Archive for Jenna

Dear Jenna

I’m going to grope you and smack your ass tonight. You’re going to like it. 😉


The plan

“Kidnap me,” she said, with a little laugh.

He looked surprised, unbelieving.

“What?” he asked.

“You heard me,” she said. “Kidnap me. I want you to. I dare you to.”

“You’re insane,” he laughed, lifting his beer and rolling his eyes.

“No, I’m not,” she said coolly, lifting her glass. “Send me out for an errand. Have me pick up your dry cleaning or run to the store for milk. Whatever,” she crossed her legs in his direction, pressing her knee against the edge of the bar.

He smirked, then drank more beer.

She continued, “I don’t want to know when it’s coming, so you’ll have to send me out on lots of errands before you make your move.”

“Great,” he laughed. “You’ll be picking up all of my dry cleaning for a while. Works for me.”

“Jerk,” she said with a thin smile. “Now, you don’t get off that easy. You have to do your part. Eventually.”

“Yeah?” he asked, gulping more beer.

“Yeah,” she shifted in her seat, leaning in a little closer. “See, I want you to snatch me. Cover my face, pretend to have a gun. Be creative,” she laughed wryly. “Push me into an alley or into a car, whatever.” She sipped her drink. “I want you to scare me.”

He widened his eyes.

“What you do after that is up to you,” she said with a smile. “You can rip my clothes off. You can be as rough or gentle as you want. You can bite me, lick my pussy, whatever. Fuck me. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you scaring me. I want to be scared. Got it?” she laughed and emptied her glass.

He wiped his forehead, looking scared, then signaled the barkeeper for another round.

The class

Have I ever told you what a good student I am? I love to be taught. Why should sex be any different? Our marriage counselor mentioned a few places, so I looked into them. One place holds workshops. What do you do at a sex workshop? I decided to find out. I signed up for Overdue: An Intro to Submission.

I went by myself the first time because, well, like anything sexy I needed to see it for myself first. I literally had no idea what to expect. I wore black – black jeans, a tank, bra, and panties. Nothing but black, because what the hell do you wear to a sex workshop? It’s winter, so I wore a sweater over top. It was drapey and black. Black boots.

Just in case, I brought a notebook and pen. The class description hadn’t mentioned to bring anything, but I did anyway. I took the train. It was a mid-afternoon class and it was still light outside when I arrived. The workshops are held in a loft on the top floor of a three-story walk-up. Dirty photos lined the stairs. At the top, I found the instructor, good-looking, medium height, ripped, energetic. All right.

“Hi there,” he said, smiling.

“Hey,” I answered but didn’t smile.

“Here for the workshop?” he asked as if he was just curious. He was soft spoken and seemed friendly. Not exactly what I expected.

“Yeah,” I said, looking directly at him. He was cool.

“Grab a seat. There’s coffee and water in the lounge down the hall.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I walked down the hall to the loft, which was set up theater-style. At the front of the room was a large old-fashioned desk and behind it hung a chalkboard, an actual chalkboard probably circa 1975. Armchairs and wooden dining chairs were arranged in rows facing the desk. A few people had already taken their seats – two girls, both pretty, both long-haired, one blond and one brunette. One punk-looking guy in a knit hat and biker jacket sat in an armchair messing with his phone. A couple sat near the back. They looked older, maybe in their 50s. Nobody was drinking coffee.

“Hi,” I said to no one in particular. I took off my coat and sank down into an armchair near the punk, the most interesting of the classmates. I pulled out my notebook and tossed my bag aside.

After a few minutes, the instructor came into the room. “I guess this is it today,” he said cheerfully. He walked to the front. “I’m Bob,” he said.

Yes, I thought. Just right. Not Robert, Bob. I wrote it down in my notebook at the top of the first page.

“Let’s introduce ourselves, and if you’d like to, you can say why you are here today,” he said with a little smile.

He sounded very professional and I wondered for a quick second if I was in the right place.

The punk guy went first. “I’m Javier,” he said. “I’m a writer and I’m researching for a novel I’m working on,” he said.

“Mmhmm…” Bob responded. He sat on the desk, leaning forward attentively, legs spread, hands pressing down on the desk. It was an inviting yet slightly intimidating pose.

I went next. “I’m Jenna,” I said. “I’m trying something new,” I said, trying to sound interesting.

The rest of the group introduced themselves—the girls were there together, for work, presumably as escorts or something. The couple was there to spice things up, they said. Then Bob ran his hands over his thighs. “Let’s get started,” he said with a little grin. “First of all, you all should get comfy. You can wear anything you like for this class, as long as it makes you feel sexy. Go ahead and change if you want to.” He managed to sound only faintly like a perverted doctor about to give an exam.

I looked around the room, wondering what to expect. The older couple asked where they could change. The punk removed his hat to reveal spiky-messy hair and impressively stretched earlobes. He took off his jacket and revealed a tight black t-shirt with tattoos escaping from underneath.

I stood up to take off my sweater and turned to face the pretty girls. They were each stripped down to just bras and panties, so I took a chance and took off my boots and jeans. I sat back down and scribbled some notes about what everyone was wearing. The couple returned, clad in leather – a bodysuit for her, chaps for him. They looked self-conscious but happy.

Bob wore tight jeans, boots, and a white t-shirt with a hamburger-shaped planet on the front. While we changed, he hopped down from the desk and moved to the chalkboard. “Say yes,” he wrote in large letters in the center. I copied it into my notebook.

He turned and surveyed the room. “I’m no dom,” he smiled. “Not really. I’m just a behaviorist.” I jotted that down in my notebook.

“But there’s really only one simple rule for being a good submissive,” he said and stuck his thumb over his shoulder toward the words on the board. “And this is it.”

Everybody laughed.

“I know, I know,” he said. “But it’s true. You can learn so much about yourself just by saying yes.” I wrote that down.

“Okay, let’s play a game,” he said. “Craig and Sue. You guys look ready for anything. Come up front please.” Bob opened a drawer in the desk and removed a rope, a blindfold, and a gag. “Which of the two of you is feeling submissive today?” he asked them. Sue raised her hand and gave a little wave. “Okay, Craig, get to work then,” Bob handed him the supplies. “I have a book on knots if you need it.”

Craig and Sue nodded and stepped to the side. Craig whispered something to Sue and she nodded, then he began by blindfolding her and putting the gag into her mouth. He began wrapping the rope into an elaborate pattern, constraining her breasts and wrists. Finally, Craig whispered to Sue again and she dropped to her knees. I took notes. The pretty girls whispered and giggled behind me and Javier watched, seemingly unimpressed.

“Ladies, come up front, please,” Bob said evenly, beckoning to the pretty girls. They giggled and walked to the front modeling their underwear for the class. Javier shifted in his seat as they passed him, one on each side.

When the girls got to the front, Bob took the brunette by the hand and lead her to one side of the desk. “Kneel, please,” he directed. “Face the audience,” he said. She did. Bob repeated the positioning with the blonde girl, just to the side of the brunette. The girls looked at each other and laughed. Bob knelt down in front of them and whispered something. The girls nodded and giggled. I took notes.

“Javier, sir, come up here,” Bob waved to the punk. Bob whispered into his ear. Javier smirked and nodded, then moved toward the kneeling girls. He faced them and undid his jeans.

“Okay, Jenna, your turn,” Bob smiled at me. I came up to the front. “Um, do you like standing on furniture?” he asked.

I looked past him at the note on the chalkboard. “Yes,” I said decisively.

“Great! Take off your tank top please.” Bob was a combination of friendly and dead serious. I wavered for a moment, then took off my tank top and tossed it in the direction of my seat.

He nodded in approval. “Now stand on top of the desk,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, unsure. I climbed up and looked around the room. Craig was standing in front of Sue, rubbing his hard cock on her gagged and blindfolded face. My eyes widened. The pretty girls were kneeling before Javier, licking and sucking his cock at the same time, still giggling.

“Rub your pussy, please,” Bob said to me. I looked nervously around the room, and then I slipped my hand into my panties.

Bob moved to the front row and picked up my pen. He scribbled something in my notebook, then put the pen down and moved to the second row. He climbed up on a wingback chair, sat on the top with his feet on the seat, and undid his pants. He observed the room for a few minutes, and then started rubbing his cock, hard and fast.

After he came, he climbed down from the chair and zipped his pants. “Thanks, guys, he said,” although none of us was really listening. He left.

Later, when I collected my things, I noticed that he had left me a note. “Good girl,” it said in my notebook.


This is fiction, people. Total, complete, utter fiction. If you know me, then you know that I would never stand on a desk.


Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked


The first time I saw it, my eye caught the red glow at its base then rose with the clean straight lines of its gray walls. You saw it too.

“Want to go in?”

“Kind of,” I said.


Thirty-three words beginning with “the first time I…” By the way, I like how the first time implies that there will be a second time.


My resolution

I got to see an old friend this week. It was nice and it felt just right in a way that it hasn’t in a while.

This friend is special to me. She reads this blog, which means that she knows all of my secrets.

She is a good friend, which means that she didn’t mention this blog when I saw her. I’ll bet that she wanted to, but she didn’t and I’m grateful.

Still. I’m left wishing that we weren’t such good girls.

Next year, let’s have some fun.

The waitress

She was beautiful. Long, dark hair, curvy, tiny. Her dress was sparkly and transparent, her boots were tall and black.

She flitted around the party, keeping busy with bringing drinks and flirting.

She had a paragraph tattooed on her right shoulder blade.

Oh, I want to read it.

Yes, I did smile.

None of this happened

He followed me up the staircase. I saw him notice me as I got up from the table. I admit it, I gave him a smile. As I neared the stairs, he pushed his chair back and squeezed his wife on the shoulder.

I climbed ahead of him, just out of reach. I could see you waiting at our table.

At the top of the staircase, I found a roaring fire. A wooden bench encircled the fireplace. I took a seat and looked up. I didn’t smile. Beyond the fireplace partiers laughed and music blared. It was perfect.

He stared at me from the top of the steps. Yes, he had followed me up here. Now he seemed surprised to see me waiting. A moment passed where we both considered the lines we were crossing. Yes, this was happening. He strode towards me and stood directly in front of me. He smiled. He reached out and touched my lips, then lowered his hand. He slipped into my blouse and with one swift movement pinched my nipple, hard.

I yelped. Luckily the music and laughter drowned me out.

A woman, not his wife, appeared at the top of the stairs. She paid us no attention as she walked past into the ladies’ room.

He kept his hand inside my blouse. With the other hand, he took mine and led it to the front of his slacks. He was already hard. I rubbed the length of his cock as he pinched my nipple even harder. I moaned and rocked my hips from side to side against my aching pussy.

A few seconds later, as the woman emerged from the bathroom, he abruptly removed his hand from my blouse. I gave him a longing look, but his mouth was set. No. She passed us and he turned and walked back to the staircase, down the stairs, to his table. I waited a few moments by the fire and then returned to you.

As I sat down I smiled at you. Beyond, he smiled too, and put his arm around his wife.


I want to be alone
But I can’t escape

First I need to feel you pressing against me
Trying to fill me

I need your attention
Your effort
Your breath on my neck

I want to shrink into your shadow
Crumple under your weight
I want to feel small

Your touch will ask the question it answers

I want you to always try
But never fulfill me

I want you to fail
Over and over

Then vanish
Elude me
Leave me alone once more

In your aching absence
I find it again
My lack


Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

Wanna go to lunch?

“Time for lunch,” the text read.

Then, “Now.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said, heart pounding. I shut the conference room door behind me.

I rode the train in a trance. Heat from between my legs traveled over my breasts to my neck. My face was flushed, my pussy wet. The ache was so intense that I couldn’t restrain myself. I slipped a hand under the jacket on my lap and pressed my clit hard. I moaned, too loud, and the man across from me noticed. He knew. It only made me hotter. I licked my lips and rolled my eyes back, giving him a little smile. He smiled back. I rubbed my clit furiously under my jacket.

Two stops later, I got up, shaking, and exited the train. I walked a block to the apartment building, hurrying. He followed me, the man from the train. I could feel him behind me, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was getting there.

Another text. “I want you naked, pressed against the front window,” it read.

I took the stairs two at a time. I turned the knob as I kicked off my heels. I left the door gaping open, crossing the room to the wide window. I ripped off my blouse and skirt, leaving a trail on the floor. Panting, I pressed my cheek to the cold glass and slipped a hand into my ruined panties.

I heard the camera click. I waited, two fingers thrusting inside me, wanting more. A minute later he pressed his chest to my back, taking my hand and pinning me to the window, pulling my panties to the side and slipping his hard cock inside me. “Yes,” I called desperately.

Lost in the feeling of his fucking, I didn’t notice the sound of the camera still clicking away until afterwards.

“You brought a guest, you dirty girl,” he said, smiling at the man from the train, who put the camera down and unzipped his pants.


Blindfold me