Erotophoria

She bit me, that bitch!

She snuck up on me like a hunting tigress while I laid across my bed to light a candle and she sunk her teeth into my bare flesh.

I squirmed. I couldn’t help it. The piercing pain felt too good, I could only surrender.

“Oh, don’t stop,” I cried out.

Not right away, of course. The first one took me completely by surprise. By the second my body had decided that it liked the sensation so much it refused to respond in any other way then complete, unconscious arousal.

So I gave in.

I became the sensation of pleasure itself, jagged pulses of passion overwhelmed my thinking until I became nothing more then a reacting beast. At that moment, my every thought, my every mental whim was focused on her, on the tiny bit of flesh of me trapped in her merciless grip. I was vulnerable to the scheming machinations she had for me. This creature, this hunting animal thought of one thing: sex.

I loved every moment of it.

Honestly, how would any of you react to a viscous biter tearing into your flesh?

I teased her mercilessly. I played the perfect little victim to her skillful onslaught of pain. I squirmed involuntarily, but refused to give her the pleasure of hearing me beg her to stop.

Within a few quick pierces I collapsed into a gasping puddle of fluttering sensation, commanded by the power of her will. I refused to move until after she pulled out her penetrating weapons from my muscle hardened flesh. Instead, I pretended to roll over in a desperate attempt to escape. I wanted her to work from behind, to my chest.

“Bite me everywhere,” I pleaded once, and only once.

My stomach, she could not bite. By the time her gleeful smile full of teeth and carnage had traversed down my hard masculine breast I gave her my lips.

Her teeth did not disappoint.

But I wasn’t permitted the pleasure of indulging in an oral ravishing for longer then a one long, grinding moment of surrender.

It wasn’t my choice to enter her, she made that decision for me. And once I was inside her I hadn’t the will to do much of anything but orgasm in screaming pulses. I was so torn apart by the echoing haunt of a stinging pain I erupted the moment I passed her gentle barriers. I continued to be electrified by slow thundering jolts long after.

She had bitten me just hard enough to feel tender for the remainder of the night. And while I basked in the epiphany that she was good while I tenderly filled and emptied her over and again.

Her reward for skillful, piercing pain was an equally potent and powerful tenderness.

Honey, I’ve learned quite a bit from my first sex with you.

I suppose now that I’ve finished this little bit of “Dear Diary.”

Btw, I am a naughty little fetish monkey. Just thought I’d make that clear.

Pleasant erotic dreamings,

~Virgohippy

I’m working on a sex story. I thought I’d share it with you, my lovelies. Though it may seem purely an erotic fantasy spurned on by imaginative desire it is inspired by a true story.

Will you read it for me?

She always wore a black leather jacket, tight pants, and a hard ass expression on her face that could make a seasoned war veteran cringe. She was one of those bull dyke lesbian chicks, complete with short cropped hair, a nose and brow piercing, a thin metal chain dangling about her wide goddess hips, and an attitude towards men that screamed, “Don’t even think about it, bitch.” She was completely hands off to anyone with a penis. But I didn’t care. I lusted after her something fierce, all the same.

I’d try to hide my unrelenting desire to ravish her naked body in plain site by flirting with her like I would everything that walked on two legs. Which basically meant I’d push things as far as I could get away with… then I’d push just a tiny bit more.

Don’t get me wrong, I always believed her when she said she was exclusive to pussy… I’d seen her kiss and grope other girls with a genuine passion too many times not to. She just didn’t seem to mind my outrageous and superficial advances.

“What are you doing?” she mocked, almost indicating a shock response as my dexterous hands quickly wrapped themselves around her plump breasts.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I seem to have lost my boobs, and I noticed yours look very familiar. They’re just so beautiful I had to make sure they weren’t mine.”

“Uh… I’m pretty fucking sure…”

“Shh… I’m concentrating,” I whispered, eyes closed, while my thumb and index fingers searched for her nipples – which became much easier when they decided to peak through her shirt, nice and erect.

“Oh, no… these aren’t mine. When your erect nipples come to attention they’re far more pretty then mine. Sorry for the mix up.” I smiled sweet, pulled my hands away, and patted her on the butt.

“Thank you?” she said, with one poignantly thin eye-brow raised.

“Any time,” I said, before I winked at her, and continued to talk about whatever non-sense was on my mind at the time.

They really were beautiful breasts. I can’t think of a more delicious pair of big juggies then the busty fun bags on my hardcore bull dyke. Especially when she wore low-cut white under-shirts, without a bra, that let her bosom practically fall out. Her’s were breasts worth fantasizing about – worthy of lazy afternoons filled with lotion covered hands and an active erotic imagination. But then, the forbidden fruit always does seem tastier then what’s in the picnic basket, eh?

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Tags: bitch, desire, dyke, erotic fantasy, lesbian, oral sex, orgasm, sex story