In this episode, Silken tells her lover that she wants to tie him to her bed when they get home. This spurs them to tease each other throughout the afternoon, and she finds herself so hot and bothered that she masturbates in the car on the drive home.

(This is a re-release of episode #32 from July, 9, 2009)

I have exciting news! One of my stories has been accepted to a Violet Blue erotica anthology, one intended for couples. It is supposed to be out in Spring 2011, and once everything is inked with the publisher, I’ll let you know the specifics.

The last four episodes have been about women dominating men so I thought I’d switch things up a little. It’s been a while since I told a story about women making love, and I know how much you love hearing those kinds of juicy details, so here we go…. [This is the original story, the podcast version was abridged to keep the podcast around 15 minutes]

Leaning up against the headboard, Laura congratulated herself as she watched Abby remove her street clothes. This time she’d gotten lucky and had the whole day to dedicate to an erotic encounter. Something told her that she would be glad of it, for the pretty little stranded motorist she’d picked up at the filling station by virtue of her own considerable cleavage seemed to be the type who would take her time.

Laura’s affairs were usually spontaneous things and she always felt an underlying urgency to do the deed, escape, and above all, avoid being caught. It wouldn’t do for her husband to know that she had a thing for women. He might press for a three-way – a thought that made her shudder. The woman was small and pale-skinned – a stark contrast to her husband, who was swarthy and well over six feet tall – and Laura certainly didn’t want his hard hands, rough whiskers, and testosterone-inflamed urgency interfering with her languid and leisurely lovemaking with other women. Especially not a soft, sweet little peach like Abby.

The younger woman crawled across the bed and slid her hands under Laura’s breasts. She hefted them, apparently reveling in their size and weight. When she gently squeezed them with both hands Laura gasped in delight. Those small gentle hands began to knead her breasts and Laura felt that familiar ache deep inside her, the prelude to wetness. She removed one hand from the bed and ran her thumb along the the fullness of the girl’s bottom lip. Abby’s hands and eyes never left her breasts, and Laura had trouble taking hers off the girl’s face. She had a faraway expression that was wistful and at the same time captivated.

Abby’s hands slid slowly down the slopes of her tits, until the heels of her hands raked across Laura’s sensitive nipples. The crinkled buttons were so sensitized Laura jumped and gasped. Abby settled her palms over Laura’s aching nipples, making tiny pockets in each palm, and when she squeezed this time it felt to Laura like her nipples were being pulled from all sides at once. The younger woman continued to gently squeeze and Laura thought she might come right there. It felt almost as if tiny, satiny mouths were sucking her nipples.

Laura was caught in a whirlwind of competing needs and desires. The long dry spell since her last casual encounter had driven her to the edge and she wanted release, but the girl’s soft hands and gentle touch made her want to take her time. But she couldn’t help herself. She slipped her hand between their bodies and pressed her fingers into the fabric of her panties. As she rubbed her clit, Laura felt the tightening in her belly, the tensing of the muscles in her thighs and ass. She knew she had to stop or she was going to cum. Abby seemed to sense her need and her indecision, and solved the dilemma for the older woman. She craned her neck up and removed her hand from Laura’s left breast. Before Laura could comprehend what she was doing the redhead’s lips captured her aching nipple and scraped it with her teeth.

It was not so much the change in sensation as it was the visual stimulation that sent Laura into her orgasm. The girl’s soft face, pursed lips and the hollowing of her cheeks as she sucked were incredibly erotic and it was too much. Laura sighed through her orgasm, reveling in each delightful contraction in her belly and its accompanying wave of pleasure. She grabbed Abby’s head and forced her face deep into her cleavage. The girl made no protest, nor did she even attempt to move away. Throughout Laura’s orgasm and through the aftershocks that followed she continued to suckle one of Laura’s breasts while massaging the other.

Laura twisted her hand to place it on the crotch of Abby’s panties. She was amazed to find them as soaking and sticky as her own. Abby groaned around the nipple in her mouth. Laura was a little shocked to find her so wet. It took a few moments for her to realize the little vixen was getting off on just playing with her breasts. Laura forced the two middle fingers of her hand into the wet furrow and began to stroke. The girl gasped, but did not let Laura’s nipple escape her mouth.

“You like my tits don’t you?” she asked. The girl nodded slightly, but made no sound. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be in some kind of trance.

Laura adjusted her position, drawing her breasts from the girl’s mouth and hand. She quickly drew the girl up against her side and let her large breasts spill onto her face. The redhead’s eyes widened, and an expression of ecstasy was evident on her face. Abby turned her head from side to side, nuzzling against the soft skin.

Laura brought her hands to the girl’s breasts and firmly kneaded them while she occasionally flicked the nipples with a fingernail. Abby shivered and a soft moan escaped her lips, but she gave no indication of wanting to move. Laura realized the girl would be content to just have her breasts on her cheeks, so she took matters into her own hands, bringing a nipple to the girl’s mouth. She felt the girl’s lips close around it, creating a soft seal and then gentle suction that pulled her nipple even farther away from her tit. The girl’s tongue rolled around the sensitive flesh and she began to pull at it, like a child suckling. For a timeless period they stayed like that, Laura working the smaller woman’s tits hard, while Abby gently stroked hers and suckled her nipple.

Laura felt herself getting hot again. She loved having this kind of prolonged attention paid to her breasts, but now her pussy was demanding some attention.

The girl’s soft lips and warm tongue felt exquisite and now she longed for them to be on her dripping sex. She wanted the girl’s face between her thighs. She wanted that amazing mouth sucking on her clit.

Laura was pondering how to accomplish this when Abby partially lifted herself up and pressed her knee between her thighs. Taking the hint, Laura spread her thighs wide, then moaned as the girl’s leg pushed upwards until it was pressing against her mound.

The younger woman’s mouth released Laura’s nipple with an audible popping sound. The girl’s eyes were sparkling as she lifted her head and looked up expectantly. Laura dipped her head to bring their lips together. Abby’s soft lips parted and Laura invaded her mouth with her tongue. She tasted of salt and flesh and a vestige of mint. Laura probed and explored with her tongue, while the smaller woman’s tongue slipped back and forth over her own.

The kissing was lovely but Laura felt that urgency pressing at her again. She wanted her panties off. She struggled up onto one elbow. The motion broke the contact of their lips, but Abby moved her head forward and captured Laura’s lower lip gently between her teeth. A stab of white-hot pleasure shot through her as she felt the girl’s tongue swirl over the captured lip, which she slowly released with a long scraping motion.

Laura wriggled around and shucked off her panties, then helped Abby slip out of hers. She then splayed her thighs, exposing her pussy to the girl’s view. The girl was staring and Laura knew what she was seeing. Her pubic hair was closely trimmed and her outer lips were plump and wet. She knew that by now they were gaping open and that they were a dark pink, almost brown color. She could feel how wet she was and was sure it was evident to the girl’s eye.

Laura spread her arms invitingly and the girl crawled between her thighs and hugged her. Their lips met again in a deep kiss with their tongues doing battle. The girl was obviously very aroused and she forced her tongue into Laura’s mouth and explored it thoroughly. Laura was content to caress the girls back and ass and let her take the lead for a bit.

Abby’s mouth eventually left her own. Her lips left a wet trail from Laura’s ear, down the line of her jaw and across her throat. Abby stopped and kissed her collarbone before continuing down. Laura was thrilled by the girl’s initiative – she released the Abby’s ass and brought her hand to her smoldering pussy. Laura dipped her fingers inside of her entrance, getting them slick with her juices and then brought her hand to Abby’s mouth.

Abby went to work on her fingers, suckling them as she had her nipples, lapping greedily at them until they were clean and then gently sucking them into her mouth. When she finished she pushed Laura’s hand back towards her crotch.

“It looks like you have found something you like,” Laura said.

“Yes, it tastes wonderful,” Abby said breathlessly.

“Well, there is plenty there for you.”

The girl smiled and moved down to lick at Laura’s navel, which caused her to giggle. Her giggle turned into a moan when the girls tongue reached the top of her mound and licked through her pubic hair.

Laura spread her legs wide and tried to relax. She was so worked up from the attention to her breasts, and she did not want to come at the first contact of the girl’s mouth. Still, she was keenly aroused and knew it wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge. The girl’s fingers were massaging the outsides of her mound, just teasing her labia, and her tongue slipped through Laura’s sparse pubes to rest just above the top of her slit. She started licking then, delicate, gentle swipes of her tongue moving to one side and then the other. Laura felt her back arch involuntarily, trying to bring her swollen pussy into contact with the wonderful tongue, but Abby would not allow it. She pressed Laura’s hips back down and then began to gently tongue her outer lips, working slowly downward, but not slipping between them to caress the inner folds.

Laura groaned in frustration, it felt so good, and she was so close, but it wasn’t enough to get her over the top. When Abby reached the bottom of Laura’s pussy she forced her tongue into the older woman and pursed her lips around the tight entrance. Her tongue seemed very long and flexible once it was inside and began to wiggle around, and she sucked hard, drawing deeply of Laura’s pussy juice.

Laura cried out then, it just felt so good. Her hands shot to her breasts and she rolled her engorged nipples between her fingers, adding jagged jolts of pleasure to her already over-stimulated system.

She was dying now for an orgasm, she had to have it. The feelings were so powerful that she could not even try to hold back. Abby curled her tongue and ran it upward along Laura’s slit, scooping up the thick fluid that had gathered between the older woman’s swollen lips. Laura couldn’t take any more teasing; her hands left her breasts and curled into Abby’s luxurious hair, pulling her mouth tightly against her slit.

“No more teasing, I have to come,” Laura groaned.

Abby went wild at the words. Sucking hard on Laura’s clit she drew it out and then swirled her tongue over the super sensitive bud before she began to lash it with manically fast strokes of her tongue. The shock of it was more than Laura could bear and she felt her bottom swing into motion, jogging and twitching and contracting as her orgasm ripped through her.

Laura screamed then. She wasn’t usually vocal during sex, but the tension inside of her, the unremitting pleasure, demanded nothing less than a scream. Laura rode the younger woman’s face like a surfer on the crest of a giant wave. Abby did not stop and Laura felt like she was being devoured alive. The sensations from the girl’s tongue, lips and fingers merged into one flow of sensation that sent her skyrocketing into another orgasm. This one was more powerful, shocking her body to its core. Abby showed no sign of letting up and Laura found herself pushing the girl’s head away. It was too much. Too much!

She drifted down from her orgasm slowly; Abby had returned to her breasts and was suckling contentedly. The sensation was not powerfully erotic now, it was warm, gentle and comforting. Laura glanced at the clock on the bedside table – it wasn’t even noon yet.

The continued movements of girl’s soft tongue and warm mouth left no doubt in Laura’s mind that they were far from finished. With four more hours until she needed to think about getting home to her family, she knew this was just the beginning.

For more erotic tales intimately told visit shop.SilkenOnSex.com.

This is another explicit erotic audio story in the FemDom genre. Which means it isn’t for everyone, so do be warned. It involves a woman dominating a male submissive whose kinks are body-worship, cuckoldry, and strap-ons. In this case, he’s been a very bad boy, cheating on his wife and chasing tail all over the country, and he’s come to the Dominatrix to get the punishment he craves.

Visit SilkenOnSex.com for more erotic tales intimately told.

A friend of mine is a Pro-Dom. She’s one of those tiny women with command presence. She could be surrounded by giants and she’d still dwarf them somehow, just by the power of her personality. She told me about her wild & kinky adventures while vacationing in Waikiki recently, and I asked if I could fictionalize some of them. She loved these two particular vignettes, and is very excited to know that I’m using them for today’s podcast:

I.

He watched me from the table nearby, a sinewy Japanese man accompanying two boys in their late teens.

I’m not sure why he picked me to watch. I wasn’t the only woman in the hotel’s restaurant wearing a just bikini and a sarong, and certainly there were women there who were far lovelier than me. My dinner partner was very attentive, but not unusually so, certainly not with the slavish and attention-grabbing intensity of a submissive. I’m not a leggy blonde, a type of gaijin that Japanese men are notoriously susceptible to. My height and hair and eye color  are that of a Japanese woman. Except I’m better padded. Perhaps that was it. My breasts.

I’ve been practicing belly-dancing for three years. I know how to shimmy, how to move my body to accentuate my breasts. I gave a little shimmy, almost a shiver, that made my breasts bounce.  He looked my way for a long moment. So did a few others. I smiled at my dinner companion and told him what was going on.  He grinned at me, reached out and tugged on a lock of hair dangling over my collarbone.  He dropped his hand and and trailed his fingers along the line of my bikini top.

I observed the Japanese man from under my lashes. He was most intent.

As a provider of  ‘adult entertainment’ I know about most kinks and fetishes, and I know what voyeurs Japanese men tend to be.  Which works great for me, because I have a bit of an exhibitionist streak, and seeing as we were in Waikiki, some 3,000 miles from home, my lover seemed unconcerned about my exhibitionism and proclivity for three-ways and cuckoldry getting him ‘caught’ in an awkward position that might affect him professionally.

“Do you want to make someone’s year?” I asked my lover.

“What do you have in mind?” He asked, pursing his lips a little. His eyes, dark as my own, sparkled with mischief. I wanted to grab him by the chin and kiss his mouth, hard.

“If you manage to catch our friend over there away from his boys, perhaps you could invite him to join us tonite–as an observer.”

At this, my lover grinned. I saw his face change a bit as he mulled over how he would put it to the gentleman in question.  His Japanese, though much better than mine, is far from fluent.

We finished our meal of seared ahi and macadamia encrusted mahi mahi and were sipping a nice wine when the boys at the nearby table stood up and walked away. I watched them head down the stairs toward the outdoors.  The older Japanese man stood, too, and headed out of the restaurant, back toward the hotel.

I nodded at my lover, and he stood and followed the Japanese man. I slowly finished my glass of wine and paid the bill, then headed toward the elevators.  A tingle ran down my spine, making my skin feel like an electric current was running over it. I do so love being a cocktease, an exhibitionist, and a domme, and I was every excited by the prospect of being all three at once — at my pleasure, not someone elses.

Provided the two of them were awaiting me in my hotel room, of course.

II.

He said he wanted me. He said he’d do anything for a chance at me. When I asked him to be more specific about what he wanted, he blushed a bit, then said he wanted to be naked in bed with me.

“And you said you’d do anything?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said in a rushed explosion of air from his lungs. “Anything.”

I smiled at him. A soft smile that hinted at intimacy to come. If he’d been looking into my eyes he would have seen the glint there. And he would have known that he was in trouble.  Would have run the other way, even. Silly man, alcohol had made him brave enough to forget his reservations. And his gloves. When you play with fire, you really ought to wear gloves.

So I took him to my room. A luxury suite high up above Waikiki.

When I let the beaming man into my room, he looked like a child, radiant with joy, and eager, oh so eager, to please. Part of me pitied him, but part of me looked pitilessly upon him.  He had some lessons to learn, this man-boy. Three, in fact. One, be careful what you wish for, it might come true. Two, beware offering anything for something. And three, what drew him so strongly to me was my dominance–so it was time to learn about submission.

I stood before him, hands on hips and told him that his wish “to be naked in bed with me” was granted.

I made him strip naked. Utterly naked, save for the ribbons I placed around his little cock and balls and tied into pretty bows.

And I was in bed with him alright, crop in hand. After a few cuts of my crop he begged for me to let him go, and yet he was unbound. He was free to leave, I told him. He could pick up his clothes and step outside to dress whenever he wished.

But he stayed, as I knew he would. His little cock was hard, all tied up in its frilly bondage, and he ridiculously held out hope that he’d get to be with me. Be inside me. Ewww! Like I’d grant a pathetic small-dicked loser like him access to my body in that way!

My body is a temple and he was fit only to worship at it. And so that is what I taught him. How to worship my body, how to be my throne, how to serve me.

He said he’d do anything to be naked in bed with me, and, well, he nearly did everything.

There are some things I didn’t do. Like let him cum. He was intoxicated, afterall.

***

I hope you enjoyed these tales! I’ll pass any feedback along to my friend, and perhaps she’ll allow me to tell more of her FemDom stories.

Summer’s end. Time for the grape, both sipping and harvesting. I’ve got this huge extended family here in California–we were here prior to the Gold Rush–and there are miles of vines in one appellation named after a great-great auntie of mine.

Everyone gathers at the winery for The Press and for futures tasting, and during one of the gatherings some friends of my cousins caught me in an odd moment. I’d just gotten off the phone with my lover, who was on his way out of the country and was pouty (though he denied it) over the fact that I was not accompanying him this time.

Jim and Bev were on the deck sipping chardonnay when I stepped outside. I was tucking my phone away in my cleavage when he looked directly at me and said “That gives a whole new meaning to ‘you’re talking to my breasts’,” and then laughed at his own joke.

I smiled politely at him, remembering that he and his wife owned a local B&B that my cousins had cross-promotion arrangements with. Be nice, I told myself.

Bev held out her hand. “You’re Kay aren’t you? I’m–”

“Bev,” I interrupted her.  She seemed pleased that I remembered her name.

We chatted a bit about wine and traveling. I mentioned my recent trip to Japan, which spurred an avalanche of questions, particularly about my experiences of the Japanese equivalent to B&Bs, which they call ryokans. I did my best to re-direct the conversation toward them, asking after their children. Most people love talking about themselves, but for some reason, Jim and Bev were fascinated with me and would not be deterred.

“So what is it that you do?” Jim asked me. Like most people, especially men, Jim operated under the the assumption that you are what you do.

I laughed behind the rim of my wine glass. “Oh wouldn’t you like to know!”

“Of course,” said Bev, giving me her full attention.

“Oh, I don’t do much of anything,” I said airily, prevaricating. For some reason the small amount of wine I’d taken in interfered with my ability to pull whatever seemed suitable in the moment out of my bag of talents and skills.

Since I’d moved back to California I usually said I was a perpetual student, or was taking a sabbatical from corporate America, or confessed with mock shame to living off of my younger lover.  All true, in their own way, but not the whole truth — and for good reason. While I am  known as the sexually deviant sinner of the family, I have been careful to be discreet so as not to be a source of discomfort for the more prominent members of my family.

“Now that I find difficult to believe,” boomed Jim. “You’ve got too much energy to be the laze-about type.”

Bev touched my arm. “There’s no need to be shy with us.”

The ridiculousness of anyone considering me shy made me laugh again. I imagined them both kneeling naked at my feet presenting the implements they’d chosen to be punished with. I banished the image from my mind as inappropriate and focused my attention on Jim and Bev, reminding myself that they were business associates of my cousin.

“Are you the one who is a scientist?” Jim asked.

Without thinking, I answered, “I was,” and then kicked myself. I could have bored them with talk of genome mapping and PCR and they wouldn’t have been any the wiser.

“And now?” Bev asked. She leaned into me, brushing her hip against mine.  I knew that move and what it signified.

I gave her a big grin. “You might want to get that idea out of your head,” I said to her.

“What idea?” she asked, her eyebrows raised  high over wide eyes.

“The one where you and your husband take me home and have your way with me,” I laughed. “I’d top you both in a heartbeat.”

When the look on their faces registered, I rewound what I’d said in my mind and then gave myself another kick. The heated discussion with my lover had me a bit more flustered than I’d realized, if I was slipping up so badly.

The change in their energy was like the difference between a light bulb and a solar flare.

“You’re in the lifestyle?” Jim asked, with incredulous hope.

Ah well, no sense trying to close the barn door now.  I chose the simplest, most straightforward word I knew.

“FemDom.”

It hung there between us.

“Come home with us….” Bev suggested softly, her longing perfuming the night air.  I could smell her arousal.

I thought about my lover, who was boarding his international flight right about then. I hadn’t seen him in days and my sexual frustration was acute. It would be another week before I saw him, and it was unthinkable what might happen when we did end up in bed if I didn’t get some of my frustration worked out beforehand.

I made up my mind. “Ok. Lets go.” I said, setting my glass down on the railing.

I glanced from one to the other, looking forward to some serious queening. One of them was going to learn to breathe pussy juice tonight, and I was leaning rather heavily toward Bev. Just like no one sucks cock like a man – no one eats pussy like a woman.

“Well?”  I asked them, my eyebrows arched imperiously.

They looked at each other.

“I’ll get the car,” was Jim’s answer.

Bev and I linked our arms and followed behind at a leisurely pace…

* * *

I wish I could say what went on that night, but if I did, my podcast would probably be pulled off iTunes so… lets just say this…

Around dawn we fell asleep in a heap.  They’d both been paddled and thoroughly sucked and fucked. And me, well, I rode face for much of the night just like I’d wanted. Bev and Jim even had a dildo on a head harness which I had never tried before, but found a couple of interesting uses for… when I wasn’t wearing a strap-on that is…

- – -

This podcast is sponsored by AdamandEve.com. Just enter SILKEN into the coupon code field for 50% off any item plus Free Shipping.

The music featured in this episode is by Secret Alien Audio.

Silken On Sex #75

“…Her eyes fluttered open, hazel green eyes that reminded him of leaves in dappled sunlight, and her drowsy smile was loving. Open. Trusting. She was an innocent, he knew, a very carnal innocent. She took such childlike joy in her body, in the pleasures of the flesh. She knew no shame, no guilt, and she gave of herself with such abandon that it transcended all he’d ever imagined the original Eve to be, before she’d learned the concept of Sin.

He took the charcoal between his fingers and drew upon her living flesh. Long sweeps of charcoal for the twining vines and smaller flourishes for leaves and flowers. Symbols, too, from Egypt, from Briton, from Japan, symbols of fertility, of life, of rebirth. Her arms, her breasts, her torso, her belly – all were soon covered in lines that moved hypnotically with each of her breaths.

With the stick he colored her pubis black, and with his fingers he rubbed it in, spreading the fine, velvety softness of the charcoal into the fine, silky softness of her lightly-furred mound, and when her fingers moved to hold herself open he had to grip his cock to keep himself from spending in his pants. Such a contrast, her pale pale fingers holding open the night-black pussy to reveal that pale inner pink that darkened to deeper red…”

This podcast is sponsored by AdamAnd Eve.com — enter “SILKEN” into the offer code field and save 50% on any item!

For more erotic stories intimately told — visit the shop at SilkenOnSex.com

Silken on Sex #74:

Most of what I write and record is based on personal experiences. Deliciously intense erotic experiences. As I’m writing this now, I’m intoxicated. By wine and other things.

Other things? You are probably asking yourself.

Yes, other things. Like the fragrance of ‘us’ wafting up from between my thighs.

I was puttering around in my vocal booth (for recording audios) when my lover surprised me there. I was on tip-tip toes, my arms spread wide above my head, when his hands closed around my wrists, pressing them down onto a shelf. He pressed himself against me, scraping his shadow along the back of my neck.

I moaned.

How could I not? There is something about that burning scrape that is so pleasurable that my skin pebbles and I gasp. And moan. And I ground myself back against him, arching my back, wriggling my hips and ass in a belly-dancer’s figure-eight until he was hard enough for me to feel the heat of him. He released one of my wrists long enough to open his pants and free his cock, then he pressed it against the thin silk of my pajama bottoms, searing me with his heat.

I tried to turn around. I wanted to taste his lips. Wanted to thread my fingers through his hair and pull him toward me. But his hands held my wrists firmly in place. Words weren’t necessary. The band of his fingers around my wrists communicated everything I needed to know. I drew my legs together and arched my back so my ass flared into him and I let my head drop between my arms. Staring at my toes, I sighed. A sigh of longing. A sigh of surrender. He knew what that sigh meant, of course, and with a squeeze, he released my wrists.

I held my position. Held it even as his hands slid down my arms and around to fondle my breasts. He teased my nipples until they were long, hard points of longing, until my breath was coming in tormented gasps, until I was dizzy and writhing.

And wet.

I could feel that wetness as he pushed the silky pants down over my ass. Felt the hot smear of it on my thigh. He swilled his fingers in it, teasing my labia, pretending to have difficulty finding my clit. I started begging and bucking, trying to force that slippery electric contact. But his fingers eluded me, frustrated me. Slipped deep inside me and out again, arrhythmic. It was maddening. Ratcheting up my arousal level without building up orgasmic tension. I wanted to grab his hand and put his fingers on my clit and rub them there — there — There!

But I didn’t. I held my position stretched out in the closet, fingers clinging to the top shelf, body arched and swaying, and let him do whatever he wanted. It felt too good to stop.

When I felt the head of his cock nudging between my lips I thought I would scream with relief. I was trembling with the tension, aching for that moment of penetration. And it was upon me.

He was upon me. Up in me. Pushing slowly, wedging himself into me, his hands gripping my hips.

I took him into me, into the warm and slippery heart of me, and when he could go no further, I clamped down on him, trying to enclose the length of him, to prevent the inevitable prelude to aching emptiness: his withdrawal.

We remained that way for a long moment, his chest pressed against my back, his breath stirring the hair near my ear. And we breathed together, and as we did the two of us became as one. Breathe in… Clench and hold… Release. Breathe in… Clench and hold… Release. A dozen times, perhaps more, and then we began rocking together, eventually breaking that rhythm to collide against each other, our bodies thudding, thudding, thudding. Faster and faster.

Breathing sexual fire, trembling on the verge of orgasm, I sank my teeth into my forearm and screamed my release. He hastened to meet me there, jabbing upwards into me, his fingers biting hard into my flesh. I felt that pulsing, heard that sound he makes, that balls-deep groan that signifies an intense orgasm.

And then his scruff on my skin again. Making me hiss and twitch as I hung by my fingertips from the shelf, unwilling to trust my wobbly legs to bear my weight.

Love is a noun and a verb. Something I am, and something I do. It fills me even now, brimming between my thighs. And it smells wonderful. Yes, love has a scent. A potent, unmistakable fragrance.

—

This podcast is sponsored by AdamAnd Eve.com — enter “SILKEN” into the offer code field and save 50% on any item and get free shipping too!

For more erotic stories intimately told — visit the shop at SilkenOnSex.com

You can download the entire Meet My Maker story without the podcast information at www.SilkenOnSex.com for $5. Or buy the Silken On Sex iPhone app for $2.99 and get Meet My Maker free!

This podcast is sponsored by AdamAnd Eve.com — enter “SILKEN” into the offer code field and save 50% on any item!
For longer, steamier, CD-quality erotic audio stories visit the shop at SilkenOnSex.com

You can download the entire Meet My Maker story without the podcast information at www.SilkenOnSex.com for $5. Or buy the Silken On Sex iPhone app for $2.99 and get Meet My Maker free!

The music featured in this podcast is Melissa Ferrick’s song Drive.
This podcast is sponsored by AdamAnd Eve.com — visit the site and enter “SILKEN” into the offer code field and save 50% on any item!
For longer, steamer, higher-quality audio erotica visit the shop at SilkenOnSex.com

This podcast is about conquering, about the distinctions between submitting and being conquered, about the contest of wills between a strong-willed woman and her  equally strong-willed match. This podcast is hot, rough, and more than a little spanked.

The music featured in this podcast is Melissa Ferrick’s song Drive.
This podcast is sponsored by AdamAnd Eve.com — visit the site and enter “SILKEN” into the offer code field and save 50% on any item!
For longer, hotter, higher-quality audio erotica visit the shop at SilkenOnSex.com.

In recent months I’ve had the pleasure of making the online acquaintance of some remarkably sensual, hedonistic, and outright kinky women. One of these smart and sexy women, who goes by Hedone, seems to have chosen erotic spanking as her unofficial theme for May. She blogs about pleasure and submission in a way that resonates with me — as a Femdom. Here on the internet she waves her words at us like a flower’s scent on the breeze and I just want to pick that flower and caress the petals and peel them away, one-by-one, until she is naked, stripped to the core, and begging for more.

I have her permission to read some recent entries from her Pleasure Principle blog, and as well I will give my response to her very provocative material.

Hedone May 12, 2010: Fantasy Spanking

I’ve been itching for a spanking. A bare hand spanking.
I want it standing up.
Pants dropped to the ankles. Panties pushed to mid-thigh.

Stand next to me. Speak softly, lovingly in my ear.
Tell me firmly the why and the what of that which you are about to do.

Caress my bottom, lull me into security.
Take your time rubbing, squeezing, and massaging my undisciplined bottom.

Your touch, your breath, your voice
sends my mind reeling; makes my pussy moisten.

Hedone May 14, 2010: Smack My Kitty

Over Caesar salad, french onion soup, and fish ‘n’ chips SirDom asked me, “Why do you like your pussy slapped?”

I thought:
Hmm. How to answer, how to answer. Be thorough. Elucidate to uncover the mystery that SirDom so boldly seeks to understand.

My reply:
It feels soooooooooooo GOOD!

Yup that’s all I came up with. He just looked at me, he had no reaction really. But you could see the wheels turning, his eyes staring in wonderment and his eyebrows set quizzically.

What I should have said:

I like the feeling.
I like to hear the soft toned smack,
I like the spicy tingling sensation that force leaves on my pussy lips.
I love the more concentrated blows to my clit; the ones that make my pussy twitch and my body jerk.

Wop!
zing!
swat!
Pat…pat…pat, smack!!

Ooooh yea. More, more, more. I love it.

I like the anticipation…the not knowing when the next strike will fall or how hard it will be or where it will land.
I get off on the power you wield creating and controlling this sensual experience–my pleasure.

~~@~~

In six months I’ve come a long way from “I don’t like pain”, “I’m not interested in impact play” to purring “smack my pussy…please” and cumming profusely from the marvelous encounter.

After reading her “Spank My Kitty” post, I responded to it with: I love spanking pussies. I love the way the eyes of you pain sluts open wide with the impact, the way your luscious mouths drop open. I love the gasps and hisses and moans. I love the way you pump your hips up to meet the strap or the hand. I love watching the labia change color, watching them flood with blood, getting puffy and lewd-looking. I love it when the sound of the strap against your pussy changes when the wetness comes. I love it when you beg to cum, when you beg for more slaps to your clit. Being on the receiving end of a good pussy spanking has never really interested me but being on the giving end — ah, now that makes me wet ;)

I followed the trail of erotic spanking breadcrumbs back to Hedone’s March 28th post called “Spanked! A metamorphosis.” I’m excerpting a hot little section from it that I am sure will get everyone’s attention, and hopefully, do a fine job of illustrating why you shouldn’t knock erotic spanking until you’ve tried it.

No sooner had I lowered my pants was I pushed forward, face down onto the workbench.  SirDom pushed his warm digits into my wetness from behind, and began his phenomenal fingering of my pussy. I didn’t know what hit me. The rhythm was firm, fast, and calculated. I went from oblivious, to highly aroused to ecstasy in what seems like seconds. Because all of a sudden, the fantastic finger fuck ended and SirDom was swatting my ass.

“Oh!” the first one startled me but made me quiver. The next smack of my ass stung but definitely blurred the line between pain and pleasure. And the next hard, stinging swat on my firm, round, soft-to-the-touch ass was nothing but pleasure. His hand landed heavily on my skin, and my pulsating pussy dripped. SirDom kept spanking me…smack, smack, smack, smack…thwack! I don’t know how many swats my ass endured, I only know I was gone. My mind–the consciousness, left on a plane called ecstasy.

My spanking, and being sexually—but willingly—molested in His sanctuary were the prelude to an afternoon of surprises and new sexual activities I was to enjoy with SirDom. It was a splendid afternoon, which left me floating far out in ‘sub-space’. Only it is the delicious spanking that has crept into my thoughts again and again throughout the week.

I am a changed woman. A woman who needs to be spanked.

I’ve really enjoyed following Hedone’s sensual evolution, enjoyed how she’s come around to understanding the pleasure her body can witness when it is seasoned with little pops of pain, when the shock of the sting wakes her up from her sensuous oxytocin lethargy into an edgy adrenaline alertness that is followed by the sweet seduction of endorphins singing in her veins. I can feel the delirium and the longing in her words, I can see it in my mind’s eye, having seen it so many times before as a consequence of my own ministrations. I’ve seen women sway and swing, gasp and sing, their bodies convulsing, gasping, begging for me to give them just one more, and then for another, faster, harder — it is intense, electric, and incredibly fucking hot.

For more on erotic spanking, please stop by my SilkenOnSex.com website and click on the Spanking tag, which will link to 4 erotic audio stories that feature erotic spankings of both men and women.

Lastly, I’ve got a special second podcast release this week to feature the work of Kitty Thomas, who recently released her eBook Comfort Food, a disturbingly erotic story about the effects of social isolation and monotony on one woman who learns to endure the unendurable by finding pleasure in it. Look for Silken on Sex episode #69 and listen in as I tell a lengthy excerpt of her tale.

The Forfeit (16:27) A woman has talked her partner into masturbating to the edge of orgasm and backing off every day for a three week period, and finally, with the waiting, teasing, and denial over, they consummate their desire–outside, up against a stone wall. She’d bet him that he wouldn’t last 5 minutes their first time together and he accepted the challenge, with the agreed-upon forfeit being that the loser would spend an hour tied to the winner’s bed. He lost the bet, and so they go to her place, where she ties him to her bed and slowly wrings her winnings from his flesh.

This story features sex in public, massage, bondage, and exploration of the sacred via tantric sex.

To hear more, visit the shop at www.SilkenOnSex.com and click on The Forfeit

The next podcast episode will most likely be about erotic spanking, so if you find that topic interesting or arousing, do look for next Wednesday’s release.

“You’re such a Cougar,” said my old high school-era friend after my partner, a man a decade younger than me, excused himself and left us to our wine-sipping on the patio.

I was still tingling from the feel of his warm palms on my shoulders, and from the way his fingertips had brushed the skin of my collarbones when he’d bent to kiss my temple, so her comment didn’t fully register in my mind.

“How do you do it?” she then asked, her upper body inclined toward me and an avid expression on her face.

Mina is recently divorced after 20 years of marriage, and at 40 is finding herself struggling with a suddenly rampant libido. Her ex-husband Paul is a dozen years older than her, and she’d finally grown tired of his philandering ways after their kids caught Dad at the movies with a woman half his age.

“Do what?”

“You know…” she lowered her voice to a loud whisper,  “snag a young stud…”

I laughed. “I don’t know, Mina. Its not like I try to attract younger men, certainly not ones as young as Gabe.”

Mmmm Gabe. Smart, sweet, funny, sexy. I’ve known him since he was in college, and he’d been patiently wearing me down over the course of a decade.

“I’ve thought about trying out a younger man…” She paused, then said, “Does the age difference bother you?”

I thought about it. Thought about how to answer that one.

“It used to. It’s why I turned him away all those years. You know me, I can be a romantic, sure, but bottom line I’m also a pragmatist, and well… Gabe is the kind of guy who wants to get married and start a family, and that is so NOT me.”

Mina giggled. She sat back in her chair and re-crossed her legs. She’s a good-looking woman. Definitely MILF category, and no one would guess she’s the mother of three teenagers.

We sipped our wine for a couple of minutes, enjoying the glorious afternoon with it’s blue-blue sky and budding trees. Mina put down her glass and reached her hand out to cover mine.

“Aren’t you afraid he’s going to leave you?”

I sighed. A simple question, really, one with a complex answer.

“Not any more,” was my response.

“Why not?”

“Because he says I am the one for him. And while I believe him, I also know that is for right now. Tomorrow, five years from now, it might change. But for right now, we love each other, and it is enough. Fear of getting my heart broken was what kept me from giving him a chance all those years he pursued me, and one day I woke up to the fact I was letting that fear run my life. So no, I’m not afraid he’ll leave me. I accept that it’s a very real possibility and move on with my life. When or if that day comes, well, I’ll deal with it. But it doesn’t make sense to let it overshadow today.”

Mina smiled at me. “You’re so brave, Kay. Where do you find the courage?”

“One day someone told me that the only difference between me and people who do great things is that people who do great things don’t let being afraid stop them. They acknowledge their fears and act anyway.”

She looked thoughtful for a long moment. Staring into her glass of Chardonnay she asked, “What do you think attracts younger men to older women?”

It was my turn to lean forward in my seat.

“The same thing that attracted us to older men,” I answered, remembering that we’d both had relationships with men considerably older than ourselves straight out of high school.

“Oh? Hmmm. I hadn’t thought of that,” she said thoughtfully.

“Think about it,” I said, and then leaned back in my chair and explored my own memories.

What I liked about older men was that they knew what they were doing, sexually and otherwise. There was no fumbling around in the dark, no disappointing premature ejaculations, no deflated “that’s it?” feeling in marked contrast to what I’d read in romance novels. Older men impressed my 20-year-old self with their confidence, with the apparent ease and certainty with which they navigated life, and yes, with their sexual prowess. They also had more refined tastes, tastes that extended beyond a date consisting of swiped beer and burgers in the bed of a truck parked at the beach.

No, I preferred men who were older, and usually, foreign. Not because of their charming accents, but because of their minds. They had a different perspective of the world, different educations. They knew things. And they were only too happy to share their thoughts and experiences with an adoring younger woman who hung on their every word.

When I asked Gabe what distinguished me from the women he had dated previous to me, he said three things: I know who I am, I know what I want, and I don’t play the mind games that women his age do. And then he blushed. Even squirmed a little.

I smiled knowingly, which made him blush even more deeply. I, too, know things. And while he loves that I can converse on chaos theory, cloud computing, and coding, he loves that I know my way around the human body. He loves that I know my own body and what works for me, and that I know things about his body that he never would have discovered otherwise.

It pulsed there between us, electric and aching. All that carnal knowledge.

Yes… He was hooked long before we’d had carnal knowledge of each other, but I’ve no doubt that my no-holds-barred pursuit of pleasure and pleasuring will keep him around for quite a while.

Mina might call me a Cougar but Gabe… he calls me a real woman. His woman. And regardless of age and experience differences, mutual appreciation and love are what matters for this Cougar woman and her younger man.

—

Bored with your sex life?  Looking for a way to spice things up? Silkenvoice spins hot erotic stories for your listening pleasure. Visit the shop at SilkenOnSex.com for audibly erotic tales that are intimately told by the author herself.

She’d thought that the period of sexual exploration that followed was a phase, but in fact, it was a prelude. Five years later she was happily single and loving her life — and she was hitting her sexual prime. Her lovers said she was insatiable, so constant was her state of arousal and need, but it wasn’t that she couldn’t be satisfied. It was simply that she couldn’t be satisfied for long.

Her bedside dresser had drawers filled with every sex toy imaginable, and while they served their purposes of helping her to achieve orgasm, none of them accomplished the job so well that she wasn’t horny again 30 minutes later. For 5 years she’d been questing for some one or some thing that could wring her of sexual energy so thoroughly that she could sleep through a night without being disturbed by erotic dreams. And she’d found it.

At a play-party a man and a woman tag-teamed her on a machine that made her come so many times she’d eventually half-fallen, half-slid off it in a stupor, her body trembling and twitching, and for the rest of the night and much of the next day, she’d had no interest in sex. She’d felt, as she’d put it “Done.”

It was such an incredible feeling to her, both the release of multiple orgasms and the feeling of satiety the resulted, that she searched for the machine online and ordered it immediately, not even hesitating over the cost.

She’d been tracking the box’s progress from the Midwest. Every time the shipper scanned the package she received an update, and she knew that today would be the day it arrived. She’d taken the day off because she knew the box would arrive in the morning. Special rush delivery by 10:30am–she’d paid extra for it.

The contents of the box already had a name, one she’d given it the day it was ordered. Wally. She was so excited about Wally’s arrival that she’d taken great pains to make sure that everything was perfectly arranged. She walked back to her bedroom to check again, wondering if she’d missed something. She’d put her yoga mat on the floor in front of the mirrored closet doors. Nearby was a small stack of hand towels with a handful of condoms on top, and beside it, two bottles: one of water, one of lube. Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a short babydoll nightie with a silk robe over it. Her legs gleamed in the morning light, shaved smooth and lightly oiled. And though she could not see it, she knew her pussy was wet and open. She could smell her own arousal.

When the doorbell rang, she wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there, hypnotized by the images playing through her mind, but the sound of it galvanized her into action, and she rushed to the door, her body suddenly on fire with excitement. The delivery man was nice enough to bring the heavy box inside, and when he gave her the slate to sign, her hands were shaking so much she dropped the stylus.

No sooner had she closed the door after her breathy “thank you” than she turned to the box. She had placed a razor knife on a nearby table and she quickly reached for it. With deft, sure strokes she sliced the tape holding the box closed and pulled the packaging out until Wally was revealed.

She stopped for a moment to admire the gleaming black hump. Her fingers caressed it, pressed into it, tested the firmness of the padding. She lifted it from the box, and in her eagerness it might have weighed one pound instead of twenty, for all the notice she took of it. Putting Wally down, she reached into the box and pulled out the attachments and the illustrative pages with the word SYBIAN printed all over it. Her hands tingled, and that tingle spread through her body with such force it made her shiver.

A sybian. Her very own sybian. The ultimate girl toy.

Scooping up the fucking machine, she headed for the bedroom. She couldn’t wait another minute to give Big Wally a ride.

—

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Visit www.SilkenOnSex.com for longer and more explicit stories with more class than 70s porn and more passion than a book on tape.

Want more Silkenvoice?
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Visit her Erotic Audio Site: www.SilkenOnSex.com

Want more Silkenvoice?
Get her AudioSensual CD on iTunes or Amazon.com
Visit her Erotic Audio Site: www.SilkenOnSex.com