Apr 302006
 

Ray Bradbury once said you should make a list of all the things you love, all the things you hate, and all the things you fear. Those three lists will provide topics and story ideas for the rest of your life.

Now being an erotica writer, I tend to gravitate to the things I love. Every time I make my list, I end up adding a few things. Just for fun I am going to make a new list. I find that I do better if set a timer for ten minutes and just crank them out. If you are a writer, I suggest you crank out your own. Later when you think you have nothing to write about, refer to the list and see what you haven’t written about in awhile.

Things I love

Smart Women
Pirates {no snickering}
Bondage
Game Shows
Glasses
Purple lingerie
Spanking
Begging
Athletes
Pulp Stories
Magic
Secret Lives
Service Industries
Gambling
Boots
Corsets
Hair-Pulling
Superheroes
Robots
African-American Women
Boats
Statues
Books
Comedy
Photographs
Detectives

I’m sure I can write a few things from that list.

 BDSM  Comments Off on A Few of My Favorite Things
Apr 282006
 

Flat on her back, my slut looked up at me. Her face was flushed from fucking all day. My collar was snug around her neck. Red handprints decorated her tits where I had squeezed and pulled them. Her cunt was glistening from where my cock had just been moments before. She stroked herself, masturbating to replace the void I had left. I hadn’t told her to do that but that was okay. I’ll punish her later.

I straddled her shoulders. My knees were on either side of her. I stroked my cock above her face. She looked at my cock and moaned a long needy purr.

We had talked about this so many times. In e-mails, dirty phone sex and so many instant messages, we had talked about this very moment. Now we were finally going to do it.

I kept stroking. Gods, I was so aroused, but I had already climaxed twice today. Once in her mouth because I just couldn’t wait. Once inside her sex, because I just wanted to ride her. And now, after a long dinner and an even longer spanking, I was ready again.

“Please,” she said. A jolt went through me.

“Come right on my face,” she said.

“Use me,” she growled.

I kept stroking. I was in a state of euphoria mixed with disbelief. My slut was begging me to spill myself on her face. She was begging me to commit an act so many people find offensive. She wanted me to do something that I had only seen in porn up till this point. I didn’t think people really did this unless it was for a camera and a studio. This beautiful woman was begging me to ejaculate right on her while she watched. Unbelievable.

It was the eyes that did it. Her eyelids closed halfway as her own orgasm approached but those pretty blue eyes kept on me. They were filled with so much love at that moment. Looking into her eyes, I felt like the sexiest, greatest and most magnificent lover ever. She worshipped me with those eyes while her mouth adored me with prayers.

“Let me taste you again,” she prayed. “Mark me, make me smell like you, just give it to me. Please. Pretty pretty please. I am yours to come on.”

I climaxed. I growled as I splattered onto her face. I remember every spurt and where it landed but what I remembered most was her smile.

She was smiling with gratitude.

Apr 252006
 

Birthday was great, thanks for asking.

One of the presents I got was Jay Mohr’s hilarious cancelled television show, ‘Action’. I have the complete series, all 13 wonderful episodes on DVD. I think they may have shown 4 on television before Fox cancelled it. It’s about a Hollywood producer who is an evil asshole, but not nearly as evil as the town he works in. If you ever wonder why movies stink so much, this is the show for you.

My favorite character is the writer, Adam Rafkin. Adam has written the script to an awesome movie and is then forced to rewrite it every single damn episode as more and more people add their changes. He is the hardest working person there and of course he gets the most shit dumped on him.

I was watching the show with my friends and poor Adam was being buttered up so that he would switch agents. My friends could not believe the shameless open ass-kissing that the agent was giving Adam, and more so they couldn’t believe that Adam was buying it. Ahh, I knew exactly why Adam was buying any lie they fed him. It was because of Writer Kryptonite.

“I loved your story”

BLAM! Any writer can not resist that line. Once someone, and Goddess forbid if it’s a sexually attractive person, says that line, then the Writer will do anything to hear it again. Writer’s Kryptonite is potent stuff. One use and the Writer will forgive anything, loan you money and be perfectly blind to the fact that you just took your car keys.

“I loved your story” = “You are the greatest writer that ever lived”

There is no in-between.

 BDSM  Comments Off on Writer’s Kryptonite
Apr 242006
 

Sugasm #31

Sun 23rd Apr, 06

The best of the sex blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Categories shift around and change between editions depending on what you send in, and you can get in on the next one by using this form. Participants, repost the linklist by the end of Wednesday night and you’re all set.

This is one of the few online spaces where people from all aspects of the sexual spectrum, vanilla or kinky, amateur or erotic artist or adult professional, can come together and grow, network, and explore sexuality. Thanks for being a part of this!

Erotic Writing

Back to the Beach (luvsicpup.blogspot.com)

Bliss (sexblogthis.blogspot.com)

Closings and Openings (sadiedark69.blogspot.com)

The Delight Of Sexual Tension (thetastetester.com)

The Driver (pleasinglydebauched.blogspot.com)

First Time – Steaming the Windows in the Backseat of a Car (thestoryofrose.blogspot.com)

Five Minutes (barbiebaby09.livejournal.com)

How Would It Be? (easilyaroused.co.uk)

Illicit Liason (gentlygently.blogspot.com)

Low-Carb Foreplay (realadultsex.com)

masculine/Feminine (damnjezebel.com)

Stairs (alwaysarousedgirl.blogspot.com)

Tara’s Private Diary: Sucking Him Dry (taratainton.com)

Taxi Cab Confessions (bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com)

Thoughts on Sex: Sex Advice, Sex Commentary, Sex News, Reviews, Interviews, Sexual Politics

Burning Rubber Interview (sin.typepad.com/shauna_by_night)

CockBlogging Wednesday 22 + A Guest Review (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)

The Future’s So AdBrite, I Gotta Get Paid (sugarbank.com)

Hand-Jobs: Things You Need To Know, Part One (cuntinglinguist.blogspot.com)

High-Frequency Masturbation (onaniajournal.blogspot.com)

Maenads’ Mantra (sexeteria.blogspot.com)

More Sugasm…

Join the Sugasm

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Sex in the News – Holla Back at Street Harassers (seskuality.com)

BDSM and Fetish

All Tied Up (theholidaylife.blogspot.com)

C is for Cookie (redvelvetropeburn.blogspot.com)

Dire Caning Technique (adelehaze.com)

Identity Crisis for a slave (masterenigma.blogspot.com)

Tease and Denial with pastorpaul (goddessjaguar.com)

NSFW Pics

Allie Sin, Naughty Nati Dichotomy Exposed. Plus nekkid pics. (internetisforporn.com)

Crystal Klein (pspporn.com)

Cute Spring Babe Cody Milo in Full Bloom (thesexblog.com)

Exclusive – Justine Joli, Ball (tgp.com)

Front Seat Sexy (eroticandy.blogspot.com)

Hair Goof (seska4lovers.com)

Marathon Progressive House Party… revisited in pictoral (danni654.blogspot.com)

A Saucer of Cream Please (shaysotherspot.blogspot.com)

Experiences (and a Funny)

Cock & Dumplings (nyc-urban-gypsy.blogspot.com)

Dick’s Sauce (janeluvsdick.com)

My first wank (wanklog.blogspot.com)

Sean luvs goths: Part 2 (seanandmel.blogspot.com)

Photo of dreamy Jessica Daguerre from talented photographer (and longtime Sugasmer) Eddie Ostrowski.

Updated: April 24, 12:32 am EST. Link edited.

 BDSM  Comments Off on Sugasm #31
Apr 212006
 

I’m a gamer. That means I play videogames, tabletop games and even the dreaded tabletop role-playing game where you fight dragons and stuff.

I also have something of a game fetish. When I was a teenager stealing issues of Penthouse from my step-father’s closet, I was more interested in the Penthouse Forum stories than I was the pictures. The stories, allegedly all true but of course just made up for your enjoyment, fascinated me. Even as a teenager I knew these stories weren’t true, but I loved seeing what people did with sex.

My favorite story was about two couples that played with a deck of sexual commands. They drew a card and had to follow the instructions. Maybe it appealed to my blossoming dominant side, but I thought there was something awesome about a woman letting you cop a feel because, sorry, the card made her do it. I still love the idea, because as a gamer, I know that the rules must be obeyed.

As part of Birthday Week, I’d like to present a simple little game I made up and have played for entertaining results. Don’t worry, it’s terribly simple. All the need is a twenty-sided dice and a twelve sided dice. If the idea of going to a hobby store to buy sex toy equipment freaks you out, you can just cut up twenty numbers and put them in a cup.

The game is simple and well, favors the male. The sub rolls a twenty-sided dice and follows the instructions. Sometimes you are referred to other charts. If you are moved to another chart, keep rolling on that chart till you are moved to another. Keep making dice rolls till the dom decides to fuck the sub. Man, this is an easy game.

I offer my list as a starter. Add your own choice, modify the chart and include some new rules.

Dice Slut

Foreplay

1- One minute of kissing
2- One minute of finger sucking
3- One minute of breast groping
4- One minute of neck kissing
5- Five finger strokes
6- Six light spanks on the ass
7- One minute of cock sucking
8- One clothespin added
9- Three Medium spanks on the ass
10- One clothespin removed, or a quick nipple bite
11- Ten Finger strokes
12- Four HARD spanks
13- Two clothespins added
14- Go to Spanking
15- Two minutes of cock sucking
16- Three minutes of kissing
17- One minute of masturbating
18- Five tit slaps
19- Beg to be used
20 Go to Masturbation

Spanking

1-6 – That many times with the paddle.
7- Six times with the crop
8- Six times with the bare hand
9– Six times with the flogger
10— Four times HARD
11–Two strokes
12—-Return to Foreplay

Masturbation

1- Climax
2- Count off two strokes and stop
3- Count off three strokes and stop
4- Count off four strokes and stop
5- Count off five strokes and stop
6- Count off six strokes and stop
7- Stop and one lick
8- Stop and get two licks
9- Turn vibrator up higher
10–Pinch one nipple
11–Kiss while masturbating
12–Stop and clench six times

Enjoy my game and your own but just have fun

 BDSM  Comments Off on Games We Play
Apr 192006
 

Amaya saw the package in her mailbox and fought to rein in her hopes. More than likely it was for her roommate, Helen. She pulled the package out of their tiny dorm mailbox and looked at the address. It was for her! Amaya searched the package for a return address but there wasn’t one. The young college student checked the mailbox for any other mail, especially for her financial aid check that was a month late. There wasn’t any.

She didn’t open the package in the lobby although she was tempted. Amaya liked surprises and after a harsh three weeks of college, she was going to savor this one. When she was a little girl all she wanted for her eight birthday was the Barbie Dream House. A month before her birthday Amaya was looking through her mother’s closet for a pair of heels to play with. Barely hidden under a coat was the Barbie Dream House. Amaya was excited at first and she never told her mom that she knew what she was getting for her birthday but as the days dragged on, she found herself a little bored with her upcoming birthday. Knowing what she was getting had taken the fun out of the discovery and it was something she had never forgotten. The package could wait till she was in her room.

Amaya climbed the stairs of the co-ed dorm to her room. Her stomach growled. It did that every day now. Amaya’s parents were firm believers in letting their oldest daughter provide for herself. Her father was a marine and her mother was a Japanese native who never attended any sort of higher education. Both parents just assumed that a scholarship would pay for everything and that if Amaya needed anything else, she could get a job. They didn’t care that her financial aid was caught in some sort of bureaucratic limbo that none of the financial aid office people could explain. Neither parent could also understand that in a college town, the only job really available to a girl just out of high school was that of a waitress and even then, no one was willing to hire a half-Japanese girl with glasses when they could have a busty blonde co-ed. Her small amount of cash had evaporated quickly after buying her books and paying her lab fees. For the past two weeks she had been reduced to eating crackers and peanut butter for breakfast and dinner. Amaya’s parents kept telling her to “buck up” as if those magic words could solve anything.

Maybe the package was from her parents. Amaya wondered if they had finally taken pity on her and sent her a box of food or something. It would be just like them to send her food instead of money. The dorm room she had didn’t have a stove or even a microwave so Amaya worried that they might have sent her something she couldn’t even use. The package was kind of small, so Amaya was hopeful that it couldn’t contain food. Perhaps her parents had sent her money in a box because they didn’t trust stuffing envelopes with money?

Or maybe the package was from her boyfriend, John. Amaya bit her lip as she thought of him. He was her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first sexual partner and lately her first heartbreaking disappointment. Cuddling on the floor of his parent’s garage, John always swore he would look out for her. It must have been the sex talking because while she attended a college in state, he applied for one in Georgia. John swore they would meet again in the summer and Amaya tried to take his word for it. So far he had never written and called only once. She had written him last week asking, no, begging him to send her some money that she would pay back when she got her financial aid, but he had yet to respond. Maybe this package was his way of proving he still did care.

Helen wasn’t in their room, which delighted Amaya. She sat down on her bed and held the package in her lap. She made three wishes. One, she wished there was money inside. Two, she wished for something sweet to eat that didn’t involve peanut butter. Three, she wished it was from John. Amaya took a deep breath and opened her package.

The package was stuffed with a lot of filler paper but buried deep within was a cellular phone and an envelope. Amaya’s face broke into a grin. It had to be from John! He sent her a phone so she wouldn’t be so alone!

Amaya opened the envelope and squealed. There were five twenty-dollar bills! She could eat out tonight and buy some real groceries. The young woman was feeling giddy with delight. She checked the envelope for a letter and found a small piece of paper. All that was written was “Press redial.”

The cell phone was a top of the line model. It had a small display screen and a tiny keyboard. Amaya was amazed by how compact the phone was. It could fit easily in a pants pocket. As much as she wanted to believe that it was from John, she had to admit that he couldn’t afford a gift like this. It was also too expensive to be a gift from her parents.

Amaya smiled. This was exciting. She had a mystery gift with an equally mysterious instruction for her press redial. It was about time something interesting happened to her at school.

She pressed redial. It rang twice. Each ring made Amaya’s heart race. The tension was a nice distraction from her growling stomach.

“Hello, Amaya” a male voice said.

Amaya didn’t recognize it. “Hello, who is this, please?”

“You can call me Wesley,” the voice said. He was very relaxed with a trace of a southern accent. “Congratulations on taking the first step. I’m sure that hundred dollars will come in handy. Where do you plan to eat first?”

“I’m sorry,” Amaya said. “But who are you? And why did you give me so much money?”

He laughed. “You think that is a lot of money? It is just a small bit of what you can earn. I am something of a gambler, Amaya. Someone in your financial aid department made me aware of the delays you have had and knew I could help. I’ve helped out students in the past with my little games and I am willing to help you.”

“This sounds like a proposition,” Amaya said bluntly. She knew she should hang up now but she worried about the hundred dollars she had in her hand. Would she have to give it back? Could they make her give it back?

“Oh don’t call it that,” Wesley said. “I don’t believe in prostitution or being a sugar-daddy. I like to gamble on human nature. I will request a series of dares and you may quit at any time. If you quit I will never contact you again. On the other hand, play my game, and the reward will increase by a hundred dollars with each dare.”

Amaya swallowed hard. That was a lot of money. On the other hand, it felt a bit too surreal. She looked back down at the money and realized that it was real enough for her.

“What kind of dares do you have in mind?” Amaya asked. This was the important question. She had a bad feeling it might involve eating something gross or jumping off of buildings.

“That’s the spirit,” Wesley said. “I’ve been reviewing your file and I think we’ll have quite a lot of fun together. I see that you used to be on the Tennis team in your junior year but you didn’t join your senior year. That’s a shame. Tennis players are not only fit but also quite quick on their feet. They make excellent players. Why did you not join your senior year?”

Amaya tried to think of a lie. She was too embarrassed to tell him that she found sex with John to be ten times better than running around chasing a bouncing ball. Part of her wanted to tell him in hopes of shocking the mysterious voice but she refrained.

“I just wanted more time for my social life,” she said. “Are these games going to be time-consuming? I do have a heavy class load this year.”

Wesley chuckled. “I noticed. No, the games won’t take long at all. At any time of the day or night, I will call you via this cell phone. If you don’t answer, then the game is over and you will never be contacted again. Once you answer, you are mine for an hour. I may give you a command or I might guide you through a series of commands. Fail to complete a task before the hour is up, or flat out right refuse, and the game is over. Play to my satisfaction, and you’ll receive another cash award. That’s the entire game right there. Any questions?”

“One question,” Amaya said. “Are any of these dares going to be illegal?”

“Never,” Wesley said. “I prefer to keep my players, not see them go to jail. Where is the fun in that?”

“Okay,” Amaya said. She couldn’t believe she was agreeing but it seemed risk-free. She might as well give it a try. “Are we playing now?”

“I like your attitude,” Wesley said. “I’m looking at my watch and I’m saying it does start right now. My first game is simple. Dump your backpack out. You’re going to need all the space you can. I want you to take all of your underwear out of your dresser, panties and bras, and stuff them into the bag.”

Amaya laughed. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Two hundred dollars say you don’t care,” Wesley said.

“What do you want with my underwear? And what am I going to wear?”

“That’s not my concern,” Wesley said. “I would hurry if I were you. There’s more to this game and time is a wasting.”

Amaya thought about it. All the bras and panties she owned were kind of old anyway. They was two black panties that John had bought her that she was fond of but other than that, most of them were plain and white. She never could work up the nerve to buy sexy underwear while living with her parents. Amaya also felt amused that some wealthy guy would want them. It seemed perverse but also harmless.

She emptied her backpack and went to work stuffing it. She hated to get rid of her bras. Her generous bust would be a problem without a bra but with a total of three hundred dollars, she could buy herself a few to hold her over. Amaya debated holding on to the black panties because they were a gift but she put them in the bag too. The guilt of cheating was stronger than she would have thought. For some reason, she wanted to earn Wesley’s money fairly.

“I’m all packed,” she said.

“Good, have your running shoes on?”

“Yes,” Amaya said. “Why?”

“Because you’ll need to get to the White dorm as fast as possible,” Wesley said. “Once you are there, hit speed dial ‘1’ and I’ll tell you where to go next. Hurry Amaya, I’d hate to see you lose so soon.”

He hung up. Amaya’s heart sank. The White building was in the middle of the campus. It had been a year since she did a run of that length.

Amaya ran down the stairs and nearly knocked down two giggling blondes. One of them said something rude but Amaya ignored them. Her heart was already hammering inside her chest.

She ran out of the dorm and down the long hill that her dorm was situated on. Amaya’s glasses slipped down her nose and she kept pushing them up. It had been a long time since she was on the Tennis team. She didn’t know where her sports glasses were anymore. Amaya made a note to herself to find them soon. There was no telling how often Wesley would send her on a run.

The White building seemed like miles away. Amaya’s lungs burned and her brown hair was bouncing around her shoulders. She was glad she was wearing jeans today because she knew she would never run this fast or freely in a skirt. The backpack was light on her back but the contents weighed on her mind. Amaya kept envisioning the zipper coming undone and sending her underwear flying everywhere.

Amaya shouldered past people and nearly collided with a cute black guy. She gave a quick apology and kept running. Sweat was forming on her skin, forcing her to constantly push her glasses up which only helped blind her to the people she nearly ran over. The young lady had to laugh. She had spent the last few weeks shy and trying not to stand out but here she was making a spectacle of herself for half the campus. She found it a bit freeing.

She reached the White building breathless. Amaya didn’t know if she was supposed to be inside or on the lobby so she brought out the phone out of her pocket.

He answered on the first ring. “Are you there?”

“I’m outside,” she said. “You didn’t say inside or not.”

“True,” Wesley said. “Are you wearing a bra?”

“Yes,” Amaya said. She bit her lip. Was this a trick? Was she going to lose after running out here just because she didn’t put the bra she was wearing in the backpack? Amaya had a bad suspicion that she was the butt of a joke.

“Good,” Wesley said. “Remove your bra and put it in the backpack. When you are done, tell me and I will tell you the next step in your race.”

“Right here?” Amaya said. A crowd of boys walked past her and she blushed. The young woman turned and faced the brick wall of the White building.

“If you are willing to waste time looking for a bathroom, go right ahead,” Wesley said.

He had a point. Amaya thought about it and realized that if this dorm were like hers, then it would need a key just to get past the lobby. She looked around and didn’t see a building that she recognized.

Fuck.

Amaya held the phone in the crick of her neck and went to work. First, she set down her backpack and took a deep breath. She hadn’t done this since that bus trip in the 11th grade. Amaya turned around so her back was to a wall and reached behind her. She unclasped her bra as fast as she could. A girl walked by and gave her a funny look. Amaya smiled back at her and looked away. She then reached up the sleeves of her shirt and pulled her shoulder straps down. Two guys walked by and gave her a knowing smile that made her blush. Amaya turned around and faced the wall as she pulled her bra through the sleeve of her shirt. Head down and her body shielding the backpack, Amaya stuffed the bra into her bag.

“I did it,” Amaya reported.

“Good for you,” Wesley said. There was an enthusiasm in his voice that reminded her of her Tennis coach. “Now head to Student Center. You should have gone there for orientation.”

“I know where it is,” Amaya groaned. It was on the far side of the campus from where she was.

“The clock is running,” Wesley said.

Amaya hung up and started to run. She realized immediately that running braless was going to be a problem. Her busty chest was bouncing like mad beneath her shirt. Amaya used to be proud of her chest because her American father’s genes had gifted her with a nice set in comparison to her mom’s flat chest. Now she was painfully shy of how much she jiggled as she ran. Every guy she passed did a double take and she got more than a few dirty looks from the women she passed.

There was no denying she was out of shape. The lack of food lately didn’t help but Amaya knew that it wasn’t completely to blame. Her lungs burned almost as badly as her calves and thighs. Amaya remembered how much pride she used to take in her endurance and health. As an Asian American, she had taken a lot of jokes about being a ‘Tennis Ninja’ but she knew that was an admittance to her physical ability. Gasping for air on a simple run was proof of how far she had fallen from her former standards.

Amaya slowed down as she reached the Student Center. She bent over and took some deep breaths. The sight that greeted her stunned her. She had been sweating so much, her nipples were as plain as day through her white t-shirt! Amaya had been running with a nearly transparent shirt!

She crossed her arms over her ample chest and called Wesley.

“I’m here,” she said. God, her breathing sounded so loud on the phone. Amaya realized she was doing the stereotypical dirty phone call voice.

“Not bad,” Wesley said. “You are making good time. Are you wearing panties?”
“Yes,” Amaya said. She knew what was coming.

“Then head toward the bathroom and remove them,” Wesley said. “Put them in your bag and call me back for your next destination.”

He hung up and Amaya slipped the phone back in her jeans. She was mad that she hadn’t seen it coming. Her body had hurt too much and the embarrassment of running braless had distracted her. Amaya didn’t hesitate. She headed straight for the woman’s restrooms.

There were three stalls in the bathroom and all of them were filled. Amaya groaned. Of course they were. It was the afternoon and the Student Center was packed. Time was running out and she was getting exhausted. Could she afford to wait for someone to come out? If the next destination was all the way across campus again, she would need as much time as possible to make it there with her body.

Amaya kicked off her shoes and unzipped her jeans. She kept her eye on the door and pulled her pants off. Her white panties were soaked with sweat and Amaya wondered if this was the whole point of today’s game. Did he just want some sweaty panties? Amaya stopped worrying about it and pulled off her panties. She stuffed them in her backpack and zipped it back up.

A toilet flushed.

Amaya fumbled with her jeans. Her eyes snapped between the restroom door and the doors to the stalls. She had no idea how soon someone would come out of the stalls and she didn’t want to be pantless when they did. Amaya pulled her jeans on as fast as she could but she wasn’t fast enough. A student came out right as Amaya was pulling her jeans to her ass. The woman just stared at Amaya finished pulling her jeans up and buttoned them. The student looked like she was about to ask a question but instead blushed a bright red. Before Amaya could think of a lie, the woman walked briskly out the door.

“That could not be any more embarrassing,” Amaya muttered. She put her shoes back on and called Wesley as she tied them.

“I did it,” she whispered.

“That was fast,” Wesley said. “And a good thing too, you need to run to Perry building.”

“Where is that?” Amaya asked.

“It’s by the music arts building, beside the cafeteria there.”

Amaya’s eyes widened. That area was filled with people and as sweaty as her shirt was, Amaya wasn’t sure she could do it. It was also another long run.

“The clock is ticking,” Wesley said and he hung up.

Through the doors and out the Student Center, Amaya ran with all her heart. She was cursing as she ran, fully aware of how visible her breasts were under her shirt. When someone gave her a wolf-whistle, Amaya’s face turned to a crimson blush that spread down her neck.

Amaya also became aware of the problems of running without panties. The denim of her jeans was rubbing her sex as well as rubbing tightly against her ass. She felt naked despite her outer clothes. Every swing of her legs pushed and pulled the denim against her. Amaya’s desire was building from the constant stimulus and she worried that she might wet her pants with her sex. It was bad enough that she was jiggling so clearly but she would die if people could see how much this was turning her own.

She reached the Perry building and the place was just as crowded as she expected. Amaya slowed down and ignored the stares of the men she passed. Her dark nipples were almost entirely visible against her light shirt. Worse, they were hard from all the friction of the shirt. Amaya herself was getting aroused just from all the stares. It was the first time since she attended college that she felt people were looking at her for her body and not her Asiatic features. Amaya had to admit it was a welcome change.

She took out the phone and hit the speed dial. When Wesley answered on the second ring, she told him she was there. Amaya was surprised to hear him ask someone else if she was.

“Is someone watching me?” she asked.

“Of course,” Wesley answered. “A game like this requires a little observing to keep everyone honest. According to my source, you are quite the sight. I hope you are not too exhausted.”

“No, of course not,” she lied. Amaya looked around. She saw plenty of people looking at her but she couldn’t see anyone with a phone. Amaya felt very self-conscious. It made sense. What would be the point of making her exhausted and sweaty if he didn’t get a chance to see her? Amaya knew she should be outraged but all she could really feel was flattered. That, and exhausted.

“Are we done?” Amaya said. She could barely speak she was gasping so hard.

“One last trip,” Wesley said. He chuckled when she groaned. “Fear not, Amaya. You are doing amazingly well. All you need to go now is back to your dorm and around to the back entrance. Good luck.”

Wesley hung up and Amaya snapped her phone shut. Back to her dorm? She was at the furthest possible point away from her dorm and still is on campus. Amaya looked at her watch. She had twenty minutes to get there and she was worn out. Tears formed in her eyes as she realized how impossible that was. That two hundred dollars was as good as gone!

Amaya ran. No matter how hopeless it was, Amaya couldn’t find it in herself to give up. Two hundred dollars could easily hold her over till she got her financial aid but that wasn’t the only reason she ran. At this point she was angry with herself. If she had stayed on the Tennis Team instead of spending the year fucking John who ran out on her, she would have finished this run by now. Amaya felt like she had failed herself and she wasn’t going to let some pervert who wanted her sweaty underwear beat her. Amaya ran harder than she had all day long.

That state of her appearance was beyond indecent now. Her shoulder-length brown hair was plastered to her scalp and neck. Sweat was pouring so hard from her that she could feel it trickling between her buttocks. Her breasts ached from slapping constantly against her chest and her wet shirt was molding against her breasts. The glares of the women she passed were as embarrassing as the appreciative stares of the men. Amaya just prayed she didn’t run into any teachers.

A group of bicyclers cut her off at one point and Amaya nearly screamed at the delay. At another point, Amaya’s glasses slid completely off her nose and it was only through a miraculous catch that she prevented them from hitting the ground. One group of women walking in a long wide line stopped Amaya completely until she literally pushed her way past the chatting girls. They yelled abuses at Amaya but she kept running.

Somehow, Amaya made it to her dorm. A block away, she was reduced to walking but she still had seven minutes left. Amaya limped to the dorm and giggled with the elation of winning. An older student shook her head at Amaya’s clothes but the young Asian didn’t mind. She was going to win after all!

She got to the steps and looked around. Amaya began to wonder how she going to be paid. Exhausted but thrilled to have won, she called Wesley.

“Congratulations,” he said when he answered it. “Now all you have to do is set your backpack down and walk straight forward into the bushes.”

Amaya did as he said, feeling very weird at leaving her underwear on the steps. She wondered if it could be traced to her. Was it even a crime to leave a backpack of underwear? It would certainly be an odd thing to be expelled over.

She walked forward into the bushes that Wesley had specified. Amaya wondered if this was where Wesley was. An ugly thought occurred to her. What if the whole point of the game was to exhaust her so that he could attack her? Her heart began to pound again as she considered it. If he expected her to be easy, he was sadly mistaken. After humiliating herself for an hour, she would kick his ass if he tried to hurt her now.

In the bushes was a black backpack. Amaya was impressed. It was much more expensive than anything she could afford. Amaya told Wesley about it and he instructed her to open the side pocket. There were twenty ten-dollar bills.

“Yes,” Amaya hissed and Wesley laughed.

“Take the backpack, it’s yours,” he said. “Go back inside and leave your old backpack where it is.”

“Fine,” Amaya said. “Wow, thanks.”

“No problem,” Wesley said. “I would recommend eating at Peking Garden, its just two blocks down Second Street. They have a buffet and after your fast, I imagine you would want to eat as much as you can.”

“Thanks,” Amaya said. She still couldn’t believe she was three hundred dollars richer. It was embarrassing how much of a fortune it seemed.

“Wait, one question,” Amaya said. “Will all the games be this hard?”

Wesley laughed. “We’ll see.”

He hung up.

Amaya slung the backpack on her shoulder and went into her dorm. She still had reservations about leaving her old bag there but she wasn’t about to break the rules now. The young woman was feeling a kind of high that she hadn’t felt since winning a tennis match. It made the ache in her limbs only seem inconvenient.

Her unexpected victory today had another effect: it made Amaya incredibly aroused. Despite her bad shape, she had still won! It was the first really good thing that had happened to her since starting college and the best thing was, she had earned it all herself. She was feeling so turned on and excited, the adrenaline racing straight to her libido.

Amaya went to her dorm room and shut the door. Helen still wasn’t there and Amaya was relieved. She quickly stripped out of her wet shirt and put on a much darker shirt. Her nipples were aching and Amaya moaned as she felt the dry shirt slid over them. She hadn’t been this aroused since the last time she had sex with John.

When Amaya pulled down her pants, she was amazed at how wet she was. She touched herself and shuddered. Sensitive to the slightest touch, her pussy felt terribly empty. Standing in front of her dresser, Amaya stroked herself once.

She stroked herself twice and wondered what kind of a man Wesley was.

Amaya stroked herself and wondered what he would do with her sweaty panties and bra.

Amaya stroked herself and wondered if any of the guys who saw her today was thinking of her now.

She had a climax within a minute of stroking. Amaya cried out before remembering how thin the walls were. She bit her lip and kept stroking. She had another climax was almost instantly.

And another.

And another.

Amaya pulled up her pants and sat down on her bed with the reddest blush. She prayed that Helen wouldn’t walk in right now. The room smelled of sex and sweat and Amaya knew she wouldn’t be able to deny masturbating. She opened a window and turned on the fan and hoped the smell would fade.

The backpack caught her eye and she wondered about the trade she made. She picked it up to examine it and found a startling surprise inside. The backpack was stuffed with bras and panties of multiple colors.

Amaya looked in amazement as she pulled out a rainbow of bras. The bras were in different sizes, an equal amount that centered around a C-cup. About ten of them fit her and Amaya realized Wesley must have guessed her size. Amaya felt a guilty pleasure in finally owning the colored underwear that she had always wanted as well as the decadent manner in which she earned them.

She examined the panties next and noticed something right away. They were all thongs. Purple, green, black, blue, pink and white; they were all thongs.

Amaya tried a green one on and moaned as the tight string slipped between her buttocks. The thong was tight and every time she took a step, the thong pressed against her sex. Amaya was still sensitive from her masturbating but in a good way. She took a few steps and shivered. The thongs were hedonistic and were going to be distracting but Amaya was looking forward to the adventure.

Her stomach growled and Amaya smiled. It was time to collect her real reward. Amaya wondered if Wesley would be at the restaurant he recommended. Perhaps the mystery man was waiting for her.

She decided to find out.

Apr 182006
 

This Sunday on April 23 I turn 33.

Know what that means?

It could have meant that I spent the week really depressed and sad over very important things. Like, I could be sad that my mom turned into a total crazy right wing bitch who disowned my lesbian sister. I could be sad that I don’t have a submissive to help celebrate my birthday. I could be sad that thanks to taxes I am broke this month and can’t go to the Atlanta Aquarium like I was planning. See, I have grief. I’ve got family, romance and selfishness covered.

But that’s not how we roll here at Erotiterorist. This week is Birthday Week. In fact, here’s the cake,courtesy of Moist and Tasty
booty_5.jpg

Here we celebrate my birthday all week long like drunken sailors on shore leave. It’s going to kick ass. I’ll post the first part to a story that I think is the finest thing I have ever written but never posted anywhere. We’ll have our first Half-Nekkid Thursday. We may get completely bloggy on your asses and discuss my first orgasm with another person. I don’t know, all bets are off on Birthday Week at Erotiterroist! Shit will happen, let’s leave it at that.

My first topic I want to discuss is what to get a dominant male like myself for his birthday. As a Dominant male, some people think I want to blueprint and plan out my birthday moment by moment. No, that’s not what I want because that’s what I do EVERY SINGLE DAY. See? My submissive wears what I want her to wear, so yet another day where I pick her clothes, her actions and her orgasms is just another day to me.

What I want, and I am only telling you this because it’s Birthday Week and I am feeling shameless, is far more egotistical than total control. What I want is offerings. I want to sit in my chair while people present me gifts that that they hope make me happy. Like a Pharaoh over looking his subjects, I want to be surprised, delighted, entertained and aroused.

Dance for me and wear something I have never thought to ask for.

Buy me a book I have never heard of.

Give me a sex toy I have never played with and open invitation.

Write me something I never knew about you.

Send me naughty pictures I didn’t take myself.

Any other day of the year, I’ll be in charge and I’ll be calling the shots and I like it that way. But on my birthday, just this once, I want to be surprised and I want to be thrown off. I want a roller coaster of shocking tributes. Offer me something that I didn’t ask because you so badly wanted to give it to me.

So if you have a dominant person in your life, think about what I said. You already give yourself to them all year long so for one day, really treat them like a King you want to curry favor with and surprise the fuck out of them. Give them an offering for their Birthday and remind them that they own the bits they don’t even know about.

Apr 172006
 

Sugasm #30

The best of the sex blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Categories shift around and change between editions depending on what you send me, and you can get in on the next one by using this form. Participants, repost the linklist by the end of Wednesday night and you’re all set.

NSFW Pics

Solo Girl

Eloise Shot by Abby Winters (iloveabbywinters.com)

FTV Girls Chloe Extreme Masturbation with Candles (sensualarousalblog.com)

Ginger Jolie Nude (eroticandy.blogspot.com)

My Homegrown Video Work (seska4lovers.com)

Lesbian

Lesbian Sex in the Kitchen (simply-sapphicerotica.com)

Hardcore

Bookworm Bitches Review (internetisforporn.com)

Personal Porn

HNT (spiritsex.blogspot.com)

Tara Checks into the Silver Spruce Motel (taratainton.com)

Thoughts on Sex: Sex Commentary, Sex News, Sexual Politics

Carmen Electra rides into trouble (tgp.com)

Head (jundercovers.blogspot.com)

Kissing (gentlygently.blogspot.com)

Pubes are Personal (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)

RANT: The Dumbing-Down of the Modern Femme (cuntinglinguist.blogspot.com)

Reflectrospective IV: Realizations (emergingontheotherside.blogspot.com)

Funny

In Glasses (janeluvsdick.com)

Sinking (alwaysarousedgirl.blogspot.com)

Ten Things to Thank Porn For (sugarbank.com)

Erotic Writing

Assignment # 2 for Ginger Man (pleasinglydebauched.blogspot.com)

Hadley’s Hedonism (theholidaylife.blogspot.com)

Hello, My Name is Cockwhore (bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com)

More Sugasm…

Join the Sugasm

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Lazy Sunday (herknees.com)

My Way, Your Way, Three Way (nyc-urban-gypsy.blogspot.com)

The Perfect Blow Job (secretsofadirtygirl.blogspot.com)

Restful Nights, Exciting Mornings, And The O.J. Conclusion (thetastetester.com)

Sexual Incoherency (damnjezebel.com)

So I Raped Him… (stilettodiaries.blogspot.com)

When You Work (barbiebaby09.livejournal.com)

Sex Toy Reviews / Sex Advice

Ah yes… Semenex… (vagueboy.com)

How Tall Are You Really? (tinastrangeworld.blogspot.com)

Je Joue (sin.typepad.com/shauna_by_night)

Sex Tip – Kegels & Arousal (seskuality.com)

BDSM and Fetish

Control and Balance (masterenigma.blogspot.com)

Fiction- Absolution (erotiterrorist.blogspot.com)

Half Nekkid Thursday (ropegirl.blogspot.com)

HNT – Insomnophilia (sabrinainstockings.com)

Happy Anniversary Master! (darkside-journey.blogspot.com)

In the Bedroom (tangysweet.blogspot.com)

Milking a Man (drtycplinva.blogspot.com)

Sjambok Stripes (adelehaze.com)

Tickle Fetish (radicalvixen.com)

Tiny Dick Losers Convention (spoiledebonyprincess.com)

What I Am (everythingoze.blogspot.com)

Mirror tease photo from the smoldering Tara Tainton.

 BDSM  Comments Off on Sugasm # 30
Apr 112006
 

I’ve had this story in my mind for about two weeks. I knew the point I wanted to get across and the sex I wanted to write about, but I was stuck on that little niggling detail I couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t decide HOW I wanted to tell the story. I have this problem where I don’t like to repeat myself. Taking into account that I will repeat myself, I try to not fall into patterns. Yes, every Shon Richards story will most likely have some hair pulling, but I don’t want it so predictable that the reader feels free to skim through the plot through everything they have read before to get to the good parts.

So I’ve been wrestling with this story in my head for two weeks. Yesterday I was in the grocery store. It was a wonderful warm day so I was wearing shorts. My hands were full as I was carrying a basket of groceries in one hand, and a deli foot long sandwich in the other. As I am standing in line to the checkout counter, my mind is wondering back to the story problem and BLAM! I have it figured out.

Now that I know how I am going to tell my story, I start plotting fast and hard. I’m naming the characters, I’m planning the scenes, I’m thinking of the sex and I’m thinking of whether to do the blowjob scene before the spanking scene and other delightful details.

Unfortunately, this means I get a monster erection. and because of the arrangement of my loose boxers and my shorts, this erection is pointing straight out. There I am in line at the grocery story, hands full, with an obscene weapon trying to escape my shorts.

I try to think it down. I try disturbing mental images but my mind is still hardwired into the story. I’m thinking of a kneeling maid. I’m thinking of her being spanked while she is on all fours over a mop bucket. I’m picturing her cleaning her house in her too tight outfit. In other words, I am doing a terrible job of subduing the beast in my shorts.

The rather nice looking woman behind me makes a shocked sound and quickly turns around to intensely study the candy bar rack.

The older woman in front of me is unloading her cart which means she has to keep bending down. She sees my erection and keeps stealing peaks at it every time she gets another item from her cart. I swear, she started unloading less and less items.

When it is my turn to get to checkout, the prettiest African-American girl in the whole world is running my items through the checkout. She looks like she is barely out of high school but it isn’t killing my erection at all. Worse, she has GLASSES, which is my number one turn-on. At least I have the counter to block my erection from her view.

“Wow, it must be really hot outside, you look so flush,” she says.

I just smile and it dawned on me. I have to walk outside, hands holding bags, with my shorts looking like a pop-tent. Worse, I am now picturing this cute glasses-wearing girl in a maid’s uniform. The erection has now been given at least another half hour of life.

The hazards of being an erotica writer never end.

Apr 102006
 

The best of the sex blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Categories shift around and change between editions depending on what you send me, and you can get in on the next one by using this form. Participants, repost the linklist by the end of Wednesday night and you’re all set.

Sex Toy Reviews / Sex Advice

Featured Article – Hit Me With Your Best Shot (part 2) (seskuality.com)

How To Ejaculate – For Women (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)

XTC Pleasure Curve (sin.typepad.com/shauna_by_night)

NSFW Pics

Solo Girl

The Incomparable Beauty Of Marketa Belonoha By The Sea (thesexblog.com)

Kele Ward Sexy Cowgirl (eroticandy.blogspot.com)

Kyla shot by Abby Winters (iloveabbywinters.com)

Oh My – What has Annie done (sensualarousalblog.com)

Lesbian

Bridgete, Darlene and a strap-on on Sapphic Erotica (simply-sapphicerotica.com)

Hardcore

She Got Pimped Review (internetisforporn.com)

Personal Porn

HNT – Damn Good Weekend (sabrinainstockings.com)

Performing (sexyukgirl.blogspot.com)

Where Did the Weekend Go? (drtycplinva.blogspot.com)

Sex Toy Reviews / Sex Advice

Featured Article – Hit Me With Your Best Shot (part 2) (seskuality.com)

How To Ejaculate – For Women (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)

XTC Pleasure Curve (sin.typepad.com/shauna_by_night)

Sex Work

Happy Blogaversary (I’m Baaack…) (talkingdirtyblog.com)

Top Ten Lies Strippers Tell (tinastrangeworld.blogspot.com)

Erotic Writing

Cum Machine (Part 1) (rendezvous-romance.blogspot.com)

The Floor, the Fireplace, and the Fuck (taratainton.com)

Fruition (mydreams02.livejournal.com)

More Sugasm…

Join the Sugasm

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

It’s Been Seven Years (bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com)

Just A Quickie (stilettodiaries.blogspot.com)

Lost in the moment (gentlygently.blogspot.com)

Retreat. (domequeen.blogspot.com)

Thoughts on Sex: Sex Commentary, Sex News, Sexual Politics

All That You Can’t Leave Behind (sexeteria.blogspot.com)

Disgraceful, Disturbing, and Plain Bad Form (vagueboy.com)

Don’t shit in my mouth and call it a sundae (ethnorotica.com)

The Passion of the Artist (And the Lover) (cuntinglinguist.blogspot.com)

Room 11 (theholidaylife.blogspot.com)

State of Sex (erotiterrorist.blogspot.com)

This isn’t supposed to happen at Duke, is it? (tgp.com)

V for Vendetta (sugarpit.com)

Violent Porn – Three Perspectives (sugarbank.com)

Women can be sick fucks, too

BDSM and Fetish

BDSM

Complexities of relationships – Choices 6 (masterenigma.blogspot.com)

Enjoying a Spanking Shoot (adelehaze.com)

Half-Nekkid Homemade Flogger (alwaysarousedgirl.blogspot.com)

HNT (spiritsex.blogspot.com)

My New Toys (radicalvixen.com)

Naughty in Florida (thoughtsformymaster.blogspot.com)

Stress Relief (darkside-journey.blogspot.com)

Yummy (angelbrat454.blogspot.com)

Fetish

Strange? (v-boat.blogspot.com)

The Whisper of Nylon (easilyaroused.co.uk)

Funny

Though he tries to be quiet… (janeluvsdick.com)

You Want to Play With My Laffy Taffy? (4dirtylaundry.blogspot.com)

Experiences

Feeding the Soul at a Porn Conference (seska4lovers.com)

My Story (thetastetester.com)

Perverts Saloon (nyc-urban-gypsy.blogspot.com)

Tiny Sadists (thegooseandgander.blogspot.com)

Ultimatum (aliferestarted.blogspot.com)

Gorgeous photo of Marketa courtesy of TheSexBlog.com.

Update: April 10, 5:55 am EST. “More Sugasm” link fixed.

 BDSM  Comments Off on Sugasm # 29