Archive for May, 2009

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. And not to sound all Sally Field about it, but thank you for top-picking Elegant Smut this week!

Want in Sugasm #167? Of course you do. Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Bare-Assed Cheek (2): Punishment and Reward
“His finger glides up the inner side of my left thigh.”

Lilly’s Turn – Part 1: Wherein a Power Play is Made
“I asked her, outright, if she considered herself submissive.”

“Exquisite pain heralding exquisite surrender.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Is Sasha Grey going mainstream?

Sugasm Editor
A Difficult Scenario

Editor’s Choice
Just Looking

News, Reviews & Interviews
Horny Goat Weed: The Facts
Top Five Tuesday – Pop Culture Porn
Uniram Manual Sex Machine

Sex Advice
Ask Miss Bliss – She Brings Her Man To The All-Girl Sex Party
Guide to First-Time Anal Sex
How to Make Your Own Fucking Machine

BDSM & Fetish
“Dominant Savant…?”
Microfantasy Monday: Tits
My favorite spanking blogs
Riffing on Brent Scott Riffing on Socrates (was Meeting BS)
Thank you, Jay Wiseman
What’s in the box?

Erotic Writing & Experiences
Burning the Midnight Oil
Camera Shy, Part 4
Couch. Confession #278
Drowning In Lust
Each Exquisite Stroke
Fantasy to Reality
I Like Being a Dirty Bitch
Miss blue that Naughty Little Voyeur
Safe Haven
Sexy Skills
Sleep Fucking

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Bianca Beauchamp on a road trip
HNT – Thursday, May 21st, 2009
Hungarian Viva TV presenter is totally nude
Kim Kardashian Playboy Nude Pictures – Few More
Love HNT
Playful Flower
Stunning blonde schoolgirl is punished
“Vixen” -HNT

Sex Humor
A Chocolate Dick Treat
The Secret to Soul Mates

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Blow Jays
Darling, You Look Wonderful Tonight
Have you seen her…?

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My dom does not call me bitch, nor slut nor cunt, nor whore.

The collar that I put on when I’m with him — or more accurately, that he puts on me — is part of the beauty of our connection. I am not his bitch — I am his.

When he holds the leash, it is indeed a sense of “belonging”, but it works in both directions.

I belong to him as much as he belongs to me — the leash is that which binds us.

Yes, we each have our own role to play in this equation, and yes, our roles are clearly defined — my role is completely different to his.

But the equality and weight of the two parts to be played are exactly the same — which is what makes the “us” of what we have work so well.

The collar and leash are merely one part of the circle that we form. The circle also consists of our hands, and our hearts — no beginning, no end, simple and complete.

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He’s gone away, on holiday.

Gone to learn new rope tricks, and then come home and try them all out on me.

Gone to buy me something very personal and special that we chose together before he left. (He plans things, none of the last-minute rush for him.)

Gone to rest and relax from all the crazy of late.

And I? I wish him the most wonderful, relaxing, enjoyable time away. I genuinely hope he and Sub1 have a great time.

He promised he would be in touch as soon as he landed, and he was, in his way. I already knew he was safe, i could feel it. The phone call confirmed it.

Right now, the warm and fuzzy around my heart means I know he’s having fun. This both  calms and delights me concurrently.


I slept earlier, and an image of him straddling me, floated before my eyes.

“Again?” I’d asked him, as he secured my wrists to each side of the bed. “That’s the third time in as many hours that you’ve wanted to fuck me.”

He said nothing, merely sniggering in his cattish way, and smirking at me out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m not complaining,” I reassured him.

“I should hope not. Now, instead of all that talking, how about 25 words for me?”

“Holy shit. Now? Goddamn rotten, evil, mean feline.”

“Why, thank you, my dear.”

While considering the 25 words, I realised that he had upended the bottle of lube and was about to trickle it on me.

“No! It’s cold, it’ll be cold!” I squealed.

My protests counted for nothing, as he dribbled the lube over the girls (as he likes to refer to the expansive chest area with which I have been blessed). He then bent to kiss me, before starting to fuck the girls hard and fast.

His legs straddled me, squeezing me between his thighs. If ever there were an occasion where I felt owned, and restrained, contained and sublimated — this was it.

His cock glided smoothly between my breasts, hitting me on the chin every so often, as he reached forward to tug at my hair, never losing eye contact with me for a second.

It’s part of that natural connection we have — i can look in his eyes and read what he’s about to say, and I’ve not been wrong yet.

Suddenly he tensed. And came. All over my face and hair, on my lips, cheeks and eyelids.

And then bent to kiss me.


It was this image with which I awoke.


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Update: Fleshbotted by the very lovely Always Aroused Girl. Thanks, honey! 😎

He loves to feel my skin, whatever smooth bare pink expanse he can lay his hands on.

Of course, he also loves to squeeze, pinch, slap, grab, squish, stroke and mark my skin — but then, i love it when he does. So it’s a win-win.

This time was different.  It was like he was committing me to memory, all my various curves, and dips, and softness, and giggly bits.  As though he was learning me, like I was a big soft piece of braille, and he was reading me with his hands.

As we lay spooned together, relaxing, his warm body curled protectively around mine, I felt his hands trace the curve of my hips, reaching around behind and grabbing me between the cheeks.

“Getting yourself a piece of ass?” I asked, cheekily, and was rewarded with a resounding slap that made me shiver with pleasure.

He flipped me around so that I was facing him, ran a finger down the side of my face and stared deeply into my eyes.

“You have such a beautiful look in your eyes,” he murmured. “I could watch that look for days. You just look so…. contented and complete.”

I blushed, and looked down, despite myself.

“No, no, little kitty, look back up at me.”

I did, our eyes meeting and gazing for the longest time, broken only when he leaned down and kissed my forehead, my cheeks and then finally my lips, passionately and warmly.

“The look in my eyes is.. well, it’s all because of this. Us. You. How happy you make me feel. I could purr.”

He hugged me close, and stroked even more of me — my hair, my arms, my back.

“I love my Pink Tabby.”

“I love you too.”

But I whispered it so softly into his neck that I worried he hadn’t heard me. Then he looked into my eyes again, and I could see in his blue sparkle that he very definitely had done.

“Your eyes are just amazing. That look, god, what you only do to me!”

The look is something I could feel, almost tangibly burned onto the back of my retina, but a burn of such searing delight that I never wanted it to end.

Later, he throws me up against a wall, face first, holding me close from behind, and explores even more of me. The wall is cold on my body, so I lean back into him, the sheer physics of matching push-pull pressure holding us together for what seems like an eternity, and one I wish would never end. He holds me close as he paints a permanent imprint of my body on his probing and inquisitive hands.

And nibbles my ear as he does so.

Now he can take me with him wherever he goes.

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I need to write. I need time to write.

I’m taking a few days to compose something special, for Purrrrrvert, who’s off on his holidays with Sub 1. Have fun, you guys! And don’t forget to tell me all about it.

Watch this space. I myself am disappearing for a couple of days, but I’ll be back. With stuff. Lots of stuff.

Anyway — on with the showgasm:

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #166? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Blame it on the al-al al-al al-al-co-hol
“My legs were now spread and he was in between them.”

Dinner and a Show
“Before it disappeared completely, I gave it a twist at the base, causing it to vibrate.”

Sugarbutch Star: Matt (part two) – All Five Senses
“She takes her lipstick out of her bag and uncaps it, twists it up and paints her mouth subtly, softly.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Adieu ErosBlog?

Sugasm Editor
Sex Work And Honesty: Relationship Status

Editor’s Choice
A Long Slow Seduction Continued…

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
The Asshole Standing Next To You
Sharp Shooter

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Divini Rae Sexy Pictures – High Quality
Jana Jordan
Laissez-faire (HNT)
Secretary is whipped by their bosses

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Back Home Tonight
The Best Friend (part 2)
Camera Shy 3
Drive Me Crazy
Not Enough #8
Her Favorite Positions – Part Two
Love Bites
The ‘N’ Word – a short story…
The Rossebuurt Gap Year: With Benefits
You Give Me Fever

Sex Humor
Lesbian Sex Coffee Analogy

BDSM & Fetish
At Your Service
Pornographic statue
Spanked on their delightful bare bottoms

Sex News, Reviews, and Interviews
Lelo Ella
Me and my Uniram
New Study Challenges Masturbation Numbers
Top Five Tuesday – FemDoms

Sex Advice

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I twist myself from snuggle pose, (lying curled up into the crook of his arm, his fingers in my hair), to resting my head on his chest.

“I’m trying to say I love you with my eyes.”

“Oh, say it out loud instead.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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“You may eat the cookie, but you may not use your hands.”

That dastardly cat. He baits me with chocolate chunky cookies that would tempt the Archangel Gabriel (Garcia Marquez?) and he know — he knows! — I will be powerless to resist. However, I have a secret weapon — my all-encompassing ability to eat, despite prevailing circumstances.

Delicately i take the cookie from his proffered hand, with the edges of my lips and teeth… and then open my mouth (not even that wide) and take the whole thing into my mouth.

Wow, that’s the first time I’ve written that on these pages, and not been describing fellatio. Heh.

Purrrrvert cracks up, as do I, and we laugh our asses off.

There i am, nakedly draped over the back of an armchair, wrists cuffed and caribbena’d together, and he is dancing around me, eating cookies, and allowing me sips of Coke Zero here and there, spanking me occasionally with a newly mended flogger, and swatting at my ass with a fish-slice. In addition to the passionate lovemaking, the sub-space inducing flogging and beating (oh, evil kitchen-utensil-pervertibles) and the eight or nine orgasms that I have already experienced, (the cooling wet spot on the bed being hard evidence of this), we have also found time to have fun.

It’s what indicates that the “essence” of what we do, is so much more than fucking. We like spending time together. We’ve had most of the afternoon together, and the evening stretches ahead of us like a long empty road, yet to be traveled.

I don’t think I have ever been so happy. I cherish the feeling like velvet against my heart. He completes me. My own journey is still in its infant stages, but it progresses with alacrity, and I already know that as a person I am healthier and more together than I have ever been before, in all my 39-plus-one-mumble-mumble years of existence.

I say as much to him later. Several hours have passed, and we have repaired to the best local Japanese joint to indulge in a sushi-fest.

We’re sitting at an intimate little corner table, the waitress having seen the way he looks at me, and given me a conspiratorial grin, before leading us to what appears to be the most romantic nook in the restaurant. I couldn’t care less, to be honest. Wherever I am with him, the rest of the world fades into oblivion.

We’re discussing the notion of collaring, and commitment. Conceptually, I mean. I wanted to understand, from BDSM context, how significant a collar is — both to the collared and the collarer.

He laughs, and spreads his hands wide. “Collaring is, as with pretty much anything in BDSM, dependent upon the individual for the amount of significance behind it. There are those who take it very seriously, and perceive it much as one would perceive a marriage. There are also those who can talk to someone for five minutes and be “collared and owned” within a week. Different strokes for different folks.”

I know this man, and without asking, I know that he takes collaring very seriously, and say as much.

“Yes, you’re quite right. I do. It’s a very serious symbol of commitment, and I respect it as such.”

I nod sagely. Genuinely sagely, before you snicker.

He continues.

“However, you know my feelings about outward symbolism. I don’t need it. When I commit, I commit with everything I have, without any need to display it publicly.”

I look him straight in the eye, and feel my heart beat faster — that’s the effect he has on me.

“Me too. For me, the commitment, and the love, and the everything are all part of the same package.”

He smiles, and takes my hand, stroking it softly.

“I know that your feelings about outward symbols are similar to mine. If that ever changes, you only need to let me know.”

I am overwhelmed by emotion, and feeling. While deep down I knew of his assured and complete commitment and devotion to me, hearing this affirmation does not fail to move me, visibly and emotionally.

He reaches out to hold my hand, and my eyes fill with unexpected tears of joy.

And no, it wasn’t the wasabi.

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