Ode to the Man in Blue
Dear Diary, my body is constantly aching for sex. Today's fantasy is not extraordinary or far-fetched, I simply want a gorgeous man with a well chiseled body to penetrate me for a long period of time. I want him to attack my body with the ferocity of a tiger and the finesse of a violinist fingering a Stradivarius. I want him to unleash his fury inside of me and hold me down and fuck me good. I want him to demand I take in every inch of his manhood, the more endowed the better, and I must taste the culmination of his efforts all over my tongue, not because he insists but because he mercilessly sprays it all over my face.
Round 2 and he takes me again and turns me over and pins me with his elbows and his breath his hot against my flesh and the rhythmic thrust of his pelvis is interspersed with vulgarities whispered in my ear and intermingled with my own cries of pleasure and pain. My face is pressed against the bed and he is pounding away and I beg him to bite my neck and to my delight he grabs my flesh between his teeth and gently pulls, showing no respect for my body except as an instrument in his own pleasure.
We must back track to the very beginning of the plight I find myself in. The man is wearing a standard issue police uniform and he is the friendly neighborhood officer on his usual beat. One day he spies me outside of my house, mowing the lawn while my "boyfriend" is in the garage tinkering with his car. He knows I am taken but he cannot resist stopping by for a casual chat in the hopes that it will lead to something more. We converse over the course of the summer until the harsh winter limits my activities to the indoors and he is disappointed, almost angry that he can no longer satisfy his desire for me through deceptively innocent means.
Finally, on the brink of insanity, he acquiesces to his urge to have me for his own, to taste me, to hold me, to make love and fuck and pillage my body and sample its promise of earthly delights, to find salvage in my bosom and loins but most of all, he had to have a kiss, one kiss, before he called it a night.
He knocks on the door and after some hesistation, I answer. I am in the middle of cleaning the house and his unexpected arrival catches me off guard. I answer the door in denim shorts and a halter top, my hair in a pony tail and my face with nary a hint of rouge. The only adornment on my body is a necklace which drops precisely above my bosom. The officer's eyes catch the tail end of it and his heavy lids lazily roll up to meet my gaze.
How audaciously rude, I think! I inquire into the nature of his visit and boldy return his insolence with a sweeping glance at my watch. His face turns a subtle shade of crimson and he asks to step inside to discuss some "matters of the utmost importance but of a highly embarrassing nature, things best discussed in the privacy of my domain." Surprised and a bit concerned, I step aside to let the officer in and quietly close the door. He turns around and we are face to face, both of us full of speculation, my heart racing with the same electric intensity as the hunter who has cornered his prey. One step closer and his mouth brushes against mine. He attempts to kiss me but I push him away and make a run for it. But it is too late, he has my hair in his hand and a swift kick puts me to the ground where he is on top of me with my head yanked back.
Do you like that, bitch? Do you?
Please, I beg, what do you want?
Silence and fear permeate the air. After a long pause, he allows me to turn over and resumes his position. My hands are clutched in his and pinned above me. There is a sorrowful look in his eyes and a moment of clarity ensues. He wants to fuck my brains out, I think.
Is that what you want? I ask. To fuck me? Make love to me? Huh? Is it?
You little slut, he snaps. He puts a squeeze on my fingers. You've been teasing me all summer with your clothes and sexy skirts and dresses and shoes and low cut tops. You've been asking for it, and then you disappear, and I can't stand it. I've wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I have to have you, he adds, lowering his voice, I have to taste you and know what it is like to have you beneath me. I've got to know, don't you know that?
This isn't right! I protest. I belong to another!
His eyes turn malevolent and he pulls a knife from his belt and presses it against my throat. Without warning, he deftly slices my top in two and throws his mouth on my nipple. As much as I am repulsed by this brutish manuever my body cannot help but respond. Seeing that I am turned on, he unbuttons his shirt and swings it over his head and across the room. Now in a white tee, I can see the outline of his finely chiseled chest straining against his shirt. I am wet with desire, I am filled to the brim with shame, I am remorseful that I didn't let him fuck me over the summer.
Please, we must stop! I beg and he scoffs at my half hearted protests. Lifting me off the ground, he carries me to the bedroom and strips of his clothes. At a strapping 6'3, his body is a finely honed tool made for fucking. I am sitting on the edge of the bed and my protests have yet to come to a halt.
We must stop, I implore you, only trouble can come out of this! Are you listening?
And then, a slap! I get up to slap him back but he shoves me on my back and buries his face in my neck, sucking hard at the flesh as though he were going to tear it open at any minute. My body goes limp and I surrender to his touch, I am a victim of my own lust and I desire to be debauched and for every ounce for being to be touched by this man and the wicked deeds he would inflict upon me. Each time he was drained, he was able to muster energy for more, and who was I to deny him of his needs? I needed it as much as he and I relented to every act in the book. The day yieled to night and he finally called it quits and left me on the bed, hair tousled, cum drizzled, and sheets saturated with sweat. For the next several weeks it's the same song and dance. He is back to satisfy his hunger and in my own quest to sate my sexual appetite, I cannot deny him any part of me.
Round 2 and he takes me again and turns me over and pins me with his elbows and his breath his hot against my flesh and the rhythmic thrust of his pelvis is interspersed with vulgarities whispered in my ear and intermingled with my own cries of pleasure and pain. My face is pressed against the bed and he is pounding away and I beg him to bite my neck and to my delight he grabs my flesh between his teeth and gently pulls, showing no respect for my body except as an instrument in his own pleasure.
We must back track to the very beginning of the plight I find myself in. The man is wearing a standard issue police uniform and he is the friendly neighborhood officer on his usual beat. One day he spies me outside of my house, mowing the lawn while my "boyfriend" is in the garage tinkering with his car. He knows I am taken but he cannot resist stopping by for a casual chat in the hopes that it will lead to something more. We converse over the course of the summer until the harsh winter limits my activities to the indoors and he is disappointed, almost angry that he can no longer satisfy his desire for me through deceptively innocent means.
Finally, on the brink of insanity, he acquiesces to his urge to have me for his own, to taste me, to hold me, to make love and fuck and pillage my body and sample its promise of earthly delights, to find salvage in my bosom and loins but most of all, he had to have a kiss, one kiss, before he called it a night.
He knocks on the door and after some hesistation, I answer. I am in the middle of cleaning the house and his unexpected arrival catches me off guard. I answer the door in denim shorts and a halter top, my hair in a pony tail and my face with nary a hint of rouge. The only adornment on my body is a necklace which drops precisely above my bosom. The officer's eyes catch the tail end of it and his heavy lids lazily roll up to meet my gaze.
How audaciously rude, I think! I inquire into the nature of his visit and boldy return his insolence with a sweeping glance at my watch. His face turns a subtle shade of crimson and he asks to step inside to discuss some "matters of the utmost importance but of a highly embarrassing nature, things best discussed in the privacy of my domain." Surprised and a bit concerned, I step aside to let the officer in and quietly close the door. He turns around and we are face to face, both of us full of speculation, my heart racing with the same electric intensity as the hunter who has cornered his prey. One step closer and his mouth brushes against mine. He attempts to kiss me but I push him away and make a run for it. But it is too late, he has my hair in his hand and a swift kick puts me to the ground where he is on top of me with my head yanked back.
Do you like that, bitch? Do you?
Please, I beg, what do you want?
Silence and fear permeate the air. After a long pause, he allows me to turn over and resumes his position. My hands are clutched in his and pinned above me. There is a sorrowful look in his eyes and a moment of clarity ensues. He wants to fuck my brains out, I think.
Is that what you want? I ask. To fuck me? Make love to me? Huh? Is it?
You little slut, he snaps. He puts a squeeze on my fingers. You've been teasing me all summer with your clothes and sexy skirts and dresses and shoes and low cut tops. You've been asking for it, and then you disappear, and I can't stand it. I've wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I have to have you, he adds, lowering his voice, I have to taste you and know what it is like to have you beneath me. I've got to know, don't you know that?
This isn't right! I protest. I belong to another!
His eyes turn malevolent and he pulls a knife from his belt and presses it against my throat. Without warning, he deftly slices my top in two and throws his mouth on my nipple. As much as I am repulsed by this brutish manuever my body cannot help but respond. Seeing that I am turned on, he unbuttons his shirt and swings it over his head and across the room. Now in a white tee, I can see the outline of his finely chiseled chest straining against his shirt. I am wet with desire, I am filled to the brim with shame, I am remorseful that I didn't let him fuck me over the summer.
Please, we must stop! I beg and he scoffs at my half hearted protests. Lifting me off the ground, he carries me to the bedroom and strips of his clothes. At a strapping 6'3, his body is a finely honed tool made for fucking. I am sitting on the edge of the bed and my protests have yet to come to a halt.
We must stop, I implore you, only trouble can come out of this! Are you listening?
And then, a slap! I get up to slap him back but he shoves me on my back and buries his face in my neck, sucking hard at the flesh as though he were going to tear it open at any minute. My body goes limp and I surrender to his touch, I am a victim of my own lust and I desire to be debauched and for every ounce for being to be touched by this man and the wicked deeds he would inflict upon me. Each time he was drained, he was able to muster energy for more, and who was I to deny him of his needs? I needed it as much as he and I relented to every act in the book. The day yieled to night and he finally called it quits and left me on the bed, hair tousled, cum drizzled, and sheets saturated with sweat. For the next several weeks it's the same song and dance. He is back to satisfy his hunger and in my own quest to sate my sexual appetite, I cannot deny him any part of me.
posted by ydiml at 9:54 AM
1 Comments:
how lovely an array of stories i've fallen privy to.
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