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Sinful Sunday: Underneath

His favorite way to see me is to look down.


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Sinful Sunday


There have been a swath of amazing pieces of writing on body image recently (here, here, and the always stunning here). I’ve been working more on my body since graduating and decided to take a peek at any changes there might be.


Sinful Sunday


~ Edward Bellamy

We go on this trip every year, but there’s no telling who comes with us.


See who else has been sinning this week!

Sinful Sunday


– Edgar Allen Poe
To see more E sinning, click the kiss.
Sinful Sunday

Staying warm and silly inside.

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Sinful Sunday

~ Ira Glass

Another side of this fantasy.

When Ivy texted Oliver that she and Paul were flirting, he was excited but did not anticipate anything coming from it. Ivy had made a habit of letting Oliver know when she and Paul were having a go at one another, and, to be honest, he was growing impatient with either of their inability to throw caution completely to the wind and act on their words to each other.

His phone buzzed and he looked down – another text from Ivy.

“I’m nervous. Send me something encouraging,” she said. Nervous? How could she be nervous? Was this closer than he thought it was? An email chimed in and he realized he had been sitting at his desk for nearly two hours ignoring everything as he read snippets of their encounter unfold. He gave her the encouragement she asked for.

“Go get that dick and show me how much of a slut my wife is.”

“Yes sir.”

His head spun around – would Ivy really make this happen? He stood up from his desk. He was sure a walk around the office would allow him to clear his head, or at least bring some of the blood away from his growing hard-on as he imagined the filthy things Ivy was doing to Paul. Even if it was half the things he was thinking about, he would be more than satisfied to hear. He half-attempted idle chit-chat with a group of coworkers in the opposite corner of the office.

Oliver’s watch buzzed this time, as it often does in the event his phone isn’t immediately next to him.


A few seconds later, “PICTURE.”

“Excuse me, something’s come up.” Oliver rushed to his desk and unlocked his phone. There was a photo if Ivy with Paul’s cock disappearing into her mouth. Oliver knew exactly what that felt like and the tiny sliver of Paul’s face in the picture lets him know that it felt as incredible as he expected. Oliver swiped to the next picture showing Paul’s load placed delicately on Ivy’s cheek and nose. His breathing shortened and quickened.

“That’s my good slut of a wife. I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

There is another hour before Oliver can leave his office. He manages to fumble his way through a late meeting with his boss, going over what is surely banality compared to what Ivy is in store for when they get home. He compulsively checks his phone to peer down at Ivy’s complete control over Paul’s cock. Details were needed: what happened, what Paul said to her, how he sounded, how he tasted. Oliver wanted every detail.

The hour takes a year to pass, but he finally breaks free and races home to Ivy, eager to hear her full story and reclaim her for his own. Oliver and Ivy arrived home at the same time. His head was screaming and he couldn’t bear the niceties of their usual “get home” conversation.

“I want you. Upstairs.”

Ivy half-smiled and undressed on the bottom level of the house. Oliver followed her upstairs, staring at her ass swaying. It really was his favorite part of her. When they get to their bedroom, Oliver slips out of his suit and grabs Ivy.

“Tell me everything,” he says as he starts to suck and nibble on her neck. He could taste the salty residue on her skin and the lust surged through him.

“Tell me everything you didn’t over text.”

As she began to tell him in detail about her conquest, Oliver lowered his body in front of her and positioned his face in front of her pussy. He began to suck on her lips, drinking in everything as Ivy described how she swirled her tongue around Paul’s cock. As her recounting continues, Oliver works hard to focus on the ways she likes him to use his tongue on her: flat tongue with slow licks along the length of her cunt, then using the tip of his tongue to flick her clit, pushing her over the edge. Ivy pushed his head firmly against her clit as she came. She let out a moan and collapsed onto the floor.

Oliver lay her back, aligned himself with her, and slid into her. The anticipation made her cunt wrapped around him warmer and wetter than he was used to, or so he thought. Clearly, Ivy’s afternoon had a similar effect, and they began to pulse and move as one. Between sucking on her neck and ear, Oliver asked her what he tasted like – what Paul’s cum tasted like in her mouth.

“What his cum tasted like?” Ivy asked as she slid her fingers into Oliver’s mouth. To his surprise, Oliver could feel his cock get firmer still tasting Paul’s cum on his wife’s fingers. He closed his eyes and sucked on them as he imagined she did just a few hours before.

He couldn’t wait anymore. He pulled out of her in one, slow, fluid motion and pulled her up by her hair until she was kneeling in front of him. Oliver stood over Ivy, thinking of how Paul stood over her and painted her face.

“Reclaim this face.” Ivy always knew what to say to push Oliver over the edge.

He came hard and it painted her face well. To his delight, Ivy took a picture of Oliver’s work and sent it to Paul, just as she had done with the roles were reversed. It was afternoons like this where Oliver knew how much of a slut his wife could be. Ivy was his slut and he loved her for it.

~ Emily Dickinson

Warmth in the morning is easy to come by. Not from the blankets and sheets we have trapped ourselves in, but by your skin on my skin. Whether this moment evolves into pain or pleasure or mouths or toys, there is nowhere I’d rather begin my day.

Now, it looks like you’re ready for me. Shall we begin?



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Sinful Sunday


~ Charlie Chaplin

After a particularly awful week, a much-needed and long-developed fantasy I used to take the edge off.

Paul and Ivy often texted each other in a flirtatious manner. They had been attracted to each other for years, and even though Ivy was married to Paul’s best friend, Oliver, he encouraged their flirtations. Oliver enjoyed the idea of sharing Ivy, and Paul was as good and likely as anyone else. What was more, he knew that Ivy was attracted to Paul, which just added to his excitement whenever Ivy told him about that day’s particular flirtation.

Today started normally, as any other day would. Paul and Ivy were exchanging flirtatious text messages down the hall from each other in the office where they both worked. As the afternoon trudged on, their messages approached the line they had approached once before that led to the start of an interesting MMF experience with Paul, Ivy, and Oliver all together. That experience ended earlier than Ivy would have liked to – she missed the opportunity to be spit roasted by them, which was the only thing that she really wanted to make sure she did. She did, however, experience both of their cocks in her mouth at the same time, and enjoyed how hard they were watching her blow the other one. She felt powerful and sexy and in total control. It was often this memory that fueled some of the more explicit text conversations that she and Paul exchanged, even though most of them did not approach the line where an encounter like this wouldn’t be completely out of the realm of possibility.

But it was a possibility today.

Paul: I want you to know it’s really hard to work now.

Ivy: Why?

Paul: You got me all hot and bothered.

Ivy: Good.

Paul: Because I’d rather lock the door and have you give me a blowjob.

Although the understanding had been there for years, Ivy still let Oliver know what was happening, and asked him if there was anything in particular he wanted her to say or wanted a picture of. She was given clear instructions:

Oliver: Oral is the limit today. I want pics, though.

Ivy decided that she would proceed given this understanding.

Ivy: What would do you if I came in there and locked the door?

Paul: Probably give in.

Ivy locked her machine and got up from her desk. Paul’s office was near the front of the space, and it had a glass door on it, although frosted. She walked in, conveniently enough with a charging cable she had borrowed from him a few hours earlier. She closed the door behind her and locked it. As she moved to the other side of his desk, she tossed the cable onto it and kept her eyes focused on him. It was clear she was going to need to take the lead on this project, so she did.

As she rounded his desk and got to the inside of the corner, Ivy lowered herself onto her knees. His breathing was shallow and quick, clearly excited by the prospect of her taking control. He shifted his hips to make his lap slightly flatter and expose the button and fly of his jeans. Ivy switched her focus to his waist and hips, and undid the button on Paul’s jeans with one hand. He reached down and pulled out his cock, which was surprisingly soft to Ivy – she had been sure he would have been as hard as she remembered the first time.

Ivy used her hands on Paul’s chair seat to support herself and used only her mouth to pull his cock into it. As she moved her tongue around him, she could feel his cock get harder. Paul began to sigh as she worked him into a full erection. Ivy had forgotten how big Paul was – her mouth was full and it was getting more and more difficult for her to slide him into her throat.

She suddenly remembered she owed Oliver a picture. As she opened her phone to take it, Paul asked her if there was anything in particular that Oliver wanted to see.

“He wants to see me painted with someone else’s cum.”

As she told him this, Ivy moved Paul’s hand to the back of her head. He closed his fist around the hair at the base of her skull and used it to control speed and depth. He pulled her all the way down on his cock, which was fully hard due to the attention it was getting. Because Paul was controlling and supporting her head, Ivy was able to move her hand onto the shaft of his cock. She really had forgotten how big he was.

She worked her hand and her mouth simultaneously, one controlled by her and the other by Paul. His head tipped back and his eyes closed. Ivy could tell by the speed he was using her mouth that he was close.

“Shit… yes. Where does he want me to cum?”

“On my face.”

Paul stood up from his chair, still holding Ivy’s hair. He pushed her mouth all the way onto him and her eyes teared up a little bit. He bobbed her a few times until she gagged on him. When he pulled her mouth off of him, a trail of slimy spit connected her mouth and the head of his cock. He cut the trail off and used it to jerk himself over the edge. As he worked himself, he pushed Ivy’s mouth onto his balls and her tongue continued to work over his flesh.

He pulled her face away and angled it up. As thick shots of cum landed on her face, she closed her eyes and received it with satisfaction. Ivy could hear Paul’s exhales vocalize and he gave several throaty sighs as he drained himself onto her. He wiped the head of his cock on her lips and she felt the last thick shot fall on the left side of her chin.

She remembered to take another picture for Oliver. It showed clearly the globs of cum on her face that Paul had put there especially for Oliver.

Paul reached on to his bookshelf and grabbed a roll of paper towels. He handed two to Ivy so that she could clean up his mess. As he held out the towel for her to take, she used her fingers to scoop his cum into her mouth. As she did this, she kept her eyes locked on his. He half-smiled, and she took the paper towel from him to be sure she was presentable outside of his office.

With that, Ivy stood up, unlocked the office door, and walked back to his desk. Before she did anything else, she sent Oliver the evidence of their activities. He texted them both back together.

Oliver: Jesus fuck that is hot.

Then he texted Ivy on her own.

Oliver: That’s my good slut of a wife.

Oliver: I’m going to fuck you tonight.

I love it when he looks at me and I can tell how hard he’s becoming. I can almost count the seconds until he is full and waiting for me to use it as I please.

I love reaching into his pants to coax his fullness along, and how it responds to my touch.

I love the way his erect cock bobs out of his clothes, breaking free from the fabric restraint. Almost nodding as if to encourage me to come play.

I love how I touch him in open air, especially with different goals in mind. Fingertips swirling the entire length, a steady firm grip that pulses near his head at the top of each stroke, using my hands with my mouth.

I love the way the blood fills every inch of him in response to my mouth as it lowers onto him, my tongue stretching out to tease his balls that much more.

I love his hand on the back of my head, pushing his cock all the way into my throat, and his satisfaction with himself that he believes he is in control of this situation.

I love the way his breathing changes and shallows as I alternate my mouth and my hands in exactly the pattern that usually leaves me covered in a sticky film.

I love the way my pace changes based on his breathing cues, or sometimes to just surprise him and he can’t contain the soft moan that eeks its way out.

I love the way his precum tastes – silky and sour – as a cue to glide my mouth all the way off the tip of him.

But mostly I love hearing “please” when I won’t let him cum all over me.

I love the frustrated sigh as I continue getting ready.

And I love that when I get home, I know he’s been thinking about me all day.


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Sinful Sunday | Routine

Sundays are made for all kinds of treats in our house.


Sinful Sunday