Month: July 2011

“Did you come?” asks Will.

/ Daisy Danger / 9 Comments

“No,” I huff in frustration. “I just can’t get there. It’s me, not you.”

Will wipes his hand off on the towel. I lay back on the bed and stare at the ceiling while he lights a cigarette. I hate this. We’ve both agreed that sometimes one of us just can’t come and it’s no one’s fault. It just is, but it’s no less frustrating when it happens.

I watch Will as he reclines in the chair, still naked. A streak of sunshine cuts across one shoulder, highlighting a gentle curve in his arm. I watch his muscles flex as moves around, lights a cigarette, takes a drink. I’m so lucky I found him, we’re a perfect fit for each other, he’s smart, funny, an incredible fuck. I love the arch of his back, the slight bend of his cock…

“What?” I catch Will watching me just as intently.  I realize I’ve been slowly dipping my finger in and out of my cunt while I watch him.

“Masturbate for me,” he says. Continue reading →

“Finally!” I think as JD rips my shirt to shreds.

/ Daisy Danger / 1 Comment

I try not to be annoyed, it’s one of my favorites. I can see by the bulge in his grey sweatpants that he’s hard and excited, so I bite my tongue and just roll with it.

Tearing off more strips from my shirt, JD binds my hands to the bedposts. He uses the last strip of shirt to gag me, then stands back to examine his handiwork. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says gleefully.  “Another one?” I think. I’m plenty surprised now and getting wetter by the moment. JD goes into the bathroom, I can hear him rummage around, opening drawers and cabinets. I test my bindings, he’s got me tied tight. The gag tastes like fabric softener, not a very April Fresh flavor at all.

I wonder what triggered this. JD is vanilla with a capital V. This marriage isn’t really working anymore. Everything was fine as long as he had two jobs and was never home. Ever since he lost one, we’ve discovered we’re nowhere near as compatible as we liked to pretend. The sex, however, has always been lackluster. The closest he’s ever come to kinky was producing a half-used bottle of cherry flavored body oil, left over from a tryst with an ex-girlfriend. I’ve tried to talk him into tying me up, roughing me up a little, but all I’m met with is nervous laughter and another round of the missionary position. Over the years I’ve sent him dirty emails, dropped hints, bought toys, all to no avail.  I’m eager to see what he finally has in store.  Continue reading →