Sexy Erotica: Wild Wild Love


“You need it, you want it,
All over your body,
This loving I’m giving,
It’s worth more money…
I got that wild love…
Love to get wild dirty freaky nasty,
I’ll make you lose your heart and your mind at the same time.
This wild wild love of ours,
It can’t be tamed,
For better or worse,
A blessing or a curse,
Long live this wild wild love of ours.”
“Wild Wild Love” – Pitbull

“I have never seen anyone eat with their fingers like you do,” your voice warm and silky as you watched me suck blue cheese dressing off the pad of my thumb, shifting it slightly between my lips slowly in and out, amused as your eyes flares so strongly with visuals that your breathing skips inside of your massive chest.

“Well, I am sure I do lots of things no one else does,” comfortable with you as no other man, my sexuality spilling out around us like toxic waste, “plus, I like to touch things that I want to put into my mouth,” my smile turning into an experiment as my eyes meet yours, my hand dropping down into your lap, fingers still moist from my mouth, rewarded when you shift slightly in your seat toward my touch, spreading your legs apart as my fingers slip slowly down between your thighs to caress your balls… my thumb massaging circles around the thickness of your shaft growing stiffer with each moment.

“And I want you to touch things…and put them in your mouth,” your eyes hotter with every movement of my fingers – your cock tighter for the attention, massaging your masculinity growing firmer with each stroke of my hand along of the front of your pants, toying slightly with your zipper as my fingers trace your erection, slowly taking my time to appreciate every inch of your manhood rock hard against my hand.

“It’s quite simple really, I am a dominate…” my statement a mix of lazy stretch and cat-like purr.

“Does that mean that you have a room full of chains and whips?” your voice falters slightly, your strong hands reach out to still mine as you struggle for concentration.

“That is very 50 Shades of Gray,” a smile curving on my lips at the charm of your innocence, the thought of teaching you new pleasures sending a painful rush of blood throbbing between my thighs, my pulse pounding in like drums in my ears, the risk of explanation… all cards on the table… adrenaline surging through me, I press on past indiscretion, “No.  I am a dominant…not a dominatrix.”

“Go on,” your eyes looking into me, capturing and exposing everything in my soul with the full force of your focus, “you have my attention…,” your strong hand waving off the approaching waitress.

“You see, a dominatrix requires a master/slave relationship. This does not please me at all,”  watching interest dance dangerously and dark in your eyes, “You are not an animal that needs to be chained and whipped into compliance to receive pleasure.  I would not treat you or allow you to treat me like that…” my voice trails off slightly, waiting for a response I know is not coming.

Leaning into you, the smell of your masculine body assault my senses, the visual of your mouth following the slow path of my fingers from the tight gold chain around my throat to the pendant hanging between the roundness of my breasts to steal the breath from my lungs…

“In my mind, the goal of a woman is not a geld a stallion, but to enhance his performance.  True passion is not about pleasure and pain – those are instinctive reactions of the body.  Any woman with three holes and two hands can provide pleasure…,” smiling sweetly, a slight amused tone to match the curve of your lips and deeply satisfying sound of your laugh at the baseness of the truth.

“So…” watching the workings of your mind, grinding information into place, “it’s about control for you?” your question relieving the solace my one person strip-tease of my soul.

“Well…” I hesitate for a moment, wondering how much of myself I can give away and fighting for the right words, “it is about control, but not just for me.  If you are strong enough to mentally match me, then you can take control,” the fantasies flood into my mind with dizzying speed like headlights blinding me and blurring my vision….

My eyes masturbate your body stopping just below your belt to appreciate the thickness of your arousal, the thought of touching you…now…finally…immediately, infecting my brain with urgency as tug down your zipper to free your impressive erection, your hands falling on either side of my head against the hood of my car, the warmth of the engine radiating up in waves of heat matching the ripples of want from my body.

“Scratch the paint and you will pay for a new paint job,”  I whisper into your ear, challenging you for control.

“Oh yes?” dangerous determination sparkles to life in your eyes, impatience boring into me, my bare tanned skin contrasted against the shiny black lines of the sleek BMW, just the right balance of class and ass, “then let’s get my fucking money’s worth,” your thick fingers closing around my shoulders and I am face down on the car in a movement so fast my head is swirling with a surge of adrenaline, my naked nipples needy for your mouth aching again the warm curve of the hood, the smart smack of your strong hand against my ass leaves me panting, damp circles of my breath steaming the paint between my forearms and my slick, tight pussy tenses with want…your name escaping my lips on a moan of pleasure as you push your cock balls deep into me, your fingers fisted in my hair with a slight tug – possession complete…I am yours…control surrender.

“So, why me?” your voice jerking me back, your question testing my patience, I make a mental note to punish you later for it as my mind starts to catalog all of the carnal ways to show you the answer.

“Here is the secret…you are a dominate too,” I wait a tick, letting the information settle between us before continuing, registering your surprise at the assertion, “chemistry and passion are like drugs.  Your body start to crave it…want it…your magnificent obsession focused on one center point – me.  Soon, every time I stand next to you, your mind will visualize me kneeling wantonly at your feet.  When you are walking behind me, your dick will vibrate the memory of my needy touch masturbating you to hardness under the table and the boldness of that promise.  It is you because it has to be…”

“Some nights,” I continue, watching you draw nearer to play with the fire in my eyes, “if my dreams of you get too intense, I will wake you up with a hand job before climbing on top to ride you until I cum,” thinking of the my slick cum coating your taut balls.

“Other times, before we leave for a party or dinner,” my breath catching so deeply in my chest, the pressure to suck you deep until dry warring in my mind, “I will sink down to my knees to suck you because I can’t fight the storm…I want the taste of you in my mouth, my skin soaked with the scent of your pleasure and cum…,” exposed the illusions assaulting me from all directions….my sin mixing with my deliverance…

In the ultimate dominate position, in complete control of your pleasure, I slowly run the head of your erection across my cheek and down the soft skin of my throat to capture you between my tits leaving proof of your passion in the thin liquid path of pre-cum hidden away just for me. Gently flicking the tip of my tongue over your swollen head, gratified to hear your breath catch and release on a moan of want you will never express in words, your hips pulse to meet my hungry mouth, watching your hard cock slide in-and-out between my lips as I take your deeper with each thrust, a woman pleasuring herself with the slow suck of her man, one of your hands tangled in my hair fingers flexing and releasing with each greedy suck, fueling the beginning of my own orgasm…my eyes meet yours for a moment before the peace and the intensity of  the tide over takes us both over the edge…temporarily quenching the thirst.

“I have not said YES yet…” bringing me back to you, your eyes on mine seeing what I am seeing, the push back sending adrenaline singing through my bloodstream to throb between my thighs in an aching pounding.

“No,” my tongue rolling over slowly over my lips, leaving a trail of moistness matching the soft pool in my panties, “but we both know that you will, so start picking out your safe word now.”

“What would I need a safe word for?” your eyes dissecting me with steel precision.

“I am a Dominate – not a Princess…unless a Princess is one of your fantasies…,” sexual tension melting into humor again at lightning speed, “and there will be some light spankings for bad behavior and handcuffs available.”

“Spankings and handcuffs?” a smile playing around your lips as I watch the visuals flash across your face, “for my pleasure or yours?”

“Both – my pleasure will be yours…and your pleasure WILL BE mine,” my gaze levels aggressively and turns slightly predatory at you, but you don’t shift at all.

“I’m in…” dropping bills on the table without looking at the tab, your thick hand reaches to me in a challenge and acceptance.

Girl Scouts: The Big Fake

sexuality, sex blogs, sex , erotica female, eroticaI have something on my nicely curvaceous chest that I really want to off.  Nope.  It’s not the light lemon crop top with spaghetti straps that show my nipples off so nicely.    😉

Yes, I have missed weaving my erotic mind around the prose of SexyWhispers—can you tell?

It’s the Girl Scouts.  See, in theory, I totally approve of and support the Girl Scouts.  Make girls more secure and build their self-esteem.  Sounds good.  Dress them in plain brown wrappers so they all look the same and recite the same drivel that borders on brainwashing, well…when you put it that way, it does kind of bother my female mentality.  But, I digress. 

I try to support anything that teaches young girls not to be twits that grow up to be stupid women undervalued by themselves and overvalued by society as breeder cows.  Pissed anyone off yet?  Good…I hope so.

You see, a literature professor of mine once told me to pay close attention when someone tries to piss you off because:

  • They have found your emotional trigger.
  • They are trying to reach past your wall protection into a place where your logic lives.
  • When the emotions are removed, you might be surprised that you actually agree with them.

The professor was an idiot.  BUT, his theory was right.  It taught me to listen to people all the way through and find the message without emotional tangles.

Now, I want to be completely clear.  I support the Girl Scouts.  You know that idiot that buys 4 boxes of Girl Scout cookies every time even if she has to go to the bank and come back?  Yeah…that’s me!  When the Girl Scouts took up a cause that I completely heart, support for the troops, my soul melted like butter on grits (a southern visual—I realize!).  However, I have a hard and fast rule.  While I always buy a box of cookies from every little Girl Scout standing there, I absolutely will not buy cookies from the mothers.

Ok…will give you a moment to think that through.

Translation:  I came out of the store the other day and there was a table full of GS cookies there.  Big signs about the cause of supporting the troops overseas.  I am mobbed by three little girls wanting me to buy cookies as moms stood back to watch.  I pretended to let them talk me into it even though I had money in hand.  I let each one take a turn at selling me a box of cookies (BTW…you are all getting cookies in your email tomorrow!!) 

Day 2:  Same store.  New girls and moms.  Same table and signs.  The girls are running around playing tag and the moms are selling cookies.  They are wearing badges that the other girls did not have proclaiming top sales positions in our county.  I stopped briefly and passed by.  I wont buy Girl Scout cookies from moms that are in it for the contest.

  • What message does it send to a young girl when she is allowed to run around and let mom do the work for her?
  • Isn’t this the equivalent to doing kids homework for them?
  • Worse…because someone is who is playing fair is actually losing out on the prize…isn’t this actually cheating?  In the Girl Scouts?

Something is SO wrong with this.  And either way, I won’t play.  The cookies inside of the store are cheaper and they don’t come with a side of bad parenting laced with a future of misdirection.  ~~Dee

Humor is Sexy: 20 Jokes about Men!

sexuality, sex blogs, sex , erotica female, erotica

Ok…not PC.  I know.  But, sometimes a woman has to laugh when she can!  And some of these 20 jokes about men, no matter how politically incorrent and incredibly generalizing, do apply unfortunately to male gender.  Enjoy and remember…

Live, laugh, love….and share it with someone else!  ~~Dee


  • Never let your man’s mind wonder – it’s too little to be out on its own.
  • If you want a committed man, look in a mental hospital.
  • Definition of a man with manners – he gets out of the bath to pee.
  • What did God say after creating Adam? I must be able to do better than that!
  • What do you call a woman who knows where her husband is every night? A widow!
  • Real Men… claim to be feminist but still insist on opening doors, driving, and paying for dinner.
    Most Men… claim to be feminists because they let YOU open doors, drive, and pay for dinner.
  • Men are like … Placemats.  They only show up when there’s food on the table.
  • Men are like… Government bonds.  They take so long to mature.
  • Men are like… Lava lamps.  Fun to look at it but not all that bright.
  • Men are like… Bank accounts.  Without a lot of money they don’t generate a lot of interest.
  • Men are like… Handguns.  Keep one around long enough and your gonna want to shoot it.
  • Men are like… ..Parking spots.  The good ones are taken, and the rest are too small.
  • COMMITMENT (ko-mit-ment) n.:
    Female: A desire to get married and raise a family.
    Male: Not trying to pick up other women while out with one’s girlfriend.
  • MAKING LOVE (may-king luv) n.:
    Female: The greatest expression of intimacy a couple can achieve.
    Male: Call it whatever you want just as long as we end up in bed.
  • The bride, upon her engagement, went to her mother and said, “I’ve found a man just like father!”.
    Her mother replied, “So what do you want from me, sympathy?”
  • Man: Haven’t I seen you someplace before?
    Woman: Yes, that’s why I don’t go there anymore.
  • Man: If I could see you naked, I’d die happy.
    Woman: If I saw you naked, I’d probably die laughing.
    Ah, children. A woman knows all about her children. She knows about dentist appointments and soccer games and romances and best friends and favorite foods and secret fears and hopes and dreams.  A man is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house.
  • Any argument that a man and woman are involved in, the woman gets the last word. Anything a man says afterwards is the beginning of a new argument.
  • Go for younger men. You might as well – they never mature anyway!

Humor is Sexy: Prostitution POV

sexuality, sex blogs, sex , erotica female, erotica

This one came from my dad.  Oddly, although he does not follow SexyWhispers (how weird would that be???  Ummm…lots!), sex has always been an open topic in our house.  He used to say, “if I can teach my kids about either sex or violence, then I will pick sex.  It protects them and will make them happier as adults.” 

Enjoy.  And remember, Live, Laugh, Love…and share it with someone else.  ~~Dee


A cop approaches a prostitute on a street corner and says, “Excuse me, but it is against the law to sell sex.”

She smile charmingly and replies, “That’s fine.  I am not selling sex.”

Confused, the cop asks,” What are you doing then?”

Annoyed, she responds, “I am selling condoms.  I am give the sex away as free samples.”

Humor is Sexy: Gotta Pee

sexuality, sex blogs, sex , erotica female, erotica

Ok…so I dont know a woman that has never had to pee so bad she could not stand it!  I kinda got a reputation for having to pee the moment I have a drink.  So, The Marine sent this over.  Enjoy.  And remember, Live, Laugh, Love…and share it with someone else.  ~~Dee

Two women friends had gone for a girl’s night out. Both were very faithful and loving wives, however they had gotten over-enthusiastic on the Bacardi Breezers.

Incredibly drunk and walking home, they needed to pee, so they stopped in the cemetery.

One of them had nothing to wipe with so she thought she would take off her panties and use them.

Her friend however was wearing a rather expensive pair of panties and did not want to ruin them.

She was lucky enough to squat down next to a grave that had a wreath with a ribbon on it, so she proceeded to wipe with that.

After the girls did their business they proceeded to go home.

The next day one of the woman’s husband was concerned that his normally sweet and innocent wife was still in bed hung over, so he phoned the other husband and said: “These girl nights out have got to stop! I’m starting to suspect the worst. . . my wife came home with no panties!!”
“That’s nothing,” said the other husband. “Mine came back with a card stuck to her ass that said….’from all of us at the Fire Station. We’ll never forget you.’ “

Now…We All Have a Dream

sexuality, sex blogs, sex , erotica female, eroticaToday was the first day, in the past eight years, of hope.  Hope as millions of Americans gathered around one issue…believed in one goal…respected one vision.  Gender did not matter.  Race was irrelevant.  Ethnic background was not a consideration. 

For one day, we all gathered together to celebrate the ultimate realization of Dr. Kings Dream:  a  hope filled day starting with the Inauguration of President Barack Obama.  And it gives me reason to believe we can continue to hope.

Yes, we can…yes, we did!

Again, we are one nation…please, in celebration of a new era of hope and expection…Enjoy.

President Barack Obama 2009 Inauguration and Address

And, take one moment to add our new President to your prayers and ask some guidence for all of the problems he will face on behalf of our country.  God bless our country….because I know…our most glorious times are when we band together as Americans to overcome adversity! 

Now…we all have a dream!  ~~Dee

Man Candy: The Sex Fever

sexuality, sex blogs, sex , erotica female, erotica“Why do women let themselves go after they get into a relationship,” his eyes met mine over the table.  Clearly, he was confused.  Naturally, being the source for all answers involving women or just the only woman that he is comfortable asking questions, I smile at the absolute mixture of innocence and annoyance in his question.

“I mean…,” he continued, taking my silence to mean that I am offended,women don’t bother to upkeep their appearance.  They know men are visual.  They know men are sexual.  Yet, they don’t bother maintain what they have once we are in a relationship.  And, they seem surprised when a man is not attracted to them anymore.”

“Well,” I ventured slowly, to avoid any missteps in this minefield.  After all, I could hardly be considered an expert on women or beauty regimes.  Really…I have asked My Favorite Pink Pussy to go with me to get a makeover for months.  She laughs at me.  Perhaps because she does not feel it is necessary to invite disaster to her door.

“Maybe, most women spend so much time trying to be the perfect sexual vessel with painful shoes, push up bras, and clothes, that they seek acceptance for the real person they are by appearing in sweat pants, messy hair, and no make-up,” I hesitated, letting him absorb that explanation.

“Or…it could be,” he was testing the waters of talking through the reasoning, women feel like they don’t have to work to keep us after they have us?”

“I guess.  It could be that men and women think differently of sexual desireMen find sexual passion in the physicality of women.  The things that women find sexually exciting in a man are more intimate.  For me, a man can be physically attractive, but not sexually attractive.”  I let that sink in a moment.

“Things like an incredible, easy smile….strong, sensual hands….nice shoulders….great cologne….confidence….sexy voice….challenging mind….high levels of respect.  All of those things have to combine in a man to hit my buttons,” I detailed.

“Ok, but what makes that so different in men and women?  I live for intelligence, confident women.”

“Those traits only get sexier with age.  See, these traits are not based on whether my weight is up or down.  If I have wrinkles, make-up on, or a fresh manicure,” I smile at him.

“True,” he returns, “but those things don’t matter to men either.  What matters to us is that you stay sexually interested and interesting.   Keep the fever. I can overlook no make-up, but no confidence will kill it every time.  I can get over a few extra pounds in a woman that burns from the inside for me.  Wrinkles will never matter to me when I see passion in her eyes.”

In those few moments, his confusion turned into the wisdom of the ages.  And…I, for one, was amazed at the simplicity of the message.  ~~Dee