Category Archives: Reality

Dream Orgasms

Ever orgasm in your dream? I’ve been having sex dreams lately. They’re one of my favorite things. Unconscious pleasure.

The funny thing about sex dreams is that sometimes pleasure comes from the unexpected.

Once, and only once, I orgasmed in my dream. A crazy, amazing orgasm that woke me up. Wow. What’s strange is how I achieved this sexy sleep-climax. I was making out with a crush. He was this fair-skinned ginger, broad shoulders, an incredible body. He swam for the college swim team, and looked the part.

Things were getting hot. Very hot. Then, suddenly, he snaked his tongue into my ear and licked. Boom. Beautiful climax.

I forgot about this dream of mine until recently, when a guy licked my ear. Suddenly the memory crashed back! Ear orgasms! Are they possible? Does an act that kinda grosses me out–wet willies are the worst–actually turn me on?

Experimentation will be necessary.

 

Other news! I’m done with my Chicago trip. It was a blast. Family, friends, sex, and kink, all wrapped up in two weeks in the Midwest (but definitely wrapped in separate packages). I’ll share a story or two soon of the sexy sides. So, I’m Austin-bound today. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I’m heading home. It’s a good feeling.

xoxo
Sadey

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Obedient Bitch

obey

Obey! by ~Rhynn

I’m not a bratty submissive. I do what I’m told.

This isn’t to say I’m a doormat, or that I’ll do anything a dominant guy tells me to do. I’m fiercely independent, almost (almost!) to a fault, and I won’t do stupid shit just for the sake of ‘obeying’ some guy I’m temporarily attached to.

Within reason, however, if I’m in sub mode, I’ll do anything asked of me. I’ll try to, anyway, and I won’t purposefully disobey.

As of late, I’ve been with men…and women…who care about my pleasure as much, if not more, than their own, so doing my dominant’s bidding has been mostly filled with fun. And orgasms.

Who doesn’t love orgasms??

Hmm. I do love them. I love pleasure. I love coming over and over again, to the point of exhaustion. Legs trembling, mind spinning. Orgasms are fucking rad.

But I also love…

Orgasm denial. Torture, unbearable, exquisite, begging and pleading for release…

I love beatings. Slow, steady, fast, harsh, whatever comes my way. I love that strange mental hurdle of my masochism, the one I strive toward, where all pleas for mercy subside and my brain relaxes and I just take it. That’s a fun moment. The pain becomes cloudy, a blur, it’s pleasure but it’s not, it’s just beauty.

There was a time, many years ago (I’m 30, so I now say things like, ‘many years ago’), where I’d do wrong just to have more.

“Don’t move, or we’ll start over,” he’d say, getting ready to paddle my ass ten times.

One…two…three…four…

I’d shoot up, out of place, pretending the pain was just so bad that I couldn’t help myself, I had to move out of position!

And we’d start over. In other scenarios, I’d find a way to disobey, to earn more pain, because pain brought pleasure…and I loved the idea of being punished for my offenses.

Now, I’ve morphed into this honest person who can’t lie, even if the lies are small and even if I can tell that the dominant wants me to falter.

I don’t really know what this means; I actually don’t think it means much at all. Except that when I want a hard beating, or torture, I have to ask for it, not earn it.

xoxo
Sadey

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Sex on the Beach

A friend of mine, Ryan, took me to Corpus Christi last weekend. It was a lot of fun, even if it was super duper ridiculously cold.

Okay, it wasn’t that cold. I’m just a huge wuss when it comes to unideal weather…and I’m terrible at appropriate packing, evidently.

As some of you know, I write down lots of my adventures. Here’s a little snippet from what I wrote about the beach.

——

Ryan picks me up when he’s done with work. I’m helping my roommate with her website as he comes in. He’s wearing jeans and a gringo shirt, and red Chucks. Hipster. He can pull it off.

We pack up, and we’re on the road.

I’m quiet. It’s weird, I can feel myself slip away from talkative-me, into my head. I’m nervous, feeling very shy…part of me just wants him to acknowledge that so I can maybe release.

He doesn’t. It’s not his style…I’m learning his style, and he’s not exactly super talkative and expressive himself.

I barely pay attention to what we chat about. Rather, I don’t pay attention to what he talks about, since I’m too busy zooming along in my brain. After about an hour, I calm a little as the conversation moves to science and philosophy. He recommends a book—The Science of Fear. It sounds good, so I make a note to buy it later.

He puts his hand around my neck and I relax a little. It reminds me of LA. The driving, the waiting, the insecurities surrounded by the security of no control…

When he pushes me down into his lap and says, “Take it out,” I happily suck his cock. I’m glad to have something to do with myself–it’s far better than sitting and thinking.

I like giving him head. I’ve never given road-head before, so that’s fun. It’s a little awkward, but fun. He pulls me up for a break, holding my neck again. Then he grasps my thigh, moves close to my pussy, slapping me hard before grabbing my hair and pulling me down again…

I’m turned on as fuck when he stops me once more. He urges my thighs apart and yanks down my leggings, putting his hand near my cunt.

Jesus. If I was one to call the shots, I’d demand he pull over and fuck me immediately.

But Ryan’s slow, in control. Teasing.

When he slips his finger inside, I gasp in pleasure. He tells me to thank him.

“Thank you,” I whisper, trying to keep myself from thrusting up against his hand.

“Thank you, what?”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sir. Fucking lifestyle vernacular. It’s a necessity for some. I can go with it.

He pulls out, holding his hand against my pussy again. Teasing me. When he slides back in, I groan in pleasure. Quickly, too fast, he pulls out and slaps my thigh.

“Thank you, sir!” I gasp, realizing my mistake.

He’s really good at this. Some guys fumble around, their lacking knowledge of female anatomy embarrassingly obvious…not Ryan. He knows what he’s doing, and I start to respect him even more.

Feeling for my clit, he pinches it. Pain. I crave it…I gasp, wiggle, but I don’t want to get away.

For the rest of our ride, he does this, working me, turning me on. By the time we get to Corpus Christi, I’m insanely wet. We stop for dinner. I’m famished, but Maslow’s hierarchy is way off, here. I’d go without food for a few days if I could just get fucked…

We talk a little about where we’re going to camp, and I look it up on my phone. It’s supposed to be really remote.

“Is it safe?” I ask, thinking about some of the remote places I’ve visited in Mexico and wondering if I should’ve left my laptop at home.

“Is it safe?” He laughs. “Define: safe. You’re going there with me. Of course you’re not safe.”

I smile. Good.

We have another hour or so before getting to camp, and he teases me for part of the way. By the time we get there, I’m so goddamn wet that he has me put a towel under myself to keep my juices off the seat.

We drive on the beach to a spot that’s far from other campers. It’s freezing.

Not literally. It’s probably seventy degrees. But it’s windy, and I’m cold. If I had my way, we’d set up the tent and get on with things under some wind protection.

Ryan has other ideas. He has me kneel and blow him for a bit before telling me to get up and take my clothes off. I do, getting colder by the second. He goes to the car and brings back a blanket.

Rather than throwing it around me, he puts it on the sand. “Kneel.”

I obey. He holds my hair.

“You need to be grateful.”

I attempt a nod. It’s the spiel…be grateful to the dominant for being oh-so-kind, etc, etc. It throws me off.

I thank him. I suck his cock. He tells me to get up and we get close to the water.

We step into the water.

It is so fucking cold.

“Kneel,” he says.

I do. I’m shivering.

“Good girl.”

I suck his cock some more and he tells me I need to obey him this weekend. I nod. Agreed.

He pulls me up and puts the blanket around me.

“Oh my god this feels so good—“ I begin, but I’m interrupted as he yanks it off, grabs ahold of my waist, and spanks me a few times, hard and fast.

“Ow! Fuck! Owww!” I gasp, hopping.

“What did you forget?”

“Please, sir…? Thank you, sir!” I manage.

He smiles, and wraps the blanket around me again.

He takes me up shore, puts the blanket on the ground, and tells me to lie down. I do, cold, and wait for him. When he comes back, he has me turn over and he spanks me.

He’s good at spanking. I love it.

He lays on top of me, and I love that, too. The pressure. The welcome warmth.

“Thank you, sir…” I say, relaxing against the ground. “That feels so fucking good.”

There’s another blanket, and he puts it over me. He’s watching headlights in the distance. They’re getting closer, and he pulls the blanket off my ass, holding me by the neck so I can’t watch the car.

“Do you think I should let them see you here, naked?”

“No, sir!”

A moment passes. I struggle to move my head, to hear if the car is approaching or not. Then I see it, it’s gone by us, and I squirm.

“You totally let them see me—“ I begin, protesting.

He holds me tight and spanks me hard. I stop struggling.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I whisper when he stops.

“Turn over. Lay on your back.”

I do, and he slips on a condom before getting between my legs. I tilt my pelvis up toward him—I want his cock inside me so fucking bad.

He’s slow, though. Teasing me. I’m squirming, relentlessly horny and needy…

He smiles. I know he’s enjoying my need, my desperation. When he slides inside me I groan, thrilled to have his cock…

“Thank you, sir.”

“Good girl.”

He’s fantastic. Some guys work, others don’t. Ryan? He knows how to fuck. He thrusts hard, giving me what I want, then goes back to slow, teasing, merciless…then beginning again…it feels so goddamn good.

I come hard, my moans muffled by the crashing waves behind us, my legs wrapped around him. I never want this to stop, I want more, just more…more fucking…my legs shaking, my words stumbling…

“Thank you…oh! Fuck! Thank you, sir!”

When he comes it’s beautiful, it’s controlled. He’s still orchestrating the show…Usually, an orgasm is where I get a glimpse of a man out of control. Not with Ryan. I can see his satisfaction, I can feel it, my pussy trembling around his cock, but not once does he seem beside himself with pleasure.

He rolls off me. Instinctually, I want to cuddle up to him, post orgasmic bliss. But he has a hand on my thigh and I recall that some guys don’t want that sort of thing. I keep my distance, he keeps his, and we lay under the cloudy sky.

I curl up under the blanket. It’s chilly, but I’m still in the heat of the moment. I doze off, awake, and doze off again. I wouldn’t mind sleeping outside tonight.

—–

:)

xoxo
Sadey

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Holy Shit, Some Girls Don’t Know About This?!

I was eating with some girlfriends the other night, and the topic of sex toys came up.

“What’s your favorite?” one asked me.

“Hitachi magic wand, hands down.”

[Blank stares]

…”What? Wait…you don’t know what that is, do you?!”

They hadn’t heard of it. So, world, here’s my public service message of the day:

Get this.

hitachi

The Hitachi magic wand is classified as a ‘personal massager’, but it’s a vibrator, plain and simple. It plugs in for power, meaning no batteries and a stronger vibration.

How strong?

It’s fucking powerful. Insta-orgasm. I physically cannot avoid coming, even on the ‘low’ setting. Which means, for BDSM enthusiasts, some interesting play potential for orgasm control, forced orgasms, and general fun torture.

My ex had one, the lovely couple in Ohio had one, and when I moved to Austin, I finally bought my own.

Honestly, I tend to only use it when there’s a time crunch or I’m feeling incredibly lazy. I love masturbating, and can spend a half-hour or so at it, dreaming up various scenarios and teasing myself, building up, slowing down, enjoying…My fingers work fine.

But when I just need to come, and come fast, the Hitachi is the tool for the job. It’s been great for my broken wrist, too, since using my fingers is currently out of the question.

Get one. Trust me. You’ll love it.

xoxo
Sadey

EDIT: Tank, my friend from Mexico City, took his to London to use on his girlfriend. Ruined his wand (the electronic one, not the fleshy one). Something about these babies isn’t compatible with high voltage; if you try to use the Hitachi in a socket higher than 125 V, you may burn the motor out.

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