his hips he stops me with a hand on my shoulder and a “Good Girl” from his lips that makes my whole world fall apart in all the perfect ways; more than anything else ever could.

He commands me to stand and turn around, my ass to him now. I do and he sets the pot of potatoes on a potholder in front of me, telling me to mash them. As I thrust the masher in, he slips a hand in the front of my pants and finds how wet I’ve gotten. When he touches my clit, I moan and forget the potatoes. He stops what he’s doing and explains that if I stop mashing, he stops what he’s doing, so I continue to mash, slowly and deliberately so as not to over-mash and not to find a stopping point any time soon. I can’t help myself and start to lose focus. He peers over my shoulder into the mash, declares it done, pulls his fingers out of my pants and puts them into my mouth where I lick them clean.

He walks over to the stove to check the vegetables as I compose myself, taking a sip of the whiskey and smiling at him. He looks over to me and says, He’s nowhere near done with me as he pushes me so that my body is bent over the island’s counter top. He undoes my jeans and slips them down as well as my panties, orders me to take hold of the counter with my free hand, and as I do I feel his hard cock slam into my tight, wet center and my whole body shivers as I stretch and let out gasps with his every thrust. It was only a handful of sweet, delicious, slow, deep thrusts into me before he pulls away and commands me to go get the permanent marker by the door on top of the tool box. This seems like an odd thing to request of me, but I go and get it, hand it to him, and get back into my bent position in front of him. He then takes a hand and places it on my ass, holding it still as he writes. I know better than to ask what he is writing. He then caps the marker sets it on the counter, and puts his cock against the tight, little hole of mine he likes so much. I shiver as a wave of pleasurable pain fills me with his slow entrance into it. My body raises against him and he pushes me back down whispering in that voice I would do anything for, “No, my sweet girl. Get back on your flat feet.” I do as I’m told as he slides deeper in, stretching me more. He uses the counter to push inside me deeper and asks me the question that causes the most turmoil in my life, but I know the answer to: “Who do you belong to?” I answer him, and hear the genuine smile in his voice starts thrusting.

*note: the picture is after a shower and some scrubbing... anyone for removal ideas?

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Such a gorgeous rear you show, and after such an encounter.

Im pretty sure that if you were to spread lots of cum on the words they would come off. Ohhh, and I would happily offer my own for you to use again and again, until it washes clean.

That is one hell of an erotic story. I told you, you have the story writing gift.

This certainly got me aroused.

Love the photo. It’s called a permanent marker, because it is. It will eventually fade as the skin naturally wears away. The question is, do you really want it to fade.

Moochienanu said:

And if you took to me like
A gull takes to the wind
I'd've jumped from my tree
And I'd've danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would've fared well

The Shins are playing when he lets me in the door. Of course he has the Garden State soundtrack (one of my favorites since the movie was released in 2004) on vinyl. I put down my things and he takes me into his arms, holding my head to his chest. Why does my heart beat so fast around him? Like a little bird’s heart: fluttering every which way and making me feel so fragile and light-headed? He asks what I need from the night, like I know how to answer that? He realizes I have no idea what I need and says he will use me how he sees fit. I appreciate this so much about him, and allow a sigh of relief.

He breaks our embrace to lead me by hand into the living room where he sits in the recliner, a drink already sitting on the side table next to it: he must have been waiting for me to arrive while sitting here. He puts me on my knees in front of him and I unbutton and unzip his pants, aware of my task now. I know doing this service pleases him because he has told me many times before. His cock quickly hardens in my mouth and I diligently work as he tells me some trivial things about his day, siping his drink, and giving small approval or directions for me every now and then. We hear a pot start to boil on the stove over the music and he taps my shoulder for me to stop, sets his drink down, and puts away his hard cock.

I stand and compose myself. I didn’t know what the night would hold, so I went with my usual home uniform of jeans and a t-shirt... when I squeeze my legs together I can feel the smooth, creamy wetness between my thighs that comes whenever I make him happy. I look over at his drink, an amber fluid with ice floating in it and ask him what it is. He tells me to try it, so I do, and find my favorite: bourbon. Basil Hayden’s Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey to be exact. Really good whiskey. I sip a bit more and he asks what I think. As I don’t usually drink alcohol around him (the occasional cider doesn’t count), he genuinely doesn’t know he has a whiskey fiend in his living room. I tell him I enjoy it very much and he smiles and tells me to bring it into the kitchen, then.

I walk over and sit a stool at the island in the kitchen and we chat more while preparing a simple dinner of grilled chicken breast, some steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. The potatoes having been the boiling culprit, they were done cooking and ready to be mashed. He asks how my mashing skills are, and I replied that I could mash with the best of them, so he pointed to the drawer where the masher was. I took one last sip of the Bourbon and walked to the drawer, opened it, and felt his body behind mine. It’s like electricity whenever I feel him near me. He tells me to turn around and face him, so I quickly obey. He kisses me so sweetly, deeply, longingly, forcibly, and my whole body surrenders to him. He pushes me to my knees again and tells me to do my job get his cock hard again. I do while looking up into his penetrating eyes. As soon as my rhythm starts to make him buck his hips he stops me with a hand on my shoulder and a “Good Girl” from his lips that makes my whole world fall apart in all the perfect ways; more than anything else ever could.

He commands me to stand and turn around, my ass to him now. I do and he sets the pot of potatoes on a potholder in front of me, telling me to mash them. As I thrust the masher in, he slips a hand in the front of my pants and finds how wet I’ve gotten. When he touches my clit, I moan and forget the potatoes. He stops what he’s doing and explains that if I stop mashing, he stops what he’s doing, so I continue to mash, slowly and deliberately so as not to over-mash and not to find a stopping point any time soon. I can’t help myself and start to lose focus. He peers over my shoulder into the mash, declares it done, pulls his fingers out of my pants and puts them into my mouth where I lick them clean.

He walks over to the stove to check the vegetables as I compose myself, taking a sip of the whiskey and smiling at him. He looks over to me and says, He’s nowhere near done with me as he pushes me so that my body is bent over the island’s counter top. He undoes my jeans and slips them down as well as my panties, orders me to take hold of the counter with my free hand, and as I do I feel his hard cock slam into my tight, wet center and my whole body shivers as I stretch and let out gasps with his every thrust. It was only a handful of sweet, delicious, slow, deep thrusts into me before he pulls away and commands me to go get the permanent marker by the door on top of the tool box. This seems like an odd thing to request of me, but I go and get it, hand it to him, and get back into my bent position in front of him. He then takes a hand and places it on my ass, holding it still as he writes. I know better than to ask what he is writing. He then caps the marker sets it on the counter, and puts his cock against the tight, little hole of mine he likes so much. I shiver as a wave of pleasurable pain fills me with his slow entrance into it. My body raises against him and he pushes me back down whispering in that voice I would do anything for, “No, my sweet girl. Get back on your flat feet.” I do as I’m told as he slides deeper in, stretching me more. He uses the counter to push inside me deeper and asks me the question that causes the most turmoil in my life, but I know the answer to: “Who do you belong to?” I answer him, and hear the genuine smile in his voice starts thrusting.

*note: the picture is after a shower and some scrubbing... anyone for removal ideas?

Click to expand...

Lovely view, and words.

Moochienanu said:

And if you took to me like
A gull takes to the wind
I'd've jumped from my tree
And I'd've danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would've fared well

The Shins are playing when he lets me in the door. Of course he has the Garden State soundtrack (one of my favorites since the movie was released in 2004) on vinyl. I put down my things and he takes me into his arms, holding my head to his chest. Why does my heart beat so fast around him? Like a little bird’s heart: fluttering every which way and making me feel so fragile and light-headed? He asks what I need from the night, like I know how to answer that? He realizes I have no idea what I need and says he will use me how he sees fit. I appreciate this so much about him, and allow a sigh of relief.

He breaks our embrace to lead me by hand into the living room where he sits in the recliner, a drink already sitting on the side table next to it: he must have been waiting for me to arrive while sitting here. He puts me on my knees in front of him and I unbutton and unzip his pants, aware of my task now. I know doing this service pleases him because he has told me many times before. His cock quickly hardens in my mouth and I diligently work as he tells me some trivial things about his day, siping his drink, and giving small approval or directions for me every now and then. We hear a pot start to boil on the stove over the music and he taps my shoulder for me to stop, sets his drink down, and puts away his hard cock.

I stand and compose myself. I didn’t know what the night would hold, so I went with my usual home uniform of jeans and a t-shirt... when I squeeze my legs together I can feel the smooth, creamy wetness between my thighs that comes whenever I make him happy. I look over at his drink, an amber fluid with ice floating in it and ask him what it is. He tells me to try it, so I do, and find my favorite: bourbon. Basil Hayden’s Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey to be exact. Really good whiskey. I sip a bit more and he asks what I think. As I don’t usually drink alcohol around him (the occasional cider doesn’t count), he genuinely doesn’t know he has a whiskey fiend in his living room. I tell him I enjoy it very much and he smiles and tells me to bring it into the kitchen, then.

I walk over and sit a stool at the island in the kitchen and we chat more while preparing a simple dinner of grilled chicken breast, some steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. The potatoes having been the boiling culprit, they were done cooking and ready to be mashed. He asks how my mashing skills are, and I replied that I could mash with the best of them, so he pointed to the drawer where the masher was. I took one last sip of the Bourbon and walked to the drawer, opened it, and felt his body behind mine. It’s like electricity whenever I feel him near me. He tells me to turn around and face him, so I quickly obey. He kisses me so sweetly, deeply, longingly, forcibly, and my whole body surrenders to him. He pushes me to my knees again and tells me to do my job get his cock hard again. I do while looking up into his penetrating eyes. As soon as my rhythm starts to make him buck his hips he stops me with a hand on my shoulder and a “Good Girl” from his lips that makes my whole world fall apart in all the perfect ways; more than anything else ever could.

He commands me to stand and turn around, my ass to him now. I do and he sets the pot of potatoes on a potholder in front of me, telling me to mash them. As I thrust the masher in, he slips a hand in the front of my pants and finds how wet I’ve gotten. When he touches my clit, I moan and forget the potatoes. He stops what he’s doing and explains that if I stop mashing, he stops what he’s doing, so I continue to mash, slowly and deliberately so as not to over-mash and not to find a stopping point any time soon. I can’t help myself and start to lose focus. He peers over my shoulder into the mash, declares it done, pulls his fingers out of my pants and puts them into my mouth where I lick them clean.

He walks over to the stove to check the vegetables as I compose myself, taking a sip of the whiskey and smiling at him. He looks over to me and says, He’s nowhere near done with me as he pushes me so that my body is bent over the island’s counter top. He undoes my jeans and slips them down as well as my panties, orders me to take hold of the counter with my free hand, and as I do I feel his hard cock slam into my tight, wet center and my whole body shivers as I stretch and let out gasps with his every thrust. It was only a handful of sweet, delicious, slow, deep thrusts into me before he pulls away and commands me to go get the permanent marker by the door on top of the tool box. This seems like an odd thing to request of me, but I go and get it, hand it to him, and get back into my bent position in front of him. He then takes a hand and places it on my ass, holding it still as he writes. I know better than to ask what he is writing. He then caps the marker sets it on the counter, and puts his cock against the tight, little hole of mine he likes so much. I shiver as a wave of pleasurable pain fills me with his slow entrance into it. My body raises against him and he pushes me back down whispering in that voice I would do anything for, “No, my sweet girl. Get back on your flat feet.” I do as I’m told as he slides deeper in, stretching me more. He uses the counter to push inside me deeper and asks me the question that causes the most turmoil in my life, but I know the answer to: “Who do you belong to?” I answer him, and hear the genuine smile in his voice starts thrusting.

*note: the picture is after a shower and some scrubbing... anyone for removal ideas?

Click to expand...

Even knowing it wouldn't work, I would try to lick it off.
For a practical approach, I'd use nail polish remover.

Darkness

sexywriterfla said:

Hang in there, my dear. This too shall pass.

Click to expand...

I will continually bear that in mind as I soldier on.

vibes said:

I am sorry to learn you are now in a dark, uneasy place ... I have been there too and found solace in speaking out the pain under a shower that washes all away and prevents others from hearing.

Moments come and go, even the dark ones

Click to expand...

Yes. Darkness is a daily, but there is also sunshine, and days in the sun? Those are priceless when sweeping away the negatives.

Dribble said:

I headed west. Packed my car with individual items cause boxes took too much space. I was leaving everything else. I was so tired of the lies. The abuse. Three days later, the road stopped. I was on a beach south of Astoria. And I sat there and cried cause it wasn't far enough away.

15 years later, after being beaten to a pulp by drugs, I got clean. And I realized I didn't cry that day because I couldn't get far enough away from my life...I cried cause I couldn't get far enough away from me.

I only learn about myself through my mistakes. My hurt. My pain. My confusion. Funny how perspective works.

I am sending hugs. Thoughts. Because I see no ineptitude in this thread. If there were no words in this thread...then I would say OK. But someone capable of sharing pain...is not lost.

Click to expand...

Thank you so much for sharing, Dribble. There is always that feeling of inadequacy these days... a feeling that I did or said something wrong that will have irreparable repercussions. I know that you have so much to add to the conversation of my life, and I can’t wait to see more of what you offer

Todger65 said:

In my past, I have on several occasions locked myself away, not looking, talking, interacting, eating or drinking for up to 36 hours at a time. Sat in a corner, covered over, so that if I can’t see out, no one can see in. My mind a confused jumble of thoughts some light, but more dark. I have sobbed and cried through these times.

After the last episode a few years ago now, something clicked and I came out renewed. Nothing changed in my life except for one thing. That was the thought, the feeling that I was now in charge of my life. Since then I have controlled me, no one else gets a look in. I may take advice from others but the final decision is mine and mine alone.

You will come through this as sure as I did. You will take charge of your life and feel better for it in the end. Push the pain, and those causing it away and start renewed.

Take care my beautiful girl.

Click to expand...

I have not quite found that spark that makes me feel like I control my own destiny yet. I think that is a valid point you make. I seem to always place my happiness in other people’s hands only to see them crumple it or reject it. Just because I cannot touch you does NOT make our relationship less real. Why can’t that be drilled into his skull? *sigh* I digress though. This is about me and how I need to continue in my life to try and place things back into my own hands.

I’m gonna leave with some Mumford and Sons which was playing while I wrote these replies:

Love it will not betray you,
Dismay or inslave you
It will set you free!

You're one of the sexiest women to ever grace the pages of Lit!!

You told me you were good at running away.

You told me you were good at running away.
Domestic life, it never suited you like a suitcase.
You left with just the clothes on your back.
You took the rest when you took the map.

I run so quickly. I cut ties and I can run so fast. I’m good at running away from people. Away from things that make me uncomfortable. Things like that feeling that there’s more about someone or something than there may actually be. I think I read too much into things sometimes too. I move faster and harder until I crash into the wall of reality. The wall of reality came down hard this morning. It’s hitting me and I think I’m down to have two options: either be able to push off of the wall, continue on through this week and continue in a different direction, or I could allow myself to feel the crunch of the wall, really feel it as my world evaporates and I try to build anew. Decisions are the worst sometimes.

Congratulations, you’ve finally ruined me. With a real jab now, lets thrust that knife a bit deeper whilst I sleep. Thanks for that. You helped me to realize I’m not special. I’ll be just fine, though. Thanks... just changing direction now as my thoughts catch up to my other issues.

He gave my ass a pat, my lips a kiss, and sent me off with a travel mug of (admittedly awful) strong coffee. I drank it on my way home thinking that no matter what, this meant I would see him again, even if it was just once to return the mug. Then tonight, another boy filled it with espresso and foaming milk and kissed me. Sweet, unapologetic, pure kisses. Is there a word for a person who you are destined to reconnect with? Because I feel like that’s happening here. That is also why I sipped chai at the coffee shop today again.

It’s getting cooler, sure... and I know beverages vary for everyone, but am I really the type to need to go back to chai again? So much has happened with me since I last drank some chai... maybe this time I’m really ready to wholeheartedly drink the cup to the bottom? What with the knife wound fresh. I know what you’re going to say... or rather what you won’t. So I’ll glare at you with that smile on your face while you don’t speak a word on the subject.

I’m so god damn confused. Can’t I drink what I want when I want to? So many self-imposed rules and limitations. So many things I should and shouldn’t do. And a girl like me, a girl who can’t decide and will run from anything or anyone who even slightly reminds me of Him... I miss His voice. The way He used to tuck me in every day. The way I could rely on him to join me in my darkness and not try to make me something I’m not.

Maybe that’s why I like drinking chai so much? A nonjudgmental drink, and able to adapt and go with the flow... *deep, heavy sigh*. Or maybe there’s just something about chai that makes me want it again!? Maybe I won’t read this post four times before it goes up. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m going to read this rant over ten times, and I might even change my verb tense before I’m happy with it. I like changing verb tense. Don’t smile about this too much.

Edit: 2/23/2022 - removed picture

Moochienanu said:

You told me you were good at running away.
Domestic life, it never suited you like a suitcase.
You left with just the clothes on your back.
You took the rest when you took the map.

I run so quickly. I cut ties and I can run so fast. I’m good at running away from people. Away from things that make me uncomfortable. Things like that feeling that there’s more about someone or something than there may actually be. I think I read too much into things sometimes too. I move faster and harder until I crash into the wall of reality. The wall of reality came down hard this morning. It’s hitting me and I think I’m down to have two options: either be able to push off of the wall, continue on through this week and continue in a different direction, or I could allow myself to feel the crunch of the wall, really feel it as my world evaporates and I try to build anew. Decisions are the worst sometimes.

Congratulations, you’ve finally ruined me. With a real jab now, lets thrust that knife a bit deeper whilst I sleep. Thanks for that. You helped me to realize I’m not special. I’ll be just fine, though. Thanks... just changing direction now as my thoughts catch up to my other issues.

He gave my ass a pat, my lips a kiss, and sent me off with a travel mug of (admittedly awful) strong coffee. I drank it on my way home thinking that no matter what, this meant I would see him again, even if it was just once to return the cup. Then tonight, another boy filled it with espresso and foaming milk and kissed me. Sweet, unapologetic, pure kisses. Is there a word for a person who you are destined to reconnect with no matter what else has happened? Because I feel like that’s happening here. That word (kismet?) is also why I sipped chai at the coffee shop today again.

It’s getting cooler, sure... and I know beverages vary for everyone, but am I really the type to need to go back to chai again? So much has happened with me since I last drank some chai... maybe this time I’m really ready to wholeheartedly drink the cup to the bottom? What with the knife wound fresh. I know what you’re going to say... or rather what you won’t. So I’ll glare at you with that smile on your face while you don’t speak a word on the subject.

I’m so god damn confused. Can’t I drink what I want when I want to? So many self-imposed rules and limitations. So many things I should and shouldn’t do. And a girl like me, a girl who can’t decide and will run from anything or anyone who even slightly reminds me of Him... I miss His voice. The way He used to tuck me in every day. The way I could rely on him to join me in my darkness and not try to make me something I’m not.

Maybe that’s why I like drinking chai so much? A nonjudgmental drink, and able to adapt and go with the flow... *deep, heavy sigh*. Or maybe there’s just something about chai that makes me want it again!? Maybe I won’t read this post four times before it goes up. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m going to read this rant over ten times, and I might even change my verb tense before I’m happy with it. I like changing verb tense. Don’t smile about this too much.

Click to expand...

My heart to you in your decisions your place is full it seems life changing directions pulling which way to go what to do how much control I know not I know you're beautiful inside and out we have battles all of us big and small all of us different I offer my heart and tell you your thought of in this time and all times what you want what you need and desire all matter the pitter patter of small feet matter Moochie my heart sank for you your amazing

thinkingofyou3000 said:

Such a gorgeous rear you show, and after such an encounter.

Im pretty sure that if you were to spread lots of cum on the words they would come off. Ohhh, and I would happily offer my own for you to use again and again, until it washes clean.

Click to expand...

This was just the beginning, actually... I mean, the meal isn’t even complete yet... we still have so much more to discuss.

Todger65 said:

That is one hell of an erotic story. I told you, you have the story writing gift.

This certainly got me aroused.

Love the photo. It’s called a permanent marker, because it is. It will eventually fade as the skin naturally wears away. The question is, do you really want it to fade.

Click to expand...

That is the question, isn’t it? I’ve thought about it a bit since you posed it, and I do very much like that he wrote on me and I would love to keep it forever, but know that “permanent” is just a word... it felt right when he wrote on me... like being claimed in a whole new way. I didn’t even ask what he wrote, but found out later when he took some pictures (which break the ampic thread rules for posting, so no, you can’t see them, but they are delicious.)

sexywriterfla said:

Lovely view, and words.

Click to expand...

Thank you!

Dared_To said:

Even knowing it wouldn't work, I would try to lick it off.
For a practical approach, I'd use nail polish remover.

Click to expand...

Nail polish remover... interesting thought... although the licking may have been better

Red320319 said:

You're one of the sexiest women to ever grace the pages of Lit!!

Click to expand...

You really think so? *deep blush* That May be one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever gotten. Thank you, Red

Great thread

96grad said:

Great thread

Click to expand...

Thank you for joining! I hope you continue to enjoy what you read and see.

Moochienanu said:

Thank you for joining! I hope you continue to enjoy what you read and see.

Click to expand...

I hope your birthday has been good!!

Life’s too short to even care at all, oh.

Life's too short to even care at all, oh.
I'm coming up now coming up now out of the blue, oh.
These zombies in the park they're looking for my heart, oh, oh, oh, oh.
A dark world aches for a splash of the sun, oh, oh.

E. fixes me a bath tonight. He knows I’ve been feeling like the pit of darkness is swallowing me whole. I know I’ve not been myself because of it: the constant pain. I take a deep breath and try to wipe the negativity out of my thoughts for a bit.

He leads me to the bathroom and shows me the tub full of bubbles and perfumed with sweet tonka and vanilla notes, saying sweetly “I know you need this.” I just nod. I’m still so lost today. He gets on his knees in front of me and undoes my jeans and slips them off slowly, skimming my thighs and calves with his warm, tan hands. As he does, he kisses my panties and looks up at me. I smile down at him as he slips the panties off too, then he kisses the skin right above my little patch of fur and a happy sigh escapes my lips.

As he gets back up from his knees, one of his hands runs up the inside of my leg, sending chills up my spine. Then his hand stops between my legs and a finger slips against my slick lips, tickling my favorite spot just a little as he moves his hand to the bottom of my shirt. I give him a look and call him a tease. He just smiles and lifts my shirt off over my head. He kisses me softly on the lips and removes my bra, the final piece of my clothing.

Naked in front of him, I don’t feel exposed, but rather the opposite: I feel even more sexy. He pulls me close to him, my breasts against him, his hands reach down and wrap around my ass, pulling me up onto my toes for a kiss that makes me involuntarily moan when he lets me go. “You better get in that tub or I’m going to keep you out of it until it gets very cold” he mutters into my ear before kissing the skin just below it.

He offers me a hand to help me step into the tub. My whole body is enveloped in warmth and sweet smells. My eyes close and all I hear is the crackling of the bubbles as they slowly remove themselves from existence. So many bubbles I can barely see my toes. Maybe my hole isn’t so deep today and I can allow a bit of sun inside.

Edit: 2/23/2022 - removed picture