Sexuality Happens

Remember my nice little sexy write up (with pictures!) about playing in the airport with the really hot Domme from Philly?  And the piercing scene in the handicapped stalled?  Well, I was looking at her profile on CollarMe.com, and she had written her own entry about it. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind me posting it on here, and she gave it the A-OK.  Ergo:

So how does one get away with BDSM in an airport?

This was a dilema while packing My carry-on. I felt having anything blatant in My bag was going to attract attention that would make it harder to get away with using whatever implement it might be. I decided on play piercing, since it’s quiet. Our interests and boundaries had already been made clear online when we set this up. I never told her My plan though. She had no idea what would happen. I got through security no problem. We met, as arranged, at the bar on a quieter level with a little-used bathroom. I opened My bag and showed her the needles. she grinned.

she went to the handicap stall as instructed. I went to the one next to it. I stocked what I needed in My pockets and slid my bag under to her stall. We waited. I slipped into her stall when the coast was clear. she had her shirt & bra off already, ready, excited. she turned around and put her hands on the wall over the toilet, winking over her shoulder at Me as I put on the gloves as quietly as possible. Ever notice how the more excited you are the harder it is to be quiet?

I put My arm around her breathing deeply against her neck. she synced her breath with Mine. In, out, in, out, so ready. I love an experienced sub, one who knows without having to be told. I sterilized her skin and pinched it, waiting for her breathing rythm to steady. Steady. she inhaled; I pushed the needle through as she exhaled. Again. Again. Again. It is hard to find people who love needles. Again, Again, Again. Inhale, pierce the flesh, exhale. Again, Again, Again. Quiet gasps and trying not to draw attention to ourselves.

What would homeland security have to say upon discovering a half naked woman looking like a pin-cushion? Again, Again, Again. How I love it: the pace of the ramping up, the importance of the breath, the way you can feel the endorphins build, the way a sub steadies, solidifies, as you push the new energy in. Again, Again, Again. These needles have been sitting, waiting, a long time, waiting for her, waiting for the extra thrill of getting caught, waiting for the high. Again, Again, Again…  and then time to remove them.  

I recapped the needles and cleaned her up. she didn’t bleed much, at all actually, until I took them out, and even then just a little. Our flights were soon, get dressed, go. I walked out and waited at the sink to make sure she wasn’t about to faint or too high to know where she was going. I walked her part-way, we hugged, we were soon in the sky en route to opposite coasts…omg I love My life! 

Yup.  I got to relive it all over again as I read this. Was I wet and excited all over again? Oh, you betcha! I highly recommend her, airport scenes, and play piercing.  Even all at once :)

-Essin’ Em

Part one was yesterday…

She pulled my head back, her lips traveling my neck, my collarbone, the rounded curves of my breast before biting down on my shoulder. I gasped as she held on a moment longer, and then whispered in my ear “shhhh.”

With one hand still in my hair, holding me against the wall, she reached the other down my shirt, pulling out each breast in turn. At the same time, she slightly shifted her body, wedging one of her legs between mine, giving me something to press again. My clit was throbbing, and all I wanted was to feel her in me, to hear her in my ear, to be with her.

After a few more moments of kissing, she moved her mouth to one of my breasts, covering it with kisses and small bites before reach my nipple, teasing to me almost exasperation before sucking hard and using her teeth to pull it away from my body. Grabbing that nipple with her free hand, she switched to the other, giving it equal ministrations. While all this was happening, she pressed her knee into me as I ground against it, desperate for something to provide release.

Moving her mouth back up to my lips, she let her hand drop from my breasts, and I think I let out a sigh of disappointment. Leaning in close, she spoke next to my ear, “Didn’t want me to stop?” I tried to shake my head, but with her fingers still holding onto my hair, the movement was very slight. She smiled, one that reached her eyes.

“Well, would you like me to keep going?” Again, my attempt at nodding failed. “Ok, well, I could go back to that, but see, what I really wanted to do was this.” Her free hand slowly slid up my leg, lifting my skirt, and replaced her knee in providing pressure against my clit. Her fingers moved like a musician playing a song, slowly and quickly, and with intent. “But I could stop if you’d like, go back to what I was doing.” I shook my head so vehemently that some of her fingers slipped from my hair and my head softly banged against the wall. Her smile turned into a light laugh.
I pushed against her as I got more and more turned on, more wet, more needing her inside. Maybe she sensed it, and she pulled my lace boy shorts to the ground, never stopping what she was doing to me, undoing me. I stepped out of one leg, letting them settle on my boot.

A few more moments of pressing against me, playing me caressing me, and she slipped a finger in me. After the initial gasp at feeling her in me, I adjusted to her, and without realizing I was saying it, I let out a sigh of “more.”

Her hand left my hair and grabbed my chin. My eyes, which at some point had closed of their own accord, flew open. I was starting straight into hers. “What did you say?”

Fuck. Me and my big mouth. I shook my now freed head. “Nothing.”
“No, I asked you what you said?”

“I asked for more. I just wanted. I. I wanted another finger. I wanted you to fuck me. I’m sorry.” I stammered, unable to think straight with her one finger still inside, her hand cupping my chin.

Her eyes twinkled. “Don’t say sorry. You know, you’re kind of fun.” She kissed me, bit my lip and pulled and then slammed two fingers into me. I made some noise between a gasp and a grunt, mixed in with a moan. After a moment or two, she began to work them in and out of me, fucking me, pushing her palm against my clit and pubic bone, her body keeping my bucking hips against the wall. “Is this what you wanted?” She laughed as she said it, as I was in no place to answer her. All that was coming out of my mouth was a combination of sighs, and moans, punctuated with “fuck,” “oh god,” and “please.” I didn’t know what I was asking for by saying please, but I know that I needed it.

She kept working her fingers in and out of me, shoving me against the wall as I sunk into her, trying to get more of her into me. Then she leaned into me, and said “It’s ok to let go, it’s ok to give in. I want you to come, Ella.” And I came, the feelings and sensations crashing over me, like having a wave wash over me and dragging me under. I tried to come up for air, but she was still there, still fucking me, still next to me, pressing into me, driving me crazy. I came again. And again. And then they just blurred together as I stopped counting. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but at the same time, like I was floating above the earth and didn’t need oxygen.

I reached out for her, wrapping one hand in her hair, the other digging my nails into her back through her t-shirt. She just kept going. As I came, and gasped, and felt tears streaming down my cheeks. My body was at the edge, it couldn’t take it anymore, I dropped to my knees, the irony of the song I’d chosen, my position on the ground and my previous cries to a deity who couldn’t save me even if I had wanted to be saved all escaping me as my thoughts had gone blank.

Slowly, she pulled her fingers out of me as I moaned at the sensation. Gently, she helped me up, putting her arm around my waist as I regained my senses, nudging my breasts back into my shirt. She escorted me out of the bathroom and into the bar; I was sure everyone thought I was drunk, rather than just having been fucked senseless. It didn’t matter.

Some goth girl was on stage singing a song by the Beach Boys, and the crowd has thinned slightly. We sat back down at my booth, and she brought me a glass of water, and another PBR for her. As we watched the performer on stage, she whispered in my ear “Next time, you should sing Alanis. I think you have a little spunk in you.”
Without missing a beat, I turned and whispered back “Next time, you should let me pin you up against the wall and fuck you till you can’t stand anymore.” Startled, she looked at me, eyes roaming over my body before meeting my gaze dead on.

“Deal.”

-Essin’ Em

We met in a bar – she was on stage singing her heart out to one of the bands whose songs always make me alternate between wanting to have sex and wanting to curl up in a ball and cry.

God, could she sing. Her voice was like warm honey; raw, sweet and slightly addictive. The more you heard her sing, the more you wanted to hear her sing. I wanted to hear her sing, and I wanted to hear her sing to me, her hazel eyes making contact with mine, her soul pouring into me.

I didn’t know how I felt about karaoke. The problem wasn’t the usual ones; I wasn’t embarrassed, I didn’t have stage fright, no need to picture the audience in their underwear, though I was sure as hell picturing what she was wearing under her jeans and worn t-shirt. No, the problem was that I can’t sing. A theatre person, born and bred, and yet I never learned to read music, never learned what a chord was, and had no idea how to hit notes that I didn’t even know existed. However, I am a ham at heart, and had to figure out a way to make her notice me.

Madonna was the answer. Madonna is always the answer. Honestly, is there a Madonna song that doesn’t make you think about sex? No. I filled out the sheet of paper with the miniature pencil provided in the binder of countless songs, walked through the crowed bar of punk rockers, goths scenesters and rockabilly chicks, and handed it to the woman running the stage. Then I headed back to my booth, never taking my eyes off the gorgeous woman on stage whose voice was tugging at parts of me I didn’t even know I had.

Sipping on my cocktail, I watched her superstitiously from under my lashes as she finished to a healthy smattering of applause, certainly more than anyone else had received. I watched her walk off the stage, PBR in hand. I watched as she was greeted by people on the way back to her table, new fans as impressed with her voice as I was. I watched as she swung back a shot of whiskey, as easy as if it was a sip of water, and then settled in to watch the stage.

I’m not that girl, that girl who can flirt, that girl that can approach random people. I’m just me. I get by on my personality and quirkiness, and when that doesn’t lure them in, then I get by by going home alone and getting myself off. I didn’t want that tonight. I wanted her. I was going to get her, damn it…I just didn’t know how.

The woman on stage called my name. Slinging back the remains of my drink, mostly melted ice by this point, I slowly walked to the stage. I wasn’t sure if the best plan might not just be running for the door and flipping through my phone book looking for a booty call. But it was too late now – eyes were on me as I walked up to the stage. I made eye contact with her as I walked by her table, and she tipped her can towards me. Could she smell my fear? Sense my lust? Or was she just being polite?

Climbing the steps, I grabbed the mic. The intro bars of the song started. I fidgeted on stage, unsure of what to do during the intro. I settled with closing my eyes and slightly swaying to the music until it was my turn to provide the entertainment to this crowd who didn’t really care what I sang or how well, as long as they were somewhere after me in the line up and their drinks were still flowing. The first words appeared on the blue screen.

“Life is a mystery…” I sung into the mic, quietly, hesitating.

Some guy who’d had a few too many shouted “Louder! We didn’t come here to watch a deer in the headlights.” Everyone laughed, but she didn’t. She was looking at me with a speculative look on her face. I took a deep breath, through the diaphragm, as we were always taught, and started singing again, this time, a little louder. I was still a little meek, still a little questioning, until I hit the chorus.

“When you call my name, it’s like little prayer, down on my knees, I want to take you there.” I dropped to my knees at the appropriate part in the song, and once again, made eye contact with the woman whose voice made me burn and freeze inside. She held my gaze throughout the rest of the song. The song wasn’t for the aggressive men or the pretty women watching me through their beer goggles. I’d chosen it for her – I had wanted her to notice me, and here she was, her gaze burrowing into me as I sang to the best of my non-ability. Oddly enough, my voice never wavered, although I’m sure I didn’t sound any good. I made it through the song, and though I was sober after only one drink, I stumbled down the stairs. As I headed back to my booth, the spell from the stage had been broken, my eyes following my shoes on the floor.

When I passed her table, avoiding her eyes, a hand reached out to stop me, and pulled me into her, close enough to feel her warmth against me. Bringing her face ever closer to mine, so that our cheeks touched, so that a spark of electricity ran through my body, she whispered in my ear “How can I call your name if I don’t know it?”

I froze. Truly a deer in the headlights. What was I supposed to say to something like that? I opened my mouth, trying to come up with a smart retort, but when I tried to speak, all that came out was my name. “Ella.”

“Good to know.” She reached up to run her hand along my cheek and down my neck, lighting my body ablaze. Her speaking voice was just as entrancing as when she was on stage singing, and I wanted her even more. Slowly, her hand continued down my body, briefly brushing the top of my breasts peaking over my shirt, creeping along as I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply until her hand reached mine, fingers entwining with mine. She stood up, and pulled me towards the back of the bar, into the dark, and I followed her there, no hesitation in me now.

As purposely as she guided me there, she pushed open the door to the women’s bathroom, pulling me in. Once there, she nudged open the door of the handicapped stall, and without even bothering to lock it, pressed my body against the wall. My lips found hers around the same time her hand wrapped itself in my hair at the base of my scalp, gripping but not quite pulling. I took in a deep breath. Few things turn me on as much as having someone’s hand in my hair, pulling, guiding me.

Part two is coming tomorrow…and so am I ;)

Essin’ Em

So we’re at this fancy schmancy resort (don’t ask me why I have tens of thousands of dollars in student loans, and we’re staying here…)…and our “suite” is huge. About 3 or 4 times the size of my apartment, the kitchen is way nicer, and it has a washer/dryer AND a dishwasher, two things I don’t have. Balcony, fancy furniture, snazzy fixtures, you know the drill.

But the best part? The bathroom attached the room my sister and I are sharing. Oh Em Gee.

Firstly, it’s huge. Not as big as the bathroom off my mother’s room, but still huge. And the floor and walls are all blocks of granite. It’s just beautiful. There is a toilet (of course), and then a counter with a sink (black granite with hints of pyrite or micah sparkles), and then the shower area. I say area, because it is more than just a shower. We’re in the handicapped room, and so there is no bath, but a HUGE double shower.

It’s a whole section of the bathroom (maybe 3′ x 8′?) that is sectioned off by glass (including a glass door) that goes down to the granite floor. There are rails on 2 of the 3 walls, and a small seat. One shower head is movable up and down the wall, or is removable, and has the adjusting spray. The other is a few feet away, and comes straight out of the ceiling.

Ok, so it just sounds pretty, right?

Well, I am horny as fuck, and I can’t masturbate because my sister and mother are always around, and I’m still bloody wired from last Saturday, so basically, everything turns to sex for me. The sink counter is the perfect height for someone to bend me over it, and fuck me from behind, and I could watch both of us in the mirror.

It gets better. I’ve spent hours considering what I could do in the shower.

First of all, someone could bend me over, make me grab onto a bar, and fuck me that way. Or I could rest my head on the bar as I got fucked. We could do some sort of interesting sitting thing on the bench part, or I could suck some cock. One shower head can be taken off and turned onto high pressure…anyone been to WaterBondage.com?? Yeah, the shower head in my bathroom growing up was my best friend. Talk about forcing some orgasms.

And then there is the granite material. It feels lovely on my nipples in general, but when I pushed my body up against its cold surface in the midst of all these steam? I think I almost came right there. I can just imagine my body pressed against it, someone’s body up behind me, having their way with me.

Fun fact: when my nipples are hard, which they are almost constantly right now, I can actually right things with them on the fogged up glass. Yeah, I know, I need to get over this, but seriously, this is the best bathroom for sex EVER.

And I’m sharing it with my sister. *awkward turtle*

So basically, when I have my dream house, I need to build a bathroom with a similar set up. Except maybe two removable heads, a bench built into the wall, and hooks coming out of the wall for bondage purposes. It’s only going to cost me two arms and a breast.

I’ve been ramping down off the EVIL topomax (hello constant tiredness, kidney stones, kidney infection and NO SEX DRIVE FOR MONTHS), and ramping onto Neurontin.

And my sex drive is starting to come back!

I was sitting in my car in traffic today, driving to my field instruction (internship/practicum dealio for school – I work at Planned Parenthood Association of Bucks County’s Rainbow Room – a youth group for GLBTQA kids ages 14-21), when I got horny. Super horny. Incredibly, oh my god, why am I stuck in traffic horny.

Luckily, traffic is perfect for fantasies when one is incredibly aroused, and I have about an hour and 45 minutes between work and my field work.

I sat there in my car, in traffic, thinking about meeting someone, having them take me home.

We’d do the usual beginnings, some hot making out, nibbling of each others ears and necks, more kissing, hands wrapped in my hair. Eventually, we’d make our way to the bedroom, she’d pin me against the wall on the way, stopping every few steps. Finally, we’d get there, and by the time we finally moke it to the bed, we would have left a trail of my clothing; my black skirt in a pool in the living room, my little red blouse crumpled by the bathroom, my bra would be non-chalantly hanging on the doorknob, and now she would slide my underwear down my thighs to fall to the floor. She allowed me to unbutton her jeans, and I’d slide them over her hips to reveal a pair of navy blue boxers. She’d keep on kissing me, and I would slowly undo each of the buttons on her light blue button down, shrugging it over her shoulders, careful to leave her tie on, the navy stripes standing out against the white of her a-line tank.

She’d push me against the bed until my knees buckled and I’d sit, lying back, and in a second, she would be on top of me, her lips crushing mine, hips grinding against me. I would be able to feel she that she had come pre-packed, and that would just turn me on even more.

Kissing down my neck and collarbone, she would eventually take a nipple in her lips, and then in her teeth, making me writhe against her. After several minutes on my breasts and nipples, just the way I like, she’d work her way down, taunting and teasing me, and finally put one finger, just one, into my dripping cunt. Then she’d lower her head to my clit and start to suck it until I started to buck into her mouth, and until I’d to BEG her to put another finger into me. She’d make me beg for a bit, and then finally, she’d put in the second finger, curve them until they hit my g-spot, and fuck me while she kept her mouth on me until I came and came so hard.

Then, we’d kiss again, and she’d tie my wrists to the headboard. Then, she’d bend my knees, and tie my legs open, and tell me she was about to have a little fun, that she was going to eat me out, and fuck me, and vibrate me, and do whatever she could to see how many times she could get me to come in one night.

She’d proceed to use a vibrator to make me come over and over until I screamed, she’d go down on me again, she’d fuck me with her fingers, and then a dildo while using a vibrator at the same time, and then finally, when I would think that I couldn’t take anymore, she’d fuck me with her cock, and I’d be so turned on, that I’d actually come from intercourse (maybe with a little help from fingers or a vibe or…?).

***No, I’m not a pillow princess…this is just what fantasies are all about***

Here’s an erotic story I wrote for the hell of it…a fantasy I’ve had. I may be submitting it for publication. Let me know what you think :).
-Essin’ Em

We had been dancing the Butch/Femme tango all weekend, her and I, at this hotel, each of us taking our steps, gently, but ever so aggressively and precisely. We were both on our own vacations from the real world, each of us falling into the roles, I the feisty Femme, she the chivalrous Butch, both of us wanting, cautiously proceeding.

I flirtatiously sipped my daiquiri (that she had so thoughtfully bought me) by the pool as she swam laps, those trunks and that tanks showing off her toned body. As I carelessly dropped my room key, number side up, she was such a gentleman, picking up for me, handing it back to me, assuring me that she might just see me later.

And now, she made good on her word. Here I was, I was pinned to the wall of my hotel room, arms by my side, her hand in my hair, lips pressing against mine. I had wanted this all weekend, and I felt satisfied that it was with the careful application of my Femme wiles that I now had this Adonis like specimen of Butch sexuality in my room, and that I was about to be properly fucked. I was quite satisfied. Could it get any better than this?

Her hand twisted slightly, grasping the back of my head, completely entwined in my curly hair. God, I loved it when they did that, and I always wore it down if only to encourage such behavior.

“I assume you have a dam lying around somewhere? I only practice safer sex.” Her husky voice startled me out of my stupor.

Was this really happening to me? A hot Butch top that actually wanted to be safe as she fucked me senseless in this 4 star hotel room. There had to be some sort of deity watching over me, and I made a mental note to thank them later. I untangled myself from the delightful mess of callused fingers and strong arms in which I had found myself wrapped and made my way across the room to root through my luggage in reach of one of those off-strawberry flavored dams that so many dykes seemed to find the bane of their existence. With my penchant for casual sex and my love for staying healthy, I loved them, and had no qualms with them…I just wish they tasted a bit better. Oh well, I thought as I picked up the dam and hurried back. Better safe than sorry.

“Put it on the bed; I’m not ready for it yet.” The dominating tone of her voice stopped me in my tracks, and I tossed it on the perfectly made king sized bed before returning to her. She had me all kind of hot and bothered, and I still had on all items of clothing.

It was as though she read my mind; I was pressed back against the wall, her hands seemingly all over my body at the same time, covering every available inch of skin, and making some new places available to her exploring digits. Untying the top of my halter top, she freed my breasts and grasped one in each of her hands, still holding me against the wall. My head rolled back as pleasure began to wash over me. There is just something about having someone take over and top you. Giving up control can be so incredibly hot, especially when you know they still respect you as person, as a woman.

Thoughts all flew out of my head as she pinched both of my nipple, HARD. She pressed up against me, and that’s when I realized she was packing. God, that was hot. It made me realize that she had planned on this, and wanted this just as much as I had. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on whatever was behind that zipper, and better yet, get it inside of me. I was beginning to ache; my clit was literally starting to throb.

Grasping my arms, she pulled my away from the wall, and guided me towards the bed. When my knees hit the edge, they buckled, and I sat on it. She leaned forward and pushed me back until I was lying flat, continuing to kiss me. Her left knee spread mine, and at this point, all I wanted her to do was for her to do was to fuck me silly. Evidently, she had other plans in mind.

With an expert flick on her fingers, the button on my shorts was undone, and she made quick work of them. My carefully planned black lace boyshorts joined them shortly in a pile by the side of the bed. I wondered if she even noticed them…I spent so much time putting my outfit and underwear together, and here I was, lying naked as a jaybird on the muted bedspread.

There was no time to dwell on these thoughts, because her fingers began to work their magic, lightly stroking the inside of my thighs, running up and down my outer lips. As soon as she touched my clit, my hips jumped off the bed and into her waiting hands. She played me like a musical instrument, carefully manipulating me close to the edge over and over again, and then backing off, bringing me almost to an orgasm at least ten times without letting me come even once.

Then she stopped. My moaning stopped, and I wear, I must have groaned out loud. I heard plastic tearing, and looked up to see her placing the dental dam on my cunt. I watched her lower her head, and as her tongue start to lick me, I began to pant. Terrified that she was going to just continue to tease me, I was on the edge, and ready to come. About a minute more of oral ministrations, and I was bucking up into her mouth, moaning and grunting as a came, and came hard. My newly found Butch knew what she was doing, and she did it quite well.

I fell back on the bed, breathing hard, taking a second to catch my breath, and then reached up, pulling her on top of me to kiss her. It has been ages since I had come that hard, and I wanted to thank her for such a lovely orgasm.

Sliding slightly awkwardly off the bed, I sidled over to my bag, grabbing a couple of important things for the rest of the festivities that I hoped would be taking place. Returning to the bed in the middle of the room, I slowly dropped to my knees, and unzipped the fly of her jeans. Reaching in, I found a pair of a boxers, and also that “my” Butch had strapped on with a lovely purple cock. I hate realistic looking dildos, so it was a lovely surprise to find something so appealing.

I pulled it out, and grabbed one of my recently collected items; a flavored condoms. One of my favorite things to do for my Butch sex partners was to give blow jobs, and this was no exception. I opened the condom, and placed it in my mouth, rolling it down the length of the cock, until I hit denim. Blow jobs while the recipient is still clothed turn me on so much, so I sucked that cock, and reached between my legs to finger myself while doing so. I felt her hands in my hair, not forcing me down on her cock, but entwining her fingers in my curls. Honestly, it doesn’t get much hotter then this. Here I was, completely naked, sucking on the cock of a well built, fully clothed Butch in the middle of a hotel room.

After a few minutes of one of the better blow jobs I’ve ever given, she pulled me to my feet. Before I could object, she had me bent over the bed; not objections here. I reached for another of my formerly collected items; a bottle of lube and handed it back to her. I heard a click, and then felt her fingers rubbing cold lube in and on my cunt, and then without warning, her cock was inside me. Tossing the bottle on the bed, she grabbed my hips and pulled be back even farther onto her cock, and she began to fuck me slowly.

Once both of us started to get into the rhythm more, she started to speed up. I love begin fucked from behind, and I could feel her jeans against my butt as she thrust into me. She reached around and grabbed my breasts, pinching and twisting my nipples, which brought me close to the edge. The head of her cock was rubbing up against my g-spot, and with all the stimulation together, I came again, a completely different orgasm than the clitoral one before.

She slowed down to let me recover, and then flipped me over, placing my feet over her shouldered, and fucking on the edge of the bed, her thumb making circles on my clit. I almost thought that I couldn’t take it any more, that I couldn’t handle more stimulation, but before I knew it, I was coming again as she fucked me into oblivion.

As she pulled out, I lay there, spent. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been fucked like that. I don’t think I had ever been fucked like that. It was something about the build up of tension and attraction for the last few days, combined with the Butch/Femme dynamic, coupled with the topping; all together, I had three amazing orgasms, and had truly been properly fucked.

We both lay there in the bed for a bit, unsure of what to do now. Both of us had flights the next morning, and we lived on opposite sides of the country. This was just a fantasy, a long weekend fling as some fancy hotel. We had no future plans. But we did have a few more hours, a couple more condoms and dams, and a pair of wrist restraints. The night was young!

Another fantasy of mine is up at EdenFantasys.Com…in fact, it’s the first trans-oriented fantasy they’ve ever had published (or submitted for that matter…I think).

Check out Trans-Action for a hot (albeit short) story about a feisty femme (with a short skirt and stockings) who is taken by her transman boyfriend in the stairwell of her apartment building. It involves a harness, a pack-to-fuck cock, and of course, a condom, because we all know how much I love safer sex.

Hmmm…a stairwell. That’s something J and I haven’t tried yet. Although as one of my co-workers pointed out, you probably shouldn’t be fucking in high heels on stairs, because it won’t be doing anything very nice to your calves, tendons or IT bands. But mmmmm…being fucked in the stairwell, or having someone go down on me, waiting cautiously for no one to be there, always alert for the doors to open to pull the skirt down and zip the zipper up.

Hot. That’s all I have to say. I write these fantasies, and then I want to act them out (hear that baby? S-T-A-I-R-W-E-L-L + oral = happy me, ok?) So check it out, Trans-Action, the first short trans based fantasy on Eden :)

-Essin’ Em

So EdenFantasys wanted me to write a gay fantasy story for their products…I’ve never written gay male fantasies, so this is my first attempt…

That’s A Good Boy fantasy at EdenFantasys.com

Check it out, read it, let me know what you think…

And if you know where some hot gay erotica is, for god’s sake, SHARE! I need all the future inspiration I can get :)

-Essin’ Em

So EdenFantasys wanted me to write a gay fantasy story for their products…I’ve never written gay male fantasies, so this is my first attempt…

That’s A Good Boy fantasy at EdenFantasys.com

Check it out, read it, let me know what you think…

And if you know where some hot gay erotica is, for god’s sake, SHARE! I need all the future inspiration I can get :)

-Essin’ Em

Another fantasy of mine is up. Yes, they’re written to sell products (that’s what you do when you freelance)…but it’s still a good fantasy damn it, one that I might take you up on if you asked nicely enough (and wanted to buy a remote controlled vibrator for me).

What is it you ask?

Well, you should check it out at EdenFantasys by clicking here

At the very least, read it, enjoy it, and let me know what you think.

At the very most, I’ll be expecting a remote controlled vibrator in the mail with instructions ;)

Essin’ Em