Scintillectually Yours

Photo courtesy of Emmy

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #13? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the site’s sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Flesh – Her mind awash with the thought of fucking. The smell of his scent stirring her cunt, her skin alive and encased by lust.

Putting energy in – Play is energising, at its best; so when both of you are tired, sex or spanking can be a way to get away from it all, rejuvenate your emotional connection and stimulate body and brain with a flood of hormones and endorphines.

A Rude Awakening – In the depths of the night, I half wake to the feel of her cool skin wrapping itself around my back. Soft breasts pushing against my ribs and her groin moulding itself to my buttocks.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Shouldn’t – It always starts off so inconspicuously. Innocent, like the sort of teasing that might occur now and then between any other pair of friends who share a hint of attraction to each other.

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Comfort – She’s so strong and yet, when we lie down together, she makes herself small and vulnerable for me. ”Hold me” she says in a tiny voice

See also: Pleasurists #73 and #74 for all your sex toy review needs.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Erotic Writing

Back Story
bodystocking blowjob
Bella Durmiente
Began my day
Bubbleland
Current events
Fiction: Growth
First Meetings…
Game On
“I want your cock in my mouth”
“Make Me”
Mauled at Noon
Monday Morning Flash – “Bathtime”
musing/not asking
Negotiations
Oh, What a Night
One Last Surprise
Over-Ruled?
Park ‘N Ride Me
Slut with Wine Bottle
Stardust
Satin Met a Laddie
Unravelled
Wednesday meeting with V

Kink & Fetish

BDSM Advice Series: Gags
Domme for a day
FetInRealLife #12 – DIY Flogger
First Memories
Impact
Last Night
New friends and intense, sweaty, loud orgasms
Out with the Old, in with the New
Sluts, Squirts and Swing Clubs
Steel
Submissive Skills: Hunt Slut
Trust
taking her as My girl, discovering the Dom within
“Welcome to SpankingCast, our spanking podcast”

Sex News, Interviews, Politics and Humor

Building Community for Sex-Positive Sexuality Professionals
Soaking — Marinating in the Cunt of Christ

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Gay Pride
Going Bareback
I Can’t
Ladies, what do your genitals say about you?
My Identity is Erased
More Bad Advice
My Rape Story
Read and you may learn…V-massage
Psychology of Rape Fantasy- An Overview
Support Survivors
Top 10 Good Things About A LDR
You Shur Got a Pretty Mouth

My eyes are tired and my back aches. I stand up and stretch, my desk chair rolling across the wooden floor. I shade my eyes from the mid-afternoon glare and watch you propel the lawn mower across the wide expanse of green out back. Ah, the joys of having my very own yard-butch. You never let me lift a finger unless I insist and I take much more pleasure in digging in the dirt to reap the colorful benefits of my English gardens than I do in pushing heavy machinery.

As if psychically connected, you look up and see me framed in the window. I smile and beckon you to come in. You shut off the mower and within a moment I meet you at the back door with a Buckler’s. You grin and lean in to kiss me but I back off with mock distaste at your grungy beater and sweat-soaked lips. “Ewwww,” I say, pulling a face. “I was just going to have a smoke,” you reply, “Come on out, take a break.” I grab my iced green tea and follow you to the patio, settling into an Adirondack chair under the pergola. The canvas strips woven through the weathered wood providing some respite from the scorching August sun.

You sit heavily in the matching chair beside me and light up, inhaling deeply. My old habit haunts me during your now infrequent cigarette breaks and I feel a longing in my chest. Watching your hand move from your side to your mouth, the long drag and the exhalation, your tongue darting out periodically to quickly lick your full bottom lip, I start to feel a very different kind of longing. I sigh as you get up and head over to the spigot to rinse off the day’s grime. As if in slow motion, I catch every detail, every drop of water that runs down the back of your neck and soaks your tank. I catch myself daydreaming as I stare at the hole in the back of your jeans, the plaid of your boxers visible.

“Hey!” I am jolted out of my reverie as you playfully turn the hose on me. I jump up and out of reach. “You know, if you’ve got that thing out, you might as well put it to good use.”

“Really?” You arch one eyebrow in my direction.

“Pig.” I smirk, “I meant that you should water the flowerbeds while you’re at it. My glads are starting to wilt a bit.”

“As you wish.”

It is your standard reply to me. The answer you give me whenever I make a request of you. The phrase that earned you the nickname “Dread Pirate Roberts.” And it never fails to work on me.

I walk over and turn off the water. You look at me quizzically as I push you toward the house. “I changed my mind. I have other plans for you.”

“Are you getting mouthy with me, woman?”

“Not yet, I’m not. Come on.” I follow you into the house. “Bathroom.” I am insistent and I’m not playing. I want what I want and I want it now. You understand immediately and comply, heading for the master bath. You start to turn the tap on in the garden tub and I stay your hand. “No. I think you need a little lesson in self-control.”

You start to speak and I put my finger to your lips. When you begin to kiss my hand, I pull away. “Strip.” I say. You do. And then you reach for me and I walk away leaving you standing in the middle of the tile floor. I reach up under my skirt, slowly and deliberately take off my panties, and then I pull myself up onto the vanity, perching on the edge.

“Come here.” I tell you, “On your knees.” I know you think you know what’s coming. You don’t. I pull my skirt up around my waist and spread my legs. Your hands instinctively move toward my thighs, you have that hungry look about you. “No. Don’t move. Stay right there.” You are literally 6 inches from my already drenched cunt. You don’t take your eyes off of it. I reach down with one hand and spread my lips apart letting you see all of me, as closely as possible. You groan in a barely audible plea for mercy but you know better than to move.

“Jerk off for me, boi.” I wait to see your reaction. I know you are reticent to do so even in the dark of night and here we are in the well-lit bathroom in the middle of the day. “Go on, I want to watch you. If you’re a good boi, I promise you can have what you want. If you’re a bad boi, well…” I take my hand away and begin to pull my skirt down. Your hand immediately moves to your rock-hard shaft. You begin to pull and stroke your boi-clit and I can feel my breath quicken. I shift again and reach down between my legs, fingering my own clit in a very different way. Your gaze is unwavering. You stare down my pussy with a cocky, almost challenging attitude. I know you choose to do this, and it pleases me.

Your hand moves faster as my own rhythm picks up. I taunt you by dipping my fingers in my vagina and offering them to you before I quickly put them in my own mouth. Your eyes follow my hand and you moan again, shutting your eyes briefly before you face forward again. I verbally urge you on. I tell you non-stop what a good boi you are and, finally, when I’m ready, I tell you to come.

And you do.

When your trembling subsides slightly and your body has gone limp, I reach out and grab your hair, pulling your face into me. I can no longer deny you. I can no longer deny myself. Torturing you was more than I could stand and as you bury your face in my cunt, I melt into you. I am no longer in control. You have it all. You have me completely. This then, is my reward.

Who is one celebrity you would like to:

Cuddle? Simon Cowell. I find him physically repulsive but damn-it that man is just crying out for a good cuddle and I don’t think his butt-buddy Ryan Seacrest is giving him quite enough attention.
Elope with? Carmen Electra. Not my type AT ALL but we could go to Vegas, spend a shitload of money at The Hard Rock, dance with the PussyCat Dolls, live out a few of my stripper fantasies, she can get too drunk to have sex, and it’s an easy annulment the next day.
Love? Suri Cruise (yes, as in the child of Tom and Katie). That kid was bred simply to extend the gene pool of L.Ron Hubbard. She is a sad child…sad, sad, sad.
Excite beyond words? How about excite WITH words? Oprah Winfrey. I need her to fund my lifestyle so that I can write for a living. I mean really, she can afford the rent on my house and my bills while I work on getting her name on a sticker on the cover of my first novel, right?
Bang? Sarah Palin. With an AK-47.
See in bed with their current fling? Benji. Oh wait, that dog’s probably long dead by now. I just thought it would be cute. Puppies are cute. So are kitties. Is there a celebrity kitty? Hello Kitty…but she doesn’t count. Is she a she? (Man, I really need to watch what I do when I take my migraine meds.)

Bonus (optional):Tell us about one encounter (if any) that you’ve had with a celebrity.

Howard Stern opened the door at the bank for me in NYC once. He’s very tall. And polite. I said thank you and he said you’re welcome. We’re now *likethis*.

Ha! And you all thought I’d do something insanely naughty with this didn’t you? Here’s some serious vanilla ice cream for you: I adore DPR. Celebrities are just people with jobs that pay really, really well. I don’t lust after anyone in the media and my heart belongs to my sweet baby boi. So, I hope you at least got a grin out of it. Perhaps I’ll make it up to all of my dear readers with Wicked Wednesday!

Thanks to Ang, our darling Sweltering Celt, for Week 77′s theme: Rain. Don’t we all need a day like this?

The alarm on my phone goes off precisely at 7 a.m. I reach out my right arm and turn it off, careful not to disturb you. You sleep soundly, still, your body curled into mine protectively, your hand cupping my left breast. I have to wonder if we moved at all since falling asleep just a few short hours earlier. I sigh, thinking of all that I need to get done today. As a freelancer, I never seem to get even one day of respite—not even on a Saturday. There are deadlines to be met, my Weight Watcher’s meeting to attend, household chores begging my attention.

The bed is warm and soft. Your body feels deliciously naked next to my own. I shudder slightly with a flashback from the night before—just a fleeting memory of your hand idly toying with my pussy while I sucked you off (oh, what a good girl, you said). I feel a jolt through my groin and smile as I grow wet yet again. Oh, to have a valid reason to spend the day in bed, full steam ahead, damn the torpedoes.

I roll onto my back and try to drum up the energy to get up and get in the shower. You rouse slightly and your hand falls to my thigh. Mmmm…yeah, that’s not helping. Neither is the way you nuzzle into my neck and murmer your good mornings. I am torn between the need to take care of my obligations and the overwhelming desire to spread my legs and let you trace lazy circles on my clit, persistent in its own wanting.

Okay, enough. I really need to move my ass and not in a good way. I raise myself up on my elbows when I hear it for the first time; the perfect excuse to fall back into your arms drums its staccato rhythm on the roof. The distant rumble of thunder soothes my soul as the rain washes away any shred of guilt I feel as I pull your hand into my cunt and laugh out loud at your quizzical, yet exclamatory, “honey!”

as a writer of erotica. I have felt for some time that my “mainstream” writing for Ourbiggayborhood.com under my real name may eventually lead to the “outing” of my creative work here, under my pseudonym. Indeed, today, my worlds collided in a way that rivals the Big Bang Theory. You see, last week one of the editors at OBG asked if she could profile me and explained that the crux of the article would revolve around my erotica. This is truly dichotomous to the writing I do, both for OBG and for my own mainstream site, www.dazedunconfused.wordpress.com. I write, as co-editor Margo Moon puts it, slices of wholesome Americana. I just happen to be lesbian and that’s how I wound up writing for OBG.

Ever since I granted my approval to Ms. Moon for the article, I’ve been on pins and needles. Even at 45 years of age, I was dreading the idea that my parents (my mother in particular) might come across this website accidentally (you know, while googling butch/femme fisting or some such thing). I know that my mother proudly reads my articles each month and I also felt there was a very good chance that she’d come across the profile whether I pointed it out to her or not. So, last night, knowing that the profile was due to post today, I called my mom and finally got up the nerve to tell her the news. Her daughter is a *gasp* writer of erotica. Trust me, this was far harder than the day I told my parents I’m gay and that was in my very early 20s. I must say that she took it really, really well. I did not provide her with specifics, like the fact that I also review sex toys and participate in Half-Nekkid Thursdays, but I did say that I didn’t really want her reading this stuff. She countered by telling me she really didn’t want to read it. Whew! Her only real concern is that I may somehow get branded in this particular genre and may then have trouble publishing the single parenting essays I’ve been hard at work on for quite awhile. She may be right. I have to hope not.

In the meantime, all 280 of my Facebook friends now know my alter ego; and on the flip side, all of my readers here now know who I really am. Clark Kent has revealed himself to be Superman and Cat Woman has thrown aside her mask. I am Diana Coe, single lesbian mom, writer of wholesome Americana. I am also Scintillectual, loving partner to DPR (who, by default, I’m afraid, will also be unmasked), writer of sometimes rather steamy literary erotica.

My worlds have collided. I am no longer sheltered under the blanket of my pseudonym. Now that it’s done, you can read me here and at www.ourbiggayborhood.com. You may not recognize me with my clothes on.

1. Commando: Sexy or disgusting? Do you have a “best” commando story?

I tend not to go commando as I have a thing for really beautiful lingerie. I also do not love wearing damp clothes, however, would a certain *someone* ask me to leave the panties at home? Totally! As for her? Sometimes it is a necessity. And that’s our little secret.

2. Foreplay: Is there such a thing as too much?

At some point I always have to say “fuck me already!” So, yes, I guess so. However, I’m a lesbian…much of what we do would be considered foreplay to heterosexual couples. It’s all relative I suppose.

3. Oral sex: Good if you are getting? Good is you are giving? Equally ewwwww?

So getting and SO giving! I actually spent 14 years with a woman who hated performing oral sex. A dyke who doesn’t eat pussy? And I wound up with her? Seriously?

4. Orgasm: Is one per night enough or does the first one just get your motor running?

Hah! I believe I’ve spoken to this before. I classify myself as multiorgasmic but really, my orgasms are like one ginormous run-on sentence. They just keep going and going and going and going…

5. Morning sex: “Oh hell yes!”, “Well if I have, too.” or “Just get in the shower and go to work.”

That would be a resounding “Oh hell, yes!” As would mid-morning, around noon, afternoon, dinner-time, evening, late at night…

Bonus (as in optional): Have you ever had anonymous sex? Have you ever had an orgasm without at least knowing your partner’s last name?

Let’s put it this way…I am astounded that I made it through the 80s without even a case of the crabs.

Forgive my disappearing act. Although inspired by this week’s MFM theme, Openings, there has been no time to write. TMI Tuesday came and went with no time to write. My darling DPR sent me a lovely and wet-panty provoking assignment for Wicked Wednesday, but there has been no time to write. Tomorrow is HNT…and I am trying to work through two major deadlines with a fever of 102° and what seems to be a massive sinus infection.

I hope you will all bear with me as I get through this week and make some time to work on my “mainstream” article for www.ourbiggayborhood.com. Don’t know which contributing writer is me? I’ll never tell. *grin*

In the meantime, here’s a re-run to keep you all happy until I return next week (under a whole new set of deadlines…did I mention I’m busy?):

You know you spend too much time as a sex blogger when the last thing you dream about is needing to take new shots for Osbasso’s HNT! Alas, since that was a mere half hour ago, I’m running what (I think) are the last of my Big Chair shots from DPR’s visit. She’s been gone a bare week and a half and it feels like a lifetime ago. I miss her arms around me and her presence in my daily life. These shots remind me of one of our many glorious nights together filled with laughter and love. Now that I’ve used the most usable, it’s time for her to make the 900 mile trip back up here to take some new ones, don’t you agree?

*CLICK*

1. Name one thing that turns you on with unprecedented success.

DPR (heh…okay, besides her…I’ve recently discovered that if you tell me I’m a good girl in the middle of a really naughty act, it puts me right over the edge)!

I’m a dyke. I LOVE pussy. You just know that I’m going to want to know what it feels like to have such a sensate organ inside a vagina. So yeah, just the once though, I’m VERY happy with all of my girl parts.

Bonus (optional): Pretend you’re a doctor and a patient has come in with an “ache”. What is your course of “treatment”?

Sigh, my patients are always so difficult. Restraints are in order; perhaps a sedative or horse tranquilizer, too. Then I’ll proceed to instruct my nurse to make it all better while I  oversee the entire process. (Oh, wait…did I just answer the long version of the fantasy question? Bahahahaa!