Desire's Journey

1 note

3 years!

We’ve been doing this blog for three years… time flies when you’re getting fucked hard!! 

Thanks to all of you who follow!  

Happy Anniversary to us! 

~ p

1,968 notes

crimson-uncovered:

Watch me edge.
You’d have the front row seat to my suffering, because suffering is exactly what it would be. You’d sit back in your chair, perfectly relaxed and comfortable, while I’m ordered to spread my legs and display myself to you in the most exposing of ways. I’d show you a hole that’s only in the early stages of its throbbing, but that wouldn’t be the case when you’re through with me. No, by the time you’re through with me, you will never have encountered a wetter, needier, more desperate pussy. You will never have seen a woman so shamelessly hungry for your cock.
"Rub," you’d command, and the show would begin. I’d rub myself slowly at first, but my pace would increase with the pleasure. You’d watch as my head fell back and my mouth dropped open, releasing moan after breathy moan. You’d watch my other hand reach up and pull at my taut nipple, longing for some kind of pain. As I got closer to the edge, you’d watch my toes curl and my fingers work more urgently as my breathing becomes erratic and my muscles strain with tension. But as soon as the first “please” drops from my lips, you’d order me to stop.
That’s how you’d torture me. Again and again, you’d make me rub myself until I’m at the brink of an orgasm. Again and again, you’d make me stop at the last second. You’d watch your tight little pussy get shinier with need, watch my fingers tremble every time I have to begin again, every time I have to touch that sensitive, aching, tense little nub. I’d start getting closer faster, start begging louder and more desperately. Anyone eavesdropping would think I’m begging for my life with the way I’d cry out in frustration each time you’d deny me. Sometimes you’d order me to finger-fuck myself, to insert one finger, then two, then three. Sometimes you’d order me to get on my hands and knees, to bring myself close with my thighs quivering and my ass presented to you. The position wouldn’t matter to me. At that point, I’d do anything for an orgasm. Perhaps I’d even be desperate enough to say so, needy little whore that I am. You’d keep that in mind for later. Finally, you’d relent, but only once you’re out of your chair and on top of me. Only once you’re entering me with one swift, hard thrust and feeling your pussy clench with need will you say the magic words: “Cum for me.” 
Some variation of those words would always come before an intense release.
Otherwise, there would be no release at all.

crimson-uncovered:

Watch me edge.

You’d have the front row seat to my suffering, because suffering is exactly what it would be. You’d sit back in your chair, perfectly relaxed and comfortable, while I’m ordered to spread my legs and display myself to you in the most exposing of ways. I’d show you a hole that’s only in the early stages of its throbbing, but that wouldn’t be the case when you’re through with me. No, by the time you’re through with me, you will never have encountered a wetter, needier, more desperate pussy. You will never have seen a woman so shamelessly hungry for your cock.

"Rub," you’d command, and the show would begin. I’d rub myself slowly at first, but my pace would increase with the pleasure. You’d watch as my head fell back and my mouth dropped open, releasing moan after breathy moan. You’d watch my other hand reach up and pull at my taut nipple, longing for some kind of pain. As I got closer to the edge, you’d watch my toes curl and my fingers work more urgently as my breathing becomes erratic and my muscles strain with tension. But as soon as the first “please” drops from my lips, you’d order me to stop.

That’s how you’d torture me. Again and again, you’d make me rub myself until I’m at the brink of an orgasm. Again and again, you’d make me stop at the last second. You’d watch your tight little pussy get shinier with need, watch my fingers tremble every time I have to begin again, every time I have to touch that sensitive, aching, tense little nub. I’d start getting closer faster, start begging louder and more desperately. Anyone eavesdropping would think I’m begging for my life with the way I’d cry out in frustration each time you’d deny me. Sometimes you’d order me to finger-fuck myself, to insert one finger, then two, then three. Sometimes you’d order me to get on my hands and knees, to bring myself close with my thighs quivering and my ass presented to you. The position wouldn’t matter to me. At that point, I’d do anything for an orgasm. Perhaps I’d even be desperate enough to say so, needy little whore that I am. You’d keep that in mind for later. Finally, you’d relent, but only once you’re out of your chair and on top of me. Only once you’re entering me with one swift, hard thrust and feeling your pussy clench with need will you say the magic words: “Cum for me.” 

Some variation of those words would always come before an intense release.

Otherwise, there would be no release at all.

(via madammellington)