I have done it.
I have completed a second month of #Storyin12.
Not all of the ‘stories’ below are my best ones, as I was sometimes really pressed for time but I refused to miss one of them. Days at my work are so busy and I have worked some extra days this month, which meant I sometimes only saw the prompt when I was home in the evenings. Even then I tried to write, and I (thankfully) always succeeded.
If you have not joined in yet, please do, even if you don’t do it every day. It really is a lot of fun and you definitely learn how to say a lot in only 12 words. It helps you with editing your words down to the bare essentials!
He lost his composure when her foot softly kneaded his growing cock.
Sucking him under the desk wasn’t the job she had applied for.
Note: I wouldn’t mind applying for a job like this, or at least once experiencing something like this.
She couldn’t afford emigrating now. Life first has to run its course.
Note: This was written after I have written a post for the next day, which was my mom’s birthday. This is about the dream I had.
Her patent curiosity lured her into the dark dungeon where he waited
The first tap was the beginning. She didn’t know the ending. Yet.
Note: I guess quite some of my entries for #Storyin12 reveals some of my current desires, like this one.
The cathedral’s high dome echoed harsh sounds of whipping and lustful moaning.
Note: Oh to be bound somewhere in a cathedral and then be whipped and maybe (no definitely) a lot more!
The singer’s voice caught. His eyes held hers captive. She stopped singing.
They provoke emotions in their hearts; deep feelings needing to be addressed.
Chopped liver baked with onions was something they never could agree upon.
Note: This indeed is something Master T and I have different views on. I like chopped liver baked with onions and he can’t even stand the smell of liver.
Self image, rooted in her soul, was destroyed by the outside world.
Note: Unfortunately this is a but autobiographical because of things going on at my work and me doubting myself more and more every day.
He once was an acquaintance; became a friend, a lover, an ex.
Her absolute truth: life overwhelmed her like a thief in the night.
Note: Yes, this is autobiographical too, and connects to ‘self’ above. I am doubting myself and indeed feel overwhelmed by life, just at a moment when I thought I was doing better and getting stronger.
Her face portrayed her absent mind; her thoughts lodged in another world.
Note: Autobiographical again. It seems people around me – mostly at my work – think I am angry all the time. I’m not. All I want is to be left alone so I can concentrate on my work and not cry because of the things I see in mind. Maybe it’s because we are in the month where mom was doing really bad last year. Yesterday, 12 June, was the day she almost died, her body in shock. They saved her, but exactly a month later, she was gone.
Like men in a magazine; he’s just too good to be true.
Where’s humanity heading with the seemingly hardening of society? It’s a disaster!
Note: I do feel like there’s less compassion between people, that people seem to be so busy with their own lives that they forget that others might need them. I am so glad to have the sex blogging community where people still care about each other.
Despite time and tears, the brain fog clouded her mood even more.
Zipping his pants, the porter smiled at the mirror. Fucking clients paid.
The moral to life’s story life: laugh, love, live and be kind.
Soiled seats caused him to blush.
“No worries, it’s a lease car.”
Call me your slut and I will beg you for my orgasm.
Note: I love it when Master T calls me his slut or his whore. It makes even wetter than I already am and soon I will be begging for an orgasm. Those words just do that for me, but only when Master T uses them.
Remembering the incident in the dark alley had her shivering with lust.
The facility turned into a dungeon at night, only for selected guests.
Her close orgasm exploded between her legs, leaving her shivering.
Note: Quite an easy word, but damn, I really had to try over and over and over and over again to get something I was more or less happy with…
The inn’s room was the scene of three bodies in orgasmic bliss.
Such a privilege to be loved and cherished. Not only by him.
Note: This was written two days after I had an intense chat with someone we met online and in real life. No, words of love were definitely not spoken, but all other words that were spoken made me feel loved and cherished, but also lust after. Such a good feeling to know people still see me as a sexual beast.
He altered his pace from hard to gentle, fucking her from behind.
The consequence of an admission: a sound spanking. She purposefully pleaded guilty.
Getting older, the more she becomes a chip of the old block.
Note: Of course this is autobiographical again. I sometimes look in the mirror and see my face from a certain angle and am surprised at how much I look like my mother. But, that’s not all. I notice that in some situations I do exactly the same as she did. It’s so strange to realize that I am doing the same things she did and where I sometimes thought ‘oh mom, you can’t do that’. It does seem that I am a chip of the old block, and you know what, I am damn proud of that!
A smash of glass made her blush. She so clumsy around him.
Their fucking on the counter after the break-in made the guards orgasm.
© Rebel’s Notes