Gracie\'s Playground

A Letter
Sunday August 17th 2014, 9:59 am
Filed under: Grace,Masturbation,Mindfuck,Sex
Photo by Rick Legal

Photo by Rick Legal

[Redacted],

I’m nestled in bed and woke up hung over. I wondered if last night was some elaborate dream. Then I saw the pile of blanket and towels on the floor. That was so real. My body feels almost sated, almost. Never quite. It’s not begging me for sex in that biological way.

I can’t even imagine what it will be like in the flesh. Will I be so over stimulated that I will get lost in such physical interactions? I want to find out. I want to see the man behind the curtain. The man that was building me up for days till I exploded with uncontrollable desire, need and lust. Was it calculated or luck on your part? How many women have left in a quivering heap of wet, sweat and tears? Is this your foreplay? What happens when we are eye to eye, do you play out the acts you so delicately described?

No, no one has achieved what you did to me last night. Every word that came from your fingertips was a thrust into my psyche that shot between my legs. The moans the left my lips, the wetness the dripped down my thighs, it was all very physical and yet I wanted nothing more than to hear you, to know your arousal was equally matched to mine and I wanted your orgasm. I wanted us equally matched on this mental plane. You were so deep inside me.

Thank you for the intentional or non-intentional evening with you. It can only get better from here, right?



The Aural and The Exhibitionist
Tuesday July 29th 2014, 5:21 pm
Filed under: Grace,Masturbation,Mindfuck
Photo by Rick Legal

Photo by Rick Legal

He has wanted me to write about him for some time. I am not one to just write upon request as it’s in my nature to immediately refuse because I am difficult that way.

We met online, as I have met most. We were friends at first, like some. He thought I was someone else so he never really put a line on me.

When details were figured out and everyone was comfortable, we decided that we wanted to talk. I don’t mean friendly banter; we wanted to get off with each other.

My phone rang. I answered softly and always with a smile. I’m was naked in bed because I didn’t want to fuss with clothes when one hand was already occupied with keeping the headphone mic by my mouth and not muffled in a nest of black hair. He greeted in return. His voice was of a teacher’s voice. I never had a crush on a teacher before since I always seemed to get the crotchety old teachers that were difficult and uninterested in life. He spoke his words very clearly and with precision. I found this amusing with him. It’s as if I had to break the guy down to his lowest animal form to get him to snarl and spit.

Naturally my hand found its way between my legs. This was a very normal act when I knew spoken words were meant to get me off. I closed my eyes and listened. At times I would reply to a question, ask a question or even hiss a sentence at him. After I came very loudly for him, I snapped into place. I wanted him to come. I wanted to hear him come just for me. I spoke filth and the more depraved it was the better. His voice broke away from “Teacher” and he was more of a man driven to feed his basic desire…come. He did come with huge lung filled breaths. I could hear him piece himself back together.

We hung up. I took a shower and he wanted to do it all over again. And we did.

Over the months we have found ourselves to be uninhibited with each other and even venture in realms I have not shared with anyone else. “The filthier, the better” seems to be our motto. There were times when I would just watch him come and hang up. There were plenty of times when he would show me what I did to his rather large cock with thoughts of me or words I have said or typed out.

I’ve gotten him off plenty of times just IMing filth to him and even while I was driving.

I like to hear and watch.

I like people that excite me.

I like connections.

I hope this is what you had in mind, Mr. Teacher. We should make a date soon.

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One Night
Monday June 23rd 2014, 8:25 pm
Filed under: Grace,Sex
Photo by Rick Legal

Photo by Rick Legal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our bodies were drenched in sweat. He was behind me and my back was arched. I could feel his puffs of breath against my back as he tried to be as deep inside me as I pushed against him. I felt cold droplets of sweat from his hair pierce the layer of hot wet with each movement.

“Take it.”

“Take it.”

“Take it.”

Was the chant as I fisted the bed sheets.

“I’ll take it.”

“Give it to me.”

“Give me your orgasms.”

Were his responses.

Every time he pulled out, I would have aftershocks. My body would quake and twitch. The tears would well up in my eyes. I had come undone with him. He wanted to give me his desire and he fully did.

One night and that was all.

Photo Credit:
Rick Legal
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Sweat, Wet and Tears
Thursday March 20th 2014, 11:47 am
Filed under: Grace,Sex
Photo by Rick Legal

Photo by Rick Legal

I was dreaming that he woke me up with his mouth next to my ear speaking filth while his hands grabbed at me. I was panting and while I slept I felt physically aroused.

When I woke up he was sleeping beside me. We were fully clothed and I nestled into his neck. His arms wrapped around me finding the bare skin between my jeans and tank top. I pushed his hand from the small of my back around between my legs. I was burning up, I then maneuvered his hand to unbutton my jeans and slip inside between the layers of clothes.

I moaned when his hand teased at my clit. I could feel the wetness pooling and started to shove down my panties and jeans. He always does this thing with teasing. He knows I want his fingers inside me. He knows I get off from penetration. He also knows that the anticipation of it all is what drives me.

More teasing.

More heavy breathing.

More an-ti-ci-pa-tion.

“Fuck me.” I blurted out.

There were no questions or hesitation. He yanked his jeans and boxers off, I turned over and raised my ass to the air and he pushed my legs apart. That first invasion. That state of being filled and stretched. It always steals my breath. It always feels new and unfamiliar. My hands grabbed handfuls of sheets as my face buried into the pillow. The wetness was dripped down my thighs as he plunged in and out. This makes me see colors and shadows; it’s a different dimension when being fucked. Time stands still and the world stops. All this energy and life is being shoved inside me.

I can tell when he is about to come. His cock gets rigid and full. The throb pushes against the nerves and I want to come with him.

I whisper between thrusts, “You’re gonna come, I can feel it. Come inside me.”

His fingers dig into my sweaty flesh and as he made that punctuate thrust, I screamed into the pillow. I’m overwhelmed with a crashing wave of emotions and the tears flow. My body was limp and heaving by the time he fell beside me. He moved some wet hair away.

“I can’t tell what’s sweat and tears.” He whispered.

I chuckled and wiped the sticky hair from my face, “It’s a little bit of everything.”

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Distress
Friday December 13th 2013, 10:44 pm
Filed under: Fleshbot,Masochist,Masturbation,Sex
Photo by The Rick Legal

Photo by The Rick Legal

“Pain will come with time, but time will heal the pain.”
― Anthony Liccione

I was on top of him riding his cock and when I looked at him through my black hair, I wanted to photograph him. He was staring at me with his tattooed arms splayed with a look of content. My nails dug into the tattoo on his chest and I wondered for that moment if I could fuck him and photograph at the same time. Then my eyes started to roll and my head fell back. My hand gripped the wall to keep me from falling off. I regain myself, stare back down at him watching me and bend down and kiss him.

He calls me his porn star and I am more than happy to oblige. He pushes my boundaries every time we meet and there are times when I am not comfortable but I am grateful for his efforts. He knows I’m in a shell and he’s determined to break me from it.

His voice is deceiving to his actions, it’s soft and smooth like velvet but his actions are stern and painful. I hadn’t come since the last time I was with him seven days prior. The second he pushed a finger inside me I was coming and flooding the panties he pushed to the side.

His kisses are fire. When he reaches up and grabs a fistful hair, I gasp against his lips. My hands wrap around his head. I can feel the coldness on his ear from walking outside. Then I feel the stubble on his jawline from a long day. I want him to consume me.

The past month’s events flooded my frontal lobe when he was behind me fucking me hard. I was begging him to fuck me, hurt me. The tears flowed and mixed with my sweat. He grabbed my hair and pulled me up, he licked the tears from under my left eye and pushed me back down on the bed. I watched him stroke his cock.

“Where do you want me come?”

“On me.” I spread my legs and started rubbing my clit in front of him.

I kept climbing and falling as he stroked and rubbed his cock against my cunt. When he came, I rubbed his slick cum into my wetness till I had an orgasm with my legs clamped around his thighs. My body shook till it fell limp.

Now I am balanced again. I can face what I have to face. I just know I will call on him again. The balancing act never lasts long and then I am fiend again.

He’s the sadist to my masochist.

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