Liar Lyre

Tue, 16 Sep 2008 16:30:53 GMT

liar: Can you keep a secret?
lyre: Yes?
liar: Mmm. So can I.

Same old story

Wed, 19 Apr 2006 21:44:29 GMT

I closed the door, and told her to face the wall.

“It's been a while”, I said.

She looked down slightly, but said nothing.

I picked up the switch. “Lift your skirt.” She did. I reached forward and pulled her underwear down out of the way. She tensed slightly, continuing to hold her skirt up.

I turned the light off. Her backside was a bright patch in the dark. “Well?”

She didn't hestitate, but she spoke very quietly. “Six times.”

“Go on.”

“Four times with just my hand.” I hit her with the switch four times, then listened. She was breathing a little more loudly but nothing else.

“Twice with the toy.” I hit her four more times, harder. The last time she tried to stifle a yelp. I waited a moment for her to relax then hit her twice more.

She'd let her skirt fall slightly, so I hit her on the hand. She exclaimed out loud this time, and jerked her skirt back up, just in time to receive four more.

“The first time I was thinking of you, but the ... second time, I just wanted to imagine the feel of him in me.” I thought she might be looking back over her shoulder, but I couldn't be sure in the dark.

I hit her again, six times, then pushed her against the wall with my body. “Anything else you want to tell me?” I asked, toying with her leg with the switch. She was definitely looking back at me now.

“It was seven times ... I lied.”

Wed, 14 Jul 2004 21:45:36 GMT

liar: Don't do anything I wouldn't.
lyre: What did you have in mind?

Since several people have asked:-

Sat, 30 Aug 2003 23:46:41 GMT

If I added you as a friend, I'm the mostly-anonymous face of someone you know already. This journal is for things I don't want to post under my own name.
If you /really/ need to know (and if you do, that's fair enough), say so and I'll mail you or something.

unfinished tail

Tue, 26 Aug 2003 22:42:05 GMT

So I met a nice girl at John's party. Helen: a couple of years younger than me, sysadmin and programmer, straight black hair, white T-shirt, short skirt and black tights, sparingly drinking vodka and orange, sword ear-rings, lived on the other side of town and tall but not *too* tall. Cute. We couldn't keep our eyes off each other the whole evening.

As people started leaving I was wondering whether to ask her for an email address, or more, but she took the initiative, and we shared a taxi and a snog back to hers.

In my stereotype of this kind of story, the amorous couple stumble through the door, barely in control of themselves, and are lucky if they make it to the bed before they start shagging. Not so in reality, at least tonight (though I reserve the right to completely lose control on some other occasion).

What actually happened was that we snuggled up on the sofa chatting and sipping excellent coffee. While she was making it I had a chance to look around. One bookshelf was full of books, packed two deep overflowing into the horizontal nonetheless; the other of CDs. Abstract, modern paintings stopped the walls from being empty; the glass coffee table was covered in envelopes, bills, magazines, a couple of books, a bowl of fruit.

So we talked about people we knew, mapping out mutual acquaintances and gossipping about them in more scurrilous detail than was possible at John's. It's not a surprise any more when people I've never met before turn out to know half my friends already; perhaps it happens to everyone eventually.

I was enjoying the conversation but impatient for things to move faster. I was enjoying the snuggling though; she was soft and cuddly and the skin of her arm felt nice. If she looked down, her hair brushed my face. I dared a leg; the conversation and coffee gave way to kissing, and we turned in to face each other so we could hold and kiss and stroke properly.

This didn't go on for very long until she stood and, with a very sweet smile, led me through to the bedroom. The double bed filled most of the room. We lay down facing and got on with the serious business of tongue and hand. I found my way under her skirt, which seemed to get a good reaction, and her hand got up under my shirt, using nails delightfully distractingly. Taking that as a cue I pulled her shirt free of her skirt and scratched up and down her back, which got an even better reaction still.

This went on for a little while. Stroking her breasts with my arm under her shirt proved a bit awkward so I encouraged her onto her back, kneeled astride and used both hands to good effect. She brought her hands up my legs and started to pull my shirt up; I leaned forward to make it easier, but ended up finishing removing it myself. I pulled her shirt off too, and she sat up a bit to make it easier. Back to the kissing for a bit, my arms round her and hers round me (she felt lovely) then slightly clumsily off with the bra.

I shifted back a bit for a better view as I touched her, occasionally leaning in for a kiss. At first she held on to me but soon leaned back on her arms and just enjoyed the attention, then lay back completely and threw her arms wide and closed her eyes. I shifted to one side and, folding her skirt up, stroked her through her tights, drawing forth first an appreciative "mmmm" then a somewhat less controlled "ohh!"

I went to remove her skirt but she pushed my hands away and did the job herself. I took the hint and finished my own undressing too (certainly easier that way). She watched, kneeling and smiling, then said "lie down" when I'd finished. She started to stroke my cock first with fingers and then soon her tongue, her hair tickling me as she leaned down. She looked up and grinned at me before taking me into her mouth, her tongue continuing to work its magic and mine taking its part in my incoherent gasps and occasional squeaks. I felt like I was going to come but she stopped and smiled at me again; "you're rather fun," she said. I couldn't grinning.

speculation

Tue, 26 Aug 2003 22:38:46 GMT

I was walking home from school one day. Ahead of me were two youngish women, talking to each other. One looked back at me, then the other; the first then walked away while the second turned round and walked back towards me.

"Do you want to come home with me?" she said. She was wearing a purple hat, a long skirt and and carried a parasol. I was surprised and said "no!" in a slightly outraged tone of voice. I turned to cross the road, but had to wait as there was a car coming.

There was an old lady walking up from behind me. "Is that your mum?" asked the woman in the hat. I didn't say anything, but crossed the road. I felt nervous.

I went round the other side of the block from usual. I looked behind me but she didn't seem to be following. But when I went round the corner she was the ahead of me, walking away. She continued a couple of hundred yards ahead for much of my route home. I made sure I didn't catch up, and she turned off the route before I reached home.

I still wonder what she wanted.