Terabytes

  You Whisper Electric,

  in Nanojoules

  and Taunt to Tease in Terabytes.

Priest In Your Hole

The other day went to a place I sometimes go. I stop for a coffee and a ponder.

And I let my mind wander. The place is a manor house, built in 1460.

I once showed you a picture of it. 

Inside there are many hidden passages and cellars. Most exciting is the fact that it has a real Priest Hole. Yes, a place where you can hide your very own pornographic object.

Priest Holes were actually places where you would hide your bacchant during the periods of history where Catholics were persecuted by law. But I wondered if men of the cloth were ever hidden for other reasons?

 I imagined myself as a priest on call. I’d sit and wait for You to come knocking. I’d have my clerical robes on; my collar and, because we’re somewhere in the distant mists of time, I’d be wearing some form of leg stocking.

As lady of the manor it is your prerogative to do to me what you will. I am in your hands. Your husband knows nothing of our relationship. He sees me as the holy man that I am. Just not the wholly inappropriate one.

You came calling last week by candlelight. I was reading, having been given the wink by you earlier. You had whispered to me in the passageway that you wished to see me this nightfall.

It was late. I heard footsteps above me on the wooden floor and recognised you instantly. Slightly quick of step, you knocked twice on the hatch and descended the steep stone steps, the sound of your crinoline dress swishing and sweeping closer.

In the tight space of the Priest Hole and in the half-light, I could make out your heaving bosom and tightly pulled in, corseted waistline.  Without a word, you reached up on your tiptoes and kissed me deeply on the mouth.

As you pulled away, you lifted your skirts and showed me your state of undress. You reached for my cock beneath my robes but now it was me who pulled away.

As you know, fellatio is forbidden by law and punishment is severe.

I had often seen you glance down at me when we had talked in chapel.

But before I could do anything, you had bent over my chair with your cunny raised up for me. ‘Lick me. Lick my cunt. Do it now,’ you ordered.

I began kissing just above the back of your knee and moved upwards in small pecks, nearing your own glory hole. As I reached your swollen outer lips, you parted your legs wider allowing my tongue to flick over your sweet wetness. This instantly gave way to a flow of juices and I gratefully lapped at them.

Taking you firmly in my hands and holding your hips, you pushed back forcibly into my mouth as I buried my head deeper into you. My cock was hard as church marble under my cassock and I could feel the tip moisten with ye pre cum.

I felt you begin to coil and tighten. I turned you over to face me so I could flicker over your clit with my tongue. You held your still covered breasts in your hands. I could now sweep fully up and around your cunny and I made small circular motions. “Take out thy cock for me, Nicimos I wish to see it. Place it around my mouth.”

“No,” I responded.” The punishment is severe for us both. I dare not.”

“Place it in my mouth. That is an order, Nicimos. I implore thee.”

But I didn’t move from your cunt. I continued knowing that you were on the edge of coming.

“Your cock inside me, damn you! Fuck me. Fuck me now… I beg thee!”

Your voice had raised to dangerously high levels. I placed my hand over your mouth and blew cool air over your glistening sex. This seemed to inflame you even more, like air to a bonfire.

“I implore thee Nicimos! Take out thy cock for I shall surely die! Now, you son of a dog!”

And with that, I returned to your cunny with my tongue. Your anger and arousal sending you somewhere you struggled to comprehend. But you were too far into your orgasmic journey. You couldn’t hold back anymore and wave after wave of a warm, shuddering release coursed through you.

You seemed to remain in this state for a century; squirming, shuddering and convulsing in my clasp. Holding my head into you, pulling me in tighter. My hair gripped by your soft, feminine hands.

I could no longer hold back. I stood and began unbuttoning my cassock, my cock poised beneath my black robes. Suddenly, the trap door above began to move.

Startling light flooded us. You quickly regained yourself and opened my prayer book, the pages falling on Corinthians. I stood and waited for the uninvited guest to appear down the steps. It was your husband. “Are you there? I have been searching the house for you. It is time for us to retire to our chambers. Why are you bothering this Priest?”

You silently stood. As you passed, you looked me in the eye. Knowing full well your husband was there, you deliberately brushed your hand against my rock hard cock.

You turned as you reached the bottom of the steps and glanced back at me over your shoulder.

I had no way of knowing when you would come knocking again.

To be continued... ; )

The Mark of You

                I confess I had to wait to see your video creation at home.  Glad I did.  Couldn't view it at work.   That's firing material right there.    

It is the most fantastical erotic loving frude pornographic thing I have ever seen.   I loved every single second of it.  

            And that piece at the end where you are furiously pulling yourself off?   Oh _____!   

                   Most beautiful thing of pure cocksmanship I've ever seen.   

I have to tell you.  Every time I saw you in any way shape or form, there I was like Pavlov's dog, growling on my haunches, instantaneously aroused.  

Ding ding ding ~ all I can hear is the dinner bell and from past experience, I KNOW PRECISELY what's on this menu.   And I know exactly how large the portions are. 

And all I have to do is see any image of you.  Any image and my breath grows ragged, and I confess I do drool a little.   And these cherried nipples remember You.  The soft ring and call signals to my bones and my softest flesh to wake and stir. 

Watching your video I was by turns aroused, bemused, and caught long in between those invisible strings that lie between us. 

          Remarkable.   

You remind me of every brilliant thing you are.   Anyone may watch this video, but only you and I know which of these images taunt us most, 

                                                                                 and please, 

                                                                                              and why.

♥  Oh Nicimos. How do you make me giggle like an idiot, so very aroused and cry all at once? How I love you ♥

          Brilliant!  Such gorgeous gorgeous photos Nicimos!  And the one's that aren't of us aren't bad either.

Wow wow wow wow wow.   I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me here.   You're leaving me without the power of speech.

        I'm really trying here, but You're leaving within me with Sounds That Can't be Made.

                You know, with what you have created you have left me feeling just like I did when I made that 'Breathe' video for you....

                          Totally, 

                                       unreservedly, 

                                                            in love with you.

      ~ And though I will not share that video with anyone but you, here are some images that came out of it.  

                            

                        You know they have the mark of you in every frame.   

          And I know that only you can hear the piece of music that went with them ...

Love You Long Time Be My Valentine

Today, nicimos I read your words to me. I'd like to be able to say that I just knocked this little movie together on the spur of the moment having read your Open Letter. But I have been fiddling about with it for a while ; )

 You inspired me to do this and I hope you enjoy it. Today, I will let these pictures and music do the talking.  

xxx

~ Open letter to my Lover on Valentine’s Day ~

Good lord how I loathe Valentine’s Day!   

Not that I dislike love or lust or the shades in between.   Not at all.   It’s that Valentine’s Day is the number one known murderer of spontaneity.

I really don’t see “Love” as an enshrined day, having much to do at all with the ways we love and have loved, my Nicimos.

(You are my Nicimos.  A word in the language of one of my peoples, Nicimos, means "lover," or it can mean "my sweetheart," as in what a man calls a woman or a woman calls a man).

But I digress …. for me you have been about surprises that came suddenly that I could not anticipate.   So quickly that frankly, I panicked at first.  Not the reaction most ascribed to the chicks in most fables.

            You are Sensual surprises that when they appeared, knocked the breath right out of me.  You move in slow motion till I can eat every grain of your senses one by one by atom.   You can’t get much more sensual than that.   You are a generous lover.

            You are about Sexual surprises that still make me gasp when I am under and within your hands.   I was genuinely disturbed the first time I saw your naked unsheathed cock.  Its origin is something that arises from out of the uncharted states of nature.  To say it is primal and raw is fair, but “wondrous” and not a little frightening are closer to the truth for me.    I believe in flames I believe in fire, but in many unspeakable ways you emanate that which gives out in a keening primordial fashion.   Uncut.  Raw.    You my darling are pure, howling sex with a capital “S.”

Not surprised many women cannot ignore the unconscious signs and signals that flare out from under your lightly sheathed masculine form.

And I don’t mean to be blunt, but, I'm not short on observation of the male form.   I know of which I speak ~ this Sexual Adventuress who at times took her adventuring within a mercantile framework needs no imagination to feather out her impressions of the male form.  

            In all these regards you are an arbiter to the unexpected erotic late blooming of a woman who thought she’d seen everything, was sure she’d felt everything a woman could.  

       

Of careful thought and surreptitious planning you are King, of this I’ve no doubt.  Your thoughtfulness sometimes puzzles me as I’ve always thought this kind of kindness to be pillowed far back beyond reach in the back-most offices of my secret desires.

I love this about you, a mind like a steel trap, and the smells and nuances others would obliviously trample over, you pick up and press away in that great big marvellous head of yours.   Then on quiet nights you bring them out and wave their scent before me.   

      You are mnemonic.  Not many people are that, let alone men.

                  In thoughtfulness you thrill me.  You always have. But I confess that it’s in your spontaneity where I hear a snatch in glimpse of the true beat beneath your brows.  I see what truly beats beneath your intentions.

I treasure much the unguarded words and the looks you give me when you meet me face to face.  

        You were right, you've a face that cannot lie.  

I read on it the soft ways you’d twist my body, the way you’d lift it just high enough through your flame to burn it.   Then you take me, phoenix-like from ashes to breathe through me, and into Us another incarnation of love and of lovers.

Speaking of incarnations, for a girl who likes spontaneity it’s amusing to consider I have drawn to me one whom my blood says I have fucked and loved with, probably more than once in lines of time that run to this, our present.

If I am fortune’s child, I will one day love you again.  I will fuck you again.  I will breathe you again.

       

            You are surprises that cannot be anticipated.  No one really needs a box jammed full of costumes for play with you.   You carry that box around with you in your head.  And better yet, you’re always willing to share its contents.

I delight in it that you, yourself, are as surprised as a child at Christmas when some other thing rises to the top of your box of treasures.   I love to watch your sexual joy.  I love to feel the taut strings of your feeling in these moments.   I love that you share them with me.

        You are your own box of treasures.   I don’t mean to be crude but You are a golden duck who keeps on giving golden eggs.   From out of your mind and your mouth and your sure body.  

        You are a golden duck who does not know that He is.   You’re fucking Modesty Itself to be honest!

        You are the Spontaneity that makes Valentine’s Day a real ‘ho-hummer.’   A blah blah whatever.  

I kind of think you've totally ruined Valentine’s Day for me.  What can one measly day possibly hold that compares to the everyday every week of knowing You?

            I dunno but I rather think you bear gifts enough to me.  You’ve already given me them in parcels beyond count.    When you read or re-read all those things on my other blog that bear the print of your cock and your tenderness par excellence, well, then we both know it to be true.   

But for the sake of the day, I lift my glass to you (and all my other best parts), wishing you a very happy Valentine’s Day, for the day’s sake.     Poor Valentine’s Day, so much to live up to.  It can be but so little You if it tried.

I just know I'm going to be burrowing into that treasure trove of your heart and your pants, just like I do, every day.     

          Sincerely Yours,

          @nicimos_

          xxx

Hotel Room

Hotel Room. You know which number it is, nicimos xxx

“…But I’ve got you here with me friend, because you’re here in my arms”

Words and music Richard Hawley, dirty thoughts, US.