Sex Blog Roundup: Designs For Living

Every now and then it crosses our minds that we really should think about replacing our furniture: it's one thing to make do with grandma's old flowery sofa for the first couple of years after college, but when the sex stains outnumber the flowers by a ratio of three to one it's probably time to pony up for some new pieces, don't you think?  In our wildest imaginations, the type of furniture we'd most like to acquire is the living kind: the "table" that's really a willing submissive on all fours, or the "chair" that morphs into a strapping young lad when the occasion warrants.  Meanwhile, in today's roundup of some of our favorite moments from the sex blog scene this week, our illustrious heroes and heroines position their love interests into whatever forms they most desire ... sometimes on actual couches even!

Sit down and get comfy with Always Aroused Girl after the jump.

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Sex Blog Roundup
by Always Aroused Girl

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That Girl

His cock sprang free, and Paul wrapped his hand around it and began to stroke firmly up and down his shaft. He was soon fully tumescent again and he quickened the pace of his hand as he thought again of Laura sucking him off. He'd love to tangle his hands in that silky hair as he thrust his cock into her mouth; spunk down her throat, then bunch her skirt up around her waist, grab that gorgeous arse and bury his face in her wetness and lick her until she came. Then he'd screw her tight hole until they were both sweaty and satisfied.

His breath was coming in gasps by now as he crept towards his climax.

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Yellow Sofa

"Nothing's going to happen you know", she said, as my tongue started teasing her nipples, feeling them stiffen, my hand cupping her pudenda through her trousers ...

"Well, if you want. But don't expect anything in return", she said. And that was fine with me. She tasted sweet, especially when she came, which she did, quickly, and for long, complete with exhortations to a Messiah I knew she didn't recognise as such.

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Alone

My nipples were already hard and as I ran my hands over my breasts they grew harder still. I took a nipple between each of my thumbs and forefingers and pinched lightly, feeling the familiar pulse between my legs start to beat more incessantly. I moved my hands down over my stomach and hips and, opening my thighs, slid them between my legs. I could feel my smooth, shaved pussy under its silky covering and the crotch of my panties began to grow damp with my juices. I moved my hand over my silk covered pussy, feeling the outline of my lips through the fabric and slipping my panties to one side, I slowly slid a finger into my wet, slippery pussy.

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Catharsis

Giving me straps to fight against, a gag to scream into. Bleeding away the storm - with time, with exhaustion, with sex and pain and your voice in my ear - caring and mocking at the same time, telling me how very awful I'm being, and at the same time that it's all right. That I'm loved. You bind me, lash me down, work me into an incoherent lust that burns away everything else inside - the darkness flees it, like mist burned away by the sun - and then you slide into me, becoming one. Our climaxes, together like this, are huge, explosive things, too big for bodies to bear.

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this post is cold

"Don't move!" I quietly shouted, my fierce command freezing her in mid-motion.   She pressed herself back against the window for me. Only then did I resume licking. Only then did I spread her ass wide and mash my face against her wet sex. Only then did I find her clit with my tongue and gently brush it back and forth, causing her body to shake and shudder.  I slid down further, and turned around under and between her legs; I was seated against the window, my back now against the cold glass. With a better, more traditional angle, I thrust two fingers into her wet pussy, her shocked breath and shallow moans above fogging up the window. My tongue lay on her clit and pressed against it in flat circles. The fingers in her pussy beginning to slosh up and down, and I knew she could hear the lewd sounds of her own arousal.

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Recovery - Part III

...so much time with my ankles over his shoulders definitely equates to the most difficult of my pilates sessions. I have the added painful sensation of handmarks on my buttocks, exactly where I asked him to spank me as he fucked my ass. Even my neck feels uncomfortable; my head was twisted to the side when he pounded me into the mattress from behind. Like him, though, these little injuries feel like souvenirs, even trophies. In the days that follow our encounter, I surreptitiously touch my nipples, and remember his teeth on them. I wear the softest of panties, and move carefully, smiling to myself with every memory that surfaces.

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See also: Sugasm #115: The best of this week's blogs by the bloggers who blog them (sugasm.com)

Thumbnail via sado-girls.com (TGP gallery via Ask Jolene)

Previously: Sex Blog Roundup Archive

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