My Favorite Thing

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Since I am a sex blogger (GASP!  WHAT?!), of course this would be related to sex.  I was reading Marie Rebelle’s post on knife play Friday.  It reminded me of the first time my husband and I played with knives.  It was amazing.  He knew I was interested in playing with them, and he made it happen in a way I did not expect.

We had gone to a friend’s house where I was spanked silly with a quirt.  That was awesome fun as well.  It was during my first visit with my husband and when we got back to the hotel, I started to change for bed.  As soon as I pulled down my panties, he grabbed the back of my neck, and shoved me down on the bed face first.  He forced my legs apart with his knee.  Then I felt something scratchy on my skin; back and forth, up and down.  He told me whatever I did, not to move.

“Do you like this?” he asked me.  I mumbled that I did and he said, “What was that, slut?”

“Yes, sir, I like it,” I said as he ran the implement up and down my thighs.  Then he told me to roll over and keep my eyes closed.  He ran it up and down my torso, paying extra attention to my nipples.  He poked and prodded me with it.  Then I felt it go lower and lower on my body, until he was running it over my clit.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked

“No, sir.”

“Take a guess.”

“I do not know, sir,” I said.

“It’s a throwing knife.  I made it extra sharp just for you.  I suggest you keep completely still if you want to keep vital parts of your anatomy.”

He went back to running the point of the knife over my clit.  My body refused to cooperate though.  Every twinge in my pussy made my body spasm.  Every spasm resulted in a cunt slap.  It was very difficult to keep my body completely rigid, my muscles straining with the impending orgasm.

When my body could no longer comply, the orgasm exploded through me, my hips bucking, and I felt the knife slide in slightly.  Panic-stricken, I tore myself off the bed to find something to staunch the bleeding I was sure I was having.  He started laughing to himself.

“It’s not funny!”  I screeched, holding a wad of toilet paper between my legs.  “I could bleed to death!  See how bad it is!”  I flipped myself back on the bed so he could get a good look, and he laughed harder.  Finally, he held up the knife, handle end up.

“I wasn’t using the blade on your pussy.  I just made you think I did,” he said, eyes full of mirth.  I removed the toilet paper and examined it.  Nothing.

“You are such a brat.  Sir.”

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