Gracie\'s Playground

Numbers
Friday July 17th 2015, 8:54 pm
Filed under: Grace,Masturbation,Mindfuck
Photo by Rick Legal

Photo by Rick Legal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20 days sick.

7 months since sex.

5 hours of reading his words.

2 photos sent.

30 minutes of legs shaking.

1 skirt hiked up to the waist.

1 pair of panties slid to the side.

1 hand gripping the headboard.

1 hand gripping the vibrator.

14 minutes of fucking myself.

2 pairs of drenched panties.

2 times his name was moaned.

3 bites to the lower left side of the lip.

Countless gasps.

Countless orgasms.

0 panties on.

 

Thank you.

 

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I am still here…
Friday February 20th 2015, 11:41 am
Filed under: Grace,Masturbation,Mindfuck
rick_legal

Photo by Rick Legal

I am still here and around. People are starting to ask if I am still alive. Yes, I am. I meant to write something the other day and as usual life got in the way.

Life seems to be getting in the way a lot lately and why I’ve grown so quiet these past months. This isn’t a bad thing. I am still having orgasms and seeing/talking to people. Things are just a little different.

I will continue to write when I can and hopefully soon.

I won’t tell you to hold your breath because that would be cruel, all though I can be cruel. What I wouldn’t give for a hand wrapped around my throat right now…

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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?

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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.

Photo Credit:
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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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