masturbation & my addiction



Prayer, 1930,  Man Ray



I returned from tea with a friend, logged on and there it was, something I had not seen before, something from him, that addiction in my psyche. The one that had wriggled under my skin and continues to tickle no matter for how long he disappears.

There was this *kiss*, he had left after I logged off. At that quite unsual message from him, I rose immediately in an endeavour to achieve what he had asked me to do. I was to go to the bathroom and cum, with him in my head, fucking my mind just as he always does and then to report back to him, so at my first opportunity here I am.

The click of the lock on the bathroom door echoed on the cold tiles. I squatted, my little bullet I had grabbed immediately moving to my clit. My little pink bullet can make me cum in double time and i didn't have long. My husband would be home in 10 minutes, maybe less. The heat in me began to rise, flowing from my clit to my toes. I had not felt this feeling with anything else. The bullet hit the proverbial spot and I drank up the feeling. My mind drifted to the urgency with which I had to complete my task and as I tried to listen for the car I let go that feeling building!

I stood, the feeling, the heat, the wetness returned. I pushed my husband from my mind and pulled my addiction to me. I drew him into my mind where he bent me, forced his fingers into me and fucked my dripping wet cunt. I was breathless, hot and needy. Needy for my addiction. In a flash of white heat I felt myself cumming hard, I could feel my cum sqirting. Sometimes when this happens, I am so surprised by it, I want to stop it, but today I did not. I wanted to squirt for my addiction. I wanted to be sodden for him as he invaded my head. Tippy toes, cumming, eyes closed and squirting on the floor. I wished he were in this small cold room, fucking me, hard, hot and roughly.

Exhausted, panting, on my knees. Mopping the floor, quickly, my husband pulling into the drive..I laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of my addiction. I won't give it up though, this addiction. It will live in my psyche when I am old.

she couldn't sleep..

source: hi5.com

She lay next to him, the heat beading into rivulets and running down between her round ample breasts. She listened to the rhythm of his deep breath in the dark as he slept peacefully beside her. His hand lay on her thigh, the slightest movement of her body would rouse him, so as to draw her closer to him, his to hold, to own. 

Her mind wandered in the dry heat of the summer night. A whirling cloud of mixed up thoughts and demons pulling at the edges of her psyche. The longing and awe she felt for the new world she was discovering rose in her to almost painful levels. Her thoughts drifted to the afternoon when in the dull shaded light of their bedroom, she bent over the bed. She wondered what it was like, what he saw everyday, what he loved to see and take from her. Not quite being able to see in the mirror of the dresser she slipped her panties down to her ankles and crawled up on the bed on all fours. She turned around to peer into the mirror behind her and there, in the reflected glass, she saw what all the fuss was about. 

She pulled her knees together, she spread her legs apart. She bucked her pelvis to see the shine of her moist pink puffy folds of flesh. She was delighted with the delicious view. She had removed her pubic hair on his instruction, not really keen on the idea at first, but once it was done the look and soft touch of her newly defoliated mound and cunt was captivating to her. Now bent over and on display, she admired the line of her round bottom and the fall into the recess of her slit, slick, soft and rose. She understood now why this vision was so enticing to him and why, on occasion, with a slight wriggle of her hips she could beckon him  to her. 

She thought about him so far away now, out of reach, as she lay silently with her husband and she could feel the pressure building between her thighs and her nipples growing harder. He travelled a lot, which meant she was able to contact him usually whenever she pleased. There was no one in his life on the road to hide from. She enjoyed sending him messages and imagining him smiling at her cheeky emails. She liked to think she was distracting him from his important meetings and clients with the turn of a phrase, or a report of a task completed.

She missed him at times like this, in the dark. Theirs was an arrangement that she had discovered by accident. His ways thrilled her and she had discovered something in her that she had not allowed herself to recognise. She saw the woman in her that she had denied herself most of her life. It was the most natural and peaceful place she had ever been. It was for this reason she was his. He knew what she needed even more than she knew it herself. He gave her permission to be herself. He pushed her to be herself and he somehow made that feel safe though her courage often wavered. 

Yes in the dark, with her husband's hand on her thigh, her thoughts drifted to him. She missed him at times like this, in the dark.