Maximum sweetheart though.


Is there a specific fetish for that feel when a hand absolutely overwhelms someone’s body? Like the one that’s practically a cuff around her throat? Because my GOSH.




I was at an art museum and I saw this painting from 1625. It’s by Gerrit van Honthorst and is called “Smiling Girl, a Courtesan, Holding an Obscene Image,” and it basically is every person on this website. 

May everyone on this website be as happy with their porn as as Smiling Girl is with hers. 


Devil in the details.


Don’t you go and underestimate tenderness.


Insolence, Part Four

Rex came before me. For how well the night was going and how seamlessly we’d fallen into a sort of dynamic, I was nervous. I couldn’t get myself to relax into what was happening enough to just let go. It happens. Sometimes I’m an absolute hair-trigger girl. Sometimes I can’t get the safety off.

“Excuse you,” I teased nonetheless when he eased the condom off of his shaft. “Finish me.”

He chuckled and sat back. “Finish yourself.” He set his hands on his knees and leaned forward. I wanted to slap the smugness from his face. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Go on. Show me what you like.”

I’ve never been able to push past the humiliation of masturbating in front of people. Mainly because my strategy is, admittedly, not particularly fascinating or engaging. But I made my best efforts, despite my reluctance to meet his stare.

“You’re boring me,” he taunted. “Keep me entertained or I’ll do something about it.”

That was enough to gall me to hold his gaze. My eyes narrowed. “Then do something about it.”

His hands crawled their way up my sides until his body loomed over mine. He reached down and took hold of my knees, shoving my legs back up in an effort to impede my access. Making a good show of it, I just wound my arm down and around under myself and resumed rubbing my clit.

“I’m flexible,” I explained.

He beamed. “Well, look at you.”