Tag Archives: HPG
Gentle breath play: Breathe into my mouth
Sometimes, after we’ve fucked and I’ve come good and hard round his cock, he pulls out and lies back on the bed, holding me tight around the shoulder or waist with one arm, and stroking himself with the other. I like to watch him come. And while he’s pushing himself to come, if I can tear my eyes away from the sight of his beautiful hand gripped skilfully round the head of his fuck-wet dick, I put my lips right up against his. Almost – but not quite – kissing. Feeling his body tense and shake, inhaling as he breathes into my mouth.
A thousand words about a picture
We’re both quite sweaty, that’s the first thing. This picture is all the hotter because of that. There’s a light sheen on the side of his face, but I – as ever – am the sweatiest. Hair in wet curls plastered to my neck and forehead, the white shirt I’m wearing absolutely drenched to near transparency. The photo was taken at a fun, bouncy gig. We’d been dancing.
What’s so good about being called a ‘good girl’?
The first time he says it, he makes a face as he utters the words. Not in disgust, but definitely discomfort, as if he’s not used to saying them. The phrase might sound weird to his ears, but it’s wonderful to mine: good girl.
Saltburn, and another conversation with my conscience
Note: this post contains minor spoilers for the filthy scenes in Saltburn. Which I (obviously) loved.
I’m not going to do it.
Damn right you’re not going to do it.
Even though… there isn’t really any harm in doing it?
Don’t you dare do it.
The next time I see my boyfriend
The next time I see my boyfriend, I’m going to make sure I brush my lips really slowly against the soft skin in the curve between his neck and his shoulder. I’m going to run my hands up the back of his t-shirt and relish the warmth of his body through the cotton. I’m going to tell him ‘I missed you’ and mean it more than I have since early August, when I very rudely disappeared for two whole weeks in the early days of our relationship. On the morning I returned from that trip, we went to the pub for a couple of hours before I took him home to my place, and when I stood up to get my round in, I ran my fingertips down the back of his head – recently-but-not too freshly-shaved, feather soft against my skin. He later whispered to me that the touch had made his cock jump. So fuck it, yeah: the next time I see my boyfriend, I’ll want to do that again too.