Apparently, freezing temperatures cause people to fuck a lot. Or at least, to write about it more. Doubt you’ll find much “lovemaking” here, though. Cabin fever’s a bitch, man: Mind the scratches and bite marks.
Nobody here at Fleshbot wants to go outside. It’s cold, snowy, cold and fucking cold. Left to their own devices, this week’s sex bloggers make the most of the fucking cold. Some claw and gnash at their lovers like caged animals, while others revel in the pleasures of newly-discovered girlflesh. Sometimes, though, all it takes is a good, hot, naked bodysurf under the eiderdown to cure even the most resistant cabin fever. Read on; Madeline‘ll check your coat.
. . .
I can feel bloodlust rising in my gut and groin. It comes every once and a while, always unexpected, always sudden as a slap across the face. It’s hard to explain the transformation, precisely. It is animalistic, carnal, raging heat in its purest form. It curves my hands into claws, itching to grasp onto a body and claim it. It clenches my jaw with the inexplicable desire to bite down on soft flesh, bite down to the bone and not let go. It makes me want to tear, rip apart, reduce, immerse, consume with every pore. I want to swallow someone whole and for their last human breath to be a gasp of raw pleasure.
He pushed me down on the bed and has that crazy fuck-eyed look men get when they know they’re going to tear you apart. He fucks like he’s been in prison for the past 10 years, everytime. I lift my legs over my shoulders until my feet are resting against the wall behind me and he pushes down on to my arms until I’m afraid they might break. He’s going so deep and so hard and so fast, I go into that zone where my whole body becomes my cunt. My brain’s my cunt. My nervous system is my cunt. There’s nothing to me, but this hole between my legs and I think to myself, “That’s about right.”
She’d positioned herself straddled across my face, and i remember feeling how i first felt (at the tender age of 19) when confronted with a large, smooth, pink cockhead. A mental shrug and the thought of “well, it’s now or never!” accompanied my first blow-job… and so it did the first time i kissed a woman’s cunt.
Maja gently tumbled next to me onto the bed and gathered me into her arms, while I gathered myself a tiny bit, getting my breathing a bit regular again, enjoying the dull ache on its own, without any other impacts, feeling my chest be sore when I inhaled, letting that feeling become a more regular, noticed feature of living. After about a minute, Maja looked up at me and asked me if I could go on. I nodded as eagerly as someone so conflicted only can. As she climbed back up, straddling me, I looked up at her and asked her to make me cry. A wicked gleam shot through her eye. She asked me “Are you sure you want this? Because I won’t let up until you safeword or you’re crying. No backing out.” Realizing that she was serious, I gulped and smiled. “Yes, I’m sure.” I wanted her to have my tears, which she’s wanted from me for so long.
We hugged, he sat down and we started chatting with F – and I could almost see sexual tension fill the room like a particularly large elephant.
Have you ever felt that before? When neither of you are even doing anything special or suggestive, but the most normal words and gestures suddenly feel different? Like they mean something? Like legs touching, like too-long hugs, like “I’m really glad to see you,” “Were you okay last night?”… I turn the words over in my mind and they’re completely normal and mundane, so I don’t know what he does that somehow charges them with wealths of meaning.
And for the grand finale, of course it had to be the belt… five really hard ones, he even stood up for the last three, and especially that final strike, well, it was seductively vicious!
But I was already soaring, and had been since the earliest smacks were delivered. The endorphins were drowning my brain and dulling the aches and pains into a calming nothingness.