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Moochie’s Musings (and a pic or two)

Moochienanu said:
So... little known fact about this little girl: I was on the Tinder. If you don’t know what Tinder is, it’s basically a dating app that helps college guys hook up with anything that has two legs and some holes. Okay, I’m being a little harsh... by really, my only experiences with the app were not the best. I did meet one guy who was a decent human, but the rest? Complete garbage. Oh, and then the decent guy when I told him I couldn’t see him anymore? He gets weird too so... fuck Tinder. This post isn’t really even about the app we will now refer to as “Fire-Crotch,” but rather about the way people deal with rejection, something I’ve been laying a lot of down lately.

Why can’t people be decent and just accept rejection gracefully? This is how a conversation should go:

A: I’m super interested in getting into your pants and showing you all my skills.
B: That’s nice, but I hardly know you and I’m not a kind of girl who does that without even knowing you.
A: Oh, cool. I’m the same way usually. Do you want to talk about sportings? That’s the only thing that interests me.
B: Uh... I don’t know anything about the sportings, maybe we don’t have anything in common and should just call it here?
A: Totally. Thanks for being so up front and ridiculously hot.
B: Awe, shucks! No problem. Live long and prosper!

This is not how they should go:

A: I’m super interested in getting into your pants and showing you all my skills.
B: That’s nice, but I hardly know you and I’m not a kind of girl who does that without even knowing you.
A: Well, what do you want to know? I’m an open book. What do you need from me to let me taste that glorious pussy and feel your lips on my cock.
B: Uhhh... (trying to think of a reply to that)
A: It’s okay, sweetie, don’t worry about it. You probably have tons of bulls trying to shove their cocks in your tight twat.
B: Okay, I think you are jumping to conclusions about me before we’ve even exchanged any real meaningful conversation. I don’t think you heard me earlier when I said I’m not like that.
A: [changing gears because obviously I’m not biting] It’s too bad because you would have loved how I deliver my pleasures to my submissive and how I feel her needs and desires.
B: [can’t even at this point] *chuckles*
A: You can chuckle all you want baby, you’ll love my cock slamming into you and hitting your cervix.
B: You’re not getting any bit of your body anywhere near mine. [Blocks A]

So... have we learned a lesson? No? Okay, how about another example:

A: Hi, how are you?
B: Fine, thanks. How are you?
A: Good. Just saw your thread. You’re so sexy.
B: Thanks. I’m glad you like my posts.
A: Yeah, your writing isn’t so bad either. So, wanna RP with me?
B: I don’t do that with people I don’t know, but thanks for the offer.
A: It would be a great time and you’ll enjoy it.
B: I already said no, but thank you.
A: We could pretend you didn’t and I can push you up against the wall, pin you there and start kissing your neck.
B: And I would scream “RAPE” loud enough that people will come running and I’ll kick you in the balls hard enough to make it so you having progeny was out of the question.
A: wow. That’s harsh.
B: no means no, dude.
A: what if I tape your mouth shut and tie you with rope. You like rope.
B: [blocks A]

So you see, boys and girls: no fun to be the A when you have someone who can’t take “no” for an answer. I felt like that was all I was doing with these Fire-Crotch guys. None of them wanted to know anything about me. I could have been a sadistic fuck who wanted to bite their face when I orgasmed for all they knew. I mean, I’m not... but seriously, what happened to bowing out with grace?! What happened to conversation and connection?! Why are we so keen on laying hands on someone’s boobs?!

On that note, here are my boobs bouncing.
Click to expand...

It does mean you can weed out the fuckwads relatively easily... I get annoyed by the ones that seem half decent then go weird... I had a few early in my journey here who gradually mentioned ‘taboo’... I was a little naive and didn’t realise that tends to be code...:rolleyes:

But yeah - block em, :heart:
 
Moochienanu said:
I submitted my story (even though I kinda didn’t want to and would much rather share it here, but I was forced to submit it because the mod removed it from here) and it was rejected. I was rejected because they don’t like how I write dialogue.

“Please break up your dialogue. The convention is one speaker per paragraph, so whenever someone new says something, start a new a paragraph. The essay "How to Make Characters Talk" in our Writer's Resources section has more information on the paragraph formatting of dialogue if you have further questions.”

This was the only thing they found to reject me with. But you know what?! I don’t wanna. Maybe this is me being a bratty mcbrat-face... but seriously?! Because I don’t start a new paragraph every time someone new speaks you reject my writing? What if I wanted it that way? What if I want there to be a fluent conversation between two people in ONE paragraph. Nope. Not gonna resubmit. Whole thing seems broken to me.

So I’m going to break up my stories and post them with pics here. Solve all my future problems. Enjoy! *blows kisses*
Click to expand...

It takes a deft hand to defy convention effectively. Cormac McCarthy did in The Road, I’ve never read his other works, but in short form, I think it would have been difficult to understand.
 
AlliaPotestas said:
It does mean you can weed out the fuckwads relatively easily... I get annoyed by the ones that seem half decent then go weird... I had a few early in my journey here who gradually mentioned ‘taboo’... I was a little naive and didn’t realise that tends to be code...:rolleyes:

But yeah - block em, :heart:
Click to expand...

Oh! Totally!!! Those I call the “Trojan Fuckwads” because it almost comes out of nowhere. The first few back and forth a are fine and then <WHAMO> unsolicited dick pic. I hate the code words too... if you can’t even talk about it, should we ever let it into the chat room with us?

#blockthefuckwads
 
doowopdoowop said:
I dub this situation as wiggity whack
Click to expand...

That is exactly how I feel about it.

Todger65 said:
Unfortunately, Laurel has her non negotiable rules. She even insists on the US rules for speech, and won’t accept the UK version.

Sounds like you have the best idea.
Click to expand...

Plus, my idea comes with pics of me being all cute and stuff. Way more fun! *wink*

DevlinSide said:
It takes a deft hand to defy convention effectively. Cormac McCarthy did in The Road, I’ve never read his other works, but in short form, I think it would have been difficult to understand.
Click to expand...

I am just an amateur writer (hence why I didn’t want to publish on the story side to begin with) and should probably listen to those who know more than me about such things... and if I write something decent, I will in the future... until then, I’m going to do what they will allow here on my thread.
 
I am just an amateur writer (hence why I didn’t want to publish on the story side to begin with) and should probably listen to those who know more than me about such things... and if I write something decent, I will in the future... until then, I’m going to do what they will allow here on my thread.[/QUOTE]

I find it annoying that they want to cut you short here. Obviously, someone feels they have to exercise their. I hope they are happy I used the right form of their.
 
Daddy’s little slut part 1

I like when he knows what he wants and takes it from me. I set my things down and he pulls me close, holding me to his chest so that I feel his heart beating. My outfit consisting of a loose graphic tee, tank top, black studded Jean pencil skirt, pink tights and black knee-high boots that I know he likes. I stopped by to see him on my way into work because I missed him terribly while he was away on his vacation and couldn’t wait for a mutual day off next week. We kiss a bit before walking over to the couch while we small talk. He sits and I automatically take my place on his lap, holding hands and discussing about upcoming holiday events and family things. I feel the tension and electrical charge between us as his hand lazily runs up my tights and the kisses he places on my shoulder linger longer and longer. Finally, he gives me an overdue compliment, lifts me off of his lap, stands, and places me on my knees in front of him. He takes his pants down a bit and I know what he needs.

I can take all of his soft cock into my mouth and do, looking up at him as he smiles down at me. I start to work faster and with pressure as I read his non-verbal cues I’ve gotten to know well now, feeling him stiffen in my mouth. He sits back onto the couch and I suck deeper, faster, feeling his cock hit the back of my throat, making my panties wet. It’s like he knows and taps my chin to have me look up at him. “Stand up, lift up your skirt and take your pantyhose and panties down.” He commands me. I do. “Good. Now spin around.” As I turn in front of him, holding up my skirt, I feel more naked with his eyes on me than if I had been completely unclothed. “Good. You did a good job grooming for me. Now back on your knees.” He says and indicates for me to continue what I’m good for.

I start to pull down my skirt on my way to my knees. I know he doesn’t want me to, but I feel so exposed, it is instinct to cover. “Did I tell you to cover yourself?” he asks reminding me that I do what he wants for as long as I’m with him. I shake my head answering “No, Daddy. Sorry, Daddy,” before taking his cock into my mouth again. This time, he lets out a bit of a gasp as his cock hits the back of my throat. He pushes my head down until my nose is buried in his stomach, his hand in my hair. I gag and then work my tongue against him as saliva drips down my chin.

Edit: 2/23/22: removed picture
 
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wrant said:
I find it annoying that they want to cut you short here. Obviously, someone feels they have to exercise their. I hope they are happy I used the right form of their.
Click to expand...

I appreciate your concern, but I think I’ve found an amenable work around that will make everyone involved happy. (See above posting) *blows kisses*
 
Moochienanu said:
I like when he knows what he wants and takes it from me. I set my things down and he pulls me close, holding me to his chest so that I feel his heart beating. My outfit consisting of a loose graphic tee, tank top, black studded Jean pencil skirt, pink tights and black knee-high boots that I know he likes. I stopped by to see him on my way into work because I missed him terribly while he was away on his vacation and couldn’t wait for a mutual day off next week. We kiss a bit before walking over to the couch while we small talk. He sits and I automatically take my place on his lap, holding hands and discussing about upcoming holiday events and family things. I feel the tension and electrical charge between us as his hand lazily runs up my tights and the kisses he places on my shoulder linger longer and longer. Finally, he gives me an overdue compliment, lifts me off of his lap, stands, and places me on my knees in front of him. He takes his pants down a bit and I know what he needs.

I can take all of his soft cock into my mouth and do, looking up at him as he smiles down at me. I start to work faster and with pressure as I read his non-verbal cues I’ve gotten to know well now, feeling him stiffen in my mouth. He sits back onto the couch and I suck deeper, faster, feeling his cock hit the back of my throat, making my panties wet. It’s like he knows and taps my chin to have me look up at him. “Stand up, lift up your skirt and take your pantyhose and panties down.” He commands me. I do. “Good. Now spin around.” As I turn in front of him, holding up my skirt, I feel more naked with his eyes on me than if I had been completely unclothed. “Good. You did a good job grooming for me. Now back on your knees.” He says and indicates for me to continue what I’m good for.

I start to pull down my skirt on my way to my knees. I know he doesn’t want me to, but I feel so exposed, it is instinct to cover. “Did I tell you to cover yourself?” he asks reminding me that I do what he wants for as long as I’m with him. I shake my head answering “No, Daddy. Sorry, Daddy,” before taking his cock into my mouth again. This time, he lets out a bit of a gasp as his cock hits the back of my throat. He pushes my head down until my nose is buried in his stomach, his hand in my hair. I gag and then work my tongue against him as saliva drips down my chin.
Click to expand...

Indeed. Works for me...:devil::kiss:
 
Daddy’s little slut part 2

“Play with yourself,” he commands. My free hand not resting itself on his thigh reaches between my legs to find my wet center and I start to move my fingers in lazy circles. “Good girl” slips from his lips and I look up at him as the shiver of happiness runs through my body. I continue to put most of my attention on him, feeling his movements against me, his hand with a fist full of my hair, his eyes looking down on me. I diligently work his cock deep into my mouth and out again, my tongue rubbing his shaft and creating suction, making his body react to me instinctively. The smell and taste of him consuming me as my fingers start working faster on myself.

I feel him bend and pull me off of him by my hair, his cheek close to mine as he whispers in my ear “turn around. On your hands and knees... Good. Now cheek to the floor, get your ass in the air for me... that’s my girl. Now play with yourself again.” Exhibition. He knows it makes me so uncomfortable. I’m lost in this moment, though. I feel his eyes on me. Know he’s consuming me with them. I hear him get up from the couch, walk down the hall somewhere else, open a door, and then I hear his footfalls come back toward me. I feel his presence near me again. I desperately want to know why he left so briefly, but I don’t dare lift my cheek from the rug. Then I feel it. The sting as the paddle hits my bottom is intoxicating. “Did I say you could stop playing with yourself, little one?” He asks rhetorically. My fingers which has idled whilst he was out of the room quickly go back to work. “I should just paddle you on principle,” he says using the edge of the implement to lightly trace the skin at the top of my rump. “But I think you just just need a reminder of who you belong to,” he marks the end of the sentence with a well-placed thwap to my bottom. “So,” he continues, “who do you belong to?” I feel the heat rise to the surface where the paddle has already reddened me. I start to open my mouth, I feel the familiar twinge as he lands another strong blow. “I want to hear it, kitten. Tell me: who do you belong to?” After two more, I finally catch my breath enough to answer him. “I belong to you,” I say through the tears filling my eyes. “Good girl,” he replies, “now get back on your knees in front of me and finish your duty.”

I lift myself and turn to find he had sat back on the couch, paddle still firmly in his grasp, waiting for me. I move back to position in front of him and it doesn’t take long before I’m back into a rhythm that makes him rock his hips against my face. I forget everything else in the world. The only thing that matters is his cock in my mouth. My hands run up his thighs and he smacks one with the paddle. “Did I ever say you could stop playing with yourself? ... what am I going to do with you, little one? Never listening.” He shakes his head at me as I place my freshly corrected hand back between my legs with a whimper. “Perhaps you need more of a reminder?” His voice raises just a little. Enough to tell me I am in real trouble and not just the amount I set as a status quo. I stop sucking and look up into his eyes, eyebrows raised and lips hovering above his tip expectantly. “Yes. I see you do... Go to the kitchen and in the middle drawer on the island is the pen I need. Get it and bring it to me.” I get up from my knees and make my way to the darker kitchen. I don’t dare turn on a light, but find the drawer he’s talking about and the permanent marker he intends for me. I grasp it in a hand and turn to go back to the living room when the light of the kitchen turns on. I look up from the pen and see him there. “We don’t have much more time before work. Remind me? What belongs to me?” He questions. Instinctively I reply, “I do.” “You do what?” He clarifies. “I belong to you,” I say knowing it to be truth. “Good. Now get on your knees and pull your tits out,” he commands. I pull off my shirt and slip my breasts from the bra cup obediently, placing the black marker in his outstretched palm. He starts to write on a breast and I watch until he says “eyes on mine!” Sharply. I look up into his eyes as they focus on my skin and scribing across it.

Edit: 2/23/22: removed picture
 
Last edited:
Moochienanu said:
“Play with yourself,” he commands. My free hand not resting itself on his thigh reaches between my legs to find my wet center and I start to move my fingers in lazy circles. “Good girl” slips from his lips and I look up at him as the shiver of happiness runs through my body. I continue to put most of my attention on him, feeling his movements against me, his hand with a fist full of my hair, his eyes looking down on me. I diligently work his cock deep into my mouth and out again, my tongue rubbing his shaft and creating suction, making his body react to me instinctively. The smell and taste of him consuming me as my fingers start working faster on myself.

I feel him bend and pull me off of him by my hair, his cheek close to mine as he whispers in my ear “turn around. On your hands and knees... Good. Now cheek to the floor, get your ass in the air for me... that’s my girl. Now play with yourself again.” Exhibition. He knows it makes me so uncomfortable. I’m lost in this moment, though. I feel his eyes on me. Know he’s consuming me with them. I hear him get up from the couch, walk down the hall somewhere else, open a door, and then I hear his footfalls come back toward me. I feel his presence near me again. I desperately want to know why he left so briefly, but I don’t dare lift my cheek from the rug. Then I feel it. The sting as the paddle hits my bottom is intoxicating. “Did I say you could stop playing with yourself, little one?” He asks rhetorically. My fingers which has idled whilst he was out of the room quickly go back to work. “I should just paddle you on principle,” he says using the edge of the implement to lightly trace the skin at the top of my rump. “But I think you just just need a reminder of who you belong to,” he marks the end of the sentence with a well-placed thwap to my bottom. “So,” he continues, “who do you belong to?” I feel the heat rise to the surface where the paddle has already reddened me. I start to open my mouth, I feel the familiar twinge as he lands another strong blow. “I want to hear it, kitten. Tell me: who do you belong to?” After two more, I finally catch my breath enough to answer him. “I belong to you,” I say through the tears filling my eyes. “Good girl,” he replies, “now get back on your knees in front of me and finish your duty.”

I lift myself and turn to find he had sat back on the couch, paddle still firmly in his grasp, waiting for me. I move back to position in front of him and it doesn’t take long before I’m back into a rhythm that makes him rock his hips against my face. I forget everything else in the world. The only thing that matters is his cock in my mouth. My hands run up his thighs and he smacks one with the paddle. “Did I ever say you could stop playing with yourself? ... what am I going to do with you, little one? Never listening.” He shakes his head at me as I place my freshly corrected hand back between my legs with a whimper. “Perhaps you need more of a reminder?” His voice raises just a little. Enough to tell me I am in real trouble and not just the amount I set as a status quo. I stop sucking and look up into his eyes, eyebrows raised and lips hovering above his tip expectantly. “Yes. I see you do... Go to the kitchen and in the middle drawer on the island is the pen I need. Get it and bring it to me.” I get up from my knees and make my way to the darker kitchen. I don’t dare turn on a light, but find the drawer he’s talking about and the permanent marker he intends for me. I grasp it in a hand and turn to go back to the living room when the light of the kitchen turns on. I look up from the pen and see him there. “We don’t have much more time before work. Remind me? What belongs to me?” He questions. Instinctively I reply, “I do.” “You do what?” He clarifies. “I belong to you,” I say knowing it to be truth. “Good. Now get on your knees and pull your tits out,” he commands. I pull off my shirt and slip my breasts from the bra cup obediently, placing the black marker in his outstretched palm. He starts to write on a breast and I watch until he says “eyes on mine!” Sharply. I look up into his eyes as they focus on my skin and scribing across it.
Click to expand...

So hot...and gorgeous pic :)
 
Daddy’s little slut part 3

He finishes writing and caps the marker, setting it on the counter behind me. Then he picks me up off my knees and lifts me onto the edge of the counter, stepping into the space between my legs and kisses me. I melt into his arms, falling apart in his embrace. He slides his cock into me and I am full. Complete. A whole being. I can’t stop myself and rock my hips into his, his kiss making me lose myself in the feel of him slipping inside me. My arms wrap around his neck and his hands are under my bum, pulling me onto him, deeper. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t stop my hips. My mind is somewhere else until... “No you don’t!”

“Daddy, I can’t stop. Please don’t make me stop.” I say, grinding and feeling the wave starting to build. Whispering in my ear now he replies “if you cum right now Kitten, I will have to fuck your ass. Do you want that tonight before work? Do you want to think of me whenever you sit tonight?” I half hear him. I know there are consequences. I know that, but I can’t stop this orgasm which has been building since I started sucking his cock. I let go and grasp onto him. He holds my body next to his as the wave crashes and pins me under water where I can’t breathe. I rock helplessly against him until it’s over and I come back to myself. I rest my head against his chest, grinning for a moment and then recognizing he’s not smiling. I pull back and look at him then quickly away. There is a smirk in his eye I know well; I’ve basically just given him free reign over my body. Oh no. Thoughts of calling into work float into and quickly out of my mind as it’s too close to clocking in time and they wouldn’t be able to find anyone to cover, plus, what could he really do with the last ten minutes we’re together? Why do I think these things?

He picks me up and carries me into the bedroom, throws me down onto the bed and flips me onto my stomach. “Get your knees on the edge of the bed and ass in the air so I can see it,” he says sternly. I feel the smack of his hand on my sore rump and do what he asks. “Look at how wet you are. My good little slut likes this, doesn’t she?” He asks rubbing his cock teasingly up and down the sopping lips of my pussy. “Yes Daddy. I love it, Daddy,” I reply desperately, pushing myself back into him as much as possible from my already extended position, wanting to feel him fill me up again.
 
Daddy’s little slut - the end

“That’s my good girl.” He says as he slips his cock up and puts slick pressure on my rosebud. “You wanted me to give you this reminder that you’re mine, didn’t you?” I nod as he pushes his cock inside my ass, making me gasp and raise up. His hand is there to stop me from ruining his progress and he pushes me back down, forcing himself deeper inside me. I’m stretching and about to tear apart. It is amazing and I want more. I get more. So much more. He buries himself and grasps my hips. “You needed this, didn’t you?” He asks. I nod and moan, unable to form coherent thought past “oh god!” “I love it!” And “FUCK!” It feels so good. So right. I’m getting lost again. “Play with your pussy. I want you to cum with me. My adorable little slut. You want to cum again for me, don’t you?” I touch my soaking clit and before I can nod agreement I am already falling off the cliff. The simple stimulus and permission was all I needed. I feel him smack my ass again as he pulls my hips against his harder. His grunting fills my ears as he explodes inside me, my body clamps down. I lose all sense of being again, riding a wave of ecstasy as we both cum.

A few moments later, saying goodbye at the door he kisses me sweetly saying, “Have a good day at work. And don’t forget to think of me,” as he pats my rump playfully and I make my way down the walk to my car giggling to myself.

At work during a break I check what he’s written across my chest: “Daddy’s little slut.” It’s a good reminder until I see him again.
 
I’m guessing there is a whole lot of truth behind this story. There is an inherent need in you to be someone’s ‘good girl’.

The pic you posted with part 1 is the first full length, no face of course, that I remember seeing of you, especially clothed. You are a good looking girl.
 
Todger65 said:
I’m guessing there is a whole lot of truth behind this story. There is an inherent need in you to be someone’s ‘good girl’.

The pic you posted with part 1 is the first full length, no face of course, that I remember seeing of you, especially clothed. You are a good looking girl.
Click to expand...

There is always a bit of truth (or a lot of it) in the things I write. I am a good girl. I know I am.

Thank you. I like that picture and that outfit. It’s one I wear a variation of often. The skirt is comfortable and the stockings are warm. I also like the texture on the stockings. I like to rub my hand on them.
 
I fear
So many things
Tangible
And also abstract.
The thoughts that accompany my fears are what truly shake me to the core.

There is a hierarchy in my life
I am reminded of what’s important
And what isn’t.
I wasn’t on that list until I put myself on it.
 
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