Birthday Pretzel

New post over on APL: I love you. And you, and you, and you…

I started that post over here originally, wanting to share the sexy fun I had Thursday as first W, then A, turned me into a pretzel.  But then I ended up thinking too much and it ended up being a post about whether monogamy is realistic rather than the sexy post I had originally planned…

But I couldn’t leave you all with only the “head thoughts” post, now could I?  THAT original post goes something like this:

Early morning at W’s. A rough two days for me in various ways, so though I was at the Mean Guy’s house, he wasn’t especially mean, and we had two days of mostly vanilla time.  Except for sleeping in shackles. Oh, and except for the shelf, too.  Hehe. But that’s for another post. Anyway.

Thursday morning comes, and I awaken thinking about the fact that I have spent two days at W’s with no rope on me. I look over my head at the ropes on his wall, imagining them wrapped around my wrists, as they have been so many times before…


And before I know it, W is on top of me and my wrists are tied. “Did I say that in my outside voice?” I think. But no, we’re just “In Sync.” And then suddenly he is pushing my ankles up too, and my ankles are tied to my wrists, up there by my face, and I am a pretzel, and he has access to all of me, and he is fucking me…and his mouth is on me, and I can’t move…

He gets up and goes to his dresser.  I hear him rummaging around, tho I can’t see what he’s doing, or what he brings back to use on me.  In fact, I don’t know what he is using until later, when I look down beside the bed and see the fat wooden dildo laying there on the floor.  All I know is the feeling as he pushes it inside of me, the feeling of being split open, of being stretched wide, of being so damned full, of it pressing up into me, hitting that favorite spot inside, the feel of his hand grinding it into me and his mouth, hot hot hot on me, and me with my legs tied up and my body folded in on itself, me unable to move, just a hole, a slash waiting there for his mouth and hands and cock.

And then later that night, after work and birthday dinner, I am home with Ad and we crawl into bed, our bellies full of a fine food and our veins and our heads full of wine, and he kisses me deeply, as if to drink the wine from my mouth as he pushes his cock into my tender flesh.  I gasp and open to him, I am wet and deep and he is thrusting inside me and then suddenly he draws my legs up and pulls them over his shoulders and he presses down onto me, into me, heavy, compressing me, my ankles crossed behind his neck, my knees up in my face and once again, I am pretzel girl.

A birthday pretzel.

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