Second time's a charm. "The reality I want men to know who read BastardLife is that size doesn't matter, thrust angle and power doesn't matter, dirty talk doesn't matter, and your ripped abs and hard ass muscles don't matter. It's your tongue—and if you listen to and learn from my pussy, and get me off before you go inside me, you're gonna start me up so that I'll never stop, never stop, neva neva neva neva! Believe it."—Gabriella, Barcelona, Spain February 2, 2009
From the book Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z by Rachel Kramer Bussel. On sale now, and worth it.—N.B.
The first time with Peter and Nadia, there's no time for niceties. No lush bottles of wine, long, elegant, up-all-night talks about anything and everything, the slow build of arousal as your blood starts to boil until it practically spills over, bursting forth from the buttons of your shirt, pulsating in your cock and clit until you practically ooze out of your clothes. That had been happening for the past week, since I'd met them at a bar, since I'd spent every waking (and many not-so-waking) hours thinking about them, their same black hair, stylish tattoos, dirty, flirty looks across the room, still in love after five years. And so perfect for me, in an open relationship.
In seemingly no time we are at their place and the consensus seems to be that I am in charge. I push back the part of me that wants to do a dance of glee, or run away, or simply slink down to the floor and lick them both into ecstasy. They both have worn skintight outfits that make their asses practically pulsate, an electric sign that says “touch me” and that is what I must do, what I’ve been doing surreptitiously all night, copping quick, sly feels as I brush past them, hoping they’ll notice and like it. The last time, right before we left, stumbling home in a tumble of lips and hands and gropes, Nadia took my hand and placed it right on her ass, looking up at me with triumphant eyes, and I pinched her there, hard, shifting my hand down under her very short skirt to do it again.
Now, I line them up next to each other on the bed, his thin, slender ass next to her ultra curvy, rounded one, a vision of bootyliciousness that makes me wish I had a camera other than the one in my mind. I’m not sure where to start first, because both look so delectable, I could lick and bite and taste and slap for hours. I scrape my nails down her bare back and she wiggles, making her whole body move in the sexiest of ways, her long curls tumbling down her back as she tries to stay still. I scrape my already bitten nails from the back of her neck all the way down and don’t stop until I reach the plump flesh of her ass, which I’ve only gotten the briefest of tastes of so far. When I finally do, it’s like ass nirvana, as with my left hand I stroke his curvy rump. Everything one could want from a behind is all there right before me, and it’s almost overwhelming. Then again, I find one ass, proffered up to me with sass and honor and eagerness, overwhelming, this top’s truest delight.
I bring each hand up in the air and let them down hard, the sounds reverberating throughout the room as they each wiggle in tandem, their heads turned toward each other. It’s hard to feel mean, to fire up the proper fuel for this, when they are just so dreamily in love, but I try. I turn slightly and work only my best arm, my right, and smack her ass continually, fast and hard, then move onto his, each one offering up different sensations. I can feel his slaps travel throughout his thin body, can see more of the impact as he squirms, his toes rising up from the floor. They are holding hands as I unleash not fury but desire, that special tingle in my hand and surge in my heart as I give my all to spanking them, turning their white skin into a canvas of color, red and pink, lines here and there, unintentional abrasions I know they will feel for days on end. I feel myself blush as I look at his ass cheeks, so easily bruised, so quickly reddened, angry little sparks of blood popping up from the surface, my hand also pulsing with blood and power.
I lean down and lick along his heated flesh, taking a firm bite, and he moans. They inch closer together and when I look up there are four lovely rounded curves awaiting my ministrations. I am again overwhelmed and awed at their ability to give of themselves like this; even though I know they want it, are waiting for more, it’s still an honor and privilege I don’t take lightly.
I return to her, running my hands over her lush, wonderfully overflowing cheeks. “You have such a beautiful ass, I’m surprised it’s not permanently red from being spanked all the time. How can one resist?” I lean close to her and say softly, biting her neck as I do, feeling the shiver travel down her back. I pinch and squeeze her brilliant ass, making sure it’s real, making sure she likes me touching her there. I put my left hand on his back, to steady myself and let him know that he will be next. “Spread your legs, baby,” I tell her, and she does, just a little bit, enough to let me see a little of her juicy, pink folds, enough to make sure that she’ll be conscious of how wet she’s getting, enough room for my hand to slide up along her slit in the middle of her spanking.
I move slightly to the side, leaning gently against Peter as I bring my hand back and give Nadia a good, solid whack. Her skin is so pale, and enough of that pale skin is left from my earlier smacks, that my handprint appears immediately, a striking red symbol that looks totally gorgeous on her. I move aside further and do the same to her left cheek and then pause for a moment to look at her. Nobody says anything but I notice her stick out her ass just a little further, so miniscule most people would never notice, but there it is—she wants more, and I can feel my own pussy start to thrum when I see this. Her ass has been beckoning to me all night, her whole body really, all fleshy curves poured into the close confines of a corset, bursting forth in all the right places, making her admirers unsure if they want to leave her in her sexy clothing or take it off and unveil her nude lusciousness. I pull her ass cheek up with my left hand so it is stretched out, taut, already pulling slightly against her cunt, and then smack her again, a little harder. Then again, and I feel the smack reverberate back into my hand, that slight tingle in my palm that tells me I’m doing a good job. I rest my hand against her cheek lightly, letting my thumb slightly graze her shaved pussy, and she is even wetter than I’d expected. I slide my thumb slightly further down, letting it rest along the edges of her slit, teasing her by not moving. I scratch her back with my other hand, then reach over and run the ball of my hand hard down his back. I am dying to see his cock, to taste his hardness, but I can’t look at it now or I’ll be distracted from my mission.
That’s the delicious dilemma of fucking two people; it’s double the pleasure, actually, it’s much more than that, but you discover that you alone do not have enough hands or eyes or lips to do everything you’d like to do, that some things will have to momentarily wait, or be saved for next time, while you attend to the most urgent, throbbing pleasure first. But it’s a dilemma I’m glad to have as I fondle both of them, forgetting about my resolve and shoving my thumb into her cunt while my fingers rest around the opening of her ass, tapping, suggestive, while I continue to play with his cock. It’s all so much that I wonder how they manage to fuck and not explode every time with the sheer enormity of it; I don’t think I could handle this much sexual decadence on a daily basis. For now, though, I will have my fill, and I rearrange them so that he is on his knees, and I pull on his hair while slapping her fleshy, pale white ass, covering every inch of it with loud, noisy smacks that I feel all the way up my arm. She grabs onto the sheets, pulling them almost all the way off the bed, clutching them with all her might, to help shield her from this pain that she wants so badly. He brings his hand to her back, stroking and holding her, letting some of the pain travel through him as I keep whacking her, tapping her now lightly with a riding crop, testing her, wanting to take all of her but knowing that there is more to unravel in the coming weeks. Her body is so fabulously responsive, her desire so pure and untainted that I wanted to do everything imaginable in one fell swoop, but I pace all of us, keeping well within her body's limits, calming my rampant domme desires into something resembling a caress more than a punishment, even though we all know that it is both, at once. That is the beauty of spanking, it is tender and harsh, angry and loving, sweet and sour all mixed into one raised arm, one daring strike, one flash of insight that what she truly wants is this consecrated contact.
I place her in the middle of the large bed, then put him on top of her, a private pile of playfulness that I absolutely can't resist. I take out the paddle, my favorite one, the one that is shiny and red and always looks brand new no matter how many asses I treat it to, it's always gleaming just for me. I bring it down hard against him, rewarding him for his patience, knowing he will feel each smack deep into his bones, and she will too as he bounces on top of her, his cock boring into the crack of her ass, teasing her with its hard promise. I throw all my remaining energy, every last surge of need and want into his ass, until it is entirely red, surely painful, as he hugs her and wiggles and squirms, not knowing what he wants, only that he needs this. "Yes, yes, I—" he breaks off, a strangled cry as I smack him harder, drowning out the sound of his garbled words, not listening anymore as I unleash it all until he comes, spurting up onto her back, a vision of murky white that makes me smile as I put down the paddle.
I bring us back down to earth, where our breathing returns to normal, where we smile and giggle, slightly shy again, where every electron around us is not quite so charged with the magnetic draw of sexual power. I pull them up by the roots of their hair, push their faces together for a kiss, momentarily feel slightly left out, until they turn to me, lavish me with kisses and nibbles and attention. I reach down and fondle those sore, red, tender asses, and smile because I've gotten double the pleasure, the beauty of spanking times two. No triple, quadruple—hell, there's no quantifying this glory, only hoping that we can do it again. Very, very soon.—R.K.B.
She likes to have sex outdoors, in cars—anywhere where we might get caught. She doesn't really even want to do it in bed anymore. Now what?
Q: My partner lives for being intimate outside. Her exhibitionism is getting a little over the top at times and lately she has zero interest in having sex in our bed. I am concerned about her. How do I reel her in a bit?
A: Sex in his car is so high school, and fun. Men love it, and women report a heightened sense of excitement during the experience because it's often spontaneous and outside of the bed. Back in the era of the drive in movie, the windows were often quite steamy. But what we liberally call exhibitionism can also be paraphilias, or the kind of impulses that if not treated can cause your sex life to spiral out of control. It is important to get help in the form of therapy for your partner if you feel strongly that what was once naughty fun here and there has become a pathology.
Key Tip: Sex in cars, against trees, in alleys and in the boy's room of the bar will always be with us—and some of the best fun you will ever have. But when it becomes the only way to get off—get help.-N.B.
"Never would I have imagined that my little secret would attract so many people."—ED FOX
Glamour from the Ground Up, By Ed Fox. He's been called the new Elmer Batters, but he's clearly no imitator. Yes, there's that "little secret" he shares with the late Mr. Batters, but Glamour from the Ground Up author and photographer Ed Fox celebrates the female foot in his own way, creating a style that is unique, contemporary, and technically impeccable. Because he draws inspiration from both still photography and video there's a strong sense of movement in his pictures, reflecting his own energetic personality. Poignant, sensual, and cinematic. On sale now, and worth it.—N.B.
"My last girlfriend thought I didn't like going down on her, but that wasn't the case," says my old friend Pete, looking over his shoulder as though he's afraid one of the wasted patrons of our local Irish pub will overhear his confession.
"I just...well, a few of the women I'd dated before her didn't exactly give me rave reviews in that category," he admits, laughing.
A truly sweet-natured computer whiz, I know Pete would never be telling me this stuff if he hadn't just downed his third Guinness. But he's got nothing to be ashamed of. Roughly 19% of women surveyed reported receiving oral sex during their last intimate encounter, while 27% of men claim to have performed cunnilingus on their most recent lover. Why don't those numbers add up? Perhaps it's because there are more guys out there making an effort than there are girls getting results—and that's just a tragic waste of erotic energy.
"What was the problem, do you think?" I ask.
"I guess I approached the whole thing kind of mechanically," he says after a moment's thought. "Like, my tongue was a wind-up toy with one movement—up and down, up and down—and at pretty much one speed. I always thought if you were licking the right spot and just kept at it, eventually you'd hit pay dirt. I was afraid that if I veered off course, the girl would be like, 'Where the hell does he think he's going? Doesn't he even know what a clitoris looks like?'"
I nod my head, remembering a few underwhelming experiences of my own with guys who must have read the same instruction manual as Pete.
"But this new girl," Pete lowers his voice, leaning in closer. "I started with, you know, my usual method, and after a minute she grabs me by the hair and pulls my head up so we're face to face and says, 'This isn't paint-by-numbers, baby. Do what YOU want to do with my body!?' ...It was so damn hot."
Sure enough, I find myself getting pretty damn hot as Pete goes on to tell me what happened next—how he experimented with letting his tongue gently, slowly glide over her labia, how he went from using just the tip of his tongue to its entire surface, as if he were licking a melting ice cream cone.
"I used to just put one finger inside her and move it in and out," he continues, "but this time, I used two—and sort of caressed her hot, wet interior really softly just kind of exploring. And after I made her cum? I plunged myself inside of her and it was twice as hot as any woman I've ever done. Plus, she told me, I extended the first orgasm into a third."
At this point (my own underwear was as wet as she probably was), I make a suggestion. "Add to that sucking her clit very gently through your teeth while you finger her," I tell him, as if I'm passing down an ancient, closely guarded secret, "It will give her orgasm number 4."
"Sweet," Pete says, and we raise a glass, both of us turned on enough to sneak off to the boy's room for a romp.-O.P.
You've been married less than a year. When you get home, she's not bounding over to kiss you, she's bound up in the kitchen waiting for a romp. Now what?
Q: This is my second marriage; my first ended because my wife thought I was too sexually adventurous. Now I've been married less than a year and I am wondering if my new wife is far more adventurous than I am—she will often wait for me to find her bound and gagged in various rooms of the house with a note beside her that reads, "Fuck me bound like this." How can I find my "inner torturer" and do something like that to a woman?
A: Not only is there a fetish in all of us, be it mild or mad, but they come in all colors and flavors—bondage and domination being one of them. First, before you run to the next marriage, learn more—I recommend Alison Tyler's Best Bondage Erotica series or her book Love at First Sting: Sexy Tales of Erotic Restraint in which what appears to be the art form of this fetish is beautifully and tastefully described in a way that will inform and most like arouse you. Second, nothing is more arousing than exploring a new intimate life together, so learn from her before you role play or her next bound up moment. Find out what turns her on and be sure to be honest about what you like and need as well. Then, enjoy.
Key Tip: Some fetishes are not for everyone. But the stigma of others can turn you off before you explore their potential for exciting you. Communicate, be safe, and have fun and no one will get hurt (at least not too badly).—N.B.
X-Posed, by Dylan Rosser.
Within the plethora of photographic tomes that explore the muse of The Man, most merely document their male subjects in provocative poses that aim towards temptation—rather than place the viewer within the hormonal scent of his masculinity such that you are drawn in by the very testosterone that ignites sexual desire. However, photographer Dylan Rosser has achieved just this kind of penetrating intimacy inside his first book X-Posed, in which his camera transcends the mechanical of lens and shutter to become our eyes—and his compositions, our desires. On sale now, and worth it.—N.B.
You've led a straight life, but more and more lately you find yourself interested in being intimate with men. One in particular, too. Now what?
Q: "I work on a cattle ranch in Montana where gay life is surprisingly not looked down upon, but where there just isn't alot of it around. I have always been lucky with girls (there aren't many of those either around where I live and work); but a man has appeared in my life from one of the other ranches and it is obvious that he is attracted to me. He's been cool about it, and discrete, but I have found myself so attracted and curious about taking the next step with him to the point of constant distraction. I just don't know how to handle this—I have never been intimate with a man. And does this mean I am gay?"—Steven, MT
A: Over 43% of single men in the U.S. who have been open and honest with their partners about having had homosexual experiences do not identify themselves as bisexual or homosexual. This is partly due to the way in which the need to identify as other than straight has relaxed. In many cases of out gay men between the ages of 25-35, 'coming out,' once the the largest rite of passage into gay life, is a non-event if it even happens at all. First, stay focused on the feelings you are having, rather than whether you are gay, straight, or bisexual. Take a private moment to remember that intimate desire is an experience to celebrate, not question, or judge yourself. In other words, don't fight it, follow your instincts and see what happens. Second, get practical—purchase the Joy of Gay Sex, and read up about safe sex as well. Many first time sexuality experiences include one to two unsafe sexual mistakes, so let your guard down enough to experience this amazing new feeling you have discovered, but keep your wits about you if and when the two of you become intimate.
Key Tip: Today, the need to label oneself is less important than it was in the past, freeing you to experience whatever you like without the pressure of identifying in or out of any group. Get plugged into the possibilities by reading more about your desire, in this case intimacy with a man. Let go, be safe, and enjoy.—N.B.
Photograph by Dennis Dean
BastardLife salutes all the women who are out there defending this country—who have left their partners, their kids, and their careers so that you and me can be here safe and sound...and free.—C.D.
Whatever works. Julie and Chris' sex life had always been great, but something eluded them. After a long day teaching at an Orlando public school, Chris would return home and find his wife splayed out naked, poolside, the sun glistening off her taut and oiled thighs while she traded stocks on her new laptop. Sex is easiest then, sure, when you're twenty-something, but what Julie wanted was sex and intimacy. And with a long-term partner, there are rules to attaining it.
"The ability to concentrate on the person you love is important," says Lloyd Richner, a human sexuality and relationships specialist in Tampa. "The distractions of life must become invisible to you. No easy task, though."
At a party, Chris would make new friends while Julie would remain glued to his side. When things were their worst between the couple, Chris was his most distracted—but not with work. With other people. He'd flirt with the usually married others of the children he taught—and they'd flirt right back. Although he never strayed, the weights of keeping these subtle relationships was heavier than other, far more aggressive missteps of his past, like getting rimmed during college from his girlfriend's sister at a wedding romp they sneaked away upstairs for.
Richner advised Chris to redirect his flirtations and allow the "non verbal, or flirtatious relationships" to dissipate. As a result, "He stopped coaching the girl's soccer team," said Julie. "He sat down almost every night and we ate dinner—together. He only watched the television shows that he wanted to actually sit and watch, rather than gazing at the TV and drinking beer for hours and falling asleep—missing the chance to make love to me."
Julie never knew about the flirtations that were preventing intimacy from flowering in their marriage. But once they disappeared, not only did the sex improve, Julie and Chris were more intimate, deeper and closer, with Julie citing her new love for rimming.—O.P.
