Without Apology

Kiss my flesh

Drive in deep

Surrender the body

Give up the meat

Devour
Greedily
Grind
Savagely

Fill me

Take me
Fuck me
Fuck me

Without mercy

Without apology

HNT: Forty-seven

The platinum summer rays tenderly envelope the curves stilled by slumber, the crisp cotton leaving its own unique and intimate trace. Yet in her dreaming, it is her lover’s light which swathes her fairness, it is his maddening touch, his butterfly kiss, his blissful heat, which possesses her, which sets her free.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Impossibility

The words will not come. The body will not follow. There is only numbness in their place. There is only the contrary longing to exorcise this desire while clinging to it for dear, electrifying life. There is only the bittersweet craving for a man whose intensity and magnetism, whose complex eroticism excites, revives, terrifies. There is only the dull, aching recognition of an impossible possibility.

HNT: Forty-six

She walks into his touch, his kiss 

Needing the scalding burn, the heat 

Uncaring of the scars 

The marks upon her skin 

Longing only to feel the spin 

The delirious desiring force 

Longing only to feel the union

Reducing flesh to earth, to ash, to dust 

Longing only to feel the strength 

The man against her woman 

Longing only to feel, to feel, to feel

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Nightmare

I woke startled and frightened, with the room enveloped in darkness. I woke alone and afraid, my skin glowing with a chilling sheen. I woke with the vivid imagery of my dreaming flashing before me, playing in my head, its afterimages seared on my eyes.
I woke with the phantoms, their menacing scowls and glistening blades stepping out of the shadows, their cruelty, coercion and horror following me through the night. I woke calling out his name, calling out your name, calling to you, my body calling out for you.

As I lay in bed, eyes on the white ceiling, ears listening to my shallow, recovering breath, hands registering the heartbeat thudding through my chest, I longed to be held and soothed by you, longed for the safety of your strong arms, the sweetness of your tender kiss, I longed for you to hush the gentle cries and drink away my salty tears.

e[lust] #22

 Photo courtesy of Lady Grinning Soul

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #23? Start with the rules, check out the schedule and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Erotic asphyxiation: treatments of kink in therapy and the media - Kink and BDSM practitioners often come to an enhanced understanding of their own desires through the emphasis on personal boundaries and communicative consent which arises from a responsible approach to power and pain play.

Mirror, mirror - I found myself back there again, perched on the edge of the white expanse, spreading myself shamelessly in front of the glass

Worry - I’ve been thinking about rape culture more than ever before. On the outside, much of K’s and my play looks like sexual abuse. It’s not, because consent is always central.


~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

gender and misogyny: responsibility and erotic writing - I spent a good portion of my adult life being gender fluid myself ..., and have partnered with several gender fluid folks as a top. Creating representation of us and our eroticism feels so vital to me, so important.


~ e[lust] Editress ~

Help End the Backlog - Speaking out works. Taking action works. Silence doesn’t. Politicians on every level need to hear your voice saying “this is unacceptable”. 76%. 3/4. That’s how many rapists get away with it on a national level.


See also: Pleasurists #111 and #112 for all your sex toy review needs


All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Erotic Writing

A Tryst By The Car

 Compliant

 Fantasy: Brand New Day

 First-Time Sex: How I Lost My Virginity

 Happy New Year

 Hysteria

 Indiscretions Vol. 1: Caught And Wild Chlid

 Like Mother, Like Daughter (part two)

 Loving her, Mounting her, Owning her

 Merry Christmas Baby

 O/One

 Should Have

 The Starlet

 Undiscovered

 Wax Off

 Whenever I'm Alone With You

 Yeeees. Date Night


Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Breaking Up, Polyamory Style

 Computer Sex

 Douchebagopolis - When Communication Fails At A Swinger Party

 Epiphora's best and worst sex toys of 2010

 Good Head

 Hormones & Biological Clock Ticking

 Lockets, Sins and Ink

 Off My Chest

 Swing Shift Volume 39- One and Only

 Semi-Rant Part Two


Kink & Fetish

Barely Cooking Christmas Party

Camp Smack That Ass!

 Fucked in bondage

 Fucking bitch

 How He Does It

 Master's Good Medicine

 Paddled and Fucked

 Parodies and Pizza Boys

 Photographer

 School Girl Night

 shes and me...

 You Know It Was Good When...

HNT: Forty-five

Believe me
Trust me
When I whisper
When I press this gossamer softness to you
When I reach out for the flesh, the man before me
I am here
To soothe, to sate, to offer
I am here
Your seclusion, refuge, haven

 

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

There's No Denying

There's no denying his aroused flesh.

There's no denying the shaft, thick and hard and leaking, straining against the pinstripe suiting, the strong fist taking hold, stroking the pulsing meat, the nose flooded with the scent of sex and desire as it rises up through the layers, as it drifts up from between her splayed and lean legs, from the full lips spread wantonly wide open, from the pungent, flowing glisten painting the cunt fair and smooth and eager.

There's no denying his possession, his domination, the commands rumbled into her ear, his longing to feel and trace her burning need, to delicately touch the tip of his tongue to her clitoris, licking with a maddening slowness and softness, demanding of her body the release of more of its liquid lust, lapping and drinking at her font of pure pleasure, his fingers tracing distracted circles on her creamy thighs, his mouth taking her closer, closer, ever closer, to the edge, to the brink before cruelly pulling back.

There’s no denying his loss of control, the moment he becomes her own toy for the taking, his cock throbbing and lurching, threatening to spill prematurely, his large frame suddenly upon her, his glans sliding and gliding, poised at her portal with the low, sultry confession, the unblinking yet whispered admission, it is this very scene she has played in her mind for as long as she can remember, masturbating to the thought since she was a nothing but a girl, her inflamed sex finding regular release through fingers and mouths and cocks, through men strange and familiar, through the sunlit morning and the dark, starry night.

There's no denying the groans and the moans as he plunges in completely, her velvet heat stretching, filling, clinging to dear thudding life, the bodies grinding, writhing, the lips begging and pleading, the screams of base, carnal abandon, the slap of his hips, the sound of his slick rod slamming, pounding, fucking her back into the sweetest dripping submission.

No, no. There's no denying his aroused flesh. There's no denying.

HNT: Forty-four

Gazing out onto the thundering summer storm, her reverie takes her to another time, another place, another age of men where the voracity of her passion, the nuances of her femininity, the intricacies of her heart, mind and body, her very soul, are craved, caressed and loved.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Hit

She vows it will be the last. She vows and promises it will be her final hit as she plugs herself into the slim silver box nestled in her palm, her body resting gently against the window of the crowded bus, the landscape a blur of rose-tinted shopfronts, flickering neon lights and a beeline of traffic winging its way homeward.

With the lightest touch of her delicate finger, the cable of pure white cocoons her in the voice deep and accented, transporting her to his room where he is lying in bed naked, his cock oiled and very hard, his hand stroking the flesh that has been aroused by her body, by the woman, by the desiring eyes captured for him and him alone, by the need to feel her warm skin, his fingers gliding and moving, registering the transition from lace to nylon to her soft and yielding flesh, by the overwhelming urge to fill her, fuck her, to come deep, deep inside her, the walls of her velvet heat absorbing every last drop of his seed.

And even though her face betrays very little, the only movement her eyes, darting and snatching the odd detail as the vehicle picks up speed, her body screams and shouts, riots, the blush blooming on her fair skin, the prickling mist merging with her perfume, the black silk triangle fusing to her cunt with each beat of its slick and needy rhythm, the full mouth involuntarily parting, the pink lips even now aching to swallow the ragged breath, the groan, the very essence of the man half a world away.

A New Year

May 2011 shine its light

Healing, loving

Prosperous and bright

To all my readers, consuming in the light, devouring in the dark,

I wish you a very Happy (and cheeky) New Year.

Minx x