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In other words, it had been up for the parents to perform all of the" digging" . The parents made sure their son or daughter married a person who was exactly what he or she appeared to be. This procedure would prevent dating scams from happening( but also prevented a young man from creating their own decision regarding who to marry) .

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Her: I'm probably gonna be fine tomorrow. . . just for great thing Me: Yeah, maybe you shouldn't be yourself. . . just be fine, hot, and flirty tomorrow. . . it'll be a fantastic change of pace from your distant and cold self.

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Learning how to speak to your man will bring peace you will find a long much better and also have better relationships with different people in your life including your man sons Here Is How To Stop Yourself" Do not try to Control Your Man" Please take out the garbage Pick up Or do what you said you'd do Please call me more often Inviting a man anywhere Driving him or meeting him everywhere" Do Not Try To Control The Outcome" Offering to cover anything Planning anything Doing anything anticipate leaning over and unlock his car door" Stop Your Local sluts looking for a fuck Adamsville Before You" - - Criticize- - why are you doing so Judge- - you always do this Advise- - you should do this Warn- - You should not do this Coax- - Oh come on, do this" Learning To Require" NO" For An Answer" - But you promise to go to my parents home Why do you have to work Don't try to convince So go out and try these NEW TOOLS with your guy and flirt with the world Just remember a man picks up on your energy he may not be smart enough but he can dating apps are addictive Adamsville whether you telling him the truth about how you feel, but as soon as you begin to use the term" FEEL" in a sentence it rolls a man heart like no other phrase it softens his heart, so he can pay extra attention to whatyou're saying and that is the way you start been a real person, not try to pretend to be somebody else so that your guy can love you with all of your falls.

By Saturday night Michael had learned to read a space, and attraction was taken by him. He didn't need to worry about" rejection" because he had been paying attention to the communication occurring earlier words were spoken. He began by talking with the men and women that were obviously there to interact. As his momentum got rolling through an interaction he obviously enjoyed the hell out of, he noticed that a woman who made his heart beat checking him out. Politely excused himself approached that girl as his dialog wore down he exchanged Adamsville Québec local sluts bbw chat lines numbers with buddies and ended up with his connection of the entire weekend.

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Although it's difficult for parents to allow them to do Permit the Children to Grieve Children, too, must grieve an important loss. When we view them in tears over the loss of their marriage or because they Adamsville the other parent, we want to just take the best online dating usernames Adamsville away and reassure them, " Now, now, do not cry, it'll be fine. . . . Daddy will be back. . . . You will get to see Mommy soon. " Reassurance isn't necessarily what children need; rather, they need to come to some type of acceptance: " I know you feel really sad that your father is not living here anymore. It has to be so hard residing away from him once you love him so much" It is not hard for us to get our own emotions and guilt involved rather than enabling the children to express their feelings and emotions. Unless we remove permission to do this and Adamsville QC interfering with the procedure, grieve and Kids have a Adamsville mature local sluts to cry more obviously.

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So one day you are sitting in your desk, a bored and begin scanning through websites, when you decide to visit with your friend's profile. Suddenly you are stuck onto a face smiling at you by a display picture. You've learned info and their name, so that you may move on to the next step. Some one people on these websites can acquire many friend requests( or followers) each week which they prefer to ignore. This implies there's a chance of you being placed into the hole of never seen in any way.

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Occasions have no meaning. Our minds trypheme online dating them significance depending on context, experience and anticipation. Change the ones and you change the meaning. Change the significance, and you alter the way your body reacts to the entire episode( e. g. sense a hell of a lot less crappy) .

Cyber bullying This is a type of violence against someone, humiliation, and harassment of sufferers in social networks and Internet sources. Today it all happens online if before, in lawns, the boys have bullied each other before the development and spread of the International Network. For example, Adamsville QC ways to meet local sluts free- wishers your kid( most often they are acquaintances or classmates) can take photos of their absurd fall or collapse in a school play, put this all on YouTube video hosting, send a link to others and start laughing over their prey.

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Chemistry is believed to be among the most important determining factors in a connection. I won't argue that it is irrelevant, but I shall point out that chemistry does not have to be instantaneous attraction. Simply because you do not feel that spark within the first fifteen seconds of meeting doesn't mean that you will. If you have interest in knowing a man, there's potential for chemistry. Keep in Adamsville hot local sluts that chemistry is often dating apps with websites, but feelings such as affection and friendship can go considerably deeper and form roots for a lifetime, regardless of what brain chemistry does or doesn't do.

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Especially ones where a local fat sluts Riviere-Pentecote you get to see just how things work and why. No woman wants to observethe'Wizard behind thecurtain', since it takes awaythe'mystery'. But if you stop to ask a woman what she really thinks about guys, then this is exactly what she will say: " There is nothing intriguing about a guy who instantly tells you how he feels about you personally, looks excited to be around you, and sets you on a base.

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Translated over to the world of dating and relationships, this really is the distinction between fretting about the best way to approach an attractive stranger and ask them feeling worthy of their attention or affection in the first location.

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Married women are likewise said to have much healthier hearts than solitary females. A research by the American Sociological Association has disclosed that wives have less danger of creating heart conditions. They additionally have a lower risk of having hypertension. Contrasted to their single peers, they are much less likely to show indications and signs and symptoms of cardiovascular disease.

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Together with Happn, the game is pretty much the same but with a user- base. Their whole marketing targets trying to suggest that it would encourage the possibility of matching with somebody that you've noticed in your area but didn't have a way to introduce yourself to. It is marketed to the countries with best hookers Adamsville sense of serendipity. Back in fact it is only Tinder using a search radius and a board of outcomes instead of a fuck buddy missionary pornhub of them that goes one at a time.

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Another fantastic shift for women- - even though some version of prophylactics had existed for centuries- - was the easy birth control pill. Women who had access to the technology( even now far too few women on the planet do) could control pregnancy when they desired, leaving them less burdened than they may be otherwise.

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- She seems to get agitated with your answers or you personally. Some guys aren't that nice and very talkative but whenyou're typing it may get frustrating for the girl if your answers are brief with being requested, or if you never elaborate on anything. Much like you are warned by me if a woman's answers seem short she not to you it goes both ways. If she keeps receiving responses from you she's liable to think you are not really interested.

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You wonder if their narcissism is something that came into fruition and will go without seeing traits in your spouse. The answer is no. Until we're adults, A narcissistic personality disorder, when we're children, though it's not going to be more diagnosable. You just did not recognize the traits to start with.

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Words of affirmation- compose card or a letter highlighting all the qualities you respect or prefer in the other individual. If you want to go write how you feel around them and the Adamsville Québec romainian prostitutes they have on you.

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Underneath Your Skin

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Glancing up at the night sky, you dimly noticed that there was a full moon overhead, and not a cloud in sight to block its glow. That should’ve been a sign you heeded, but being away from this town for the last few months had made you lenient...it had made you naive.

You were home from college, on summer break, and had picked up a part-time job at the nearby grocery store, for some extra cash while you were in town. Tonight, you had been stuck with the closing shift, so it was a little after 11pm when you were finally able to leave the store. Lydia had invited you to a small party at her place...well, it might be “small” by her standards, but was likely to include just about any and everyone else who was home for the summer. You had agreed to stop by after your shift, and so had stuffed some clothes and basic necessities in your purse. You had changed out of your drab work uniform before leaving the store, and now wore a purple, flowy skirt that reached mid-thigh, and a simple black tee that was comfortable, yet showed just the right amount of cleavage to pass as party-worthy.

Since Lydia’s house wasn’t too far from the store, you had decided to walk there, taking a shortcut through the woods. Yes, you knew how that sounded: typical “dumb girl in the woods, alone, at night” cliché. However, it was only a 15-minute walk, and the shortcut was actually a pretty popular nature trail, frequented by bikers and groups of speed walkers during the day. It even had random lamps along the sides, illuminating large patches of the dirt in circles of light. Of course, there weren’t any bikers or other individuals walking along it now, with it being so late, but you weren’t worried. You had grown up here, had walked this path dozens of times, hundreds even. It wasn’t like you were wandering around in the middle of nowhere, with no clue where to go.

However, that didn’t stop you from clutching your purse strap tighter to your side at the sudden rustle of bushes off to your left. Whipping your head around, your eyes scanned the edge of the path. You swore you saw two small flashes of blue through the dark, but they were gone so quickly that it was probably just your mind playing tricks on you. You continued to stare at the spot, slowing down your pace a bit. When nothing else happened, you mentally slapped yourself for being so jumpy, and continued on. It’s probably just a squirrel or a rabbit.

Another rustle made you gasp, this one also directly to your left. It was as if, whatever it was, was keeping up with your pace. The thought caused goosebumps to prickle along your arms, and you decided to take your speed up a notch, legs pumping at a brisk pace that was more power walking and less leisurely stroll. Reaching into the front pocket of your purse and pulling out a cell phone, you pushed your thumb down on the home button, illuminating the screen. There was one missed text from Lydia.

Where are you?

Thumbs moving over the screen, you typed back, On my way, be there soon.

You felt a little more at ease as you pressed send, but still kept the phone clenched in your hand, rather than put it back in the purse. You saw the confirmation that the message had been delivered, so locked the phone and lifted your head to stare ahead.

There was someone on the path about 20 feet in front of you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you came to an abrupt stop at the sight of a large form standing right in the middle of the trail. It was in between the circles of light, shrouded mostly in darkness but for their silhouette, which was juxtaposed against the glow from the lamps. The outline of the creature appeared to be male...and human. Or so you thought, until it lifted its head, face completely hidden in shadows...except for the twin blue flames that glowed at you from the dark. It was the same blue you had seen flash by you in the bushes...it was the blue of its eyes.

Werewolf, your mind screamed. The second thought that popped into your brain was that there were only two werewolves currently in Beacon Hills that had those blue eyes...and you knew for a fact that it wasn’t Derek on the path ahead of you.

Not wanting to wait and see why Peter Hale was stalking you through the woods, since the answer couldn’t possibly be in your favor, you started taking shaky steps backwards, eyes wide with fear. You had been about halfway to your destination, but if given the choice between going back to the closed store or going forward to Lydia’s, and past him...well, you’d take the store. Even though it made your retreat slow and slightly unsteady, you were too afraid to turn around and put your back to him. You had heard enough from Scott and the others to know that Peter was capable of anything, that he had even murdered his own flesh and blood. Cold chills ran up your spine, despite the warm summer air, as you continued to slowly back up and put more distance between the two of you.

He finally moved, taking a step forward, which brought him into a circle of lamplight. He was wearing a faded green, long-sleeved Henley and dark pants, his form tall and broad...and strong enough to snap you in two, if he so desired. His gaze was fixated on you, and he jerked his head to the side, before taking another step forward, as if trying to restrain himself.

“Don’t run,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “If you do, my wolf will chase you.”

The words were low and strained, but they carried to you, causing you to hesitate mid-step, as if your body was obeying his command of its own accord. But then, you made the mistake of glancing downward, and saw that his hands were tipped in long, razor-sharp claws. Claws that could rip you to shreds with one strike. Nope, that was enough playing calm, you decided.

Turning, you started to sprint back the way you had come, praying that he wouldn’t follow. Those prayers went unanswered, and you barely made it a few steps before he was on you. He was supernaturally quick, and you hadn’t even heard him come up behind you. The momentum of him slamming into your back sent the two of you toppling off the side of the path, and into the dark. Peter gave a snarl as he grabbed your wrist, to keep you from nose diving to the ground. He twirled you around to face him, before harshly pinning your back against a nearby tree. His broad chest was pressed into your own, his large body dwarfing yours completely, so that you wouldn’t even be visible to anyone standing behind him. The hot puffs of his breath on the side of your face were loud and rasping...and something told you that they weren’t that way from exertion.

The rough bark of the tree dug into your shoulders and back, causing you to squirm, in an effort to ease the discomfort. This only served to make him push you up against the tree harder, a small cry of pain breaking from your throat, as your thin shirt did little to protect your skin from the sharp bite of wood. You felt warm pressure and the slight sensation of pinpricks at your waist, and knew that they were from his hands, the claws pressing into you and keeping you from moving again.

“Hold. Still.” More growl than actual words, they came out low and muffled as he spoke around his enlarged canines. Body instantly obeying, you froze in his hold, eyes closing tightly as you tried to focus on regulating your breaths and not having a heart attack. Although, a heart attack might be a better way to go than at the teeth and claws of Peter Hale.

You stayed that way for a few long moments, until both of your breathing seemed to slow down to a more normal pace. He hadn’t let up on the pressure of his body against your own, and you couldn’t tell which felt more solid: him or the tree. You felt so small and helpless, totally at his mercy...and you prayed that mercy was on his agenda tonight.

Finally feeling brave enough, you slowly opened your eyes. All that was directly in front of you was darkness, courtesy of Peter’s chest blocking out everything, even the distant lamplight from the path. Raising your head, eyes trailed upwards, an inch at a time. He was hunched down a bit, his head lowered so that it was right above your own. The moonlight played through the trees just enough to dimly illuminate the planes of his skin.

You could make out his throat, strong and solid above the V-neck of the Henley. His chin and mouth were in shadow, but that was fine, since you didn’t want to see if he had his fangs out or not. Continuing upward, you took in his bladed nose and one sharp cheekbone, since only half of his face was visible in the moonlight. Then you got to his eyes...and sucked in a breath.

They were still glowing, the blue so bright that it seemed to burn into you. Almost mesmerized, you stared back, silently. He tilted his head to the side, examining you, and the move was so animalistic and predatory, that you wondered if he really had any humanity left...or if he was all monster.

The tilt caused the shadows to move off his face, illuminating his other cheek and throwing the side of his neck into the shadows. It also brought his mouth into view, and you stared, horrified, as his lips curled up on one side, a tiny growl escaping him, as he showcased his gleaming fangs.

You tried to remain still, really you did. But it was all too much: the sight of his glowing eyes, coupled with his fangs right in front of you and his hands at your waist, the slight brush of claws poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. Much as you didn’t want to play the role of his prey, your body didn’t give you a choice in the matter, and you began to tremble. It started in your legs, moving upwards until your entire body was practically vibrating with fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Please,” you whispered, the words so low that they were probably inaudible to human ears. But you knew that Peter could hear you. His gaze dropped down to your lips, eyes squinted slightly, a sign that he was listening.

“Please...d-don’t hurt me,” you begged, the last word ending on a small, hiccupped sob.

His smirk intensified, as if he found the situation humorous. And, chances were, he did.

“Don’t hurt you...not even a little?” he taunted. “Now, where is the fun in that?”

Your trembling increased, and you hoarsely replied, “I promise not to tell anyone I saw you. P-please, just let me go...we’ll forget this ever happened.”

He gave a dark chuckle of amusement. “You’re the silly girl who decided to walk through the woods during a full moon, with the expectation that you would come out unscathed.”

Deciding to take the focus off your own bodily harm, you switched topics, hoping that, if you kept him talking, maybe he could be convinced to let you go.

“I...I didn’t think the full moon affected werewolves...that it was a myth,” you whispered shakily, afraid that, if you spoke too loudly, it would set him off.

“It heightens everything, brings the wolf to the surface, making it harder to tame down. Like right now, I can smell the sweetness of your fear…” He brought his face in close, so that the tip of his fangs grazed across the side of your throat, as he inhaled deeply through his nose. “How it’s tinged with the deeper musk of your cunt.”

You gasped harshly at his words, shocked by the vulgarity of them. You were even more shocked to feel a small rush of heat dart through your stomach and down between your thighs.

Peter hummed, inhaling deeply again. And you knew...you just knew that he could smell your arousal. He ran his lips up your neck, nosing at the underside of your chin. You had the unmistakable urge to lean your head back, to expose your throat to him...to give in. But what would you be giving in to, exactly? Death?

The thought jerked you back to your senses. Trying to slide your body to the side, and away from his mouth, only resulted in his claws digging in harder at your waist, and you swore you felt at least one of them pierce through the shirt and top layer of your skin. You couldn’t help the whimper of fear that left your lips when you felt his teeth latch around the lobe of your ear, biting down just enough to sting, before he licked over the hurt with his warm, wet tongue.

“No...Stop,” you breathed, not sure if you were trying to actually convince him that you didn’t want this...or convince your own traitorous body.

Peter ignored you, this time nipping at the flesh of your throat. The sharp points of his fangs against your jugular propelled you into motion. Lifting one of the hands that had been hanging limply at your side, you made a fist and slammed it into his chest. Your protest went unnoticed, and he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he gave a low chuckle and wrapped long, claw-tipped fingers around your wrist, lifting it above your head and pressing the back of your hand into the dry bark of the tree.

Your other hand stayed clenched down at your side. You itched to hit him with it, as well, but knew you would only end up with both hands restrained. And then you would be totally trapped… Like you aren’t already, you thought.

As if to reinforce the idea that you weren’t going anywhere, Peter pressed his hips forward, effectively pinning your lower half against the tree...and pressing a very sizable erection into your stomach.

You lost the ability to breathe, as you realized, that not only was he enjoying this on a psychotic, predator-meets-prey level, but he was also aroused. Suddenly, a whole new fear was added to the situation. You had thought he meant to maim or kill you, but now...you weren’t so certain. Or maybe he’ll just kill you after, your brain whispered.

He moved his hips against you again, this time in a slow grind, his intentions unmistakable. His large, hard body pressed into you, to the point that you were surprised it was still possible to draw in air. When he moved a third time, rolling his hips against your lower body, you let out a breathy moan.

You weren’t sure who was more surprised by the sound: you or him. Both of you froze, and Peter pulled his head back from where he had been scenting the dip of your neck to look at your face. Mortified, you stared back at him, a flush creeping up over your cheeks, as his lips parted into a cocky grin that would’ve made you roll your eyes, if it weren’t for the terrifying view of his fangs poking through.

“Well well well,” he taunted. “Is someone enjoying this?”

“No!” you immediately replied, but the denial fell flat, even to your own ears.

He ran the hand at your waist up over the front of your torso and chest, before dipping one claw beneath the low-cut front of your shirt. Before you could even process a response to his touch, he jerked his hand quickly downwards, slicing the shirt clean down the middle with his claw, and leaving you with only the tattered remains and your navy-blue bra.

Your chest heaved with fear, which caught Peter’s gaze, and he watched your soft flesh rise up and down with each breath. He traced the same claw that had cut your shirt back up over your exposed skin, tracing across your stomach and the front of your bra, before dipping down in between the two mounds of flesh showcased by the delicate garment.

You should’ve begged, screamed, said something. But, instead, you stood frozen and silent, watching with a morbid fascination as Peter expertly sliced through the front of the bra, as well. The warm air hit your flesh, and a low rumble escaped his chest at the sight of your exposed breasts.

His eyes flickered up to your face, scanning your features. You knew that he could see clearly in the dark, that there was no point in trying to hide your expression. He must’ve liked what he saw, because his eyelids drooped slightly and his lips parted on a breath.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

No, you weren’t, you couldn’t possibly...could you? It was honestly impossible to get a handle on the myriad of emotions flooding through you. Fear, panic, embarrassment, and...yes, there was excitement there, as well. You weren’t sure when you had become so fucked in the head, as to actually get aroused by a half-man, half-beast ripping your clothes unwillingly from your body, but here you were. You knew that if he let you go, if he stepped away, you’d run with no hesitation. But he didn’t...and you weren’t exactly trying to fight him, at this point.

Your lack of response didn’t seem to bother him, as his attention was drawn back downwards. He was staring at your body, almost studying it, as if he could learn every dip and curve and commit it to memory. When a large, warm palm cupped your left breast, you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips, nor control the way your back instinctively arched, pressing your flesh closer into his hand.

A rough squeeze was your reward, followed by the dip of his head, his mouth running across your shoulder and down over your collarbone, tongue caressing the slope of your breast before his mouth latched onto your already-hard nipple. You didn’t even try to hold back this time, letting out a pleasured cry as he set to work with his lips and tongue and teeth. Even the slight pressure from his fangs served to fuel the fire that had started to heat up between your thighs.

His hand caressed your other breast, claws running around your areola before one pressed in on the tip of your nipple, causing you to freeze. You realized, with a jolt of fear, how easily he could cut you, could do irreparable damage to your flesh. And why did that thought both terrify you, and also cause an embarrassing trickle of wetness to stain your panties? You looked down, torn between the erotic sight of Peter’s mouth at one breast, the blue of his eyes simmering between half-closed lids, and the horrifying sight of his claw pressing in on your nipple until, with a gasp, you felt the flesh give underneath the pressure. A drop of blood welled up around where he had broken through the skin, before it started to slowly roll down your breast. Lifting his head, Peter watched as the red droplet hung at the curve of your breast, before it dripped off and fell to the ground.

He gave a growl, as a second drop of blood started to fall, moving his face to lick up the red rivulet, before replacing his claw with his mouth on your nipple. He sucked harshly at the small cut, and you couldn’t keep still, the sting more pain than pleasure. The hand at your side flew up to grab at his bicep, not tugging him away, just holding on, as if he were an anchor in the storm of sensations that were racing through your body.

You felt the hard muscles flex underneath your fingers, and couldn’t help but run your hand up his arm and over his shoulder, before bringing it down over the front of his pectoral muscle, both delighted and intimidated by his muscular build. His head lifted from your breast, and your legs suddenly felt wobbly at the sight of his lips tinged with a drop of red...a drop of your blood.

What the fuck are you thinking, feeling up a god damn werewolf while he sucks blood from your tit in the middle of the forest? Why aren’t you fighting?!

Spurred by the thought, you shoved against his chest and twisted your torso, in an attempt to dislodge him. It was about as effective as a caught mouse trying to dislodge a hungry cat. He looked almost amused by your struggles, as he caught your other hand and lifted it above your head, so that both your wrists were trapped in one of his large hands.

“Peter,” you gasped, the fingers of his free hand tracing down your body, tweaking your reddened and sore nipple, which still had some residual blood smeared on it.

“Yes, little one?” he purred, tracing down over your hip and the fabric of your skirt, until he came into contact with the bare skin of your thigh. He slowly inched his fingers up the inside of your leg, taking the fabric with him.

“We can’t...I don’t want to…” you broke off on a moan, at the feel of his palm cupping your sex possessively. The only barrier between your flesh and his was a flimsy pair of panties.

“If you don’t want to, then why are you soaked through, sweetheart?” he inquired, before pulling your panties to the side and tracing one finger along your exposed slit. He pushed in slightly, barely dipping his finger into your wetness, the scrape of his claw making a cold spike of fear dart up your spine.

Bringing his lips to your ear, he husked, “It sure feels like you want this.”

Before you could respond, he ripped the panties from your body and pulled the skirt down your legs. You were thankful that he didn’t destroy that too, although it was the only piece of clothing that had survived, so far. The tatters of your shirt and bra went next, fluttering down to the ground as he ripped the useless garments from your shoulders.

Suddenly, you were standing naked before him, completely exposed and unable to run. Hands still restraining your own, he put a few inches of space between your lower bodies, pausing for a moment to take you in. His lips curled upwards into a snarl, as he took in the wetness that was shining on your inner thighs. Embarrassment burned hot in your belly, and fear still had icy tendrils wrapped around your limbs, but there was also a low throbbing in your cunt, and it was sick of being denied.

Watching his face intently, you slowly parted your legs, so that you were standing straddled in front of him, offering yourself to him. The effect was immediate, nostrils flaring as he scented your cunt, eyes blazing even brighter, as a low growl rumbled from between his lips.

“Mine,” he roughly stated. “You’re mine.”

Later, you would look back and squirm with embarrassment, but right then, you didn’t care. Instead of denying it, you lifted your head back, so that it rested against the tree, exposing the length of your throat to him, in a signal of surrender. Of submission.

His hand released your wrists, as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and jerked it up over his head before tossing it off to the side, into the dark. You had a quick moment to take in his bare chest, half-hidden by shadows. You could make out the flexing muscles in his shoulders and arms, the rippling of his abs, how his waist tapered down to narrow hips, where he was currently in the process of taking off his pants.

Gasping, you watched as his cock was revealed, long and thick and holy hell, he’s huge. This was a mistake, what in the world had you been thinking, provoking him...encouraging this.

You knew it was pointless, but still had to try, muscles bunching as you prepared to jump to the side, in a last-ditch effort to sprint as far away from him as you possibly could. You didn’t even get a chance to execute the idea before he stepped forward, lightning fast, hands spinning you around so that you were pushed back against the tree, this time face-first.

Hands flew up on either side of your face to break your momentum, before you got a mouth full of bark. And then Peter was behind you, his hot, naked body pressing into the length of your back as he inserted a hard thigh between your legs and used it to spread you wide before him. Hot breaths blasted over the back of your neck, and he gave a small snarl with each exhale, sounding more animal than human.

With one hand gripping your hip in an unbreakable hold, his other hand lined his cock up to your entrance, causing you to gasp and jerk away from him. The hand at your hip tightened, claws digging into your skin as he rubbed his cock between your folds, slicking up his dick with your wetness.

Oh god, this was really happening. You were about to get fucked up against a tree by Peter fucking Hale, whether you wanted it or not. Shamefully, you realized that there was indeed a part of you that wanted this. A part that ached to be claimed by him, to feel all that power working you over until you couldn’t remember your own name.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he cooed in your ear, before leaning down and nipping at your shoulder.

Unable to deny yourself any longer, you nodded shakily, and gave a whispered, “Yes.”

With that, he slid inside you, the thrust long and slow and burying him to the hilt. You keened and gripped the bark with your nails, as he impaled you on his cock and forced your walls to stretch around him. He was so thick and so deep, utterly dominating you with that one move, and you were unable to do anything except take it.

He barely gave you any time to adjust before he pulled out and thrust back in again, quicker this time, but just as deep. You cried out his name, utterly overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock inside you, while he panted out harsh breaths and brought one hand around to grip your breast tightly. It was the same breast he had cut earlier, and the small zing of pain only intensified your pleasure, as he started a pace that was fast and rough. His hips snapped against yours, as the obscene sounds of your fucking started to fill the forest.

Hands still braced against the tree, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, then instinctively tilted it to the side, giving him access to your neck. The movement didn’t go unnoticed, and he brought his mouth down to your flesh, nipping and sucking marks into the column of your throat before moving down to the slope of your shoulder.

He was grunting with each thrust, hips grinding up into you at the end of each stroke, as if he was trying to see just how far inside he could go. One hand left your hip and was placed on the tree, right next to your own. The sight of your small, human hand beside his large, claw-tipped one sent a taboo thrill through you. If anyone were to happen upon you, the sight was sure to be a memorable one. The frail, helpless human girl, being fucked up against a tree by a beast with glowing eyes and claws, dried blood on her tit as she cried out and shuddered around the werewolf’s cock. Just the thought of that image, of the two of you together, was enough to push you up to the edge, your pussy tightening around Peter in a way that made him groan.

The hand at your hip moved to your stomach, claws dragging across your flesh roughly, as if he was too far gone to restrain himself. You knew, from the faint sting that followed his fingers, that there were going to be red claw marks across your sensitive belly after this. In fact, you were bound to find lots of small cuts and bruises on your body, come morning. Reminders that you were, as he had so boldly stated, his.

The same hand moved downward, and you pushed your head further back into his chest at the feel of his fingers sliding over the front of your mons. Eyes staring up at the moon, you let out a sharp cry as he zeroed in on your clit, rubbing in harsh, fast circles. Thankfully, he kept his claws out of the way, but the fact that they were right there, at so sensitive an area of your body...the idea that he had so much power and strength and could at any moment lose control and slice your skin...that fear turned you on so much that you whimpered his name, a needy plea for him to never stop.

“That’s it,” he purred. “Be a good girl and come for your alpha.”

His words, paired with the heavy drag of his cock and rough beat of his fingers, pushed you over the edge, the orgasm slamming into your body. You gave a harsh cry, his name falling from your lips and echoing around the dark woods, as the pleasure took you apart, sending pieces of you flying all throughout the forest. He gave a harsh snarl at the feel of your pussy spasming around him, and the hand on the tree flew up to wrap around your throat, holding you steady. At that same instant, he leaned down and, with no hesitation, sunk his fangs into your shoulder.

Your cries become a scream, as searing pain mixed with the pleasure, forming a harsh swirl of sensations. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to struggle to get away, or push closer, and the fear and uncertainty served to send you into a second orgasm before your first one was even finished. Mouth open on a silent scream, you shuddered as the waves of pleasure slammed into you over and over again, so intense that you couldn’t even make a noise at this point, could only gasp and shake, completely giving yourself over to Peter.

Gripping at his forearm, nails digging into his flesh, you let him take your full weight, unable to trust your quivering legs to keep you upright. The waves of pleasure rolled through you, tinged with an underlying burn in your shoulder, when he removed his fangs from your flesh and gave a yell that sounded almost like a howl. His hips stuttered and he pushed you forward, slamming you into the tree as he ground his cock inside you as deep as it could go. You felt the thick ropes of his come release inside you, his claws digging gashes into the tree and tightening around your throat, as he rode out his own orgasm.

You didn’t even notice the scratch of the bark on your front, too high off the euphoria of multiple orgasms and the knowledge that you had just been bitten and claimed and utterly destroyed by the man behind you. After a few moments, where the only sounds were your harsh breathing and the rustle of wind through the trees, Peter turned you around to face him. You saw, with both relief and a bit of disappointment, that his eyes had stopped glowing, though his fangs were still present. Fangs that had just been inside your flesh, you thought with a pleasant shudder.

His eyes ran down over you, taking in the thin red lines across your stomach, the dried blood on your breast, the pinprick marks on your waist and hips. He then lifted his gaze to your shoulder, his fingers coming up to trace over the bite, which probably looked worse than it currently felt. His touch was almost gentle as he inspected the wound.

“It won’t turn you,” he said, pressing in on the flesh just enough to make you gasp with pain, his eyes flying up to your own, to catalog your reaction.

“I know.” You hadn’t been worried about that. Only a bite from an alpha could turn a human, and Peter had lost his alpha status a while ago.

Leaning down, so that his nose was level with your throat, he inhaled, scenting your flesh. You wondered what he smelled, in that moment. Still a bit of fear, most likely, and blood, but those were probably overpowered by the scent of sweat and sex. Of your combined bodily fluids, which had started to trickle down your inner thigh. By the arrogant smirk that crossed his face, you knew that you were right. His nose ran along your cheek as he pulled his face back slightly, your mouth parting as his lips came within mere centimeters of your own.

“Until we meet again, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing your mouths together in a light kiss, before tugging your lower lip with his teeth and pulling away. It was the first, and only, kiss the two of you had shared, tonight.

Your eyes had fluttered closed at the contact, and by the time you opened them, he was gone.

Looking around, you realized that he had disappeared off into the night, leaving you to gather your clothes off the ground. After a full minute of searching unsuccessfully for your panties, you gave up, pulling the skirt up your legs and pulling the tatters of your shirt around you, before stumbling back to the dirt path. You should’ve felt better, once you were within the circles of lamplight, but you instead felt exposed. Standing in the middle of the trail, it was only then that you realized you had dropped both your phone and purse, both of them lying abandoned on the side of the path. Walking over and picking them up, you stuffed your destroyed bra into the purse, then flicked on the phone. You saw six texts and three missed phone calls, all from Lydia. You wondered how the hell you were going to explain this to her.

Sending a quick, I’m fine, but I won’t make it for the party, you threw the phone back in your bag. You’d take the trail to your own place, get yourself together, and then call her to confirm that you were indeed alive and okay. There was no way you could see her, or anyone else, tonight.

Looking up, the full moon still peeked down between the trees, a silent, mocking voyeur of your evening. Although, if you were being honest, it hadn’t been all horrible. After all, how many creatures, human or otherwise, could say that they had tumbled with the legendary Peter Hale, and came away unscathed.

A howl sounded from deep within the forest, causing a smile to tip your lips. You gave a huffed laugh, all fear suddenly gone, as you continued down the path, and towards home.


tagToys & MasturbationThe Shower Ch. 02

The Shower Ch. 02

Chapter 2 (The Revenge)

Alicia knew exactly what Jason was doing in the shower, hell normally he'd be in there a minute, two minutes at the most, so when he took nearly ten minutes she knew he was in there jacking off. It didn't make her mad, when she went to bed she was simply too tired to want anything to do with him, sexually or otherwise, so if he wanted to take things into his own hands she wasn't going to complain. Of course now, thinking about what he was doing was beginning to distract her and as she tossed and turned she realized it might take a while to go to sleep now.

Yeah, instead of sleeping she began trying to guess what he was up to. Knowing how long it took for the shower to heat up she figured he was probably getting himself worked up some. Whenever they played together Jason simply went nuts when Alicia touched his nipples, usually any session they had involved her using her fingers and then her mouth and tongue on both his nipples. Because of this she figured he would be toying with his nipples, maybe even pinching them as the water heated up.

After a few minutes she heard the shower door bang shut and then heard the squeaking of the shower controls. So he was adjusting the temperature and then she heard the high pitched hammering of the water she recognized from the pulsate setting on the shower head. Now she figured he was pushing his cock into the pulsating jets of water while most likely soaping up his nipples.

Picturing all these things she began to feel her own nipples harden a bit and, slipping a finger down between her legs, yes, she was a bit moist. Figuring he wouldn't hold off too long, Alicia pictured him soaping up his right hand and sliding it up and down his cock while his left hand continued toying with his nipple. Of course she pictured the ultimate conclusion of the event with the cum spurting out of his cock splashing into the water and disappearing down the drain.

When he turned off the water she knew he had finished and when after a few minutes she heard the knob on the bathroom door turn, she closed her eyes pretending to be asleep. She remained motionless as he pulled on his tee shirt and climbed into bed. Just before diving into his pillow, he leaned over, gave her a kiss and said, "Goodnight."

Alicia, trying to act as if she just woke up, mumbled, "Hope you had fun."

He simply fell onto his pillow and within a few minutes she could tell by his breathing he was sound asleep. In spite of the fact she was very tired when she went to bed, she was now wide awake and somewhat turned on. She remained in bed for a few minutes and then thought to herself, "What the hell, I'll have one of 'those' showers too."

She carefully climbed out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. She slipped out of her gown, pulled off her panties and then turned on the shower. Immediately stepping inside, she adjusted the shower head to her favorite setting, a mix between the steady stream and the pulsating jets. Letting the water splash over her body, she turned to face the spray letting the tingling sensation of the water on her breasts get her nipples very firm. She then soaped up her hands and ran them over her breasts, letting her palms circle over her nipples.

As she got more turned on, she leaned her shoulders back and pushed her hips forward so the water was splashing on her pubic mound and over the lips of her pussy. Adjusting the angle of the spray she then reached down and pulled her lips apart, exposing her clit. Pushing her hips a little further forward she moved to where the spray was hitting her directly on the clit.

While Alicia would have preferred a hand held shower nozzle so she could be more in control of how the water hit her clit, things seemed to be working okay now and with the tingling sensations running down to the depths of her pussy she knew she didn't need to do anything else. She just needed to lean back and let the water kiss her clit exactly as it was doing just then.

Closing her eyes, she held her hips still, letting the random splashing of the water titillate her clit and flood her with pleasure. She was breathing hard now and she felt herself getting closer and closer until finally, oh yes, yes, yes, she came. Closing her legs and turning from the water she let the shower stream over her ass as he let the pulsation inside her pussy shiver through her.

Finally calming some she took a deep breath, turned around and turned off the water. Pausing for a moment to try to catch her breath, she then opened the shower door, grabbed the towel and dried off. She then pulled on her gown and panties, slipped quietly out of the bathroom door, climbed into bed with her husband and kissed him on the cheek, whispering, "Goodnight."

Smiling the relaxed back onto her side of the bed, fluffed up her pillow and tried to get back to sleep.

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byMungoParkIII© 0 comments/ 2136


Being the Maid Ch. 07

It felt like there was something more to the story that she wasn't getting.

"Were you looking forward to living in England?"

Bridget stirred against him, trying to ignore the tingles between her legs as they shifted together. "Yes... I thought it would be an adventure. And I've always liked seeing new places and doing new things. The Princess didn't travel much but many people traveled to us at court and they always told such stories of distant lands..." She wasn't entirely sure why she was telling him this, except that he seemed to want to talk and she couldn't work herself up to beginning something physical with him. "This seemed like my only chance to see any of them for myself."

"England's rather wet and cold compared to Southern France," Garrett said, his voice almost teasing.

"It's still something new and different," she said. "And I suppose I thought that if I truly hated it, I would be able to go back. Not like the Princess, since she'd have been constrained there by her marriage."

"Hmmm," Garrett said, making an enigmatic noise.

Suddenly his hand on her breast slid down her stomach, the hand in her hair curving over her shoulder to grip her other breast and pinch her nipple. She cried out at the sudden sharp pain, her hips and soft bottom pushing back into his groin. Fingers slid through the curls on her mound and into her damp folds and her cry turned into a moan as he began to twist her nipple sensuously, the tugging sensation going straight to her core where his devilish finges were eliciting the most incredibly sensations. Just like that she'd turned into a mass of feminine need, her thighs spreading as she moved her leg back and on top of his to rest, allowing him further access to her body.

The butt of his hand ground against her clit as he slid two fingers into her, moving against her backside. The leather of his breeches rubbed over her buttocks, the hot rod of his cock pressing between her creamy cheeks as it slid up and down along the crease. Bridget found herself arching back against him, both of her hands clasping the wrist of the hand between her legs as she moved. His fingers curved inside of her, rubbing over a particularly sensitive spot that made her jerk and gasp, her fingers tightening around his wrist and she wasn't sure if she was trying to pull his hand away or shove it deeper inside of her.

In front of her, the tent flap burst open and suddenly Patrick was there, leering at them. Bridget closed her eyes and turned her face into Garrett's arm, trying to shut out the sight of the bandit leader. Her body was completely on display for him in this position, only Garrett's hands covering her privates and that seemed even worse than nudity. The hand between her leg slowed its movements, his fingers moving with deliberate strokes in and out of her aching hole.

"Do you need me for something?" Garrett asked mildly.

"You two were so quiet, I wasn't sure our little maid hadn't gotten away from you."

Behind her Garrett stiffened, but his voice didn't change at all from that lazy, indifferent drawl. "No, she's keeping me well occupied. Unless you need me for something else."

The offer was made off-hand, as if it didn't matter to him, but the tension in his body said something different. It was then that Bridget realized how much of a bone of contention she had become between the two men. Not because of her own value - at least not for Patrick although she was becoming less and less sure about her lack of value to Garrett - but because she afforded them another battleground on which to butt heads.

There was a long moment of silence and Bridget peeked out from behind her hair, opening just one eye. Patrick was watching her, watching Garrett's relentless hand between her legs. She couldn't stop the soft mewling sounds she was making, the fingers caressing her insides were too good at building up her hot desires, but she'd managed to almost completely still her movements.

"Perhaps I'd like to join you."

Garrett's fingers inside of her stilled. The air seemed to thicken with tension, a hint of violence. And then she felt Garrett breathe deeply again, all of it washing away. "If you'd like."

Why did he keep putting off a confrontation with Patrick? Was he worried the other man would win?

Yet his acquiesance seemed to placate the other man. Patrick's lips curved in a smile. "Perhaps later... I find I hunger for other things now."

And then he was gone. Bridget's muscles quivered as she relaxed now that his threatening presence had departed.

Turning her head, she managed to look back over her shoulder far enough to meet Garrett's dark eyes. His expression was almost carefully blank and he returned her gaze steadily.

"Would you really have let him join?" she whispered.

There was a long moment of silence and Bridget turned her face away from the flash in his eyes, unable to read his expression. Even if she could read it, he was such a good actor, would it be real?

Pulling his hand from between her legs, Garrett hugged her close, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel his lips moving. His words were barely a murmur on the air.

"I have no choice. I must be here, with them, for the next few days. After that we will have more choices."

We. He'd said we. Him and her. Bridget shivered. Somehow she knew that Garrett had just shown his trust in her, even though she wasn't entirely sure what his words meant. It sounded like perhaps... escape? Perhaps he meant to leave this group of bandits and take her with him? Her treacherous body and emotions liked that idea, far too well.

Pulling her hard against him, Garrett continued to speak in her ear. "He needs to hear some noises coming from this tent. Noises of my pleasure."

She nodded her understanding. It was another act. And yet not, because she could tell that Garrett wanted her. Some part of her hoped that he truly wasn't like the others, that he wouldn't take advantage of her presence if it wasn't for their expectations, for their audience. Perhaps she was building up a false image of him in her head, but at the moment she couldn't see the harm. After all, it's not like she was relying on him for escape or special treatment, but she might as well enjoy it while she could.

Behind her she felt him moving, the arm that had been between her legs now fumbling behind her buttocks as he pushed his breeches down. The hot rod of his cock pushed against her, the skin so soft it felt like steel-lined velvet as he groaned with pleasure at the skin to skin contact. Bridget squirmed back against him as the tip of his hardness pressed between her legs, coating the helmet of his penis with her creamy offerings. She made soft noises in the back of her throat as his blunt head rubbed up and down her sensitive folds, teasing her opening as she tried to push back against him.

As happened so often with Garrett, she found herself abandoning all sense of dignity, too hot and needy for him to care that she was acting the wanton. Garrett nudged into her from behind and she moved her leg off of his, finding it easier to bend forward and take him into her body when she was no longer twisted to keep her legs spread. Having her legs together like this made her sheathe even tighter and he grunted his enjoyment as he began to push inside of her, forcing her tight hole to open and accept his shaft. The rubbing friction felt heavenly and she squirmed, clutching at his arm as he resumed playing with her breast and nipple.

"So beautiful..." he moaned into her ear. "You feel so good... so hot and tight.... fuck Bridget..."

The growling low voice in her ear seemed to reverberate straight down her spine, his crude words only arousing her further as she tightened around his thrusting cock. One of his hands grasped hers, pulling it away from the hand on her breast and pushing it down between her legs. She gasped as he laid his hand over hers, directing its movements as he pushed her fingers between her legs, parting them so that she had two fingers on either side of where his shaft was splitting her open. She moaned at the erotic feeling of his cock sliding between her fingers, coating them with her wetness, before plunging into her body. Garrett moved her fingers back and forth, forcing her to rub her hand against her most sensitive bits, making her touch his plunging rod as it moved inside of her.

The sensation of him slipping between her fingers and deep into her quivering channel was intensely pleasurable, made even more so by the way her sensitive flesh pushed against her hand. She could feel the slick little pearl that gave her so pleasure, plumply pressing against her hand as she rocked back and forth on Garrett's rod.

"That's it," he growled, nipping at the sensitive flesh along her neck with his teeth. Bridget cried out and writhed for him, her insides tightening around the invading spear and wringing even more pleasure from both of them. The storm building in her core was swirling now, her loins tightening with readiness for the eventual explosion. "Feel me fucking you..."

His hand forced her to rub herself harder, her fingers making wet squishy noises as he masturbated her, his cock moving harder and faster against her fingers and into her shuddering body. Bridget could feel every inch of him as he thrust forcefully, obviously enjoying her tightness, her clenching muscles and the soft moans she made as she allowed him to manipulate her to their mutual pleasure.

"Garrett..." she whimpered, the tension inside of her becoming almost unbearable, her tunnel squeezing his cock as she squirmed back against him, so, so close to release.

"Yeeeeeeessssssssss," he hissed out and his teeth caught her earlobe, sucking the tender flesh into his mouth as his hand pressed down hard on hers, sending her palm into a circular motion as it pressed down on the engorged nubbin at the apex of her core. Bridget screamed his name as the storm swept over her, lightening shattering through her most sensitive parts as heat and wet and thunder rolled over her again and again. In the midst of her climax she was barely aware of Garrett's arms tightening around her, holding her fast against him as he moved more forcefully against her from behind, her hand still wedged between her thighs.

She wailed with the intense passion as his steel-hard cock filled her, so hard she could almost feel her insides bruising from his rampant thrusts. It hurt in the most wonderful way, spurring her climax to further heights as the mix of pain and pleasure that she had become so accustomed to swirled wildly in her body. The pleasure was so exquisitely intense that it was become almost painful and she tried to move her hand away from her throbbing pearl, but Garrett's strong fingers prevented her, rubbing her harder and faster, drawing out her orgasm to the point where she screamed her plea for him to stop. Every part of her body throbbed in sympathy as he forced his way inside of her one last time, the pulsing rhythm of his spurting cock matching her body's convulsions as her cunt sucked at him.

Throughout it all he ignored her pleas for mercy, her forced masturbation so wonderfully overwhelming that she thought she might faint, tears trickling down her cheeks as her overstimulated tissues pulsed against her fingers. It was torture, it was bliss, and she thought she might go mad from it.

The hard tension of Garrett's body relaxed and so did the pressure on her hand. Bridget sobbed with relief as he allowed the movements of her hand to slow and then stop, her involuntary shudders a testament to the incredible release he'd just given her. Inside of her she could feel his cock shrinking, withdrawing naturally from her body. He kissed the back of her neck, breathing heavily in the aftermath of his own climax.

"Good girl," he said, which stirred both annoyance and secret gratification within her. But she was too tired to protest. The extended climax at amounted to sensual torture by the end and she didn't think she could take it if he tried to do anything more to her right now. Fortunately he seemed to just want to hold her.

Slowly the world came back into focus and she could hear Patrick moving around outside the tent, talking to the Princess. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but by the sneering tone in his voice she wasn't sure that she wanted to either. Garrett murmured soft compliments in her ear, drowning out the sound of the other man, and she snuggled back against his hard body. Now that her passion was spent, she was starting to feel rather drowsy.

Garrett tensed and whispered in her ear. "Stay here. Don't make any noise if you can help it."

Even as he stood, he pulled a blanket over her before striding quickly outside, lacing up the front of his breeches as he went. Bridget stared after his broad naked back, suddenly anxious.

"Didn't think you had it in you," Patrick said, his voice close and loud. She realized that Garrett must have heard the other man coming closer and had wanted to head him off. Why, she wondered.

"You don't know a lot of things about me," Garrett said. Even though his voice was mild there was a slight hint of threat in his voice, enough to send a small shiver down her spine. The tension between the two men was rapidly rising, especially without the buffer of their comrades. She'd never thought she'd be sad to see Samuel and Blaine go, but she was just starting to understand how the other two men had helped keep the peace in camp, providing a distraction.

Now she was torn on the horns of a dilemma. Obviously Garrett didn't want her distracting Patrick from him, and she could only imagine what she would have to do to provide a buffer, but she didn't want them fighting either. If Patrick won then there was no more protection for her.

"I don't need to," Patrick replied, as if he hadn't heard the threat in Garrett's voice at all. "I would be interested to see what you did to make her scream so."

"She's sleeping," Garrett said shortly. "It's my night with her and she's going to need all the rest she can get." The implication that he would be abusing her tonight was clear, but she couldn't feel afraid. Although the intensity of her orgasm had made her scream in a way that Patrick had obviously misinterpreted, it hadn't been awful at all. Not in the way she'd seen Patrick be. Bridget would much prefer to let Garrett do whatever he needed to in order to keep Patrick away from her.

Patrick laughed and she thought she heard him slap Garrett on the back in a comradely manner before they began walking away, crudely comparing the charms of the women. She blocked the conversation from her ears, deciding that it was meaningless, wanting to believe Garrett's actions rather than the words that were currently coming out of his mouth. Not only had he kept Patrick from seeing her again, he'd ensured that she would have an afternoon of reprieve before whatever games they planned for tonight. An afternoon to sleep, to rest, and to think. He'd confused her incredibly in just the past few hours. In some ways, she felt like he'd bared a true part of himself to her when they'd been talking, but she'd also seen what a consummate liar he could be when he chose to. Then he'd given her some of the most intense ecstasy she'd ever experienced and fooled Patrick into thinking that he'd hurt her at the same time, protecting her as best he could from the other man. In fact, she had a feeling that he would have kept her in the tent all day and evening, away from the other man, if Patrick hadn't pushed the issue with his game challenge.

Tiredness was slowly swamping her again as her thoughts swirled around, her body relaxing now that the men had moved away and there was no need to worry that Patrick would come bursting into the tent. No need to worry that Garrett would either. Perhaps she should worry more about the evening ahead, but she was exhausted and this new life had taught her not to worry too far in advance. She might as well sleep while she could and save the anxiety for later.

Besides, she was starting to trust more in Garrett's protection, despite her qualms.

Several times during the afternoon Garrett came back into the tent, once with food for her. He waited until Patrick was back in his tent with the Princess before allowing Bridget out to bathe and take care of her necessary business. With the kind of consideration he was showing her, it was hard not to feel protected and like he cared. Even if he wouldn't explain anything to her, even when she asked. He just shook his head and said that now was not the time. It was more than a little frustrating, but there was nothing she could do.

Dinner that evening was an uncomfortable affair. Patrick and the Princess had emerged from the tent; her eyes looking swollen from crying, yet she had an almost dreamy expression on her face. From the little she'd seen and experienced of Patrick's preferences, Bridget shuddered thinking about what the Princess might be enduring. Even if she seemed to enjoy it, Bridget knew that she wouldn't, and the lascivious looks that Patrick was sending her way were not reassuring.

Sure enough, by the time dinner was over, Patrick offered to switch women for the night.

To her shock, Garrett laughed.

"You've worn the Princess out and now you want the little maid because she's rested?" he said with a grin, in that joking manner that men have with each other. "I told you I was having her rest up for the night ahead." Reaching out he grabbed Bridget and pulled her into his lap, his hand grasping her breast through the clothe covering it. She sat frozen and rigid in his lap, averting her eyes from both of them. "Perhaps if you hadn't worn the Princess out this afternoon..."

Icy shards went through her chest and she closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that this handsy, indifferent Garrett was the act. If only he didn't sound so convincing, as if what woman he was with truly didn't matter to him.

"She doesn't wear out that easy," said Patrick with a coarse laugh. "There's plenty of vigor left in her for playing. The little maid looks too rigid to be any fun right now, are you sure she's rested? Or perhaps she just needs some warming up."

"I prefer not to share my nights, as you know," Garrett said a little coldly, just bordering on antagonistic but not quite. Bridget was relieved to hear it, fairly certain that this was another way of protecting her. His thumb rubbed over her nipple and Bridget shuddered as his other hand came to rest on her lap, pulling her skirts up and sliding underneath them to caress her inner thighs. Burying her face into his neck she moaned softly, hoping that it was what he wanted her to do. The arm around her back squeezed her encouragingly. "Besides, I can warm her up on my own."

From the way his hand was moving between her legs, she was quite sure that it looked to Patrick like Garrett's fingers were probing much more intimate things than her upper thigh. Obligingly she squirmed a let out another soft gasp, trying not to be too obvious, but hoping that her actions would prove Garrett's declaration that he didn't need any help with her. Truly, the light, soft strokes of his fingers so close to her womanhood, but not actually touching, truly were doing a marvelous job of warming her up. If Patrick hadn't been standing there watching she might have been tempted to squirm closer, so that his fingers could actually touch her heat.

"What's so special about her?" Patrick asked. The curiosity in his voice seemed sincere.

"Nothing," said Garrett. "But the Princess suits your needs much better than this one does, and I've had more time to teach her the things that I like. Why trade when we both find more satisfaction in the current situation?"

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It’s rare, these days, that I get asked a basic nuts-and-bolts question, but recently a student asked me just precisely what is it a female-bodied person DOES to masturbate and have an orgasm.

Here are the highlights of the blog post I wrote for her:

There are many different ways to masturbate, but as a beginning, let’s imagine you’re lying on your back, naked in bed. (You can also try lying on your stomach with your hands clamped between your legs, lying on your side, a pillow locked between your thighs, or standing up in the shower, with the water stream pointed onto your genitals.)

1. Find your clitoris. You can find it visually or manually. To find it visually, get a mirror, spread your labia (the soft, hairy outer lips of your vulva) and actually LOOK AT IT. It’ll be a nub at the top of your vulva. Like this:

Or you can find it manually – i.e., with your fingers. Start with the tip of your middle finger on your mons, right where your labia begin to split. Press down gently and wiggle your finger back and forth, and scoot your fingertip slowly down between your labia until you feel a rubbery little cord or shaft under the skin. (It might help to pull your skin taut by tugging upward on your mons with your free hand. It might also help to lubricate your finger with spit, commercial lube, some allergen-free hand cream, or even a little olive oil.)

2. Stimulate the clitoris indirectly. Start out with “distal” stimulation, which means indirect, roundabout stimulation. Try any of these, or whatever else feels right:

  • Gently pinch your labia between your thumbs and forefingers, stretch the labia out, and tug from side to side. This will put very indirect pressure on the clitoris and move the skin over the clitoris (the “clitoral hood”) over top of it.
  • With your palm over your mons pubis, press down a little and pull upward, toward your abdomen. Again, this will put gentle pressure on the clit and move the skin around it. Try different pressures, different speeds of tugging (e.g., one long slow tug, several quick tugs in a row), or rotating your palm in a circle.
  • Place your palms against your inner thighs, so that the outside edges of your thumbs are pressing against your labia, possible even squeezing them together. Rock your hips against the pressure of your hands.

Some people prefer indirect stimulation over direct stimulation. You may notice as you try these techniques that the muscles in your arms, legs, butt, and/or abdomen get tense. That’s a normal part of the arousal process. You might even find yourself feeling like you really don’t want to stop doing a particular kind of stimulation. I humbly suggest you go with your gut; don’t stop. Keep going for as long as it feel good, just keep paying attention to the pleasurable sensations without trying to change it or even understand it.

Some people prefer direct stimulation, but for most it only works when arousal has already started up, so once you’re feeling pretty pleasurable and warm, try any of these:

  • With the flat of one or two or three fingertips, lightly touch the head of the clitoris with a steady back-and-forth motion. Try slow, fast, anything in between that feel good, and with light, brushing touch, light pressure, deep pressure… try different combinations of speeds and pressures.
  • With as many fingertips as feels comfortable, rub circles directly over your clitoris – fast or slow, light touch or deep pressure, or anything in between.
  • Again with varying numbers of fingers, and with different pressures and speeds, tug upward on the clitoris, from the clitoral hood.
  • With whatever variation on fingers, speed, and pressure you want to try, flick upward from just under the head of the clitoris.

As your arousal level changes, just notice and observe what happens to your body. Don’t try to MAKE it change. If you notice that your brain starts whirring away at anxieties or fears, just notice that too, know that you can worry about all that some other time, release those thoughts, and return your attention to the sensations inside your body.

Again, there’s lots more to try than just this. This is just a beginning. Try it out, let me know what questions you stumble into.

For those of you who might be like, “Ew, why is a wellness blog posting something so explicit about (*gulp*) masturbation?” remember this:

Loving your own body, having the self-respect necessary to allow yourself to experience and enjoy pleasure, is an act of radically feminist social justice. One person at a time, it creates a world that celebrates women’s individual sexual autonomy and closes the gate on male control and “ownership.”

Loving your own body, having the emotional wherewithal to relax into sexual arousal, is an act of social transformation. It reshapes our culture to one where women are open to saying YES to the good things that come with living in an organic body. And that, in turn, opens up the opportunity to say YES or NO to partnered sex. It creates a world where women’s bodies are their own, where other people are expected to ask permission before they touch, and where pleasure is a right.

Loving your own body, having the personal power to experience sexual pleasure on your own terms, is an act of public health promotion. When women live joyfully inside their own skins, they are ready and willing to protect that skin. They will use contraception correctly and consistently, talk with their partners about STI risks, and show and tell their partners what they enjoy.

Loving your body is a wellness practice. No one HAS to masturbate – lots of women go their whole lives without trying it even once – but if you decide not to, be sure that that decision comes from authentic choice, rather than cultural shaming. Your body belongs to you. To YOU.

There is actual research I could cite about the relationship between masturbation and other health behaviors. I’ll dig those up when I finish the book.

EDIT: A student pointed me to Dodson and Ross’s First Time Orgasm page, which is more detailed and has some awesome tips, especially for folks who have struggled with orgasm in the past.

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Saturday, March 21, 2009

On Pornography: The Author Hinges Her Essay on a Line by Susan Sontag

We all know that “The Onion” has its finger on the pulse with subversively accurate articles that make us spit out our muffins on the subway. This week “The Onion” printed a cover story that had everyone talking when days later an almost identical report was released in the authentic press. The topic was “depraved porn” and its prevalence in Japanese culture.

“The Onion” headline asserts: Japan Pledges To Halt Production Of Weirdo Porn That Makes People Puke. Acknowledging its embarrassment over worldwide outbreaks of violent, uncontrolled regurgitation, the Japanese government apologized Wednesday to the millions of viewers who have been sickened over the past three decades by the revolting depravity of the nation's pornographic exports.

"We honestly had no idea people did not enjoy this stuff," said Cultural Affairs Minister Kazuhiro Nakai, expressing regret for the thousands of hours of bondage porn, rape porn, utensil-rape porn, food-rape porn, frozen-food-rape porn, vomit-enema porn, elder-care-coma-patient-rape porn, and the kind of a porn in which a nubile youth is kidnapped, stripped, tied down in a wading pool and raped. "We are deeply ashamed for whatever it is about these films that has made people around the world vomit so vigorously. Please know that the content was only intended to entertain and arouse."

"I feel just awful that our work was received in this fashion," said Takuya Ishiyama, creative director of Shonen Young Forcible Jump. "But I know we can generate content more suitable for an international audience, perhaps by removing some of the characters who get off by choking on vomit they've drunk from a rubber tube inserted into their partner's stomach."
So, you get the idea that what appears to be wildly exaggerated porn themes causes cultural disbelief regarding everyone's repulsion. Though I am not personally well-acquainted with Japanese porn, I know that this style of extreme and repulsive fantasy described in loving detail by “The Onion” is not so far from the truth.

On the heels of that satirical story the following report came to us about a Japanese video game titled “Rapeplay” which encourages the player to sexually assault a mother and her two young daughters in a subway station. The players are also encouraged to force the virtual woman they rape to have an abortion. If she is allowed to give birth the woman throws the player's character under a train. Remember, this is not “The Onion” – this is an actual game that, by press admissions, was not intended for release outside of Japan.

A spokesman for the company said: "We believe there is no problem with the software, which has cleared the domestic ratings of an ethics watchdog body."

Naturally, I had a response probably consistent with yours, one of disgust and moral offense; we are left wondering if such a violent game indeed leads to an encouragement of rape. I became curious about what the rape statistics were in Japan compared with other industrialized nations. Surprise; they rank the lowest of all countries who keep stats on such crimes; twenty times lower than the US, for example.

This made me think about how in Susan Sontag’s essay “On Photography” she notes that the Japanese are essentially brutalized by a ruthless work ethic and it is due to this ethic that they take pictures incessantly. In a sense, shooting photos is a way of “working” while you’re supposed to be relaxing and or enjoying leisure time; it alleviates the guilt of "doing nothing".

Does it stand to reason that a similar release might be necessary in the recreational activities connected to sexual fantasy? If you think of the most cliché of all Japanese qualities, the one that may stand out clearest is that of being polite and respectful. Could the repression by such a controlled social ethic actually be alleviated by a perverse and hostile rape fantasy: i.e. Rapeplay?

Consider that in Japanese religion the gods are sexual beings and actually procreate carnally, as compared to “birth via miracle” in Christian cultures. Though prostitution is technically not legal in Japan it is tolerated in myriad forms, since the crime only applies to actual intercourse. There are porn magazines readily available in vending machines, and places called “love hotels” where young couples can be intimate outside of their family homes. Rituals and festivals abound weekly, for which phalluses are everywhere from costumes to savory treats and lollipops. As a whole, the Japanese culture is far more liberated about sex than Americans could ever hope to be, with our puritanically ingrained notions. There is a strong distinction between moral realities and tolerance for what is clearly pure fantasy.

Yet, why the prurient interest in the abjectly depraved and amoral? I do not have the answer to that and I certainly do not wish to vilify an entire culture for its dubious choice in entertainment. It is, after all, "make-believe", not a national pastime. I can only cling to the idea that this video game, and porn like it, was not meant to be examined or judged outside of its own culture. It makes me feel like I peeked into the bedside table at my best friend’s house and was shocked by what I found there. Am I justified in judging her sexual proclivities that were not meant for my review?

Surely, the Japanese would say the same thing, “Get out of our fantasy-world and mind your own business.”


UPI en Espanol


Calm and Collared

Life has been busy recently. Too busy to do much in the way of kinky play, and too busy even to justify the time to write in here.  Certainly the dynamic hasn’t completely gone away (far from it) but I haven’t really hit sub space for some time and I’m starting to miss it.

So the arrival of Friday night (and my period, damn) with no chance to play was really bugging me. When we went to bed I started getting quite cheeky, pushing Perrin for a reaction. He simply got my collar and put it on me. I calmed down immediately.

I’ve been working hard on being properly (formally) submissive when in my collar. The rest of the time I have a lot of leeway, but my collar ‘puts me in my place’. It’s interesting to see that effort result in such an instant reaction.

I settled down to sleep, and I dreamed.  I don’t remember (annoyingly) what I dreamed but I know they were submissive fantasies because I awoke with a sense of frustration, of not wanting to wake up, wanting the fantasies to be real rather than just ideas in my head.

I moved slightly, and felt the ring rattle gently on my collar. I was suddenly aware that I was wearing it, and instantly that feeling evaporated. Here I am, my submission is more than just fantasies in my head, it is real and livable and wonderful.

I’m still frustrated that we haven’t had time for more, but in my collar I’m calm and happy and Perrin’s


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