Wicked Wednesday 298 – Time Traveler – (One Night Stand)

The mists of time parted themselves hazily before her sleep fogged brain. She snuggled against the blankets and smiled to herself, dozing in the early morning sun as she let herself drift back to another place, another time.

She’d just turned twenty then and figured she knew it all, considered herself experienced in the ways of the world, and thought she had nothing else to learn. Little did she know just how wrong she was. It was a wild night at a rave with lots of dancing and booze and, for some, other illegal substances. But the only reason she was there was for the music. It took her away, transported her to another place. And in that place she found something she never knew she didn’t know.

Her name was Meg and she was several years older and wiser in so many ways. She spotted the pretty girl, dancing with herself and smiled. The tall, leggy blonde was perfect. Meg danced her way over and gave a friendly, impish smile and introduced herself. “Nice to meet you! I’m Tabi!, she shouted over the music as she never stopped moving in rhythm. They danced together, unintentionally finding a sexy beat that drew quite the crowd. Eventually, having exhausted themselves they sought out water and a place to chat. Several people followed and tried to join in the conversation but Meg made it impossible for anyone to get a word in edgewise with her pixie like chatter. Slowly, as everyone else drifted away the pair was able to talk.

Tabi quickly found herself in awe of the slightly older woman (Meg was in her early thirties) who seemed to have seen and done so much that Tabi herself wanted to experience. She was also experiencing another first, an attraction to another woman. Meg was so vibrant and alive that Tabi found it difficult not to want to know more of her. And Tabi was in luck as Meg was very, very interested in her. After what felt like an eternity of them just talking, Meg suggested to Tabi that they escape the loudness of the warehouse and find some place quieter. Tabi didn’t know at all yet what Meg had really wanted, but she knew what he wanted, and suggested her apartment as it was close by. The older woman agreed and off the pair went together.

By the time they arrived at Tabi’s apartment the women both felt like they had known one another for longer than just an evening. And once the door closed Meg took her chance, pressing Tabi back against the door and kissing her gently, but firmly. The younger woman gasped and Meg pulled away carefully. Tabi pulled her back wanting this experience.

The sunlight was growing brighter and more insistent, but Tabitha deliberately rolled away from it still buried in her blankets as she remembered the one night she’d shared with Meg. It had been tender, gentle, and slow. She remembered the careful touches and gentle kisses and began to touch her own body, tracing her fingertips along delicate skin. Nipples were pinched to a rosy firmness as she let her memory take her back to the feeling of Meg’s mouth against her skin, biting gently, scraping her teeth across the sensitive nubs. A soft moan echoed the one that had escaped her mouth that night and she wriggled her hips deliciously remembering what had come as Meg explored her way along Tabi’s nubile body. It seemed to take forever, but finally, in her mind, Meg’s tongue touched just the very tip of Tabi’s clit, as her fingers reached the same point.

The thought alone was enough to make her orgasm and Tabitha’s body shook and she twisted, tangling her body into the sheets. She couldn’t wait and let her mind go racing along the night, snapshots of moments filling her head as her fingers filled her pussy. Meg looking up at her after bringing her to multiple orgasms with just her mouth. Being filled with fingers so soft and gentle as opposed to the rougher touch of the men she’d known. Tabitha groaned and felt herself clench hard against her own fingers, letting this orgasm roll through her as she fingered herself to the thought of pretty dark haired Meg.

Later that night Meg had taught her the joy and pleasure of going down on another woman and she remembered how sticky sweet she was, her face covered in the remnants of Meg’s orgasms. It had been wonderful and unforgettable and after several hours of insatiably greedy sex the women were finally satisfied and fell into one another’s arms, sharing kisses and touches. Tabi wanted more and Meg was content to let herself be a plaything for the younger woman as she explored her body more thoroughly. And Tabi had enjoyed every touch, every lick, every kiss just as much as Meg had. Finally, then as today, the sun became insistent and bright waking Tabi from a deep slumber, only to find Meg missing from her bed. A note on the nightstand was the only evidence of Tabi’s night with the pixie like woman.

Tabitha was jolted fully awake as her alarm went off and she slapped at the snooze button with her free hand, the other still teasing her clit gently. She wished Meg had stayed.

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Wicked Wednesday 293 – The ex – (I Might as Well Enjoy It)

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So I’ve written before about my ex husband and some of the hell he put me through. I won’t rehash that again here, but for anyone that really wants to read it here’s the link (CW: abuse, rape) Today, I have another story, one that makes me laugh instead of be angry or sad.

“If you’re going to get shit for it, you might as well enjoy it.” Those were the words spoken to me in a quiet conversation by a good friend and my now partner after my ex-husband had accused me for the umpteenth time of cheating on him with any number of various people. Now, I will state for the record that of all the people he accused me of sleeping with, I never slept with any of them, despite having opportunity. I tried to take my marriage vows seriously, even as my marriage disintegrated. But the idea of enjoying myself just because I got shit for it appealed to me.

So I did. I flirted and teased and hugged my friends, male or female, it didn’t matter to me or to them and many of them were in on the joke. Looking back at it, it was probably the most immature thing I could’ve done, but it was still a lot of fun. It drove my husband crazy, but he never once found evidence, even when he started stalking me at the end of our marriage, that I had cheated on him.

When my current partner and I were still just friends before we ended up in my bed one night with them pulling my hair, we cuddled under a blanket and talked about silly things like sending imaginary cuddly photos to my ex or joked about getting married and inviting him to the wedding. Honestly the wedding joke should’ve been my first clue I was going to end up with this person, that I had wanted from afar for so very long. But that’s a different story.

One night the ex stopped by when it was just me and my partner (before we got together) and while we did nothing but sat beside one another, the ex seemed quite curious and was obviously watching us. This could’ve been a prime opportunity to really yank the man’s chain, but I refrained largely because I was honestly scared of what he might do. A short time later he asked to speak to me alone so we stepped outside for what should’ve only been a few minutes, but was more like a half hour to forty five minutes while he tried to pump me for information and asked why we had broken up and wanted to know if we could still be friends. When I’d had enough of his bullshit I turned to walk away and he followed me, trying to bar my way back into my own apartment. Shortly thereafter I had my locks changed. But, again, I’m getting off track.

I took a lot of shit for a long time and finally I decided that I may as well live it up. I’ve taken those words that were said to me and tried to apply them to my life as it is today. Happily, I no longer have to deal with a man who accused me of cheating among other things and there is a kind of absolute trust in my relationship now that neither of us would cheat on the other or deliberately cause harm. That said, I will reiterate that at the time I did enjoy making my spouse think all kinds of things and it was, in some small part, a bit of revenge for the way he treated me in other ways. I’m not perfect and I might as well enjoy it.

KOTW – Cutting/tearing off clothes (Memento)

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I’d never really given the idea of tearing or cutting clothing off during sex much thought. I’d never had a partner try it and despite reading about it in plenty of erotica it didn’t really catch my eye. Besides, I reasoned, why would I want to ruin a perfectly good pair of cute panties or a good shirt?

And then it happened. The very first time I had sex with a certain partner I got a little wild and while I didn’t tear their clothing completely off, I did rip the shoulder out of the t-shirt that they were wearing. I was in such a head space that I didn’t recall it at the time, but I was told about it later with a laugh. I was also told to just pitch the shirt as it was (obviously) now ruined. Instead I kept the shirt and put it on the next night when I got home from work. I wasn’t sure if that encounter would be our only one and if it was then I was keeping the shirt as a memento of some of the best sex I’ve ever had (maybe even the best.)

It is years later and I still have that shirt, and the partner, if anyone is wondering. I’ve worn it to dye my hair so now it had purple spots on it, it has food stains that never quite came out, it’s old and tattered and I refuse to part with it. I actually almost cried when I got hair dye on to be honest. It is just a little thing, but it means so much to me that I can’t bring myself to part with it. It will forever be a piece of my history that is etched in my brain in flashes and snippets and moments of clarity and that is something that I cherish completely.

Wicked Wednesday 283 – Memory Lane (Traumatic)

WARNING: This post is about sexual assault and rape and may be triggering for some readers. Please take care of you and if you’re worried about this causing a problem feel free to skip this post. Love, Livvy

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When I told my ex-husband I wanted a divorce, he asked me why and I simply told him I was gay. There was far more to the story than that, but that’s for another time. He took this declaration of mine as a personal challenge. His stance included a suicide threat that was nothing more than attention grabbing, but far worse than that was the quickly escalated abuse.

He wouldn’t have penetrative sex with me because I had immediately stopped taking my birth control in order to avoid just such a thing happening, but he wanted something so he grabbed me by the hair and forced me to give him a blow job. I choked and gagged and eventually he grew disgusted with me and threw me back across the bed. I honestly thought he was going to physically harm me at that point. If things had stopped there it might have been OK for me. I might have mentally been able to get over that particular incident (although I’d put up with years of such treatment.) But that wasn’t the end of it.

Several days later he found me nude in our bedroom. He asked me if he could perform oral sex on me and I said no. I found this to be an odd request given how he’d never liked doing so before now. But when I said no he kept pushing and trying manipulate me into giving in. Finally (and to my shame) I did. Why? Because I just wanted it to stop. Later I learned of the term coercive rape and that is what had happened to me there. I didn’t even have the courage or ability left in me to fight back and stand up for myself. I felt so defeated and broken. I felt like it was my fault for a very long time and it has taken years for me to learn and understand otherwise

These are two memories that will stick with me, and haunt me, for the rest of my life. Sometimes I still wake up crying. It took some time before I would let my current partner see me naked and more before I was OK with oral sex again. I try to remember these good times when the bad ones come rushing back. It helps. So does talking about it.

But today I’m writing about it largely to get the term coercive rape out there. For all the people who were pressured, badgered, and manipulated into a sexual act that they didn’t want, you’re not alone. And it isn’t or wasn’t your fault. If you’re suffering or struggling, please seek help. Talk to a counselor, a trusted friend, your pastor…whoever you can open up to (I know that’s hard), but it helps the healing process. I’ve struggled with opening up and I rarely go into detail about this if I do talk about it. I use euphemisms and subtle hints and references, but rarely do I say anything words related to sexuality out loud. I just don’t have it in me to do so.

And I know these are terrible memories to share and I hope that my readers will forgive me, but I needed to talk about this as I do every so often, because even after half a decade I am still trying to process it all, still trying to cope. I don’t know if I’ll ever be better, but I’ll be stronger eventually.

Wicked Wednesday – 266 – Bubbles (A Champagne Night)

He toasted the empty room and took a sip of champagne the bubbles bursting to life in his mouth. He swallowed and smiled a rueful smile, letting the taste taking him back to what…twelve, no thirteen years ago. She had been exquisite, a brunette beauty with blue eyes and a voluptuously curvy body that drove him wild.

They met at an art exhibit and spent the evening talking. He took her home with him after they both had a few too many glasses of champagne. And they sat and talked until the sun came up. They found breakfast at a little greasy spoon down the street and went back to his house. Finally, he did what he’d wanted to do since the moment he saw her. His lips found hers and her tongue found his and he led the way to his bedroom.

He undressed her slowly, watching her face in the mirror, seeing her blush and then watching her try to hide herself in the mirror. “Why are you hiding from me, Gorgeous? I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you at the gallery last night.” She shivered and uncovered herself and looked at his face where she could see desire etched there. It freed her, gave her confidence she didn’t know she had and ever so boldly, she kissed him her arms twining about his neck. Before long they were both nude and he never got an answer to his question but he did not care. Exploring the hills and valleys of her body with his hands and then his mouth left him breathless and needy.

She wriggled at his touch and let herself get lost in it. She’d never known someone could want her like he did, would touch her and taste her like he did. His lips found hers once more and his busy hands roamed her body, stopping to tug at her nipples until she moaned for him. He lowered his lips to suck and nibble at her, alternating between each nipple, leaving her gasping and breathless at the same time. Her hips lifted of the own according and she could feel him, how hard he was and she marveled that it was for her. No man had ever wanted her the way he seemed to. It inflamed her and she could feel her wetness gathering. She wanted him to taste her and fuck her and to be his.

Burning kisses trailed down her body and she sighed at them, her hands reaching out to touch him even as he pulled away from her to kiss her inner thighs. He looked up at her and she nodded an assent, spreading her legs further for him. And he feasted upon her, lapping at her wet pussy, sucking her clit, his hands in a death grip on her ample thighs. She bucked her hips up and he pressed his face into her harder, licking her and sliding his tongue in and out of her pussy as she rode his face to an orgasm; her first in many years. He slid back up her body and they shared a kiss, sharing the taste of her juices and she fairly purred at the taste of herself. She wanted nothing more than to return the favor and suck his cock, but he looked down at her, that desire increased and whispered, “I can’t wait anymore. I need you.” “Then take me.”

He pulled her up and they flipped positions so he could fuck her from behind, his hands on her hips or fisted into her dark hair and just holding onto her. She wiggled her delightful ass at him and he smacked it, leaving a hand print. She giggled and reached beneath her, guiding his cock to her. She took all of him in and squirmed against his body before he began to fuck her in earnest. She’d have bruises the next day from where he had grabbed her roughly or bit a little too hard, but she didn’t care. Just for today she was going to let herself be loved this way. They fucked hard and fast, no time for either of them to wait as, without warning, they came together hard and fast. Their coupling had been intense, the most intense for either one of them and they curled up together in bed, sweaty and messy, with the smell of sex hanging in the air. They both dozed in the late morning sunlight and finally she woke she find him deeply asleep. Slipping from his arms, she dressed and vanished into the sunlight shining through the front door. Hours later he woke and she was gone, no note, nothing. He spent weeks trying to find her, hoping to run across her again at every art exhibit he went to, but it seemed she was just gone. And he took another sip of champagne, letting the bubbles keep the reminder of his buxom beauty alive.

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If you missed last week’s Wicked Wednesday post, you can find it here.

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Wicked Wednesday – 252 – Recollection (Memories from a Broken Mind)

((Trigger warning – Sexual Abuse, Rape)) If this may be a problem for you please feel free to skip this post.

I was 19 and he was almost 22. We had been married for just over a year. The first time it happened I was asleep and I awoke to him fucking me while I slept. I didn’t know what to do or how to respond so I pretended to be asleep and let him finish. I cried myself back to sleep long after he had passed back out. That happened several more times until I finally told him to stop one night and forced him off of me. He didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t fuck me, his wife, any time he wanted even if I was sleeping.

Later on it progressed to forced blowjobs when I was on my period. He’d beg and manipulate me until I finally would give in just to get it over it with. I later learned that this was called coercive rape. There were many more instances of that, countless ones over the years. It taught me that I had no worth, no value as anything other than a human sex toy. And I accepted that for many years. Nine to be exact.

He fucked me when we were both drunk once. I didn’t want to. But his fingers, surer than mine, had my jeans undone and my panties down before I could protest. I wasn’t even ready and it hurt. I buried my face in a pillow and cried to myself, thanking the Gods that I had always been on the pill and that I took it like clockwork everyday. He never even noticed my tear stained cheeks or the lack of an orgasm on my part. He just took and took without caring or giving anything in return.

I told him that I wanted a divorce because I was queer and even in such a stressful time he was still able to manipulate me. He held me down and performed oral sex on me just because he wanted to know if he could still make me come. So I closed my eyes and fantasized about it being someone else, anyone else but him. Because I knew he wouldn’t stop otherwise. He was so triumphant when I had that orgasm. Later he wanted a blowjob and I was quite literally gagging at the thought because he repulsed me so. He forced himself into my mouth and as far into my throat as he could. I almost threw up on him and he shoved me away in disgust. “Stupid bitch. You’ve done this dozens of times before. Why not now?”

Even after he moved out he kept coming back, hoping to catch me alone I think. He never did. It has been five years now. I still have nightmares. I’m terrified he’ll find out where I live. I don’t even like to see him in public because it fills me with so much rage and loathing both for him and for myself. Slowly, I’m healing. With the help of my partner and my therapist and even this blog I’m getting better. And I’ll never be his (or anyone’s) victim again.

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If you missed it last week’s Wicked Wednesday can be found here.

Wicked Wednesday 241 Anticipation – Flogged

I tense, for just a moment, and then relax my entire body, waiting…waiting for that first blow to connect with my flesh. Before I can tense up again I hear the distinct sound of a flogger moving through the air and gasp as it makes impact. My ass stings in a pleasant way and it starts all over again.

This time I am not tense, but only waiting for that next hit. The silence roars through my ears until that whoosh of air fills my head once more. SMACK! I am left wanting more, still waiting, at his mercy. I make no noise, no plea, only lie patiently to take my spanking like a good girl. It intensifies the silence. I can hear the flogger moving in his hands, feel him drag the tips of it along my skin. My body aches with the need for another blow. And it comes again with no warning. A sudden crack of sound and the heat burning against my skin. I only want more…

And it comes. In a sudden flurry of steady blows the hits fall like rain one after the other, giving me no time to react beyond enjoying the sensation. Suddenly there is no in between and those moments of forever are gone. The slow burn increases to a crescendo and my body writhes on the bed. I hear the flogger tossed as side and feel his hands on my ass. And the anticipation begins again.

 

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