My beautiful stone fairy

Moulded and painted stone fairy for the post my beautiful stone fairy.

I could see it the first time I looked at her face. She didn’t love him, she didn’t love anyone but herself.

Not that I could say anything. Leaning on my stone toadstool clutching the flowers that would never wither. He had stopped to look at me, I had tried with all my might to flutter my eyelashes at him but I just couldn’t. My eyes locked with his and held his gaze though, as his hand reached in to grasp me on the shelf in that grubby corner of the shop. She wandered over, sneering at me and mocking him for picking up a silly garden fairy. “What on earth do you want that for? Silly piece of tat, no idea where you think it’s going to go. Not in our garden, that’s for sure.” He looked down trodden and almost broken, but I could feel his warmth through my painted alabaster dress. My lashes may have been staying put but my eyes met his confused glances each time they came my way.

He found a place for me, in the front garden, amongst the reeds of his pond.

In spite of her initial scorn she soon let go of her disgust, choosing instead to ignore my presence on her property. Over the next few years I watched them come and go, initially together but as time passed he would slope in late at night and leave early. She would spend more time home during the day, entertaining men who would turn up with bottles of wine and gifts. When they were home together I would listen to her shouting, no, screaming at him. Plates smashing, my back to the house I couldn’t see when she pushed him up against the window, holding a smashed plate to his throat. I only heard her wailing like a banshee before a low groan and a thud. Then the ambulance arrived, and the police.

He was taken away on a stretcher while she was taken in cuffs.

Seven sunsets later the gate opened and I saw him for the first time since that night. Dressings on his face, and an arm clutched across his waist. With his family for support he was well looked after while he healed. Soon he was back on his feet but a melancholy had taken over and his beautiful garden was neglected. I enjoyed watching the tadpoles grow and spring from the pond, fully grown and ready to go on their way. One knocked me so I was leaning into the lush green foliage that grew around me. The scorching summer sun reduced the water in the pond, and the reeds started to die back taking me with them. Laying back in the crispy reeds I had a different view of the world. I could no longer spy on him, watch him from afar. Baking in the afternoon sun I could hear the gate squeaking on its hinges, footsteps trudging up the overgrown path as always. I counted, it was 37 of his loping steps from gate to front door. Today he stopped at 31, turned and I heard 12 more. The final 3 came with a shadow and then, there he was. His face looming over me, hand reaching down towards me.

As those strong fingers wrapped around me our eyes locked once more.

This time my eyelashes fluttered, and his warmth seeped into me. A blink and a shake of his head, I could read those thoughts as they flashed across his face… What is going on? Am I imagining things? How…? No, it can’t be… I willed him to believe, desperate for him to see me, to touch me. What was I thinking? I couldn’t expect him to fall in love with me. “You’re just a silly stone fairy.” And as he set me back in my place I felt sadness flood the pit of my tummy. Each day from then on I would watch the sunrise, see him head off on his adventures and then return home, but now I was seeing a change. He would stop and clear a little patch of overgrown plants, starting with the weeds on the path, and working his way around the pond. He repaired the liner and refilled it, and when autumn arrived he had revived my oasis. Cracking open a bottle to toast his hard work he sat down next to me under the stars.

So close I could hear the lager bubbles rattling in his belly.

“Sounds strange” I heard him whispering “but I could swear that you’ve been watching me work.” He was talking to me, he had seen me. “I thought I was going mad, she always said you were just  silly stone fairy… But you are my beautiful stone fairy” I felt my wings start to tremble, he wasn’t looking at me but if he. Oh, if he had… “If anyone could see me now, talking to you, they would lock me up and throw away the key. I’ve often wondered if I’m mad. I felt some kind of… Oh, I don’t know… Something… You may be made of stone, but your eyes are like sparkling pools” Oh my goodness. The trembling in my wings spread south, now my tummy was turning somersaults, and my inner labia began to flutter. “I wanted to apologise for neglecting you. You brightened my world every time I saw you over the years, and I left you all alone, tumbled down in the weeds and wildlife” I was positively vibrating now, this energy….I hoped I didn’t shatter into millions of pieces “If I had one wish I’d ask for you to be real. For my eternal companion to come to life so I can look into your eyes for real” Was that a shooting star? “Well, fuck me. It’s now or never… I wish my beautiful stone fairy was not made of stone.” Draining his bottle, he stood up. One last look at me, leaning against my mushroom, our eyes meeting in the gloom. “Must be the beer, or madness setting in….” he rambled off to the house, 19 steps to the front door. He may have gone but the energy hadn’t left me. As the dew formed on my stone flowers I started to change, to grow. And as the sun climbed over the horizon I stretched my arms up and over my head, moved around my stone mushroom and sat down for the first time…ever. Gathering my knees to my chest I waited. Until he opened the front door. Our eyes locked as they had done so many times before. This time was different though. This time he reached out in disbelief, and I took his warm hand in my own. Smiling at his realisation that I was his beautiful stone fairy, that his wish could come true, I allowed him to pull me into his arms and crush me with his lips.

His beautiful stone fairy melted in his embrace.

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Image originally published as Fairy Folk and used with permission.

 

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My beautiful Stone Fairy. was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Balls, beautiful balls…

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Thank you to MXNillin for this amazing picture prompt for Masturbation Monday

Balls are one of my favourite parts of a man!

There, I said it.

They aren’t quite as much of a turn on as strong forearms when you wrap them around me when I am feeling fragile and vulnerable, or send me into reverie like your hands do over a cup of coffee, and they won’t tell me as much about you as your eyes, twinkling with mischief, lust or love. I can’t savour them while you are dressed, like I can your ass and thighs as you climb the slope ahead of me, and rubbing my finger tips over your closely cropped hair is much more acceptable in public if that hair is on top of your head…

But still, I love balls.

I find them fascinating. I love kneeling between your legs and gazing up at your face while I wax your shaft. Thumbing the pre-cum into your shiny head and dropping my eyes I pulled my gaze down to your sac. Those little goosebumps, watching them grow as the skin contracts, dancing under my delicate breath.. My tongue snaking down to tease those little lumps, I’m salivating as the tiny nubs caress my taste buds, drool escaping my lips as the sensation drives my mouth wild. Inhaling deeply, stealing your essence from that beautiful flesh before parting my lips and devouring the objects of my desires. Hollowing my cheeks and sucking you in, hand still stroking your straining shaft firmly now as I raise my eyes to meet yours once more. Trailing my left hand down betwen your buttocks I stroke your tight hole, tease you with fingers lubed by the saliva now dripping from my chin. Your jaw clenches, breathing shallow, entire body thrumming with energy. The building tension relentless.

God, I love balls…

I love the way you are so strong and confident, mastering my mind and body. Your dominance makes my pussy clench with each. Little. Word. that you care to toss in my direction.

But when I am there, worshipping every last pore, I am the one that holds you, and your power in my hands.

Illuminated sign saying Kiss my butt and lick my balls.

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Balls, beautiful balls. was first published on A leap of faith.

 

Don’t let someone get comfortable disrespecting you.

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Photo credit: JerBear

If he wanted to see me cross all he had to do was stretch out in the sunshine, erection on display in all of its glory.

Since his behaviour two weeks before I had been nursing my hurt feelings, brooding. Not only had he topped me from the bottom, but he had bratted me. Neither were things I consented to. Bruised I’d withdrawn, and despite his advances I didn’t know how to move past it. The longer I waited the more he tried to seduce me. And the more he tried the greater the distance became. Talking hadn’t worked, he still thought that I would feel better if I would just let him fuck me but the power exchange lay in tatters.

I wanted him to understand how I felt, but couldn’t work out how.

Since switching roles things had become more complicated in my mind, confusing. And now he was laying on the kitchen bench, tight balls and straining shaft, and all I wanted was to put the shopping away and get started on dinner. Pulling things out of the bag I laid my fingers on the ginger, an idea started to form. Could he? Would he? catching his eye, I raised it, eyes brightening as I heard him gasp. “You wouldn’t…” he said. Smiling I reached into the drawer for the peeler. I knew full well that this piece was as fresh as it would be, and that would make the intense pain last longer.

“I can’t take that Miss, It’s too fat. You know I’m not stretched”

The way Miss fell from his lips… The fear that made his voice crack, just a little bit. My cunt twitched. “Don’t worry about that boy, I’ll be peeling it , I can trim it to fit…  but not too much. I want to see you squirm” and with that I reached into the drawer by my hip and withdrew the peeler and a paring knife. As I whittled away at the knob his eyes grew wider. His pride and joy began to lose its smooth edges, withering slightly as he realised I wasn’t playing.  “You will learn not to disrespect me boy. If I didn’t think you could take this I wouldn’t be asking you to pull your knees up and show me your sweet little hole” Disbelieving eyes looked back at me, sweat blossoming on his forehead. The more fear he showed the wetter my pussy became. My cold, dry useless hole of earlier quickly becoming a dripping furnace of desire.

“I’m not lubed though Miss, and that looks fatter than your finger. Do you really think…?”

The words stopped abruptly as I edged closer, but he kept his legs down. “I can always grate it, stuff your foreskin and staple you closed” I suggested, with a sweet smile. Knowing full well that I meant every word he pulled his knees up as swiftly as the last of his hardness disappeared. Running a finger over his puckered opening I began to salivate. “Thank you boy” was all I could say before spitting on him, pushing first one finger and then a second inside him, and briefly fucking him roughly with them. Removing my dirty digits and replacing them with the ginger, as he silently screamed at the pain that threatened to overwhelm him I pushed those fingers into the gaping chasm that looked so inviting. “Clean them properly and I’ll have something else to distract you”. With my free hand I discarded my knickers and pulled up the skirt, running my ginger laced fingers over my own swollen sex, delving between my now puffy labia, seeking friction while I waited for him to finish showering my hand with adoration. Watching his pain, what he was taking for me…

Balance was restored… for now.

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Those who fear muddy feet will never discover new paths.

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“What are your plans for tomorrow?”

Painting the picture of my day it was clear that I had a couple of hours free before the school run. A window of opportunity where you could play with me, push me, see what I was made of. The anticipation bubbled away as I made my way through my tasks for the morning, counting down to the arranged time. You had told me that the play would come in three phases, the first would be for me to get my feet nice and dirty.

At 13:27 I sent you a message.

It was time for me to start dirtying my feet. My shoes and socks came off, and out I went. I knew that the dry weather and road sweeper would limit my ability to get grubby so I wet my feet before stepping out of my courtyard into the street. The cold tarmac bit into my wet soles, the sharp little stones causing pretty pain to dance over my soles though they wouldn’t stick to my feet. I kept walking, finding grit and dust to trail through. It was no good, my feet were staying clean. Eventually I found some roadside shrubs with damp mud surrounding them. Digging my feet into the cool dirt I found success. And now that my feet were sticky and dirty they I picked up more filth on the walk home.

If this was the first part what was to come…

Showing you my dirty soles as I sat on my front step I didn’t have to wait long to find out. “Do you have pegs?” My little box of pain has play pegs in it, but they were up my cream carpeted stairs in my bedside drawers. Looking at my washing line I easily had the dozen pegs you had requested. “Strip and get in the shower.” My need for clarity stepped in, should I have the shower on or off? I’m glad I asked as you wanted me in the dry shower. With the pegs.

  • One on each nipple, close to the tip. Then, with your hands above your head, shake your breasts six times. Achy? Good…
  • Now, three on each of your outer labia. Stand, stretch and shake again.
  • Now put two on each of your inner labia. Stand, stretch and shake again.

At each stage I took a picture for you, showing you what had been happening.

Evidence for me as much as for you, when I look back and scratch my head in puzzlement.

Looking back at them now, I can feel the pulsing from my breasts, an ache that quickly subsided after the first set of shakes. The six on my outer labia set my body ablaze with sensation. The throbbing from the makeshift clamps causing my clit and inner labia to swell, making me feel needy and desperate to cum. And then the four on my swollen inner labia, a lighter sensation. It wasn’t an erotic pain, but it was a safe pain that I wanted to endure for you. The shakes before this third set of pegs had made my juices flow from the physical sensation, the third set was me becoming mentally undone.

  • Now, crouch down, spread yourself with the pegs and piss all over your feet to wash them.

I hadn’t even realised I needed to pee, but the flowing nectar warmed my feet and I rubbed them together under the stream to remove as much dirt as possible, watching the grime flow over my white bathtub. My feet partially cleansed you checked in with me.

  • How was I feeling? Throbbing. 
  • If I said to use a toy to make yourself cum what would you choose? My Doxy.
  • Pull the pegs off quickly.
  • Edge yourself three times.
  • Then give yourself three orgasms.
  • Enjoy yourself. Make me proud.

Instructions that a girl can get on board with.

The pegs made me squeal quietly into my dirty shower, blood rushing back into my compressed and sensitive flesh. No sooner than I had got my breath back I was heading to my bedroom, the Doxy ready and waiting for me like she always is. Cresting three times, shouting “No” hoarsely each time, preventing the sensations to overtake me. Stopping just in time. And then bringing myself to two powerful orgasms. The third was elusive. Patience was my friend this afternoon, and with a sensational self-inflicted squirt the pleasure crashed over me once more.

With spray on my thighs and feet I realised the time.

I was just in time for the school run. Sending a quick “thank you” I dressed and headed from my home, dirty feet covered in my favourite socks. I love the school run with dirty secrets, and today was no different. I was aware of the filth between my toes as I stood chatting to another mum. Hugging my children and taking them on their way my brain switched from submission to motherly love. It wasn’t until later, when we arrived for their swimming lessons, that I took off my shoes and socks. My dirty, piss soaked feet were perfectly filthy.

The sight of them, brazenly naked on the poolside, sent a thrill through me.

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Those who fear muddy feet will never discover new paths was first published on A Leap of Faith.

When I get down on my knees, it is not to pray.

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Fresh from the bath, smooth and naked, I knelt before him in the soft light of my lounge, eyes down gazing lustily at his crotch.

I heard him shift in the sofa, felt him lift a tendril of my damp hair from my neck and trace his finger under my chin, raising my face to meet his in a passionate kiss. “I can’t” he murmured, “I’m not him, I’m not Sir.”

“I know, and I don’t want you to be,” breathing into the kiss I continued “I just want to suck your cock while I kneel here.”

He clearly hadn’t needed much persuading as, breaking away from the kiss, he unbuckled his belt, lowered his fly and shifted to release his already engorged shaft. Licking my lips I lowered my face to take him fully in my mouth, shining his length with my saliva, before lazily running my hot wet tongue over his veins in just the way that I knew he enjoyed. The growl that escaped from his lips told me everything I needed to know and my already soaked pussy began to mark my soft soles as I knelt there between his legs.

“Enough,” he said, suddenly standing up.

I was jolted from my lusty haze as he stepped past me, moving to my left and stepping out of his jeans. It took me a moment to realise that he was sliding his belt from the loops as he tidied his jeans away. There was a dark spark in his already dark brown eyes, and he gently moved me from kneeling beside the sofa to leaning forward over the cushion. “This is what you need N, I hope you’re ready,” and the first blow of his warm leather belt landed across my right cheek followed moments later by a second, this time on my left cheek. The immediate sting followed by a spreading warmth was exactly what I needed, though I hadn’t realised, and M settled into a rhythm. I could feel every millimetre of the strikes as they turned my milky white flesh a hot red.

Looking over my shoulder I could see the fire in his eyes as he embraced the savage within. 

Every swipe of the belt make my skin sting and tingle. Each blow led to more pleasure building across my skin. Twenty on each side was his limit, and he placed his weapon down next to my face as he moved behind me. On his knees behind me he buried his face between my hot cheeks, tongue desperately seeking my arousal which was leaking from between my lips and over my swollen clitoris. A hand on each cheek, kneading my tender flesh while he lapped at my sweet juices, before sliding his fingers into me and stretching my snatch wide so that he could get a proper taste. As he continued to torment my holes with his tongue and fingers I came to a shuddering climax which knocked the strength from me and left my body in a soft, trembling heap on the cushions.

“Oh no, you’re not done yet” came his tense response, “back on your knees again.”

And he helped me turn to my left, and get back onto my knees. With his hard shaft bobbing around in front of my glazed eyes I ran my tongue around his bulbous head once more. A short moan escaped his lips again as he fisted his hand in my hair, forcing my head back and my mouth fell open. As my lips parted he drove his cock into my mouth, into my throat, and as I gagged and spluttered he continued to drive into me, seeking his own release. With each stroke of his pleasure more of mine dripped from my hypersensitive cleft and I spread it over my clit and played myself to a second orgasm matching his eruption, his sticky seed spilling down my throat as I convulsed once more.

As his legs lost strength he folded down onto the sofa, pulling me up into his arms where I drifted into an untroubled sleep. 

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