Sex in high places (and a funny)

(side note: if marijuana is illegal where you live, I am in NO WAY endorsing its use. Please only do LEGAL things)

Why I like having sex when high

I love sex. It’s one of my favorite pasttimes, actually. I think I am in my sexual high peak, because I SURE don’t remember having this much fun in bed before. With or without drugs or alcohol, sex is fun, fulfilling, and an all around great time. Continue reading “Sex in high places (and a funny)”

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Scenes and senses

The warmth of the sun heats my shoulders in my little sundress. My aunt is showing me how to pick strawberries, how to choose the ripe ones. Barely ripe, that is. Their sweetness and tartness combine, as I bite, red juices flowing down my throat. Seeds are hard little nubs to my young self. Slightly crunchy. My lips are stained as I bite into the flesh. I hear the summer birds in the trees, as I move from plant to plant, pulling the larger red ones, leaving the green. The rough texture becomes familiar as move down the rows of plants. I choose another, tongue sliding into

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his mouth. He refuses to let me go. One hand behind my head as he smashed his lips onto mine. Teeth clinking together, there is no escape. He consumes me, breathes into me, as I into him. His other hand up my skirt. Thick fingers dig into my pussy, reaching the spot, taking me quickly over the edge. I cum around his fingers, pulsing. Groans swallowed his mouth, hands entwined in my hair, my eyes closed in

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the darkness. I awaken quickly, hum of the refrigerator in the next room. I reach out my hand, across the king size bed, finally finding his back, deep under the covers. I roll and slide over to him, his back, my front. Breasts smashed against him. Knees drawn up to match his. My arm drapes over his side, and he grabs my hand. Pulls it to his chest, as he sighs deeply, nestling back to sleep. I smell his shampoo as I too, drift, feeling

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warm, slippery. The water cascades over my shoulders. I sing loudly to Pandora. I have on Adele, “Nevermind, I’ll find someone like yououuuuu!!” I belt out to no-one. Alone in the house, I enjoy being as loud and as bad as I can. The music changes to Christina Perry, “Heart beats fast, colors and promises, How to be brave? How can I love when I’m afraid to fall?” I put emotion into it, grabbing the back scrubber to use in my Grammy-worthy performance. Steam fills the air, the warm water drops my vast audience. My music assaults the walls of the bathroom, as if it had ears. “Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand more.” The flowery scent of body wash fills my

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nostrils as I smell the flowers you brought. Roses, daisies, each beautiful in their own way. Delicate petals, soft, brilliant in hue. Smiling, I raise my eyes and kiss you in thanks. I rub my hands over your shoulders, down your arms. Pull you closer, deepen the kiss. My hands lift your shirt. Stopping to pull it off. You drag my shirt out of my jeans, sliding your hands down inside the back. Grip my thong with one finger and pull, making the thin fabric taut across my clit. Gasping, I hold your hips as your other hand wanders up my blouse, under my bra, to cup my breast. You tweak my nipple between your fingers as I dig my tongue into your mouth. I separate, pull back from your lips, your grasp. Reaching forward, I undo your pants, pull them and your underwear down below your knees. You step out, and I kneel. Taking your cock into my mouth, I inhale the scent of you, your manliness, testosterone. Thickness fills my mouth, my saliva mixing with your pre-cum. I gently massage your balls as I suck you. You use your hands to hold my head still, fucking my face as you near orgasm. Now it is your turn to groan. But I quickly stop you, that is not what I want, need, desire. Standing, I grab your hand and lead you to the bedroom.