Touch – His lips touch my temple, gently, soothingly. His hand spreads across my naked hip.
Sound – His evil laugh as he asks, “What do we do to you tonight? That swing looks inviting, no?”
“I don’t know, you know I leave that to you, but the swing does look interesting.” I reply.
“Good, then we’ll get you in there and then stuff things inside you, see how it goes.”
Sight – The chains and leather of the large sex swing hanging in the middle of the living room.
Smell – The scent of marijuana from the bong we just smoked.
Taste – The tang of the gin tonic I am sipping. He added cucumbers because he knows I like it that way.
Touch – The cool smooth leather on my ass as I slip into the swing. I grip the cold chains and settle my knees back against them as I spread my legs wide for him.
Sound – Him searching for something. I can hear him come back with a big plastic bag full of toys and dumps them all on the couch.
Sight – The room slowly moving past me as he spins the swing gently while preparing for our adventure; turning up the heat, lighting the candles, placing the lube close.
Smell – The sulfur of the matches and the light fruity perfume of the candles.
Taste – The dryness of my mouth, quickly turning to drool. My nerve endings are on high alert. The swing is a new experience for us, and I am already excited.
Touch – His hand covered in slippery cold lube, caressing my vulva, using the motion from the swing to create the rhythm of his fingers going in and out of my depths.
Sound – My breath, loud and jagged even to my own ears.
Sight – His face in the warm glow of the candlelight, watching my body react to his every touch. Excited to note the changes and telling me what he sees.
Smell – The potent mixture of peppermint lube and the wet juices between my legs.
Taste – His lips. His breath smoky, his tongue entwined with mine.
Touch – One of the toys from the big pile on the couch, slick with lube, shoved in and out, in and out of my wet pussy.
Sound – The wet flush of the liquid he forces from my hot cunt as it splashes all over him and onto the hard wood floors.
Sight – Him, in the shadow, coming around so I can see my warm expulsions soaking the lower half of his naked body.
Smell – The indescribable aroma of hot liquid cascading from an even hotter pussy.
Taste – The cold taste of the chain I pull into my mouth to keep from screaming out. It doesn’t help and now I taste the slight metallic vibe of blood.
Touch – His hard-throbbing cock at the edge of my waiting ass.
Sound – His breathing deeper and raspier as he moves faster and faster inside me.
Sight – His face contorting, twisting in pleasure.
Smell – Our sweat mingling together. The glorious scents of bodies well used.
Taste – The sharp bubbles of the tonic in the gin he hands me again. I recline back, relax my legs down in the stirrups, and catch my breath. “Stay put,” he says, “while I clean up.”
This post is part of the Erotic Journal Challenge & January Jumpstart.
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