Email: rachelkramerbussel at gmail.com



 

Lusty Lady

BLOG OF RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL
Watch my first and favorite book trailer for Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica. Get Spanked in print and ebook

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Perverted fantasies, real and imagined

I always wonder if some of the sex bloggers I read are faking it; I don't really think they are, it's more that it'd be kindof awesomely ingenious for someone living the opposite kind of life to create a fantasy one and spin it out online. There's really no way to know, unless there's photos, right? And many of them I've met and while I haven't been there (and don't want to be), I trust that their tales are as true as they can be (memory being subjective and whatnot).

And at the end of the day, to the reader, does it really matter? Does it have to be real to be "real," as in realistic, to resonate? I don't think so. The farther away from unearthing my own sexual life in by-the-minute detail, the more interested I am in creating really perverted fiction as well as reading about other people's lives. Actually, I want to start a new, non-blogger, kindof "new me" site all about babies (with pics like this), but another time when I'm not so drowning in work. Plus that whole figuring out what the fuck I'm doing with my life (short answer: no clue). Hence, my latest sex blog must-read find: Marcelle Manhattan of Sexegesis, who describes herself thusly:

You know my type: sweet, Southern summa-cum-laude girl. Wants to marry her country-club sweetheart and have babies by 25. Unfortunately, life didn't go that way. I dropped out of my Ivy League PhD program, broke up with my respectable boyfriend, and moved to New York City to become a writer. What I found was cocaine addiction, sexual awakening, a BDSM relationship with a sociopath, and a final, triumphant realization of my own empowerment as a woman with autonomous desires.

There's only a few posts there yet, but they're worth reading. And just as I finished what's possibly my sickest, craziest story yet (for a book with "Perverse" in the title, so it's okay), I felt validated that it's not too far over the edge by this:

“I want you to come so hard you pee on my cock,” gritted John.

That did it. My ass and my clit spasmed and twisted as if someone had turned them inside out, and I let loose the hottest, most relaxing stream of urine all over his chest.

“Oh, god!” he cried out, unable to stand it a second more. And he filled me with volumes of come, right in my ass.

“Save some for my face!” I cried out, too late. With some effort, John pulled out and let me take the sticky remainders into my open, hungry mouth.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home