Monday, January 11, 2010

You -- my fetish object

Tits and bum, bum and tits, all a matter of approach, isn't it?

The act of masturbating involves fetishizing the very particular thing that arouses you the most. I think men and women are the same in this. Am I wrong? When you imagine me in your masturbation fantasies, I'm sure when you put finger to clit it doesn't involve dinner, fascinating cultural conversations, a good wine, a movie, long walk and a bath?

I 'm sure just as it does for me, that it might start with generalities but zoom very quickly to focus on very small spaces. I confess, your bottom has always been a fetish object for me.

I kiss it.
I objectify it. Think about it when you, the whole you, aren't around. Think about it when you walk past me or find some reason to bend over oh so innocently in a room full of people, only to straighten and make knowing eye contact with me. You know I'm watching your every move and you tease me. How many times have you played this little game with your little ass, bent over, your small, tight, girlish ass displayed to everybody, but open only for me--as eager for me as I am for it?

I can tell when it wants me as much as I can tell when its weepy sister on the north side wants me. This evening I rubbed my prick against it knowing that our previous lovemaking had lubricated and prepared it. I confess, when I came the first time today, my thumb buried to the hilt, pressing down against my own cock in your other hole, surging on the other side of that thin wet wall  pounding that juicy cunt, what sent me over was imagining already coming the second time buried in your ass, its warm, firm embrace milking me dry. It's nothing against your cunt. I love your cunt. I will always pay it its due. But we both know the first time is a warmup and that you have turned me into an ass glutton.

Then we lay like spoons. That's the incredible thing about us. How well we fit together. As if we'd started out from the same block of wood, chiseled apart by a master's hands, only to be fitted back together again. This is how it works. My hand resting on your pelvis tightens. You thrust back. My hips lock with yours. my slowly growing prick picks up a rhythm between your cheeks, grazing your little starfish, knowing full well how easy it will soon be to slip this key of mine through that tight lock, into that tight juicy hole that waited to embrace me. My attention narrows, I don't hear the noise outside. My phone is ringing but I no longer hear it either. Fuck the phone. I only hear my breath, then yours.  I focus down on that tiny point of contact, on that tiny inch of flesh, rubbing slowly up and slowly into that tiny inch of yours. Click. It all fits together with a click.

Can I tell you something else, something sweet, another amazing thing about our amazing, improbably relationship?

It's how accepting you are. You are not mortified to learn how thoroughly I have objectified you. And what parts of you I've fixated on. You laughed when I asked how you felt about this. You are flattered. My fetishizing you pleases you and this makes me feel so close to you. What did you expect when you acted the slut and hoisted your bum up, showing off your pink nail polish as you held your firm white little cheeks open for me? Honestly, how else did you expect me to react?

Oh, if we'd had more time.

I would have taken one of your ass toys and started the job I was determined to finish. I love using them on you. I love the way I can fill both your holes, tight as a glove. I think it's time we wash them up and get them ready.

I would have taken you a third time. I would have taken you in your bathroom perhaps imagining the other times, when I desperately jerked your jeans down to your ankles and took you, the fear of discovery imminent, coming in you, so sweet, so hard, so fast, so desperate for more, always more, more ...

I want to reciprocate. It's only fair. I want you to come on me. To use my body as your personal masturbation tool. Use whatever part of me strikes your fancy. My toe, oh my toes, my fingers, hump my leg, push my nose into it, use my entire face as your fuck toy. Use also, from time to time, the more obvious appendage.

Just before I come, just before you feel the roaring in your ears, the tightness building toward the explosion, I pull out and spurt between your cheeks and use the slippery semen lubrication to penetrate you once more before I fade into hopeless softness and languor. I know my own reactions very well.  In that few seconds after coming the third time that hour, I would've with a short thrust, re-entered you knowing how you love to hold me, hold me as long as you can, as long as I am willing to be held, my conquest of my fetish complete for a couple of hours ...

...Or at least until my hunger for your sweet ass tosses me like salad and makes me shut my eyes desperate to recapture ever last detail I can of how good it is.


  1. This is so beautiful and so sexy. I fear that erotica is a poor word to describe your writing, as the posts here are more like love letters with a sensual component.

  2. I agree with the commenter above, they are the most beautiful of love letters! Your writing does exceed the term 'erotica' in its sensuality! I wish I could have continued to be your fetish object!

  3. Vi, I thought you and Ricci were still lovers. I am so sad you have drifted apart, if you have. I miss you and Ricci too. I loved our long evenings in NYC together where often we would stay up until the small hours, lying on that spacious bed of yours (enough for 4 people), you entwined in Ricci's arms. Thank you for sharing your beautiful love story with me when we were all in NYC and for entrusting me in the role as your only confidante at the time. I happened to visit this stylish and sensual blog and I sign off from it feeling that it is an eulogy to true physical love, sensual love-making and sexual passion!
    Your friend, Deanna.
    ps I now live in New Zealand and came across this when I googled Ricci's name as I was wondering what happened to him and his talented penmanship.