When the Storm Breaks

The dense smell of the pines in the early morning.
The weight and clamminess of the humidity.
Increasing heat and humidity throughout the day.
Waiting for the expected cool front …then the moment it hits…..

this is the tickler that Lizzie sent me…Thank you!

****

She wasn’t sure what inspired her to pack her kit and head out into the dank and humid forest. Perhaps she was seeking relief under the towering pines. There was no break from the heat, although it felt good to be out of the direct line of the sun. The heat shimmered over the rocks that broke up the forest, spearing through the earth like giant toys left to molder under the lanky pines. Shafts of light illuminated flat disks of mica, gleams of quartz, the occasional garnet.

She loved the forest. Here she could let go, be fully present, be aware of her body, her spirit, her mind. She shifted the pack on her back, trying to ease the cotton that was stuck to her flesh with sweat.  If possible, it was feeling even hotter. She climbed the rise ahead of her, the heat coming off the rock faces in waves now, making her regret coming out of tree line, if only for this moment before heading down into the next col.

She paused just below the rise, before her final upwards push. The sun was relentless up here, though a vagrant breeze tousled her sweat darkened hair. She drank from her canteen, letting some drizzle from the corner of her mouth, splashing down to her tee-shirt, dampening the fabric over her breasts. The sudden coolness caused her nipples to rise. The cotton was rough against them and she rubbed idly at her chest.

She needed  a good fuck. It had been awhile, since her Sir had left. Bastard. Hastily she pushed thoughts of him away, determined not to let him fuck up a beautiful hike. She gazed at the small peak ahead, knowing she’d lose some ground after, but longing for the shelter under the trees.

She crested the hilly top soon thereafter, and was shocked to see the wall of clouds amassed before her.

FUCK!

Even from here she could see lighting dazzling from within the roiling stew that had been a hazy blue sky a few hours before. She turned, looking over her shoulder.

She was more than halfway gone from her homestead. No fucking way she’d make it back in time. She remembered the real estate agent saying something about caves somewhere off Plato’s Peak. She had yet to explore the wilderness that was state reservation property, but now was as good a time as any. The rumble of thunder even from so far away spurred her footsteps, as she made her way off the vulnerable peak and into the trees once more.

She played through her memory of the trails, and just as she recalled, the path forked. An old sign, sagging at one corner pointed left to Founders Hill or right to Tumbledown Hollow. Bearing right, she picked up her pace as the wind began tossing the treetops into swirling windmills of green. A few errant drops of early rain sploshed through the canopy, fat, vagrant things, splatting on her shoulder, her head. The rumble of thunder crowded closer now, but ahead she saw the jumble of rocks that was where the caves should be.

“OVER HERE!!” 

She started out of her reverie, surprised to see a man pop out of the rocks to her left. He was about half=way up a jumbled fall of car sized boulders. He waved his arm at her.

“HURRY!”

Seconds after his warning, came the first thud. Hail.

Fuck.

The first chunk hit her forearm as she pulled herself up the rocks.

“OW!” she bit out a cry, putting her energy into climbing. Ice was smashing against the rocks mixing with rain, wind was lashing at her, tangling her hair, trying to pull her off the rockface.

The sky was black with the storm, and the sudden change from intense heat to chill from downdrafts made her shiver. A last rush of hail slammed around her, one piece catching her forehead and slashing on its journey to the earth.

“FUCK!” Rain and blood drained into her eye, and though she valiantly knuckled it away, the stream continued to blind her.

“Here, come here, c’mon, c’mon……” Suddenly He was there, looming out of the windswept darkness. He grabbed her arm, her poor bruised and aching forearm, and hefted her up the last of the face.

Scooping his arm up and under her pack, he half-carried, half-led her to the shelter of the caves.

**********

part 2 coming soon…

Bosses Orders

I talked with my Sir last night.

He asked if i’d told my blogfriends that i’ve been sick. I said “nope”. He said i had to.

k.

sigh. nilla has some awful crud. i’ve got an infection..ears sinus chest…yanno…the crud. BUT. i’m on antibiotics.

And getting better.

When we talked last night he told me i had to rest.

I couldn’t write any more stories until i was feeling better.

but…hee……i’ve written a bunch  already this week, and YOU won’t see any interruption in your daily read. I’ve got stories through Monday, and i’ll be well back on my feet by then.

Healing whammies and spankings will be accepted, however!

~nilla~

Work Release

 

tidbits have been pouring in! From comments to emails, i’ve gotten a great stack of bits and bobs. It’s great to have readers who respond! Thank you! Anytime you come across something, a stray thought, a funny idea, feel free to shoot me a line! This is a braided story from several ideas. Handling a loud wife/sub work fuck, girl on girl…well…read on!

Her phone chimed as she was crossing the street. Heels clicking on the concrete, she drew the eye of many a man as she tic-tocked in hurried fashion.

Once across, she pulled out her phone and looked. Yes. It was Master. Again.

“Don’t be late, slut.”

She muttered to herself, “i won’t be late if you don’t keep making me stop to read stoopid texts,” as she hiked her purse strap more securely over her shoulder, and strode down the block to his office.

She entered the foreboding building with some reluctance. It was a gorgeous day outside, but then again, He was waiting. She hated this building, each floor a carbon copy of the one above it. Row after row of offices, discreet carpeting, dark doors, boring mundanity.

Rising to the 9th floor, she exited the elevator and turned left. She passed through a second set of doors, and entered His work. Passing what felt like hundreds of doors, she felt a bit like she was living that nightmare people had, about walking down a corridor that never ended, faced with thousands upon thousands of doors.  She smiled to herself at her whimsical turn of thought.

She could hear ringing phones, hushed voices…it was not quiet. Occasionally she would pass an open door, collecting a smile or wave as she strode briskly past.

Finally she came to his office. Room 939. She knocked once as he had bidden her, and came to stand by his assistants desk as she had also been bidden. She pulled out her phone and sent him the required text.

“Here, Master”

She waited with anticipation. She was nervous about this! He’d not shared what he had planned, but anytime she received a text that said “No Panties” it was a pretty sure bet that there would be some of “Master’s Fun and Games”  included.  Pantiless, she was starting to feel her wetness slide from her pussy. She was turned on.

He’d had her on denial for the last week. She’d been pretty bratty, that was true, and she knew better than to take her mood out on Him. A week of no orgasms sure made her hyper sensitive, she mused.

The door to his office opened, and there He was. So handsome in his suit and tie. She smiled almost shyly.

“Hi Sir.”

He tipped his head, silently gesturing her into his inner office. She slipped by him, her body brushing his suggestively. She came up short when she saw  his assistant sitting in His chair.

“Claire!”   She said with surprise.

“Hi slut.”

She was shocked into speechlessness. Blinking,  she turned and stared at Master. He crossed to her, a wicked smile beaming across his face.

“I’ve decided to end your punishment with a bang. You are so loud when I fuck you. It’s time to teach you a bit of restraint, slut. Claire will be assisting me with this task.  Take off your jacket, then your shirt.” he looked at her, cocking an eyebrow when she remained frozen.

“Sir,” she hissed under her breath. “I’m not wearing a bra!”

He continued to look down at her, watching the panic wash across her face, then the blush as she came to understand that she would be topless, sharing the room with Him …and Claire.

“A-are you going to lock the door?” she asked,  pointedly looking at the unsecured door.  She watched as He and Claire exchanged a look. She got a sick feeling in her stomach when Claire replied.

“There is nothing in company policy about banging your own wife in your office, Sir. You can’t fuck me, nor i you, but her? She’s ….” Claire paused, grinned even wider   “fair game, Sir!”

“Good. Go stand in front of my assistant, slut.”

She shot him one quizzical, fearful look. He had always wanted to fuck her at work. But he was correct, she was so noisy when he fucked her. And now there was Claire.

She slipped across the room, moving to stand between the chair where Claire lounged, and His desk. She shrugged out of her jacket, then unbuttoned her blouse. He came to stand behind his assistant and two pairs of eyes took in the increasingly interesting view. She reached the last button, and as it came free, she paused a moment, holding each side of her blouse over her tits.

She looked at Claire, at the eagerness there. She looked at Master. He was amused, as if He had some secret she didn’t have a clue about. And, of course he did.The Bastard! Yet, despite not understanding His game, she was so fucking turned on.

She pulled apart her blouse, and let it slip off her shoulders, pooling at her wrists. She lay that on the desk beside her jacket, acting nonchalant. Still, her heart was racing. A dark mixture of lust, humiliation, and fear combined to bring her to a point of no return. She would do anything He asked, but today he’d ramped it to a whole new level.

“Sit back on the edge of my desk, slut.”

“Lean back on your elbows now.” Two pairs of hands reached for her bountiful tits. One set, small, fragile looking, but painfully strong, as they pinched and twisted her nipple, causing her to cry out.

“Hush now!” Claire admonished her.

His hand slipped from her tit to her throat, then pushed her relentlessly back.  He cupped the back of her neck and eased her to lay, head flopping off the other side of his desk.

“Get those feet up and lift your ass,” He commanded her. She felt her skirt being lifted, the rush of cool air against her hot, wet pussy. Hands spread her knees, exposing her and she gasped.

She felt…gawd!! She shivered. A tongue. He was standing at her head, unzipping his fly. It had to be ….

Claire was eating her pussy.

He had often wanted to watch this happen. She had steadfastly refused. She was NOT a lesbian. No no no!

OMG it felt so fucking good. Short little laps against her lower lips, then a full-on kiss against them. A sucking, French kiss, with a tongue probing her, exploring her…

Even as she opened her mouth to moan, Master’s rigid cock slipped between her upper lips, and her cry was instantly muffled as she began to suck on his offering.

She felt him gently pushing into her mouth, even as she felt her cunt being pierced with a hot wet tongue. Gawd this woman had the most talented tongue! It dove and twirled, fucked and lapped…

His fingers plucked her nipples firmly drawing her attention from her cunt. His cock was only half in her mouth, and she resumed blowing him the way she knew he liked. He moaned softly and she smiled around his cock.

Yes.

Yessssssss.

His hands left her tits, grabbing her head as he began fucking her mouth. There must have been a signal between He and Claire, because the sucking on her cunt intensified, and without warning, her clit was clamped between teeth. She could imagine those teeth in her mind, Claire always had the most brilliant smile. She wasn’t smiling now, she was biting!

She writhed her hips to try to get away, but Master sunk deep then, driving his cock head into her throat, gagging all sound as Claire continued to bite, to bite to …aaaaaggghhh!

fingers were abruptly inserted into her cunt and she was roughly finger fucked, roughly throat fucked, while her clit was being bitten hard.

As He pulled back she begged for her release…

Mastermayicumpleasepleaseplea…His cock drove into her mouth, hard, deep, but she heard him say it,

“Cum you fucking whore!!”

Even as she began spurting, feeling the keening cry burst from her, his cock drove deep, silencing her, Claire’s teeth moving from her throbbing nub, and sucking around those still fucking fingers.

*****

She must have fainted.

When she came back to herself, her pussy was throbbing, her throat was raw and hurting, and she had never felt better.

She turned her head, noting that she had been turned on the desk, and smiled at Claire.

A pinch on her nipple had her turning her head to see her Master smiling down at her.

“I’m so glad you ‘came’ to work to visit!”  He said.

Then threw back his head and laughed.

As if it hadn’t been His idea in the first place.

She smiled. Cheeky fucker.

Ladies

 

“Take out those ladies,”   he ordered her.

Lifting her hand, hesitant, she  pulls out her left breast, then the right. They lay, hanging over her bra. It’s always more embarrassing when he does this. Does this in lieu of stripping bare. Does this to humiliate.

You are my slut and I will play with the ladies when and how I choose.

He plays with them, lifting them by the nipple, letting those big tits fall and bounce. She winces, moans a little. He loves hearing when she tries  to swallow her cries, the gulps and breathing that shows she is attempting to  hang onto her control, a control He works resolutely to break down.

You are my whore and I don’t care if you cry. Go ahead. It won’t bother me a bit.

He  tugs on her skirt, pulling it down over her hips until it drops it to the floor. Then steps away and stares. Stares at her naked cunt.  She wants  to fidget.  He sees it in her eyes.  She wants to squirm. But she  remains motionless. She knows she cannot move without His direct approval.

You will stand just there, cunt, and let me look at you. Let me watch that hole of yours leaking. My hole. Mine.

His eyes shift back to the girls. His hands lift to cup and fondle, strong and squeezing, a massage that leaves her moaning, breathless with the unexpected pleasure. Her eyes close, moved by the force of His hands on the ladies, as He pulls small grunts from her throat.

Mine, fucktoy. My ladies.

She feels the pinch a half second before  hearing the rattle of the chain and she cries out. She  didn’t expect the clamps. Not so soon. Usually He worked up to them. God, such a hurting, and yet and yet and yet….

Look at that cunt leak. You are such a dirty little slut. Such a painslut. Such a whore. Look at you, whoring  yourself for my cock. You want my cock, don’t you? Don’t speak. Don’t say a word.  Show me, slut. Show me how much you want my nice, hard cock to slam up your fuckhole.

She takes the pain of her nipples, bears it with eyes wide open. In them He sees a flashing need. He watches her lick her lips, then slowly drop her eyes to his cock. It’s  hard. He knows she wants it …wants it so badly. Slowly, enticing him, she begin turning her hips in a figure-8, making the chain joining her nipples sway, her  tits bobble. It fucking hurts. He sees it in her eyes.

That’s right slut, show me, give it to me. It’s even better when you give it to me like this. That’s right, my whore, give me every fucking bit.

She  shimmies her  shoulders, and the ladies begin to sway, the chain clacking to the rhythm of her  body,  now writhing in a dance of lust and need. Tears gather in her eyes, a slow trickle silvering down her cheek as one breaks away, and falls onto her  breast.  He leans forward and laps it. Laps at her pain.

I love that. I llooooovvvee that. I fucking LOVVEEE your pain, lil slut.

His hips thrust forward, his cock slips against her lower lips, slick with lust juice. He takes her hips in His hands,  and slides deeper into that wet, hot  cleft; then deeper still, seeking, stabbing, searching for the source of her need.

Fuck….

He moans as his cockhead finds her hot liquid cunt hole. The  ladies chime with their conjoined rhythm, as pussy sucks him deep, deep, deep inside.

Friends~Andy~ (pt 2)

You can find part 1 here.

He could hardly believe it. They were going to fuck Amelia, and he had pegged her perfectly.

In their little band of misfits, he’d always been their leader. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, he’d been the geekiest of geeks. He was always hooked up to some form of tech.

Stepping away from the huddle of flesh on the couch that was Amelia, Marty and Sam, he got their attention.

“Wait WAIT a fucking minute. No. You…STAY DOWN, CUNT!” This last directed at Amelia as she struggled to rise. Whether she was still fighting the last of her own resistance or trying to throw the men off of her was hard to determine, but she responded well to his voice, his implacable orders. He looked at her, steely eyed until she subsided, and flopped back down onto the couch.

“I’m going to get some stuff. The bags are in the car still. DON”T FUCKING START! Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.”

Making eye contact with his two buds, he turned on his heel and strode from the room. They heard the front door open, then the sound of the car trunk being released. A series of thunks, and the sound of the trunk closing, then the shuffle of baggage.

Andy came back into the foyer, juggling all 3 bags. He deposited the others by the stairway, but brought his into the living room. The sides bulged.

“What the fuck-all do you have in that bag?” asked Sam, amazed.

“Watch and learn, grasshopper” He replied, grinning at Sam. A few zips and he pulled out a portable cam, a tripod, a zoom lens, and what looked like a mile of cable.

“Sweet lil slut,” he drawled in his So.Cal voice, “we’re going to make our own special “home movie”! We’ll all get copies…even you, cunt.”

They stared at him, openmouthed, as he waggled the camera. Then whoops of glee filled the small living room.

“The issue now is where to set up our first scene. I’m thinking…the kitchen. Don’t you usually feed friends who’ve just come in from a long trip?” He looked at Amelia, who nodded slowly. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and a tinge of horror.

“Okay, I’ll go get set up in the kitchen, and you boys…get our sweet Amelia ready to Par-tay! Once you’re ready, bring her in and we’ll get to snacking!”

Hi fives between Sam and Marty, then they turned and began stripping the clothing from Amelia. She struggled a bit then, whimpering as Sam grabbed her left nipple and twisted it firmly.

“Shut up and put out, slut,” Andy heard him say to her as he went down the brief hallway and into the spacious Colonial kitchen. A sturdy oaken table filled the center of the room, and a bank of windows on the southern wall let in tons of late afternoon light. The room glowed.

“Perrrrrrfect…” he murmured, and began setting up his equipment.

*************

They staked her out to the tabletop. It was a beautiful contrast, her pale skin against  the deep honey tone of the slabtop table. That shade was in her hair as well, visible as it cascaded off the side edge of the table and gleamed in the light beaming into the oversized room.

Her ass was hanging at the edge of the table,  making either hole accessible, and, canted as she was across the table, her mouth would be reachable as well.

Andy was poking through her refrigerator, Sam through her drawers, and Marty was rubbing his fingers up and down her wet slit.

They gathered round the table to look at her. With a click of the remote on the counter, Andy set about recording their ‘Welcome Home Feast’.  Marty, their resident artist,  had even made a little sign saying just that, and placed it near Amelia’s head.

“Now, I know we’re all eager to taste our feast, but how about we food her up a bit first?”

“Food her up? What the fuck? You’ve been watching too much of that Crazy Chef show again, haven’t you Andy?” Sam snorted at his own joke.

 

Andy held up a cuke and a pale purple eggplant. The eggplant was long and sinuous.
“This,” he said, holding up the cuke, “looks like a nice way to chill off an overheated cunt. ”

This,” he repeated, holding up the long eggplant, “looks like a great anal probe, don’t you think?”

She started tossing her head no no-no…but a hard slap on her inner thigh stopped her.

“You agreed. Now calm the fuck down slut. We’re gonna use you as often as we please, as hard as we please, for as long as we please.  You agreed, remember?” Marty’s finger went from stroking her sopping slit, to pinching her clit, out of view of the camera.  She began nodding vigorously.

“Say it aloud for posterity, slut.”

“i…i….agreed to fuck you. All of you. W-whatever way  you want to do mmmmee.”

“Tell us how much you want this you fuckin’ whore.”

“i.” she paused, looked at each of them, then down at her already bruised tits. Her nipples were hard as stones, her cunt seeping. She didn’t need the hard pinch on her clit to inspire her answer. She was so fucking turned on, even through her fear. Her most wicked fantasies about these three men were coming to life around her.

“Yes.”   her voice was stronger now, throaty with lust.

“I want you to fuck me. Use me. Make me your fucking whore. Hurt me, use me any way you choose. Just please, please don’t leave me. Please? Please fuck me. I have wanted this, wanted you…and you…and you…” she met their eyes again, “for so long.”  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “for so long.”

She only moaned when Andy began fucking her pussy with the cold, fat cucumber. When he pulled it from her sopping pussy, and wiped it across her lips, ordered her to lick it clean of her slut juice, she almost came again from the forbidden excitement.

His cock throbbing in reaction to the scene playing out before him, Sam released his zipper, unbuckled his belt, and dropped his jeans to the floor. Stepping free, he lined up with Amelia’s head, and tapping her cheek for her to open wide, began fucking her mouth. She tasted the remnants of her own juice from the cuke, and now the curiously musky taste of  Sam’s cock.

She was awash in sensations.  She felt Marty pluck at her nipples, but  did not let it  divert  her from sucking on Sam’s big hard cock, She  lashed at his cock head with her tongue, sucked him hard, rolled him in her hot saliva, giving him the blowjob she’d always imagined.

Her mouth opened wider and a scream tried to find a way out, when she felt the sharp, painful pinch on her right nipple. She canted her head to try to see what Marty was doing to her tit. It surprised her to see the clothes pin sticking straight up from her nipple. She watched as he  fastened a bread twisty around the pinching tip of the pin, tightening the grab on her swollen nub.  She  couldn’t look, could only feel the intense hurt on her tit,  as Sam began thrusting deeply into her mouth, gagging her as he tried to force his cock past her resisting throat. He wanted in. All the fucking way in. His hands grabbed her cheeks as he began rocking into her, fucking her face.

Where was Andy?  That thought beat obscurely in the back of her brain.

Where the fuck was Andy?

She screamed as she felt something jab hard into her anus. NO NO! NO!  Her mouth opened wide around Sam’s cock as she tried to give protest against this terrible, awful invasion of her nastiest  hole. Nevermind that it had been the focus of many masturbation fantasies. Fantasies should not always become reality, she thought, panicked.

Sam’s cock slipped down her now open throat. Gagging, breathless, she fought against going under, going down. Fucked deeply at both ends, she felt the eggplant sliding it’s twisted length deeply inside her bowels, filling her, filling her.

Surely the cock and the vegetable would meet in her middle.

She thought they were nearly done with her, with this scene, but Andy, dear, strong, steadfast Andy, began fucking her ass with the veggie, and she heard him murmur to Sam,

“go ahead, bro.”

She felt the head of Sam’s cock against her cunt. She wanted to protest. She wanted to beg. She wanted to …

cum.

She was well and truly fucked.

Consumed

My tits fill His hands as he pushes me against the wall. I can scarcely breathe, excitement and nerves commingling, conspiring to keep me gasping as his touch fills me.

So long, so long, so long.

The chant runs through my head as his hands fist on my tits.  How He molds me, changes me, consumes me. How long i’ve waited for this.

His mouth captures mine, stealing even the miniscule wisps of air i’ve been taking, our tongues dance in harmony, even as He begins to suck, to bite, to feed on me.

He consumes me.

A hand slips lower, probes between my legs. A finger scrubs and pokes, and a squeal flows from my mouth and into His. My clit rises to His touch. He fingers my slit, slides along the wet crease, and returns to rub at my sensitive bit again.

I am trapped. Held to the wall by His body, by His mouth, by His desire. Like a butterfly caught and captured, He pins me with His lust. I writhe, moan, cum, and scream.

He consumes me.

He says i’m His good little slut.

Good to the last drop.

This and That

Good Morning pervie friends!,

Wait! Before you even read here…you have to read this post by Mike (and Cara)…Wait! Before you go read it, put down your coffee and swallow. Do not drink or eat while reading this blogpost unless you need to clean your monitor. Trust me. Then c’mon back and read my this n that and take my little poll.

http://bigakboy.wordpress.com/2010/07/19/pussy-farts

Seriously…was that a freaking riot? I know i have a goofy sense of humor but that just made me fucking hysterical. Then again…yanno…it’s nilla so…take it for what it’s worth.

 i had a great weekend last week, camping on the beautiful Maine seacoast, with great weather, abundant sunshine, and a nice little break in routine.  I crave those little changes once in awhile.

And i am in the mood for a change.  i’ve been playing  “blogmistress”. Kinda like playing “store” or better yet…”Doctor” when you’re a kid…this is the grownup version, i guess!   You know, playing with themes, and widgets, colors and fonts.  I still can’t figure out how to change/add the fucking fonts.   i spent 3 hours working on format, playing and rearranging… if i can’t move my furniture, at least i can play with my blog settings, right?!

 i remembered how to do “polling” so….i’m giving a short poll. And this time it’s set up for “repeat polling”…so if you have a really strong preference, or you are having a boring day..come and vote again and again. The poll is at the end of this post, and will stay open for a week.

So…about said  poll…

You may have noted the change on the blog.   i’m trying to decide if i like it or not. i really really liked the  blue theme. But am in the mood for a change and i loved the art at the top. It doesn’t change the format too much, but i think it’s easy to read, easy to see all the widgets…and yes, i know it’s kinda girly. Coz…yanno…i   iz   a girl!!! And sometimes i like girly stuff.

So, do take a moment and vote. Thank you.

***                   ***                  ***

No one, no one, no one.

That’s who responded to my asking for story tidbits. Sheesh people!!! *nilla shakes her head sadly*   I ‘m not asking y’all to find the answer for world harmony or the best way to get lipstick out of your shirt collar or cum off a silk dress here!!

Tidbits ..that’s all i’m looking for. So, how about this idea. Write me an email

vanillamom4@gmail.com

and that way you wont’ have to go through all that signing in crap that the blog insists i need.  Easy, peasy. Remember…i’m thinking about a situation that you may think of or see and go…hmmm that could be a scene in sexy story. Or a name. Nathan. Hedebah. Willy. A piece of clothing…red bra, torn jockey’s…just a tidbit. Okay, i’m prying into YOUR head a little. Won’t you let me in? Just a weeeeee tiny peek? Please?

***    ***   ***

and on that note, the writing note, i just want to add one more thought….although my stories may be written often in  “first person”…99% of what i am writing *is* fiction!

 For the most part, I’m not writing  about any specific person or event(s). I take snippets from so many places, and so many people … and they really are “braided” into these stories, born from the fecundity of my slutty mind!!  So no, it’s not really “nilla” when you read     “i”     in a story….unless otherwise indicated that it is a true-nilla story. Gods people…i’d never be off my back if all these stories were true life nilla! *insert ribald laugh here* Some, admittedly, are fantasies that i may have um….field tested. Many of those are just too good to keep to myself, right? I’m a sharing kind of gal!!

That’s why YOUR snippets…names, kinky thoughts, weird places to have sex…whatever ….are important to me! Data collection, really! So c’mon, help a slut out, willya?

*****   ****

Here’s a kewl thing……Look down on the sidebar…down…down…keep going almost to the end ….Yes, THERE!  i got an award.  an AWARD!!  It’s my second award but i never figured out how to put up the first one.( sorry Sephi…maybe  you can help nilla with that sometime?)   Coz, well, lets face it, i’m not writing war and peace here,  yanno? So thank you, THANK YOU!!  to bumtickler (click on the “award” to go visit that site….)  it’s always great to know i’m “lifting” someones….day!!

***   ***   ***

One last thing before i’m off…i know there are several “serial” pieces that i’ve started, and have apparently dropped. I’ve not. I am working on “The Farm” and Monday will see the 2nd part of “Friends” which so many people *demanded* more of. I’m also pondering the fate of our Hardware Heroine. Okay she’s a slut but for the sake of alliteration…!  Just know they are not forgotten…just on …a time delay!

Happy weekend!

~nilla!~

next week nilla see’s Sir next week nilla sees sir next week nilla sees sir

*WHOOT*

FFF His Gift 99 words

She was excited. Ebullient. Joyful. Nervous. It had been  a long time coming, this meeting with her Dom.

He’d brought her to his hotel.

His.  Hotel.

 With an exclusive suite that was His.  

Pulling her this way and that, wrapping her tits, stretching her body, sculpting her with rope,  He told her he loved her submission. He loved  her pain. He loved her nerves.

He sat across the room, a glass of champagne in hand, and watched  her.

Watched her unravel …cramped and trembling, aching with need…

And knowing when enough really was enough, rose to unwrap His gift.

*****

Thanks to Panser for hosting our weekly Flash Fiction Friday Challenge. So many great people participate. For the full list, or to try YOUR hand at the challenge, go visit Panser. His link is in the Blogroll Box >>>>>over there.

~nilla~

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

HNT Top 7 Search Engine Funnahs 7/22/10

Many of us do this from time to time, tell you of the funny searches people use that land them here on our blogs.  I’d like to think people are doing better remembering me/my blog, as i’ve had 30 or so searches on variations of nilla/vanilla mom…making that my top search this month! Yay!

Tho that one person keeps searching for “butt plug blog” and winding up here.  Keep searching, friend. I’m sure you won’t wind up here. Again.

28 various terms for tit slapping, yes, this is a good term. I use that in many of my stories, in part because i am a big fan of tit slapping, thus far being the recipient, not the giver. hmmm.

This one opened my eyes…and i’m certain PETA will want to find this searcher as well….butt plug pet..to date, none of nilla’s stories have contained any references to plugging the ass of my pets…or yours…

you wanna do *what* ?

Moving right along, these two could be companions in an interesting story, dontcha think?  slut in the sun,  and  desperate intense throbbing interrupted. Really, i want to know more about that second one. Or maybe even write something around that idea.

Okay, this is the last one. And really. i mean…geeze…y’all have to admit that the search engine who sent this searcher here did this person a complete injustice….tiny tits wordpress… um. No. . . and i offer empirical proof:

See?

no tiny tits here in nilla-ville!

Happy HNT! And keep those searches coming! i’m always up for a good laugh!