Polish panties…

When a room became available in his house one spring Pete had put an ad out on Gumtree to see what he could find… His existing male Housemate had insisted on a girl moving in, so when Anya called him one afternoon to view the room he told her to come over and meet them.

When the knock came at the door that morning Pete felt a little twitch of anticipation in his cock as he opened the door to see a smiley, slim, Polish cutie… with a twinkle in her eye and a lovely firm chest, which she pushed out with her tiny hand as they exchanged cordialities and perhaps a few initial feelings of mutual attraction and desire?

Anya was from Poland and although she’d been in the UK for several years her English was still gorgeously sexy and Eastern European. She was also incredibly sweet and naive…and we would duly discover that this sheltered existence extended to her sex life. Although she was almost 30 (she still looks in her early 20’s) Anya was still a virgin…

It was in fact his housemate who spent most time with their new charge and he who she fell for as a result. He soon deflowered her in Pete’s absence but after a few months of casual late night encounters this soon subsided and Pete could sense that Anya found him more intriguing over time, and had begun to pick up on his slow burning desire to touch her inappropriately…to catch her touching herself in the garden or for her to come in on him one afternoon when they were home together …alone…during one of his long, soapy, steamy erotic-showers…

As time went on Pete’s homie eventually found a job and for a couple of weeks the two of them were left at home alone…knocking about the house like horny puppies…

Anya knew that she turned him on, so their breakfasts together became more and more arousing and Anna’s morning attire became more and more minimal… He had started to drop the odd hint at how much he’d love to “tickle her below her panties…and lubricate her hot little cunt lips…till they twitched with desire…”

“Thank you for taking my clothes down from the line today Pete” she whispered sweetly as he filled the empty kettle slowly… with a brooding sense of sexual intent….

“No worries..” he replied….”Do you fancy a cuppa?….oh yea by the way I can’t believe you fit into some of those tiny little panties I took down from the line! Soooo cute!!…There were a couple of pairs there that looked like they were for little girls!!!”

…Anya blushed a little as he spoke but he could sense she was already imagining his assertive hands reaching down boldly inside her skirt and knickers…hungry for a feel of her sex, and to penetrate her silky wet cunt lips with his fingers…

In recent weeks he’d helped her with one or two work matters and Anya had bought him some little gifts to thank him…beers and smokes etc. When the next request for help arrived in Pete’s inbox he felt a quiver in his cock once again as he pondered a more exciting reward that might be more mutually pleasing this time…

As his cock began to swell and pulse he reached backwards to the corner of his drawer where he kept a pair of his housemate’s soiled panties, he’d ‘borrowed’ a few months before…

He pulled his dirty little secret on and up to his balls and began pulling on his cock with gusto…imagining all the ways he wanted to have her…spanking her sweet little ass as he drove his manhood inside her wetness inch by inch…

As he manhandled himself with abandon he felt the cut of his sleeping housemate’s underwear around his bum cheeks as he stroked himself…

Moments passed in his abandon and he didn’t hear the stealthy approach of his cohabitant as she crept towards the horny sound of his panting…

Anya stood in the doorway and listened to her housemate’s lustful gasps…her fingers reaching down to her wetness to stroke her clit as he drove on hard towards his orgasm…

Just as he began to whisper his filthy desires she pushed open the door and stared at his proud erection….”Oh Pete! Your cock is so handsome and sexy…are you thinking about me now?…can I put you in my mouth please??…you’ve helped me so much and I want to thank you properly…I’ve wanted to see your cock for so long…please pull it out and show me…”

He beckoned her in and then…she noticed her panties…ones she’d thought lost long ago…hugging her housemates balls and strangling the base of his enormous swollen manhood…Anya gasped and entered her housemates room..pulling the door closed behind her sexy, pantiless, Polish behind…

Forbidden Fruit Thursdays

In recent times we have been such forbidden fruit for each other…unable to blossom and pollinate as often as we sh/could have done…

This is why I feel that perhaps another contribution to Janet’s library of personal smut may be in order…

My most recent ‘story’ of love and lust for her is something of a swan song… to my series of delightfully indulgent private smut…which I hope still flips her tummy as much in finding it as it does for me writing it…for her to find in one of her brown envelopes some day in the near future.

Faundlyn Gardens

Ever since that chance meeting he’d had with Janet, just a few weeks earlier in the street near her house, Tim had thought of little else other than the intoxicating scent of her soft pale skin to his sensuous nose… the weight of her breasts to his knowing hands and the exhilarating sound of her panting and climactic exhalations to his ears as he pumped her with all his love and passion…

He was certain that he’d felt those synesthetic delights exchange between them that day, as they bashfully smiled and stumbled through some filler conversations… about work and people as irrelevant to their fluttering heart beats as traffic lights are to a getaway car, splitting the scene…

“Thursday’s are my day off now” she’d said with a tiny flick of her head and hair… and a short potent stare.

Those 6 words had rung in his ears like the Liberty Bell being struck at the dawn of a Great New Republic. He knew they were as instructive as she would get in a public place…not behind the safety of her blue front door…just a few meters away.

“Let’s try to meet up soon for some food or a walk. Faundlyn Gardens is lovely this time of year and hardly anyone goes there still…it’s such a haven for me on my days off…”

“I’ve been running there myself lately” he replied with more than a little glee…” it really is lovely there right now. The woods at the top are my favourite part of my run. I always remember the times we spent up there…and perhaps the times we didn’t!…I even go up there at night sometimes…when it’s clear and the moon is full enough to see!”

She smiled and made her excuses to get on…aroused and in need of a retreat to her bedroom and a read through some of the erotic letters that he’d sent her…and to fondle her own throbbing wet cunt-lips and probably slide one of her long slim fingers inside her pretty little arsehole and imagine it as him….preparing all of her entrances for the shafting of her life that she so often longed for.

He had indeed been running there recently…always thinking of her perfect curves, her gait and all her other lovely movements as he did so…imagining a secret private meeting with her one day…with every step of his way…

The following Thursday morning he awoke…his cock stiff and pulsing from the dreams that this awakening had inspired. He knew that look in her eye and he relished the prospect of their probable meeting and their first embrace for many months.

Taking his pre-jog shower lathered he fondled his cock and balls as his active mind wandered though their favourite scenarios…flooded with images of orally and digitally pleasuring her, beneath the hot flow of the water in his shower.

30 minutes later he was pounding the streets…pushing himself onwards towards his garden of Eden, in which he hoped his eve would await…His mind racing through the many scenarios that he’d imagined in the time since their last wet, wonderful and passionate fuck.

Climbing the hill he held back on his pace…pondering their possible first moments together, fondly fondling each other amongst the hedgerows…kissing with vigor and with passion.

As he approached the entrance to the gardens he slowed his pace to a walk, so as to catch every inch of his breath for her.

Trotting towards the wooded back area he spotted a lone figure through the branches up ahead of him…

There she was…clad in just a short denim skirt and a hoodie…upon which rested her high pony tail as she arched her back…eyes closed as she stared at the infinite sky.

Slowing to a walk Tim approached his prey with caution as he contemplated the wondrous kill…

Noticing is sidewards approach she recoiled and retreated to the bushes behind her with barely hidden glee…seeking out the place where she would have him…her heart and cunt pulsing in unison as she did so…

He could sense her primal heat as he moved closer to her slow moving body…dancing to the rhythms in her head her heart and in her soaking pussy…

He strode towards her with intent and purpose…making predatory sounds with every step and every breath as he approached his wanton prey…

When he was within striking distance he pounced on her, grabbing her by her wanton waist as she danced towards the bushes that would conceal their lust and their desire…Holding her down he began to salivate all over his lust-bunny’s open cunt lips and wanton anus hole…”oh stick you tongue inside my tight asshole Timmy…I need you to wet me up…prepare me for your erection…I need your cock inside my cunt right now…and your fingers all over my tight little asshole…you know I love it when you bugger me baby…I want your cock pulsating inside me… as I milk your cock…taking you in…”….

Never Forgetting

It’s odd to think that one day I might show you this, though it’s likely I won’t. I don’t want to make you sad. I don’t ever want you to think it was your fault because you had nothing to do with it. But one day you might want to know and if you ask, I’ll tell you.

But right now I miss you terribly. Each time you leave, I fall apart. Fridays are the hardest days. Every time I don’t know where you are or who you’re with or if you’re happy, I feel lost. I feel alone and afraid and I hope I’m feeling enough of those emotions so you don’t have to. I keep strong for you but I know it’s healthy to show you the more unpleasant parts of life so you know it’s okay, so you know we can make it through. Nothing can stop you. You can do anything.

Soon enough, when we are apart, you will be able to call. Or text. Or email. Maybe you will call my mother and make her day – I think you will. You’re that kind of person. You’re loving and you’re kind and you’re gentle. But you’ve been through more than you should have. I only hope that it makes you stronger and a fighter. Just never lose your sensitivity. It is the thing that connects us – binds us together so tightly.

I know you. You know me.

I will keep waiting for the day when you leave me and we can still talk easily. I can call you and wish you goodnight. You can call me and tell me how you scraped your arm.

Until then let’s keep on keeping on.

Six months on

This is a follow up of Taboo, my post from January.

Six months my love.  Nearly six months since my last post here.  How far we’ve come.  Or maybe how far we fell.  It doesn’t matter.  I’m glad we did.

“Why do you have to be you? Isn’t it enough that since you’ve opened up to me I’ve seen you differently? Isn’t it enough that I am taken and these thoughts about you are wrong, just for that?  But no.  You have to be you.”

You are still you.  I am still me.  All that’s around us remains unchanged.  But we’ve changed and I don’t think I can ever go back.

“I should not be staring at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder,  daydreaming about grazing my teeth over that skin… Or gently biting down there as I come.”

No. I don’t have to dream anymore.  Of course I still do on those endless days and nights and weeks that we’re apart.  I dream of you more than ever.  You’re never far from my thoughts.

“Those unspoken words and knowing looks we share in a crowded room shouldn’t haunt me when I’m alone in the dark. Holding my breath and biting my lip so I can’t whisper your name at the final moment.  Because it’s wrong.  It can’t be you.

But it is. It is you.  It’s you as I lay on my front, face in the pillow hoping no one can hear, wishing my fingers were yours.”

It’s still you.  Always you.  I thought of you when I shouldn’t, in ways I never should have.  I still do.

Half way round the sun and my stomach still flips when you walk into the room.  My days are still counted by how many stand between us.  Your kisses still make my pulse race like no person ever has before.  I’m no silly girl in her first crush.  I’ve had flings, affairs, relationships and marriages.  But no one has come close to how you make me feel.

“You are dangerous and addictive.  And you.”

You’re more dangerous than ever but I don’t care. I’ve lost it,  completely.  And I’m perfectly happy with this.

I love you. 



I do that a lot.
I watch him. I watch him interact and communicate. I watch him rise and fall. I watch him struggle. I watch him master those around him. I see relationships blossom and occasionally wilt. I am fascinated. My emotions run an excruciating gauntlet as I watch: protectiveness, joy, pride, sadness, irritation, ugly jealousy. And the ever decreasing circle begins again.
Underneath it all is the most intense longing I have ever known. This longing is ever present and only recedes when he is near me; close enough to touch. He is not mine, but I am his. He gives me what I need to stay whole. The times I have spent with him are a blur of sensations. His fingers leave ribbons of fire on my skin. His kiss liquefies my bones.
On my knees at his feet, is the eye of my hurricane; where the myriad worries that infest my mind are forgotten and I am at peace. The void beckons. Chaos in its truest sense – a chasm of incoherence and loss of self; within which, I am completely free.
Control, usually so fastidiously clung to in everyday life, is surrendered. It is my gift and my reward. This is who I am, and he alone, knows me in intimate detail. This is the chink in my carefully crafted armour. Those who know me would think it absurd: that I would give myself so utterly; submit, if you will. They would never understand how the craving burns; that pleasing him is my drug of choice.
He can be so tender and loving, yet so brutal and savage; a combination of the most luxurious velvet and the most lethal steel. He hurts me; bruises me; humiliates me, and liquid warmth floods my cunt. He elicits responses from my body that are beyond my control or comprehension. I am addicted. I long for him to make me bleed again.
Society dictates that I should be repelled by my own feelings, that I must be weak or mentally unstable to want such things. Society can go fuck itself. In those all too fleeting moments; lust and pain, love and longing, pleasure and freedom, all combine to reveal what I believe is my universal truth: I don’t care.
I’m not inferior to him; that is not the bedrock of my submission. He receives my gift and returns it to me in a way that makes my mind, body, soul and heart sing. He interests and intrigues me; he captivates me. In our snatched slices of time, I am greedy for every facet of him. When distance intervenes, the occasional doubt creeps in; I never question my own feelings, but my ridiculous sense of humility, overactive imagination and unsatisfied inquisitiveness slowly deflate my bubble of joy.
I’m only human. I forgive myself this, and hope he can too.
I never assume; that way lies constant disappointment. ​I merely hope that we meet again before my bubble bursts.
Until then, I’ll be watching.

Your Task for Tonight

I will be out tonight with my friends. I will text you when I am on my way home.
You will be on the bed in your schoolgirl uniform with your Teddy waiting for me.
Failure with be met with a harsh punishment.


The Climb And The Crash

The climb was so fast that I look back on it now, wondering if it was a sign for where we are today. Those feeling that came out of nowhere, that drive for a connection growing and becoming more and more intense with each passing day. The shift from magnetic attraction to actual care for each other happened faster than we’d ever experienced with anyone else before. We were both so sure this was “meant to be”.

Building into what we thought would be that one day to answer all those unasked questions.

The day that never happened.

I don’t want to say it was your ‘fault’, more an alignment of circumstances that couldn’t have come at a worse time. It knocked us both down, for somewhat separate reasons. You thought it would end right there, but I ‘forgave’ you and that fast climb started again albeit with a level of appropriate distraction. We both still thought that this climb was the path meant for us. We both still cared. We both still felt that longing.

I even said those words I still wonder if I should have left screaming in the back of my mind.

Then it was my turn to let you down and since then I feel like we have started descending.

I now feel like I’m scrambling to grab hold of you, crashing just as fast as we climbed. My connection with you disappearing before my eyes. Your words grow fewer and far between. I feel like I need to explain and apologize and plead and yes even beg for you to just open up for a moment so I can see if we are indeed on this descent or if it’s just another valley on this journey we’ve set ourselves on.

I’m afraid of heights – because of the fear of falling.

Out of Sync

I’m out of sync.  I’m muddled up.

My head is screwed on.  I know you’ll never leave her and I would never ask you to.  I know what we are.  I know our limitations.  I’ve never been under any impression that you would want any more than this with me.

But my heart is beating to a different tune.   Despite me telling it that it’s being stupid, it’s always clinging to a tiny chink of hope that maybe this time will be different, maybe this time you’ll realise that you love me properly.  Maybe this time will change your mind.  Maybe if I just align myself that little bit more, do everything you want me to do, say the right things, then there will come a day where I’m not moving mountains to get to see you, or crying on trains when I have to leave you.

I find it hard to believe that you don’t notice.  That you don’t realise.  Either you’re blind, or you choose to ignore it because you don’t want to have to quit me.

This is destroying me.  You are destroying me.  But then you kiss me and touch me and for a little while it’s worth it.


Where to start,

Its been a month since we last spoke, when I say spoke it was more a tirade of abusive messages aimed at me.

I won’t lie, I never have lied, though I’ve been accused many times by this person, yet anyone who had seen our relationship go on and off and on and off over the many months I was fighting to have a relationship, while they, the moment things got difficult went willingly back to an abusive relationship and told anyone who would care to listen lies about not being with anyone and never being asked to be anything to anyone.

I just wanted to love someone I believe is a special, beautiful person, I’m not sure that they ever believed me when I told them I loved them, encouraging them to be who, and do what, they wanted. I hoped they would love me too, but apparently not, even though they told me they did and that they would be completely loyal, they were able to turn on me so easily.

Staying up till the wee small hours, nursing insecurities, soothing fears, making that special person smile and laugh, I was happy to do it, and I did do it frequently, often to the detriment of my own health.

This isnt even half the story, but I guess people just don’t care, if they did, they’d ask.

I only wanted to be with them, and I wanted them to be with me. But they didn’t want that and I’m left broken.


Shattered, but not scattered.

I found my fire.

I tried to have a conversation, but that only works if you both are willing to talk. He wasn’t willing. He was too scared, I think, so instead of being open, he attacked.

So I’ve had to lose a friend, plus the friend who is his partner. It looks like I may also lose my partner, because despite everything he said, he may no longer want me because, in retrospect, maybe he wasn’t as OK as he said he was.

It’s hard, when you have sacrificed yourself for people, to find that they aren’t willing to sacrifice themselves for you.
It’s hard, when you checked over and over again that everything was above board with everyone before you walked down a new, exciting path, to be told that you didn’t do it ‘right’.
It’s hard, when you gave of yourself completely, to be rejected so thoroughly.
It’s hard, when you submitted so sweetly, to find that the person you did it for is now incapable of caring for you.
It’s hard, when your partner encouraged you at the time, but now rejects you.
It’s hard, to think that in order to keep your partner, you will likely have to live without having the longings of your heart ever being satisfied.

It’s hard.

Yet I’ve always believed that nothing is too broken to be redeemed.

Yes, I have been shattered. But the pieces of me will not be lost forever.

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