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It’s not what you do or how you do it. It’s not a move or even a technique. Forget the physical part of sex because in the root programming of your male mind, you think this is what we women want.

No.

It’s what you say or write and so much more. It’s the words that come from your mind that stir our insides and arouse. We start with the mind and end with the mind. What happens in between is the physical ramp to the end result you men desire.

“Fuck my mind”, if that sounds foreign or silly it’s because you not rehearsed in the female psyche and this goes for women who feel they are frigid and blocked from achieving an orgasm, get your mind fucked.

The problem is not the lacking of words, it’s the skill of doing such an act. Saying you are going to “cum” in me is a horrible choice of words. “Cum is a noun not a verb” as @RemittanceGirl will scream from the top of her caps lock.

Mindfucking is an art. Not everyone was meant to do it. There’s a subtlety and deep knowledge to the process. It’s a mental flirtation that leads to the female’s physical response. When I read something that gets to me, I always take in a breath as if that sentence stole it away from me. There is so much behind the personality of the mindfucker. You have already won me over in one way or another with public writings or even tweets or how you react to others. One man telling me he wants to fuck me versus a man I want telling me he wants to fuck me is like night and day. There’s a physical reaction without even laying one finger on flesh. My skin starts to burn, my heart rate increases and my breathing interrupted. There’s a very physical response to a mental stimulation. Women are heady (if you are punning the word “heady” stop because you’re already in the wrong direction) and need a mental seduction. It takes some homework as well. Luckily for most men I interact with, they simply read through my blog to get this sense of me to work with. He knows what makes me tick and wet. This exchange grows and to the point just seeing their name or email address sitting in bold in my inbox is enough to steal my breath. The anticipation of reading and savoring every word and punctuation. The burning images that rest between my legs. That is when filthy words are verbal rubs against my g-spot and small growls and grunts are wet panties.

The mindfuck doesn’t stop at written or spoken words for me. A song can mindfuck with lyrics or the voice or the rhythm of the music. A smell can mindfuck with the scent of a neck or when a person is in proximity. Sight can be a mindfuck with a body part or almost hidden tattoos or even dark eyes. It’s a process for me and starts with how you expose yourself to the world. How you walk, how you talk and how creative your mind is. There’s no real formula to this seduction of the mind because everyone is different. Just like there’s no real formula to a blow job. It takes experience, awareness and communication.

The best thing I can offer is a very personal example. The very beginnings of how this man owned me with his words:

Grace,

I’m sure I could have waited and taken my nap and then leapt-up to write you an email (of which, the only reason I do like [redacted] is because of what happened this afternoon, with you: I could see when you read what I wrote and I can’t tell you how hot that made me; how tormented I was with anticipation; secretly aroused behind my work desk). But alas, I am here – madly, hotly, wildly aching, throbbing and yearning. It is a strange and wonderful kind of torture to know that we are a thousand miles apart – with me only knowing that you are somewhere, anywhere, in California.

I have now been reading your words, on your WordPress page(s), off and on all afternoon – becoming breathy and lightheaded in this intellectualized hyper-sexuality that you have spun me into (is this your web?). All afternoon, I have been stroking my cock in my pants at work (hardly getting to the sending of the first email to you because of my enchantment) and the whole car ride home; and finally, now: I’m naked and on my bed with a camera in-hand; clean-shaven all the way down to my ass with my new favorite neoprene cock ring on…

I am shuddering and pulsing with a colorful erotic energy in my gallop through your mind.

And while some of your current interests differ wildly from mine – yours are the first that I have really been able to read for quite some time; and I’m lapping them-up as fast as I can. It’s your pace and diction and sense of articulation and passion and how-bad-you-need-it.

Even from here, in [redacted], I can taste you.

So, thank you. Well done.

But the most intriguing component is that I feel some transferability in all that you write about your robust sexuality; some analogy about the rest of your life and how you move through this fluid continuum, with vibrance.

For me, anything less is unacceptable.

The truth? I want to molest you with my hands and cock and mouth and fingers and squeeze everything gorgeous from you with my body as your vice-grip and press – I want to hear the words come from your mouth and lick and suck on your lips after every intoxicating sentence – as though juices were dripping from your mouth, instead of syllables.

Honestly, in a space where I could typically feel as though I am moving too fast and I have no idea what’s going on right now… That’s precisely it: I am stricken in some fantastic way by you and your words and your style – as though your poison has already set-in. And now I only want to come out of my mouth – from the back of my mind, instead of from my throbbing cock. And I can only think of you, taking my come – in your mouth, and having it spank the back of your mind like you are being choked until you are hot in the eyes and tears streaming down your cheeks.

I want everything to spill-out before you: my passions, heat, intensity, needs, desires, theories, experiences, loves, lust, secrets (oh I have a ton). I don’t know why. I just know that I want to.

There are a million things to say here…

I want to see you. Hear you: moan, laugh, cry, wail, whimper, sigh, speak, talk, shout, love, lick, suck, fuck, groan, come. I want to know you. More. Now. Please.

You are slaying me.

Beautifully.

Song: Everybody Here Wants You by Jeff Buckley

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Years ago when I first met Tim online he told me how he enjoyed hearing his wife “confess” to him her actions during sex. Being younger, I didn’t quite understand this as I found myself unable to string multiple syllables together let alone confess my sins to my lover. I spent the beginning of my sexual exploration under my parent’s bedroom so noise wasn’t an option and it left me rather quiet. I know Tim tried to engage me in this when we finally were in the same bed but I was unable to talk with him. I know now he was after a specific experience with me and I am not sure I gave that to him.

Fast-forward years later and I am very acquainted with my sexual awareness. I can’t even state that who I am now will remain this way for long. I am constantly evolving and changing sexually. Some things will always remain me: the need to hear, the pain, the fear and the mindfuck. I now understand what Tim was trying to express and the arousal that resulted from the act.

The whole confession plays into the aural aspect of my arousal. Hearing him tell me the things he has done with a lover, the details and me asking questions against his lips. Hands roaming each other’s bodies but no real efforts are made because this is all foreplay. Heavy lids as I soak in each description and reactions, small gasps that leap from my parted lips and the minute moans that vibrate in my throat. More and more build up and my panties are drenched.

…

He shifted himself behind me and I knew his mouth was going to press against my ear and I even knew he would suck in a small breath as well. What I didn’t expect was what he was going to say to me.

“You’re bad…” he whispered. My skin was instantly riddled with goose bumps, my body curled into a hot ball of arousal and I let out a breath that felt was fucked out of me. “…texting me that you were watching porn while I was in my meeting with other guys around.” His hand found its way under my blanket and grabbed at my naked breast. Everything is electric, my eyes fluttered into my skull, lips quivered and my cunt pulsed in my panties. “Did you come?” His voice was a little more forceful and I blurted out in response, “No.” I’m hypnotized by the tone, the closeness and it felt like my heart was beating between my legs. “Good,” he calmly said with his lips touching the rim of my ear. My body was jerking into convulsions. I never thought innocent and yet naughty text messages would come back to me in this manner. I like being bad, doing very bad things and being told I’m bad.

He fisted my hair and pulled me down to his crotch while still laying on his side. This snapped me from the aural state I was transfixed in. My mouth took the whole length as a growl filled the air; both his hands pushed and held me there till I started to gag. He shifted on to his back and I crawled between his legs as I kept him buried inside me. This is the magic angle with him. The second my mouth was in the right position his hands let go of my hair and they started to shake as I fucked his cock with my mouth and throat. His body convulsed as he spat out curse words and groaned. I felt his cock swell as my tongue pressed against the underside of the shaft to that sweet spot near the head.

“I’m gonna come.” He grunted. I moaned around the base of his cock in acknowledgement. His body jerked as he spurted into the back of my mouth and I swallowed. Every muscle in his body tensed with each release and I kept sucking and swallowing. When the last twitch subsided is when I released him.

Song: We All Fall In Love Sometimes by Jeff Buckley

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“Electric flesh-arrows… traversing the body. A rainbow of color strikes the eyelids. A foam of music falls over the ears. It is the gong of the orgasm.”
- Anais Nin.

My thighs were slick with wetness and the bed was a warm puddle of my orgasms. I pushed him on his back and whispered, “I want to fuck you.” His cock was full, thick and hard, as I climbed on top of him and sunk his cock inside me he let out a deep and slow, “Fuuuuck”. I pushed upward as started to grind his cock deeper inside me. The greedy sounds of my cunt riding his cock filled the air and I bit my lower lip. His hands met my nipples and started to squeeze. “Hurt me,” I groaned as I rode harder, it was the only real way for me to come on top, was the mix of pleasure and pain. His fingers pinched hard and my head fell back as my tongue licked the corner of my mouth. I feel so helpless and restless as I am on top.

I had to refrain from digging my nails into his flesh.

I had to refrain pushing my weight into his chest as I fucked him hard.

I had to refrain from pounding my fists into his thighs.

My head hung back swaying to the movement as I continued my anxious grinding and the escalation of my orgasm hit hard as I stared up at the white ceiling. “I’m going to fucking come,” I belted out of my throat. The window was wide open and everyone outside knew what was happening.

“Come for me,” the words enveloped me as his hands grabbed my breasts hard.

It was electric starting from my cunt shooting upward and out of my gaped mouth. It’s a moment of blurred sounds and sensations and I’m not in my body. I’m floating up in the air above and fell hard back inside. As I came down my fists fell to his chest and I collapsed from him as the intense feeling of “good” transformed instantly in to hard sobs. I cried, as if it were a loss of life. A small piece of me had died and I am mourning that piece, a true la petite mort. I curled into his neck and let every ounce of pain out as I gripped his neck holding on for dear life.

I sniffled and tried to regain my composure. “You must be tired of this,” I barely got from my lips.

“No. This is you releasing all that is pent up inside of you,” and he told me this with some understanding of what I keep buried inside me.

I started to sob again and he wrapped himself around me. He whispered in my ear and I responded back into his ear.

Again, I wiped away the sadness and looked at his still throbbing cock.

“That’s a shame,” I sniffed. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“We don’t…have, the time.” He tried to reason but I had already pushed my naked ass into the air and he didn’t argue with me. He moved behind me, grabbed my hips and pushed inside.

The thing about an intense orgasm is the cunt retracting and for me it causes even more tightness. So, when he drove his cock inside me, the electricity shot through my body again. My body vibrated as he worked himself in and out of me. I gripped the sheets with white knuckles and moaned into the mattress. Feeling him force me to open up to him was euphoria. His fingers dug into my hips as his body started to get rigid. The orgasm was strong as he let out groans for each spurt pushing the whole length inside. He fell beside me panting. I smiled at him from behind my arm.

Nothing is perfect. The things we experience may not be always be ideal. It’s what we take from those conflicting moments. Sometimes it takes years to digest and they haunt us in the most inconvenient of times. Letting go is the hardest part of life. Without complexity we are just animals trying to survive.

Song: Gods & Monsters by Lana Del Ray

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Today I was reviewing the stats for the past month for my blog and was pretty amazed by how many countries and cities visit this blog. I thought I would share some of this information with you all since I am fascinated with statistics. Hey, numbers can be sexy and don’t you forget that. I realize not everyone follows me on Twitter so I thought I should formally express my appreciation for your dedication to my filth sharing.

But before I share with you numbers and lists, I wanted to give you some updates since I realized the last time I wrote a post was the beginning of last month. I’ve been going through another phase of wanting to quit this all. This is not a plea what so ever for attention. If anything, it’s me wanting to leave the attention behind. I enjoy sharing my mind; desires and experiences with you all but what I’m not sharing are the darker and more serious aspects to my life. As you know, I’m private and I don’t share every bit of my life. You won’t see a full-face shot of me and you won’t see me attending sex related conventions. It’s mostly for my safety due to the graphic nature of some of the posts I write. It’s not because I’m an asshole and don’t want to meet any of you, all though probably for some, it’s because I’m an asshole. Anyways, I’ve gone through lulls and they have lasted a year and then I bounce back. I will see how I feel after this weekend to make a final decision. I do know that I would like to share some interviews with you because I feel, I know some very talented and artistic people. I am so fortunate to know so many remarkable individuals in my life. They are the barrier to me. I feel the one way to make yourself smarter or more creative is be around people smarter and more creative than you and that’s what I do.

Thank you for reading me.

Thank you for accepting me.

Thank you for your support.

Now for the statistics geeks out there… I give you numbers and lists:

In the last year my blog has reached 180 Countries & 9,124 Cities.
The blog hit count has exceeded over 2 ½ million so far.
There are on average about 30,000 visitors a month.
You have left 3,868 comments.
I have written 587 posts.
I have been keeping this blog since the end of August of 2005.

Top 3 Browsers:
1. Safari
2. Chrome
3. Firefox

Top 3 Devices
1. Apple iPhone
2. Apple iPad
3. Apple iPod Touch

Top 3 Operating Systems
1. Windows
2. iOS
3. Macintosh

Top 3 Search Terms
1. Dark Gracie
2. Penis Sucking
3. Cock Sucking

Top 5 Referrals
1. MarieClaire.com
2. DarkGracie.tumblr.com
3. Janesguide.com
4. Fleshbot.com
5. AdultBlogHub.com

Top 10 Countries/Territories Visiting
1. United States
2. United Kingdom
3. Australia
4. Canada
5. Germany
6. New Zealand
7. France
8. Netherlands
9. India
10. Ireland

Top 10 Cities Visiting
1. New York
2. London
3. Melbourne
4. Sydney
5. Chicago
6. Los Angeles
7. Toronto
8. San Francisco
9. Washington
10. Brisbane

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The Rick Legal
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It’s a battleground in my mind with words, sadism and masochism causing a seductive maelstrom. It’s an addiction that never ends well but well worth the trip down the rabbit hole.

..

He’s not sadistic but he knows I need pain. It’s a contradiction for him. I don’t demand these acts from him because you can’t force someone to entertain a kink they are not in to. We kiss and it’s urgent, his tongue invading my mouth and me sucking every bit he can give me. My hand grabs at his head; I’m eager and push crashing his tooth into my bottom lip. I feel the tender pain and instant swelling. When he pulls away, I tongue at the wound and my cunt aches. I fail to tell him how sore I am from a sports massage because I don’t want him to handle me any differently.

I need to feel.

His mouth finds my nipple and I let out a low growl of a moan. My body writhes at the pleasure as my thigh rubs against the hard on hidden in his jeans and I feel teeth closing in. I hiss at the pain and I feel his cock swell. He’s not responding to the fact that he just bit me, he’s responding to my reaction. I used to confuse this response thinking I had turned him into the monster I wanted.

My cunt has been throbbing all day. There’s been a constant pain centered deep within. This happens when my mind is lost to words and thoughts that make vivid imagery haunting my psyche. It’s rather overwhelming and I keep indulging in this sin:

Another sip.

Another peek.

Another sigh.

I close my eyes while his hand travels down my stomach. The anticipation of his penetration sends me almost frantic as he parts my thighs. The silkiness of my cunt and that little gasp he makes at the first touch, “So soft, so smooth”. I wait with every nerve ending between my legs vibrating like a live wire. The fingers test the dampness and I’m a shameless slut; I’m drenched with thick and slick wetness. He notices, pushes a finger around and teases my ass. He could have easily taken it if he wanted. I push against his digits and I’m no longer in control of my actions my body has taken over being overly fervent and desperate.

I want to come.

I want to come.

I. Want. To. Come.

A finger slips so effortlessly inside, curls and rubs. My back arcs, my hands grab at him, at the sheets, at the cold iron bar on the headboard. My cunt floods his hand, my thighs, the panties, the sheets and the mattress. The orgasms come wave after wave and every bit of fluid in me is surging out of me like an unlocked dam. It’s more than usual and it’s all connected to that organ that sits inside my dark skull.

The moment the fury has subsided, “Fuck me,” blurts from my lips. It’s a call to action as my panties are tugged off; me turned over with my head buried in pillows and my ass high in the air. He is pushing off his clothes as fast as he can, positioning himself behind me with his hands on my hips. His cock prods at my slick cunt and it pushes but it catches, the angle could be wrong. When his hand leaves my flesh to adjust, my right hand catches him by the wrist and holds him tight.

I want to feel the pain.

I want to feel this.

I fucking need this.

I push back against him and his cock forces its way inside me. I let out a groan and let go of his wrist. He pounds into me hitting my cervix and I cry out filling his room with partial words and gibberish. My muscles scream with agony as tiny stabs warm my joints. His cock is swelling inside me, as his body gets rigid. I can feel the build growing in me with this rhythmic rubbing on my g-spot and body starts to vibrate.

“Come for me,” he pants.

Hearing him is all it takes. It’s a trigger that shoots from my ears straight to my cunt.

“Come with me,” he forces out.

We both seize at the same time. He pumps and I milk his cock. I love the way his fingers dig into my flesh when he holds on to me. I want his nails to dig and break the skin. My cunt pushes him out and we fall to the bed. When the panting subsides, the heart rate calms and the shaking stops; I can feel my body aching. Everything is tender to the touch as his hand glides around my back.

Later I find little bruises on the various areas the woman tenderized. I press into them and let out a sigh. The tension continues to build in my mind and it’s starting to weigh me down.

Note: Each post usually is tied to some song I’m playing over and over. This post is associated to Regina Spector’s Hero

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