Almost_Lover
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 15, 2008
- Posts
- 4,270
Really missing you around these parts. Hope you plan on sharing some more photos soon sweetheart. 
Not Your Average Photo Thread
- Thread starter CTYankee
- Start date
pleaz_me
Icing Queen
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2005
- Posts
- 47,698
Really not back in the groove yet. *frown*
~Sends hugs and thoughts your way~
Hope you're feeling you're groove soon darlin ... it's definitely missed here!
CTYankee
H of H Handyman
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2007
- Posts
- 3,281
Really missing you around these parts. Hope you plan on sharing some more photos soon sweetheart.
~Sends hugs and thoughts your way~
Hope you're feeling you're groove soon darlin ... it's definitely missed here!
*smile*
Thanks.
I've actually been doing more writing than photographing of late.
I'm not very good at it. (I especially suck at dialog.)
*thinking about posting some words rather than images*
S
SexyNSweet
Guest
CTYankee
H of H Handyman
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2007
- Posts
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pleaz_me
Icing Queen
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2005
- Posts
- 47,698
A) Absolutely loving your av ... the shadowing and angle are fantastic!
B) Don't force words when trying to write. Many times you'll be doing something else and the words will come to you ... write them down as soon as possible and set it back aside when you get those down. The next set of words will come along again when you least expect them.
C) I know a good editor if you need one.
CTYankee
H of H Handyman
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2007
- Posts
- 3,281
*deep breath*
---------------------------------------------------
She Nods, Part One
I gather your long hair into a silken ponytail and wrap it around my fist and guide you back until you are snug against my chest.
I bury my face in your hair and inhale deeply. I want to memorize the smell of you. My other arm I wrap across your chest, clutching a breast, holding you tightly to me.
I set a trail of kisses from your shoulder up the length of your neck.
"Are you giving yourself to me tonight?" I whisper into your ear.
You can feel the breath of my words on your skin a split second before the sound itself registers. You nod slowly, solemnly, silently.
"Very well. Hands behind your neck, please."
I adore how this posture lifts and projects your breasts for me, especially because I insist that you keep your elbows back.
I produce two long leather laces from my pocket and tie your hair into a ponytail. The four remaining tails are braided like a Chinese finger trap -- a tubular shape that tightens when pulled. I finish the braid with a brass ring.
I wordlessly invite you to lower your arms; I guide them behind your back so that your forearms are overlapping slightly. With soft, bamboo-fiber rope I expertly tie your wrists and arms. Not so tightly as to impede circulation, for you're going to be here a while.
One of the remaining tails from this tie is secured to the ring in your hair. It keeps your wrists from dropping down to your bum; it keeps your chin up proudly. You can feel the tug on your scalp.
The discomfort is yours to choose and control. Lifting your chin relieves the tension on your hair. Bearing the weight on your scalp rests your neck and arms. You seek the balance while you ponder what I have in mind for the remaining tail of rope dangling down your ass.
Only now do I come around front to look you in the eyes. I place an open palm lovingly on your cheek, and you lean your head into it wordlessly. Your eyes widen as I extract a large pocketknife from my jeans and flip it open. You're surprised, shocked even -- but still you trust.
Your light summer dress is an impediment. I make a swift and silent cut where the neckline dips between your breasts. I tear the fabric slowly, prolonging the sound as much as possible.
The sharp steel slips upward between your breasts. I linger there for a while, looking into your eyes, before drawing the knife toward me, severing the cups of your bra.
I part the curtains of your shredded dress and bare your shoulders, leaving what remains to hang like a cape. Two swift cuts at your hips and a pull bare your pussy to my gaze and leave the remnants of your panties in my hand. I raise them to my face and breathe in your strengthening scent, then ball them up in my fist.
"Open", I command. The first word in what feels like forever.
The wadded panties fill your mouth and make it hard to swallow -- until you see what's next.
I remove a black velvet pouch from my camera bag. That reminds you: there are going to be pictures of this, for my pleasure and future enjoyment. The bag swings heavily in my hand, revealing its weight and substance.
You swallow deeply when you see the toy I withdraw from the bag. My plan for you becomes instantly clear. I turn you and bend you over the edge of the bed. With no arms to support you, your torso falls heavily, your cheek and chest pressing hard to the bed. I part your feet with my boot.
I stroke your wetness with my fingertips and lube your ass. Your pussy is being generous, but you silently pray that there will be more. You feel the sudden coolness of steel and lube at your opening, the increasing pressure, the frigid slickness, as I gently but firmly penetrate you. Wider and wider, till just when you think you can take no more, it passes inside you; you close around it and draw it deep.
I lift and straighten you by your wrists, your hair. The weight of the hook gives a sensation like no other now that I am no longer supporting it. Delicious fullness, silky smoothness, tantalizing naughtiness and just a little bit of shame. But you know it pleases me, and that gives you pleasure.
The last remaining tail of rope is looped through the hook and secured. From scalp to asshole you are completely and totally mine. I turn you toward me once again, remove the panties from your mouth and kiss you deeply. I pull your head toward me, driving the hook deeper.
"Do you still want to be mine?"
I ask placing a finger over your lips to silence you.
You nod. Slowly, gracefully and deeply.
(to be continued)
---------------------------------------------------
She Nods, Part One
I gather your long hair into a silken ponytail and wrap it around my fist and guide you back until you are snug against my chest.
I bury my face in your hair and inhale deeply. I want to memorize the smell of you. My other arm I wrap across your chest, clutching a breast, holding you tightly to me.
I set a trail of kisses from your shoulder up the length of your neck.
"Are you giving yourself to me tonight?" I whisper into your ear.
You can feel the breath of my words on your skin a split second before the sound itself registers. You nod slowly, solemnly, silently.
"Very well. Hands behind your neck, please."
I adore how this posture lifts and projects your breasts for me, especially because I insist that you keep your elbows back.
I produce two long leather laces from my pocket and tie your hair into a ponytail. The four remaining tails are braided like a Chinese finger trap -- a tubular shape that tightens when pulled. I finish the braid with a brass ring.
I wordlessly invite you to lower your arms; I guide them behind your back so that your forearms are overlapping slightly. With soft, bamboo-fiber rope I expertly tie your wrists and arms. Not so tightly as to impede circulation, for you're going to be here a while.
One of the remaining tails from this tie is secured to the ring in your hair. It keeps your wrists from dropping down to your bum; it keeps your chin up proudly. You can feel the tug on your scalp.
The discomfort is yours to choose and control. Lifting your chin relieves the tension on your hair. Bearing the weight on your scalp rests your neck and arms. You seek the balance while you ponder what I have in mind for the remaining tail of rope dangling down your ass.
Only now do I come around front to look you in the eyes. I place an open palm lovingly on your cheek, and you lean your head into it wordlessly. Your eyes widen as I extract a large pocketknife from my jeans and flip it open. You're surprised, shocked even -- but still you trust.
Your light summer dress is an impediment. I make a swift and silent cut where the neckline dips between your breasts. I tear the fabric slowly, prolonging the sound as much as possible.
The sharp steel slips upward between your breasts. I linger there for a while, looking into your eyes, before drawing the knife toward me, severing the cups of your bra.
I part the curtains of your shredded dress and bare your shoulders, leaving what remains to hang like a cape. Two swift cuts at your hips and a pull bare your pussy to my gaze and leave the remnants of your panties in my hand. I raise them to my face and breathe in your strengthening scent, then ball them up in my fist.
"Open", I command. The first word in what feels like forever.
The wadded panties fill your mouth and make it hard to swallow -- until you see what's next.
I remove a black velvet pouch from my camera bag. That reminds you: there are going to be pictures of this, for my pleasure and future enjoyment. The bag swings heavily in my hand, revealing its weight and substance.
You swallow deeply when you see the toy I withdraw from the bag. My plan for you becomes instantly clear. I turn you and bend you over the edge of the bed. With no arms to support you, your torso falls heavily, your cheek and chest pressing hard to the bed. I part your feet with my boot.
I stroke your wetness with my fingertips and lube your ass. Your pussy is being generous, but you silently pray that there will be more. You feel the sudden coolness of steel and lube at your opening, the increasing pressure, the frigid slickness, as I gently but firmly penetrate you. Wider and wider, till just when you think you can take no more, it passes inside you; you close around it and draw it deep.
I lift and straighten you by your wrists, your hair. The weight of the hook gives a sensation like no other now that I am no longer supporting it. Delicious fullness, silky smoothness, tantalizing naughtiness and just a little bit of shame. But you know it pleases me, and that gives you pleasure.
The last remaining tail of rope is looped through the hook and secured. From scalp to asshole you are completely and totally mine. I turn you toward me once again, remove the panties from your mouth and kiss you deeply. I pull your head toward me, driving the hook deeper.
"Do you still want to be mine?"
I ask placing a finger over your lips to silence you.
You nod. Slowly, gracefully and deeply.
(to be continued)
Last edited:
canandagirl
Experienced
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2008
- Posts
- 36
*decides to grow hair long again*
Oh my...now it's my turn for some deep breaths. *fans self*
Please hurry back.
Last edited:
Almost_Lover
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 15, 2008
- Posts
- 4,270
I wasn't aware that you had posted this. I love your words..... maybe as much as your images.
CTYankee
H of H Handyman
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2007
- Posts
- 3,281
She Nods, Part Two
Nodding your assent to whatever will come makes your scalp ache and rocks the hook deep inside you. I take strange satisfaction in making you a party to your own torment/pleasure.
I love how responsive your nipples are to my touch. It makes me feel powerful that I can harden them in seconds. I imagine to myself that it must be very like the power you feel when a cock hardens in your hands or in your mouth.
I adore the look of pain/pleasure on your face when I pinch them, and when I lift the fullness of your breasts by them. I abuse them in this way; then I ever-so-lightly graze just the very tips with my fingers. Alternating sensations. You close your eyes and lose yourself in the pure sensual experience.
You can feel my breath on your nipples. You're expecting gentle kisses, so I take that stone-hard bud in my teeth. I want to keep you on your toes.
"Look at me, please."
I pull you back from wherever you've gone in your mind. I want you here, with me.
I turn to the lovingly handmade toybox that was once an ash tree in our yard before becoming my gift to you on your last birthday. I raise the arched top and withdraw your favorite: a deerskin mini-flogger. Its natural tones are warm and comforting -- not the theatrical all-black cliche from a franchised toy store. It still has that rich, savory smell. I pass it first beneath my own nose, then yours. It's simple, true, honest and authentic. Just like us. Not a prop from some faux-dom performance scene. I like that.
You widen your stance just a little to brace yourself; you present me your chest -- an offering held high and proud. It delights me that you do this without a word from me. It affirms for me your consent and your desire. Your breasts and chest begin to flush even before the first blow is struck. Silently in my mind: You think they're sensitive now? Just wait till I'm done.
Rapidly and rhythmically I twirl the flogger allowing it to slap your soft skin -- the tops and sides of the soft, fleshy globes upon which I so love to rest my head. One at I time I lift them by the nipples to allow the flogger to work its magic on the undersides. I can almost see the warmth radiating from your skin and filling the room.
The skin of your breasts looks so fragile, almost transparent. I can read the blood vessels like a road map.
You lay your head back to savor the sting and the warmth, easing the tension between your hair and the hook, now fully warmed by your body. The weight reminds you of its presence every bit as much as the fullness. Strange to feel it pressing against your muscles from the inside. But it's a comforting feeling, uniquely ours and unspeakably personal for having been shared. Your mind focuses on that sensation almost to the exclusion of your breasts; you barely notice when the flogging abruptly stops.
My hand behind your head draws you forward for a forceful kiss. Then inches away from your face:
"I asked you to look at me."
It's a strange dance that we do, each drifting off into our private sensory worlds, then drawing close again. Hearts connect through the eyes, though, and I want yours on me for the moment.
I step slightly to the side, keeping my hand behind your neck and your head tipped firmly forward while drawing the flogger slowly upward over your mound. My eyes ask yours: "Are you ready?", and you nod even more deeply.
Your breasts are a fiery red; your hair tugs painfully on the hook deep in your ass; and now your greedily swollen lips soak up the sting of our favorite toy. We've practiced enough that I can consistently hit the target without taking my eyes from yours. I want to see that first silent tear -- every bit as much from the incredibly emotional closeness that we're sharing as from the sting of the deerskin.
I've been hard since we began, and I've repeatedly felt that subtle tickle deep inside my trousers as pre-cum works its way to the tip of my cock. A pitiable waste, really. The flogging ceases when your mascara begins to stain your cheeks and eyelids. It's time.
I open my jeans and let you watch as I stroke my cock. A dip of pre-cum on my fingertip: you think it's for your lips, and the disappointment on your face is palpable when it goes to my own.
"Want some?"
Again you nod, slowly and deeply, almost gravely, fucking your own ass.
"You've nearly earned it."
I apply the clover clamps from my pocket lovingly, practically ceremoniously, to your already aching nipples. Gentle pressure on your shoulder tells you I want you on your knees.
I place the chain that connects your nipples over my skyward-pointing cock before offering it to your lips. Every time you descend on my cock, your nipples are lifted and twisted. Such devotion nearly brings tears to my eyes. You have a delicious choice: taking my cock by lowering your entire body increases the pull on your nipples; taking it by tipping your head forward relieves your nipples but increases the pull on your hair and the movement of the hook. Not taking me at all never crosses your mind.
(to be continued)
Nodding your assent to whatever will come makes your scalp ache and rocks the hook deep inside you. I take strange satisfaction in making you a party to your own torment/pleasure.
I love how responsive your nipples are to my touch. It makes me feel powerful that I can harden them in seconds. I imagine to myself that it must be very like the power you feel when a cock hardens in your hands or in your mouth.
I adore the look of pain/pleasure on your face when I pinch them, and when I lift the fullness of your breasts by them. I abuse them in this way; then I ever-so-lightly graze just the very tips with my fingers. Alternating sensations. You close your eyes and lose yourself in the pure sensual experience.
You can feel my breath on your nipples. You're expecting gentle kisses, so I take that stone-hard bud in my teeth. I want to keep you on your toes.
"Look at me, please."
I pull you back from wherever you've gone in your mind. I want you here, with me.
I turn to the lovingly handmade toybox that was once an ash tree in our yard before becoming my gift to you on your last birthday. I raise the arched top and withdraw your favorite: a deerskin mini-flogger. Its natural tones are warm and comforting -- not the theatrical all-black cliche from a franchised toy store. It still has that rich, savory smell. I pass it first beneath my own nose, then yours. It's simple, true, honest and authentic. Just like us. Not a prop from some faux-dom performance scene. I like that.
You widen your stance just a little to brace yourself; you present me your chest -- an offering held high and proud. It delights me that you do this without a word from me. It affirms for me your consent and your desire. Your breasts and chest begin to flush even before the first blow is struck. Silently in my mind: You think they're sensitive now? Just wait till I'm done.
Rapidly and rhythmically I twirl the flogger allowing it to slap your soft skin -- the tops and sides of the soft, fleshy globes upon which I so love to rest my head. One at I time I lift them by the nipples to allow the flogger to work its magic on the undersides. I can almost see the warmth radiating from your skin and filling the room.
The skin of your breasts looks so fragile, almost transparent. I can read the blood vessels like a road map.
You lay your head back to savor the sting and the warmth, easing the tension between your hair and the hook, now fully warmed by your body. The weight reminds you of its presence every bit as much as the fullness. Strange to feel it pressing against your muscles from the inside. But it's a comforting feeling, uniquely ours and unspeakably personal for having been shared. Your mind focuses on that sensation almost to the exclusion of your breasts; you barely notice when the flogging abruptly stops.
My hand behind your head draws you forward for a forceful kiss. Then inches away from your face:
"I asked you to look at me."
It's a strange dance that we do, each drifting off into our private sensory worlds, then drawing close again. Hearts connect through the eyes, though, and I want yours on me for the moment.
I step slightly to the side, keeping my hand behind your neck and your head tipped firmly forward while drawing the flogger slowly upward over your mound. My eyes ask yours: "Are you ready?", and you nod even more deeply.
Your breasts are a fiery red; your hair tugs painfully on the hook deep in your ass; and now your greedily swollen lips soak up the sting of our favorite toy. We've practiced enough that I can consistently hit the target without taking my eyes from yours. I want to see that first silent tear -- every bit as much from the incredibly emotional closeness that we're sharing as from the sting of the deerskin.
I've been hard since we began, and I've repeatedly felt that subtle tickle deep inside my trousers as pre-cum works its way to the tip of my cock. A pitiable waste, really. The flogging ceases when your mascara begins to stain your cheeks and eyelids. It's time.
I open my jeans and let you watch as I stroke my cock. A dip of pre-cum on my fingertip: you think it's for your lips, and the disappointment on your face is palpable when it goes to my own.
"Want some?"
Again you nod, slowly and deeply, almost gravely, fucking your own ass.
"You've nearly earned it."
I apply the clover clamps from my pocket lovingly, practically ceremoniously, to your already aching nipples. Gentle pressure on your shoulder tells you I want you on your knees.
I place the chain that connects your nipples over my skyward-pointing cock before offering it to your lips. Every time you descend on my cock, your nipples are lifted and twisted. Such devotion nearly brings tears to my eyes. You have a delicious choice: taking my cock by lowering your entire body increases the pull on your nipples; taking it by tipping your head forward relieves your nipples but increases the pull on your hair and the movement of the hook. Not taking me at all never crosses your mind.
(to be continued)
comeout2play
JACKASS!
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2007
- Posts
- 5,479
HO-LY WOW.
Amazing.
Yes, please.
Amazing.
Yes, please.
CTYankee
H of H Handyman
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2007
- Posts
- 3,281
comeout2play
JACKASS!
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2007
- Posts
- 5,479
This is my favorite part:
"Only now do I come around front to look you in the eyes. I place an open palm lovingly on your cheek, and you lean your head into it wordlessly. Your eyes widen as I extract a large pocketknife from my jeans and flip it open. You're surprised, shocked even -- but still you trust."
CTYankee
H of H Handyman
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2007
- Posts
- 3,281
Perhaps not surprisingly (since I wrote it), I have several favorite parts.
Among them:
comeout2play
JACKASS!
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2007
- Posts
- 5,479
Absolutely. Beautiful.
You're a man of many talents, CTY. Thank you for sharing them.
canandagirl
Experienced
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2008
- Posts
- 36
What a pleasant suprise this was for a gloomy Saturday morning. Can't wait for more...
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