The following is a story an ex-girlfriend wrote for me years ago.  I had evidently saved it to my computer, as I recently found it in a text file on a CD.  I was hesitant about posting it to the blog; she wrote it for me and did not give any explicit permission about sharing it further.  On the other hand, the one proper name in the story has been changed to protect the innocent, and I have no contact with the individual who wrote it.  I think I’m in the clear on this.

Monica and I were at a club, hoping to pick up a couple hot guys.  We were both dressed sexy as usual, and it wasn’t long before we attracted some attention.  Two sexy guys approached us, and the four of us spent some time flirting before we went out onto the dance floor for awhile.  We did some bumping and grinding in front of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, to the delight of many onlookers.  Soon our moves had the attention of everyone else on the dance floor, and the rest of the crowd gathered around us and watched as our moves became more and more sexual.  As one of the guys rubbed up against me I could feel his erection pressing into me through his pants.  It really got me hot, and I pressed back.  He began to caress my tits through my top.  By this point I was soaking wet.

After a couple songs, we went to the bar where the guys bought us drinks.  While Monica and her guy stayed at the bar and talked, my guy took me to a booth.  Our conversation was short-lived and we started making out almost immediately. His hands snaked up into my top and under my bra, and he played with my nipples.  When I told him that I was wet, he wanted to see for himself.  But I went one better and I opened my jeans to let him have a feel.  In seconds, my pants and my panties were down at my ankles, he had three fingers inside my dripping pussy, and his tongue was down my throat.  He rubbed my aching clit with his thumb and I came in no time at all, and then I licked every drop of my juice off of his fingers.  That’s when I noticed that everyone in the bar was looking our way, including Monica and her guy.

The guys were really horny, and so were Monica and I.  We decided to continue the fun someplace more private.  My guy invited us back to his penthouse apartment and we eagerly accepted.  It was a long drive and Monica and I made out in the back seat while my guy did his best to concentrate on the road and not crash.  In the passenger seat, Monica’s guy watched and cheered us on as our play intensified.  He was a little disappointed when we arrived at the apartment and had to stop making out, but Monica and I assured him that we were not done yet.

We took a very long elevator ride up to the guy’s penthouse.  We hung out by the bar and he put some music on the stereo.  He made us all cocktails, and even though there was nothing on anyone’s minds but getting off, we continued to flirt a little.  Eventually Monica and I had the guys take a seat on the leather sofa.  As they sipped their drinks, we put on a show for them.  Dancing sensually in time to the music, we stripped down to our bra and panties, then crawled over to the couch where we gave the guys lapdances.  We writhed and gyrated against them, feeling their arousal through their pants.  Eventually I removed my bra, leaving just a tiny black thong.  My tits hung free, and I rubbed them up and down against my guy’s quickly-hardening package.  

It wasn’t long before my guy made it clear that he needed relief.  He opened up his pants, freeing the enormous hard cock that I enjoyed feeling on the dance floor.  His shaft was big and thick, and his head was purple.  I swallowed it whole.  He moaned in ecstasy as I sucked him deep, and licked him up and down.  I looked over to Monica and I saw that she had also lost her bra.  Her man’s cock was almost as big as mine, and as he titty-fucked her, she sucked him too.  I got back to the task at hand, enjoying the sounds of the two guys’ pleasure as I savored each lick.  

Monica’s guy came first.  He grunted and groaned as he shot his come right down her throat.  I heard her satisfied reaction to his orgasm, and I stopped what I am doing just long enough to watch her swallow his load.  She didn’t miss a drop.  Then I dove back down onto my guy’s cock and I finished him off.  While I sucked, he warned me that he was close, and he pulled his cock out of my mouth.  Excited for his release, I leaned back and watched as he jerked off all over my face, showering me with warm white sweetness.  

I wanted to watch the guys get undressed, but Monica had other ideas.  She pulled me close and slowly licked my face clean.  Then she kissed me so that I could taste some of my guy’s come.  From there we moved into the bedroom.  Monica and I got on the bed so that we could enjoy each other’s bodies.  She lay down and I kissed her neck, then sucked her breasts.  I kissed down her belly, then let my tongue drift ever so close to the juicy lips of her pussy.  She sat up, and then got on all fours so that she and I were face to face.  We kissed passionately, our mouths open, our tongues batting together playfully.

Monica’s guy came up behind her and took her from behind.  She gasped as he entered her.  At the same time, I felt my guy come up and do the same to me.  He was so big!  He buried his cock all the way inside me and grabbed my shoulders as he began to fuck me.  Monica and I continued to kiss as they fucked us, and at the same time my guy reached around to play with my throbbing clit, giving me another very intense orgasm.

Monica pushed her guy down onto the bed and got on top of him, impaling herself on his impressive length.  Soaked in sweat, she rode him like a cowgirl on a wild stallion, bucking hard and fast as he pushed her ever closer to the edge of climax.  As my guy fucked me, I was entranced by the sight of Monica’s beautiful ass, undulating rhythmically.  When she came she moaned loudly, almost screaming with the pleasure of it all.  Her release was beautiful to behold.  

She collapsed on top of him, quivering silently.  I couldn’t help but lower my own hand to my clit.  My guy’s hand was still there.  Together, we moved our fingers in a circular motion, and I came again.  At the same time Monica climbed off of her guy’s still-hard cock and took him in her mouth, sucking voraciously.  She was focused on his orgasm, and I was so focused on watching that it took me by surprise when my guy announced that he was about to come.  His body tensed up, his hands tightening on my hips.  

Monica’s guy was coming too.  She took him all the way down her throat past her gag reflex, and swallowed all the come she could get.  Even with a huge cock in her mouth, she made hungry noises like a baby being fed.  It was at that moment that my guy started coming, filling my pussy until I was so full that I literally couldn’t take another drop.  He stayed inside me for a couple minutes, his throbbing hardness sending shockwaves through my entire being.  I felt sweat drip from his chest onto my back and down my ass as he leaned against me, his weight on my shoulders and my hips.  

My guy pulled his slowly-deflating cock out of my depths, and I felt his load drip out of my pussy and down my thigh.  Monica lay next to me and I kissed her, enjoying the taste of her guy’s cum on her lips and on her tongue.  I was still so horny.  She suggested that we take a shower together, and led me by the hand into the master bathroom.  A beautiful glass-enclosed marble shower stall took up one entire wall.  She turned on the hot water and pulled me in.  By this time the guys had walked in.  Monica asked them to join us but they were spent, and they just wanted to watch.  It was just as well, because I wanted her all to myself.

Monica braced herself against the shower wall and stuck her ass out.  The sight was a welcome invitation.  I slipped two fingers inside her, and then three.  All the while I was massaging her clit with my thumb.  She came in seconds, and then I dropped to my knees and devoured her ass and her pussy from behind, still fingering her clit.  She tasted like the sweetest nectar I’ve ever tasted.  While we played, the guys remained on the outside, slowly re-energizing thanks to our show.

When Monica had had enough, we got out and dried off.  In the bedroom we found the guys hard and ready, and they both wanted me.  Monica sat in a comfortable chair in the corner of the room, and masturbated while I dropped to my knees.  They held their cocks in front of my face as if presenting them for inspection.  I knew exactly what to do.  My mouth wasn’t big enough to fit both of those enormous things at once, so first I dropped down onto my guy’s cock, getting it nice and slick while I stroked the other guy with my hand.  I switched immediately, taking Monica’s guy’s cock down my throat and stroking my guy.  Then I switched back.  I took a few minutes this time, feeling my guy grow more and more turned on as I sucked him rapidly.  

I continued like this, sucking one and stroking the other, until they couldn’t take anymore.  It was a shame, because I hoped to make them both come on my tits.  But they had other plans.  My guy took me to the bed.  He lay down on his back and I got on top, feeling his thickness invade me.  His thrusts were powerful and I rode each one, my tits down low enough for him to suck as his cock pumped harder and harder into me from below.  We quickly found the perfect up-and-down rhythm, and I felt myself ascending.  

A sensation of coldness distracted me.  Something was being applied to my ass.  I recognized it immediately as lube.  Monica’s guy was behind me, rubbing it vigorously against my tight pink bud.  When I was good and lubed, he gently worked a couple fingers inside.  I had never felt anything like this before, and I wanted the feeling to continue.  I didn’t want him to stop, but I was disappointed when he pulled his fingers out of my asshole.  They were quickly replaced by his pulsing cock.  

The feeling was intense as he pushed his way inside me.  I had never been fucked in the ass and it was so intense that I started coming right away, one orgasm after the other.  Soon, I was squirting, my pussy drenching my guy where he lay.  A huge wet spot formed on the bed beneath him, but he didn’t miss a beat.  Meanwhile Monica’s guy held my tits, pulling me back toward him as he fucked my ass.  Both guys fucked me for longer than I ever thought I’d be able to stand it, filling me in ways I didn’t think were possible.  As one man buried his cock to its base, the other slowly withdrew.  When that one was deep inside me, then the other one was withdrawing.  They were fucking me in perfect sync, each movement wracking my body with thunderbolts of ecstasy.  

My chain of orgasms continued, each one more intense than the last one.  But soon the tightness of my holes was too much for them.  I could feel their cocks growing harder inside me, and they moaned together as they started to come.  Soon they sent load after hot load of come deep into my pussy and my asshole.  This almost sent me over the edge, and I fell against my guy’s firm, toned chest as Monica’s guy collapsed against me.

Their cocks were still dripping as they pulled out of me.  I rolled off of my guy and onto my back.  They brought their cocks up to my mouth, and this time I managed to cram both inside at the same time.  I licked and sucked every drop of cum from their shafts, then worked on keeping them hard.  I stroked them against my waiting mouth, hoping to make them come again.  

At the same time, I felt Monica’s tongue on me, cleaning my pussy.  When she was done there, she lifted my legs in her hands and lapped teasingly at the cum that leaked from my ass.  The feeling of her lips and tongue drove me wild, and I started stroking my clit as the guys beat their cocks up against my face.  We all climaxed together in a chorus of very satisfied moans.

-Jill

*Not to be confused with Minnie Mouse Monday.

Photo courtesy of Lucy and Alex of A Couple of Wankers

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust].  Want to be included in e[lust] #39? Start with the newly updated rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


 ~ Top 3 ~


Wrong On Every Level - "If you wouldn’t ask them to borrow $20 bucks, how the fuck is it ok for you to ask them to fuck you? Oh right, it’s not."


Good Girl - "She nearly melted into me. When I finally released her, she exhaled–she had been holding her breath."


The Three Minute Game - "The timer went off and I breathed out, both a sigh of relief and disappointment that it was over."


 ~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~


Bitch- "I don’t let her run the show…but she’s always around. She’s in the background saying: Bullshit" 


e[lust] Editress: Dangerous Lilly



All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Kink & Fetish


Anticipation
Bondage Blowjob
Filling you up
Learn the rope of knots: Square knot
Public tease
Swinging in Paris
Switch: Between Dom & sub – A BDSM Interlude


Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships


A Porn and Masturbation Trifecta
Cathartic
Deal breakers
Deborah Sundahl’s Class & Female Ejaculation
How my pussy has changed
On Rejection
Outgrowing One-Nighters (At Least in Part)
The Good, the Bad, but Never the Ugly


Erotic Writing


4 O'clock in the Morning
At the Campsite
Brutal Passion
Cold Hot Cold
Empty
I want to spoil you
I'm a Bootlicker, and That's Okay
I'll Take Two Please! 
In the Soft Morning Light
Lolita Twenty-Twelve
My orgasm
Parked
Preparation
Peter and Sophie on Holiday
Slow tease
Sodden Sheets
The Guide
The First Time Again
Week Night Sex

The square tiles fit the backup theme of “Square”.

Go see who else is being naughty this week!

-Jill

In 2010, we posted fifty-two consecutive weeks of pictures at OHNT.  We’re posting them on our blog, one per week.  They can be found here, along with background information and all the comments they received.

What are your 50 shades?

 

 

While on vacation recently, I happened to find myself on the verge of a discussion about sex with a family member who was reading Fifty Shades of Grey.  I was lying on a lounge chair in the sun when I overheard my mother-in-law ask my sister-in-law how her book was.  “Oh, it’s horrible,” she said indignantly.  “It’s so filthy.”  At the sound of this very loaded word, I opened my eyes, glancing through my sleepy haze and cheap sunglasses in the direction of the conversation.  My sister-in-law held in her hand a copy of the latest literary darling, which also happens to be the latest critical black sheep.

I noticed that my sister-in-law’s tone was not one of reticence, of coy refusal to commit, as one might employ when discussing a work of erotic literature with one’s own mother.  No, her tone was one of revulsion, conveying the feelings of someone forced to read something against her will.  In a manner of speaking, this was partially true; when asked why she was reading a book that gave her such strong feelings of animosity she said that it was her book club selection, and that she had no choice.

I am a sex blogger, obviously, and as such I presume that I have read more about Fifty Shades of Grey than most of Jill’s family, whose exposure to the book might consist solely of reading a review in Entertainment Weekly.  However, I have not read the book itself.  When word of this extremely polarizing tome began to permeate Twitter and the sex blogosphere earlier this year, I visited our local library, just out of curiosity, and found that every copy in the county was checked out, with holds in place on all of them for the next three months.  I eventually managed to get my hands on a copy, and in the hopes of seeing what all the fuss was about, I read one chapter.  However, it took only a couple pages for me to realize that this simply wasn’t the right book for me.


Disappointing, really; anything that brings a decidedly kinky practice like BDSM into the mainstream should be a good thing, right?  Perhaps someday an up-and-coming author will write a book that does the same thing for non-monogamy.  Unfortunately, I found author E.L. James’ writing style juvenile and unimaginative, with nothing to offer a reader who’s already discovered the likes of Tristan Taormino, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Kristina Wright, Allison Tyler, Thomas Roche, and others.

Yes, I can see why Fifty Shades of Grey has captivated the sensibilities of the vanilla mainstream.  It promises the average reader a taste of the taboo, a foray into a forbidden arena they’ve not yet explored.  I assume that, for the women who are consuming these books so voraciously, BDSM is far too exotic, dark, even dangerous to be a part of their actual sexual repertoire.  The closest women like these come to BDSM is purchasing a pair of pink plastic handcuffs from Spencer’s Gifts, using them once, getting a cramp, and then burying them at the bottom of a nightstand drawer.  Let’s face it, the average member of the book’s target audience isn’t a regular BDSM practitioner.  Regular BDSM enthusiasts are probably not going to waste their time reading this book.

Judging by the title and cover alone, Fifty Shades of Grey is a lot less salacious than, say, the typical erotic anthology written by real erotic writers and edited by an individual with a healthy attitude about sex.  The cover features an admittedly artistic and nicely-lit photo of a necktie.  Suggestive, but not too offensive for the delicate sensibilities of the mainstream.  By comparison, the erotic books that hold places of honor in our bookcase have covers that feature (much more artistic) photos of women in corsets, women clasping garter belts to stockings, women performing implied oral sex, and lots of naked people locked in the sort of embraces that don’t make the covers of Harlequin-type romance novels.  The title alone is less inflammatory than something like Best Women’s Erotica 2012, which might earn you a dirty look as you read it in a public place.

Most importantly – and somehow most perplexingly, even to someone who understands the appeal – Fifty Shades of Grey is tremendously popular, breaking sales records in the U.K. and elsewhere, unseating Harry Potter as the fastest-selling paperback book of all time, and landing its author on Time Magazine’s annual list of influential people.  Universal Studios holds the film rights, with Bret Easton Ellis and Angelina Jolie expressing interest in writing and directing, respectively.  That means that even if you’re given a dirty look by a conservative type sitting next to you on an airplane as you read it, you can adopt a haughty “Fifty million frustrated housewives can’t be wrong” attitude.

Everytime I see a post by one of my Facebook friends – usually a high school or college acquaintance – gushing about how Fifty Shades of Grey is the hottest thing she’s ever read, my respect for that individual nosedives a bit.  Make no mistake, I’m always in favor of people reading rather than languishing in front of a television set watching Jersey Shore.  And I certainly have nothing against someone declaring Fifty Shades of Grey a decent time-waster, the sort of throwaway read one might take to the beach, enjoy, and forget about, especially if said someone isn’t very sexually adventurous.  But hearing someone declare this book the hottest thing ever makes me want to beg them to read something better, by a writer who’s actually been there.

It’s worth mentioning that these are the same Facebook friends who regularly line up for the midnight premiere of the latest Twilight movie.  This is especially noteworthy when one considers the fact that Fifty Shades of Grey started life as Twilight fanfiction.  And although no significant resemblance exists between the overrated vampire romance novel series and the overrated BDSM romance novel series, the fact that someone who is sufficiently interested in Twilight to write fan fiction about it under the nom de plume “Snowqueens Icedragon” should be rewarded with a publishing contract is baffling, and not just because I’ve yet to be rewarded with one myself.

One of the things that has gotten under the skin of most of the BDSM community is the fact that James reportedly had no prior first-hand knowledge of or experience with BDSM, and corresponded with a Dom she’d met online as a way of doing research for the book.  For this, I hesitate to compare James to Vanilla Ice, if only because when the exaggerations of Vanilla Ice’s hip-hop qualifications came to light his career fizzled, while no one seems to care that James’ BDSM qualifications are spurious.

Technically it shouldn’t matter; to my understanding the author has not claimed that Fifty Shades of Grey is a true story, or that her protagonist Anastasia Steele is meant to represent her; James is an author of fiction telling a story that is presented as such.  Whether her research methods consist of first-hand experience, interviews, reference books, or online resources, they should ideally have no bearing on how the book is received provided an entertaining, factually accurate story is told.  This brings me to what has raised the ire of most of the BDSM practitioners who’ve voiced an opinion on Fifty Shades of Grey.

Christian Grey, the love interest of Anastasia Steele, practices BDSM as a result of deep-rooted childhood trauma.  I can’t say whether the author is attempting to claim that the link between psychological damage and interest in BDSM is an across-the-board constant, but if so it clearly betrays her lack of knowledge on the subject.  There is no factual accuracy to the theory that all or even most of those who practice BDSM have such issues; additionally this is an extremely short-sighted sex-negative position that insults not only those who enjoy BDSM, but also those who have suffered a similar trauma.  Actually, the sex-negative aspect might help to explain the book’s mainstream popularity.

Additionally, many mainstream literary critics have condemned Fifty Shades of Grey for ostensibly negating feminism, and furthering the false notion that women who submit do so out of a lack of self-respect and the desire to relinquish their free will to a dominant male.  This criticism is ridiculous; those who lack self-respect are unlikely to actively seek out fulfillment of their healthy sexual desires in a consensual fashion.  Perhaps James should not be blamed for how others interpret her work; having failed to complete more than a single chapter I can’t reliably say whether or not such an attitude was her intent.

As you can tell, my feelings are strong despite the fact that I only made it through eight or nine pages.  Actually, it might be more accurate to say that my feelings are strong because I only made it through eight or nine pages.  I might have viewed a book written by a more competent author, with better-developed characters and greater substance on offer, more forgivingly than I did this one.  At any rate, it’s due to these strong feelings that I wisely opted out of the discussion despite the tractor-beam-like forces drawing me toward it.

I would have gladly discussed the book’s pedestrian roots as fan fiction, E.L. James’ questionable qualifications to write it, and the book’s reputation as an “easy read”, a book designed for those who find the typical romance novel too wordy.  I would also have recommended the alternative of Taormino, Bussel, et. al in a heartbeat.  But I wasn’t about to get drawn into a debate on the merits of alternative sexual practices lest I inadvertently reveal details about Jill’s and my sex life to individuals from whom we’ve thusfar done a great job hiding them.

I certainly wasn’t going to debate the issue with an individual who’s recently made it clear – only to Jill and I, presumably not to everyone else in the family – that she thinks I’m a sexist pig, a disrespectful chauvinist, and perhaps if I’m willing to read between the lines not good enough to be married to her sister.  We have long suspected that certain members of our families would judge us if they knew some of our sexual interests – read more about that here – but the revelation that our suspicions have merit kept me lying silently on that lounge chair.

I considered getting into a BDSM debate with someone who’s reading 50 Shades, insists that female subs have no self-respect, and says the…
— Jack (and Jill) (@jackandjillcpl) June 28, 2012

…book is horrible (which it is), but refuses to stop reading it. Instead I debated politics with my 14-year-old nephew. #ikickedhisass
— Jack (and Jill) (@jackandjillcpl) June 28, 2012

@jackandjillcpl just send to molly’s 50 Shades of me post 😛
— Signs (@DomSigns) June 28, 2012

@DomSigns I actually considered that! What an excellent post. This is just not the sort of person we can have discovering our own blog.
— Jack (and Jill) (@jackandjillcpl) June 28, 2012

At some point, Jill also noticed the book and asked her sister what she thought of it.  She was given a diatribe on the protagonist’s lack of self-respect, followed by the clueless argument that those who practice BDSM are fucked up.  The entire rant – and believe me, that was a rant – was capped by the following argument-winning checkmate:  “It doesn’t matter anyway because the book is just disgusting and the only reason I’m reading it is because I have to.”  Frankly, I’m disappointed that her main gripe about the book was a negative judgment about its subject matter.  Had her main gripe been “This book is horribly written and whoever gave the author a publishing contract should be fired”, I would have been powerless to resist piling on.

To Jill’s credit, while she didn’t get dragged into the debate – if you can call it that – she did ask her sister why she has to read it.  It’s a book club selection, after all, not an English class assignment.

“Well, you have to,” she said.  “It’s the selection for this month.”

“What happens if you just don’t read it?  If you feel so strongly about it, refuse on principle.”

I believe the discussion died off at this point.

I am always frustrated to learn that intelligent and mature people I respect and care about have bad attitudes about sex.  It shouldn’t be surprising, of course; we are conditioned to believe that sex is a necessary evil, something we do for procreation but not for pleasure; or else something that we do for pleasure, but only with strict adherence to conservative guidelines, i.e. behind closed doors; and that daring to talk about it with other adults is akin to urinating in your grandmother’s face.  So it doesn’t shock or surprise me, but it does make me sad.  Such people could be getting so much more fulfillment out of life if they simply embraced the notion that sex is normal and healthy, and meant to be enjoyed.  Maybe that’s the real reason that we don’t talk sex with people unless we’re certain that they have similar attitudes to ours:  We just don’t want to be disappointed.

-Jack