You can write me at:



Dear readers,
You may recall a post entitled Homework Assignment,
originally posted on the 24th of August.
Today, I’m very pleased to share a pair of letters submitted by a husband and wife team who decided to spice up their sex life and assign each other some very sexy homework.  These are their first attempts at erotic writing, and I have made no effort to edit their offerings, so please be kind with your comments.
If any teachers are reading this, please dress as seductively as possible
and submit video of yourself grading this homework assignment
while being ravished by your lover.
But seriously,
Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. X., for your wonderful letters.
I give them both an A+!

He writes:

She writes:

I’m watching as you begin teasing me, running lips along my inner thighs.
You’re dressed in that sexy, lacy black underwear, wearing those striped thigh-
highs I love so much.  You move up and kiss my shoulder, breathing deeply.
Kiss my mouth.  The warmth of your tongue excites me and I stiffen.  Your
lips are soft and insistent.  I taste your want.

It’s so quiet.  I’m nervous.  Like it’s the first time.  You comfort me and
tell me it’ll be ok.  Your hands on my legs are a soothing sensation.  I love
your hands on my skin.  Your tongue whispers along the inside of my thigh.
It’s so sensitive it almost makes me giggle but it’s not ticklish.  I twitch as
your tongue hits my clit.  The sensation is almost too much to bear.

When you take it in your hand that way, look at it with such hunger, such
desire, it makes me twitch.  And then…
Oh God, I’m inside your mouth, your tongue rolls across the head of my
penis, and you take it deep with a moan of pleasure.  Warmth wraps my
cock like the heat spilling from an oven.  The wetness of your mouth feels
slippery and smooth… it’s like pressure and warmth and dampness all at
once.  The nerves can’t send signals fast enough.  Pure sensation, all of
it good.

 Your beard against my pubic hair is soft.  I love that feeling.
But then your 
tongue flickers over my clit and your fingers
slide inside me.  My heart is racing and my breath is laboring.
Your tongue is so quick.  
You focus on that little pink nub, licking
  Every so often you change the angle and direction and it
sends shocks up my body.  It 
makes me want to arch to
get closer
 and yet I want you to stop but I don’t.

As you draw your head back the cool air chills my shaft.  The exquisite heat
of your mouth descends again, so much hotter by comparison.  Hot, cold,
hot, cold.  Delicious contrast, wrapped in softness.  Your hands stroke the
length of me, slipping along the saliva you’ve coated me with.  It feels in-
credible, electric, the pleasure intensifying in the tip of my penis, building
up inside like the head is swelling.  It could burst at any moment.

A random itch distracts me, but then I feel your finger wiggle
inside me and it makes me think of your thick cock fucking me.
When you have both finger and tongue going I can’t focus on
the pleasure of my clit, so soon I’ll ask you to stop…

Now you’re on top of me and your pussy slips over my cock like liquid fire.
Your juices mingle with mine, with your spit, and you bounce.  God, so
tight.  Almost painful.  The skin pulls down as your muscles squeeze.  The
sensitive part where the foreskin connects to the underside pulls tightest.
Painful.  I have to pull out, push the foreskin up over the head of my cock,
slip inside again.  Now the skin has play, it can pull back until I’m all the
way in.  The head of my cock bumps into your deepest walls.  It’s a jolt
of intensity.

…to kiss my nipples, make them wet while you finger my wet cunt.
That’s what’s going through my head.  It makes me hot all over and
I almost say it but you replace your tongue with your lips and suck
my clit and the pleasure shoots through my body.  Your hands on
my nipples make me twitch in pleasure.  You start to position your
hands to hold me down, as you know I’m close, to keep me in your
mouth.  I can just imagine how hard you must be right now.

You take me inside and squirm like a puppy.  Enjoying yourself?  On your
knees… you thrust back against my erection and moan in ecstacy.  That
beautiful round ass, your skinny little waist sloping down and away to those
incredible shoulders… so sexy.  I love this view of you, face pressed into
mattress, hands reaching over your head to tangle and claw at bed sheets.
My own POV pornstar, my sex kitten, my sultry little goddess, my exotic,
sensuous bride.  Fuck you look good.

That first feeling of your cock inside me, that full feeling,
is so intense it almost hurts, but the pain is also pleasure.
I ask you to lick me again and you do.  The combination
of the fact that you’d do that for me and how you’re willing
to follow direction is so hot that I’m wetter than before.  I
feel my clit swell with the licking of your tongue.

You order me to drop the letter and fuck you.  Thrust and pound.  The wet
concussions of our bodies slapping together nearly drives me over the edge.
Your cunt tightens, a grip like velvet-lined steel.  You push up onto your
hands and hammer back against me and scream in pleasure.  I’m feeling
every throbbing millimeter of my cock, every square inch of skin.  The soft-
ness of your ass cheeks slamming into my hips.  My hands on your back,
your hips, your waist.

I know I’m close.  My body tightens up and the pleasant
tension starts in my belly and spreads slowly out from my
clit.  I want to wriggle and writhe and stay still at the same
time in case I stop feeling what I feel.  My clit is so swollen
that it extends past my lips.  Every part of my pussy is super-
sensitized to the point of discomfort but it feels so good.

The pleasure is entirely centered in the head of my cock, buried in your
slippery center and pulsing against the walls of this fleshly heaven.  It’s
building, straining, growing, stretching my endurance, testing me.  I struggle
to last.  I want you to cum first.  I need to see your pleasure to amplify mine.
I love making you lose control.  Sweet Jesus, you’re stroking my balls.  Your
hands tickle and draw sensuous lines across my sensitive skin.  I’m watching
your ass bounce and I can feel my orgasm closing in.

The orgasm starts in my belly and moves to my toes and it’s
like that instant electric shock from a socket.  It lasts forever
in a second that stretches on til it’s over in a flash but the after-
shocks roll on inside me and then your cock slides in and it’s
so hard and I can feel all the veins and the shape of it so snug
there’s no room for anything else except my wetness.

When it comes it’s like a wave cresting, rising higher and higher until it breaks
and floods out.  I spasm.  My cock jumps and twitches.  My knees lock and
every muscle stiffens.  It’s like turning inside out.  I overheat in an instant.  A
black hole opens up at the tip of my shaft and sucks my entire being inside in
a sparkling moment of bliss.  It’s like falling.  Like landing safely.  Like swallow-
ing fire.  Like submerging in water.  I shout.  I can’t help it.  I feel like a conquer-
ing hero.

The sensation of skin on skin sends shivers and shocks up my
pussy walls til you hit my cervix and then the 
pleasure is so
intense that I want to scream to release 
some of the tension.
The friction of you moving inside me faster and faster and faster
makes that tension so unbearable that when the climax finally
comes, if your weight wasn’t holding me together,
I would twitch and spasm until I came open.

This has been so incredibly intense.  So powerful.  I’m normally very quiet
during sex, I don’t vocalize my pleasure.  I have to remind myself to make
noises to show my enjoyment.  I sink inside myself, I get caught up in the
pleasure, the slippery sensations, the fantastic friction and smooth rock and
glide of it.  I feel my strain as muscles bunch and release, core heats up,
brain loses track of time, focus gets fuzzy.  I look and look and look and look
at you.

The streaks of sensation radiate from pussy to
brain too fast to focus on.  It’s pure feeling.

All my love,

Your exhausted,
Immensely pleasured wife,

I crave your skin.  I want to bury my face in your hair, your breasts, taste every
inch of you, bite you, dive into your wet hot mouth.  I want to take you again,
immediately.  Every time.  But our bodies need rest.  I’m patient.  I can wait
to have you again.  And I will have you again.  I will have you for as long as
you will have me.  Again and again I will.  So until next time, my love…

Yours always,


*Image from Internet*


Homework Assignment!


You can reach me at:



The other night my wife and I were discussing ideas for an erotic project,
(We like to share these things, fantasizing and teasing each other, encouraging imagination)
And we got onto the subject of mementos.
What interesting things do we keep to remind us of past love and lust?
A ribbon from her hair, perhaps?
A bottle of perfume left behind that you just can’t bring yourself to throw away?
Perhaps he forgot his sweatshirt in your flat, and you still curl up wearing nothing else on stormy nights, thinking of the way his big warm hands could communicate such strength while touching you so gently.

I love receiving letters, and my favorite mementos from past lovers are those words of love that they have left me, written by hand, often on fancy and decorated stationery.  They were written at a time when every syllable of longing was penned with emphatic sincerity, when each adoring word was so spontaneous and heartfelt it transcended truth.  The feelings that motivated those love letters have transformed or fallen dormant or ceased, but the truth of that love is still right there in those gushing, enthusiastic, rambunctious words.  Those letters have always been a touchstone for my romantic soul when a cruel world threatens to leave me jaded.

My wife read one or two, marvelling with a perfectly arched eyebrow at the fervor and affection I once inspired in the women (and occasional men) I somehow managed to lead astray.  She mocks but I know she wishes her first language was English so that she could express herself even half so lustily, so she could give tongue to this, my mother tongue, with just such abandon and glee.  That’s when inspiration struck, and she got a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Fuck me,” she said.
“Right now.  Put aside these dusty dead letters and take me like an animal.”

With characteristic relish I complied, but she did an unexpected thing:
She took my journal, lying on the bedside table, and she took a pen, and as the lusty animal she so imperiously summoned pushed its blunt snout between slick jungle leaves, questing for that deepest of drinks to quaff its roaring thirst, she began to write.

I could read it over her shoulder:

He wastes no time.  I have commanded he transform into a beast and rut with me, and he cannot resist my sorcery.  I am picturing myself being mounted by a lion, or perhaps a wild boar or stallion, as I roll onto my knees and thrust my buttocks in the air.  My quim quivers in the room’s chill.  It makes the heat of him all the more delicious.

I stop reading.  What care have animals for the scrawl of man or woman?
She scribbles furiously as I lose myself in her.  She pauses often to moan, to writhe beneath me.
I have the feel of this game now… my task is to push her to the brink, to make her gradually lose control of herself and her pen, so that her pleasure is transfered onto the page in the hurried tilt of a line, the lurch of a word, the sudden gap and gasp in the paragraph before continuing with another thought entirely, another description of the sensations she is experiencing.
After a time, when she has written a generous mess of pages, we come together, the slippery friction of our sweaty bodies too much to bear any longer.  The waves of ecstasy deposit us dripping and delirious into the pooling oasis of bedsheets.  There we bide a time until our breathing slows.

Later I will read it all; sometime when she is away, and I miss her furiously; when touching myself can’t hope to match the rich reality of her.  This thing she has left me is a spontaneous gift, and it moves me in a way I can’t describe.  To have her words, her pleasure, spelled out before my eyes, the incredible nearness and now-ness it… this is pure eroticism.

So here is what I propose:

If you have a lover, corner him or her.  If not, find one, if only for a night.  Offer to go down on your partners if they agree to write about the experience as it happens.  Provide the pen and paper (they’re doing us a favor, after all!).  Take your time.  A half hour to an hour of oral pleasure will give them plenty of opportunity, with lots of pauses to enjoy the moment, to describe it all in glorious, erotic detail.  If you like, and it makes sense to you, have your lovers write in the present tense, to intensify the immediacy.  You are licking your lips, she is wanton, I am touching you, we make love…
Have your playmates describe, in their own words, the sensations you invoke in them as they feel them.  Encourage them to let the writing itself show as much as the words… do they speed up and scribble more as the intensity of the pleasure increases, trying to capture it all?  Do they write with more pressure as their muscles spasm, making them squirm?  Do the lines wander as their body distracts them with sensations?

Then trade places, and try it again from the other point of view.

And, of course, if you happen to send a copy of these homework assignments my way, I’d be delighted.


*image from internet*