I come awake with a start – frozen in place, throat tight, heart pounding a rapid tattoo in my chest – to the roar of frustrated winds blustering against the night. I am cold. Disoriented. The t-shirt I wear is twisted around my torso. My sheets are skewed, my pillows tossed, my legs tangled in a heap of sheets. I observe these details as though through a shroud; it takes me a moment… and then another… to realize, with gasping inhalation, that I have forgotten to breathe. And then I remember. In accelerated pants, I remember. Snippets of dreamscape scenes, of flashbacks, of fears real and imagined come together in reconstructed shattered-glass reality, and I roll, seeking solace in his embrace. . Ssshhhhh… [...]

I am liquid slick, boiled down under the flame of your fingers. Molten, steamy. Slow burn reduction, simmering under your touch. I am raw senses and quivering heat, pinprick pleasure and delicious, dripping ache. On fire for you. I feel the grip of your fingertips on my hips, pulling me back against your swollen cock, thick with need for me, and with desire for you thick in my throat, I oblige the demand of your hands with wiggling hips, backing onto your hard by inches, til finally I am… a l m o s t… There. :: breathe :: And with a deep inhale and a tilt of my coccix, I arch my back briefly before pressing my belly down and my ass [...]

The afternoon sun reaches through the windowpane, light-soaked rays stroking their fingertips over my sleep-warmed skin, caressing me through my quilted cocoon, coaxing me slowly awake. It takes me a while, I think to myself, as I hear his approaching movements against the background sounds of domestic hums; fluffing towels turn in the dryer while floorboards creak under softly padding feet.  He kneels beside me where I lay, melted chocolate eyes level with my groggy gaze, and his welcoming smile pulls me out of my drowsy depths. It takes me a while. The thought repeats as I complete my climb to consciousness, holding his cheek against my palm and tracing my thumb over his sinner’s lips. Sometimes, it takes me a while. To [...]

Limbs twined, my cheek to his chest, I inhale his skin between slowing heartbeats, kittening under his hand stroking my hair and nestling into the strength of his ember-warm embrace. My lashes flutter in a latent echo of endorphin trembles, and, stroking my fingertips over his torso, I ask… What are you afraid of? …even as I think to myself: This. Source: The Suburban Domme

No, not Virginia. Vagina. The state that is its own state flower. Or something. So:  Welcome to Vagina!  I’ll be your tour guide.  And before you ask:  NO, there will be no free rides through the Tunnel of Love today.  Also:  I hope you brought your raincoats. ‘Kaysooo… Every now and then I get befuddling questions about What Women Want and I am sort of at a loss as to how to answer these inquiries, because no two women are the same (say it with me, now:  NO TWO WOMEN ARE THE SAME!), so unless I am the woman in question, I can’t particularly help much in the How To Please A Woman department. What I *can* do, however, is give you a [...]