Spectacular, spectacular. No words in the vernacular
Can describe this great event
You'll be dumb with wonderment
I borrowed the words from Moulin Rouge, but they still apply.
After we retired to our bedroom for the night, I settled down in his arms. I asked him if he'd like for me to do more of the heavy lifting for our interaction per Duality's most excellent suggestion, and he turned me down cold. "That doesn't sound nearly as enjoyable." We talked a bit more, and I told him I just didn't want him to wear himself out, that I was okay with working harder.
He thanked me for my concern, reiterated that he was fine, that it wasn't necessary, then started kissing me. Long, slow, languorous kissing that was steamy hot even before his hand made its way to my throat, spread itself there, and squeezed. I made pleased noises into his mouth that got louder as his hand grew tighter, and he kept tightening it. He squeezed probably harder than he's ever done and I made my pleasure at this sensation known with my gasps of delight. "I don't touch you enough," he whispered, letting go of my throat and sliding both of his hands under my nightshirt and all over my body. I purred. He pushed the shirt up over my head and off my body, then kept stroking me heatedly, ending with his hands cupping my breasts.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Perfect
He whispered into my ear as he climbed into bed behind me, wrapping his arms around me: "You know what my problem is with you?"
"Um...no?" I had no idea what he could be talking about, but was curious to hear.
"My problem with you is you're just too damn good all the time." He kissed my cheek. "You're always saying nice things to me, doing nice things for me. You just don't give me a reason to punish you." He traced a fingertip along my jaw line, ran it along my parted lips, inducing shivers all along my spine. I moaned softly and turned my head away. "I suppose I could punish you for being so fucking perfect all the time." He spread his hand out against my throat, pressing gently. "Kiss me."
"Um...no?" I had no idea what he could be talking about, but was curious to hear.
"My problem with you is you're just too damn good all the time." He kissed my cheek. "You're always saying nice things to me, doing nice things for me. You just don't give me a reason to punish you." He traced a fingertip along my jaw line, ran it along my parted lips, inducing shivers all along my spine. I moaned softly and turned my head away. "I suppose I could punish you for being so fucking perfect all the time." He spread his hand out against my throat, pressing gently. "Kiss me."
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Libidinousness
Say it with me. Feel how it rolls off the tongue.
I read this word in a post, and I have always been a fan of the word "libidinous," but to add the -ness suffix to it? Sheer brilliance! I started this post with this topic before I had any actual material to put here. Handily, life handed me some lemons, so I'll make a post with them.
I read this word in a post, and I have always been a fan of the word "libidinous," but to add the -ness suffix to it? Sheer brilliance! I started this post with this topic before I had any actual material to put here. Handily, life handed me some lemons, so I'll make a post with them.
Heat transfer
It's been getting colder here. Not as cold as at home, but cold enough to lead to a little discomfort, and his feet have always lost heat in a hurry.
He joined me in bed, warning me that his legs were cold. I snuggled up to him, placing his feet on my inner thigh and closing my other leg over them, enveloping his feet with the warmth of my body. I had been there under the blankets for 20 minutes by then, so I was very warm. I shivered with the cold on my thighs.
He almost purred with pleasure, stroking my head. "I'm a lucky man. I'm pretty sure not many wives would do this."
"I am for you." I nuzzled his chest.
"Hey.. don't I remember you saying things like 'keep those icy cold feet away from me!'?"
"Yeah. I've always been yours, but you didn't always want to take me."
"Hey now, wait a minute! I've always wanted you!"
"Of course, love... but not like this."
"I see. So if I had taken you, grabbed you, held your throat and kissed you," he stopped and did just that, tilting my head the long way up to him, "ordered you around then, you'd have done this then as well?"
"Pretty much."
Funny how he didn't ask these questions last winter when I started doing this.
Last winter, when he punished me for not warming up his side of the bed for him.
It's a shame the winter here will be so mild.
He joined me in bed, warning me that his legs were cold. I snuggled up to him, placing his feet on my inner thigh and closing my other leg over them, enveloping his feet with the warmth of my body. I had been there under the blankets for 20 minutes by then, so I was very warm. I shivered with the cold on my thighs.
He almost purred with pleasure, stroking my head. "I'm a lucky man. I'm pretty sure not many wives would do this."
"I am for you." I nuzzled his chest.
"Hey.. don't I remember you saying things like 'keep those icy cold feet away from me!'?"
"Yeah. I've always been yours, but you didn't always want to take me."
"Hey now, wait a minute! I've always wanted you!"
"Of course, love... but not like this."
"I see. So if I had taken you, grabbed you, held your throat and kissed you," he stopped and did just that, tilting my head the long way up to him, "ordered you around then, you'd have done this then as well?"
"Pretty much."
Funny how he didn't ask these questions last winter when I started doing this.
Last winter, when he punished me for not warming up his side of the bed for him.
It's a shame the winter here will be so mild.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Fantasy
I had a brief fantasy session, and I told him I had. He asked me what I was thinking while I touched myself.
I responded coyly "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Well, yes, I would." What an annoying thing it must be to hear "wouldn't you like to know?" when you've clearly just asked to be told something.
I responded coyly "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Well, yes, I would." What an annoying thing it must be to hear "wouldn't you like to know?" when you've clearly just asked to be told something.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
I have a crush
I can't stop thinking about him. For years, now. People still say we're newlyweds, that the shine will rub off, but how can that apply when our nuptials were so, so long ago? Maybe those people just married the wrong partners.
Last night rocked.
"I want you to kiss my cock for me. No sucking, now.. don't suck that hard thing down into that hot slutty mouth of yours.. just kiss it."
So I did. I kissed wetly all along the hard hot shaft, rubbing my cheeks against it, licking, kissing. For a long, long time.
"Don't suck it, or I'll have to hurt you."
Last night rocked.
"I want you to kiss my cock for me. No sucking, now.. don't suck that hard thing down into that hot slutty mouth of yours.. just kiss it."
So I did. I kissed wetly all along the hard hot shaft, rubbing my cheeks against it, licking, kissing. For a long, long time.
"Don't suck it, or I'll have to hurt you."
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
In which I call him names and curse at him
He was holding me in bed, his chin resting on my shoulder, rubbing my arm and back, mostly silent. Long silences punctuated with words, a stilted conversation. He wanted to heal my pain, to fix it.
"I wish I'd stayed home." I snapped when he asked me to talk to him.
"No you don't."
"Yes I do."
"I wish I'd stayed home." I snapped when he asked me to talk to him.
"No you don't."
"Yes I do."
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
A sinking heart
He tells me, almost offhandedly, that he has to spend two nights away. For work. Not optional.
My heart slowly, slowly settles into the pit of my stomach. Tears well to my eyes and shine there, unshed. My chest aches, my throat burns, the words of his message float in front of my eyes, too unreal, too terrible. My eye starts to twitch again, and I had thought I was done with that horrible thing.
"You're leaving me again?" is all I can manage to even type.
My stomach has an immediate need to empty itself. I oblige it, then return to the computer. The taste of bile still lingers at the back of my throat, not chased away by the water I've consumed. He asks me questions about my day, clearly unaware of the depths of despair he has plunged me into. I tell him this. He tells me not to cry, that it shouldn't be as long as the last time. I tell him it doesn't matter.
It really is that bad. I hate this job of his. I have encouraged him to this point, and I still will. I know he enjoys the work - but to separate us for multiple nights within a space of months, us who were never apart overnight for eight and a half years no matter the hoops we had to jump through to make it so, to do that.. I hate it. The burgeoning promise of more and more separation does not make a happy camper out of me.
"Well here you are
and you're a hundred thousand miles away, yeah.
They say that absence makes the heart grow fungus."
I wish we'd never come here.
My heart slowly, slowly settles into the pit of my stomach. Tears well to my eyes and shine there, unshed. My chest aches, my throat burns, the words of his message float in front of my eyes, too unreal, too terrible. My eye starts to twitch again, and I had thought I was done with that horrible thing.
"You're leaving me again?" is all I can manage to even type.
My stomach has an immediate need to empty itself. I oblige it, then return to the computer. The taste of bile still lingers at the back of my throat, not chased away by the water I've consumed. He asks me questions about my day, clearly unaware of the depths of despair he has plunged me into. I tell him this. He tells me not to cry, that it shouldn't be as long as the last time. I tell him it doesn't matter.
It really is that bad. I hate this job of his. I have encouraged him to this point, and I still will. I know he enjoys the work - but to separate us for multiple nights within a space of months, us who were never apart overnight for eight and a half years no matter the hoops we had to jump through to make it so, to do that.. I hate it. The burgeoning promise of more and more separation does not make a happy camper out of me.
"Well here you are
and you're a hundred thousand miles away, yeah.
They say that absence makes the heart grow fungus."
I wish we'd never come here.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Subgasm
We were kissing, I was naked. His fingers touched my nipple lightly, teasingly, and I shuddered and kicked, trying to get away from the touches on my sensitive skin. "Sensitive!" I cried out as an excuse for my erratic movement, trying to turn my body away from him, but he wouldn't let me.
"Sensitive, are you? He kept touching me lightly as I squirmed. "Who gave you permission to be sensitive?"
What the hell kind of mind fuck was this? I didn't answer, couldn't answer, could only grunt and wriggle and kick.
"Sensitive, are you? He kept touching me lightly as I squirmed. "Who gave you permission to be sensitive?"
What the hell kind of mind fuck was this? I didn't answer, couldn't answer, could only grunt and wriggle and kick.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Bitch in heat
I don't really know exactly what happened last night. More comes back as I write, but the first part is still mostly a blur.
There was sex. He spanked me, my breasts, my ass, my inner thighs ("Sensitive here, aren't you? I bet I can make you more sensitive."), once on my pussy.
There were lots of fingers sliding inside of me: "Show me how good you can fuck and maybe I'll give you my cock."
There was cock sucking, and then I was on top of him, and he hit his own thigh with the tips of the flogger - which made him feel stupid more than hurt him. He wilted a bit, but soon recovered while kissing me, and then he was atop me, and calling me all sorts of names, pinning me to the bed and growling. He erupted inside me while I begged him to use me, then rolled off, gathering me into his arms and holding me close.
I squirmed against him. He ordered me to go clean myself up in the bathroom, Then he held me again and we talked, stroking each other for a long, long time.. his hand struck my breast and I gasped, then asked for more.
There was sex. He spanked me, my breasts, my ass, my inner thighs ("Sensitive here, aren't you? I bet I can make you more sensitive."), once on my pussy.
There were lots of fingers sliding inside of me: "Show me how good you can fuck and maybe I'll give you my cock."
There was cock sucking, and then I was on top of him, and he hit his own thigh with the tips of the flogger - which made him feel stupid more than hurt him. He wilted a bit, but soon recovered while kissing me, and then he was atop me, and calling me all sorts of names, pinning me to the bed and growling. He erupted inside me while I begged him to use me, then rolled off, gathering me into his arms and holding me close.
I squirmed against him. He ordered me to go clean myself up in the bathroom, Then he held me again and we talked, stroking each other for a long, long time.. his hand struck my breast and I gasped, then asked for more.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Maybe now we can get back to normal
Our visitors are departing.
My eye hasn't twitched in a few hours.
Bed.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Sex and happiness
I was reading this webmd article, and it gleefully informed me that "increasing intercourse from once a month to once a week is equivalent to the amount of happiness generated by getting an additional $50,000 in income for the average American."
Now, that's very interesting to me. But then, the thought struck me. What poor bastards out there are only having sex once a month? My goodness, that's 12 times a year. 12 times a year? I imagine going from 12 times to 52 times a year would have some effect on your happiness. Perhaps even more than an additional $50k. Of course, stick me with sex one time a week and I'd probably be quite mopey and miserable regardless. High expectations, you know.
I can see no sex at all being preferable to once a month.
It goes on to say:
"Overall, the happiest folks are those getting the most sex -- married people, who report 30% more between-the-sheets action than single folks. In fact, the economists calculate that a lasting marriage equates to happiness generated by getting an extra $100,000 each year. Divorce, meanwhile, translates to a happiness depletion of $66,000 annually."
Who the hell are these bastards who are sticking dollar values of happiness onto things? How does one thing equate to the other? Past a certain point - that one where your bills are paid and your bellies are full and you can go on vacation once in a while - does more money really bring more happiness? And, assuming I go along with their calculations, does this indicate that divorced people are in fact happier than never-marrieds? That $34,000 gap glares at me.
Put another way, it's saying divorced people are still $34,000 happier than single folks. I dunno about that. I suppose if there are kids in the mix it could go either way.
Why do people constantly feel the need to speak of everything in financial terms anyway?
I'm way way happier than any extra $50k would ever be able to make me.
Now, that's very interesting to me. But then, the thought struck me. What poor bastards out there are only having sex once a month? My goodness, that's 12 times a year. 12 times a year? I imagine going from 12 times to 52 times a year would have some effect on your happiness. Perhaps even more than an additional $50k. Of course, stick me with sex one time a week and I'd probably be quite mopey and miserable regardless. High expectations, you know.
I can see no sex at all being preferable to once a month.
It goes on to say:
"Overall, the happiest folks are those getting the most sex -- married people, who report 30% more between-the-sheets action than single folks. In fact, the economists calculate that a lasting marriage equates to happiness generated by getting an extra $100,000 each year. Divorce, meanwhile, translates to a happiness depletion of $66,000 annually."
Who the hell are these bastards who are sticking dollar values of happiness onto things? How does one thing equate to the other? Past a certain point - that one where your bills are paid and your bellies are full and you can go on vacation once in a while - does more money really bring more happiness? And, assuming I go along with their calculations, does this indicate that divorced people are in fact happier than never-marrieds? That $34,000 gap glares at me.
Put another way, it's saying divorced people are still $34,000 happier than single folks. I dunno about that. I suppose if there are kids in the mix it could go either way.
Why do people constantly feel the need to speak of everything in financial terms anyway?
I'm way way happier than any extra $50k would ever be able to make me.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
My favorite stress relief
My eye is twitching a lot lately. From stress. On the plus side, I don't have a cold sore. As an added bonus, when we're getting up to hi-jinks the eye doesn't twitch. Just all the more reason to stay as connected as possible.
He's good. He's really good.
After we kissed and I sucked his cock, he made me get up, naked and horny, and go turn off the light in the living room. When I returned, momentarily blinded by the brightness, he had put the Liberator ramp where he wanted it. "Oh." I whispered.
"Yeah." he said.
He's good. He's really good.
After we kissed and I sucked his cock, he made me get up, naked and horny, and go turn off the light in the living room. When I returned, momentarily blinded by the brightness, he had put the Liberator ramp where he wanted it. "Oh." I whispered.
"Yeah." he said.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Sometimes you just need snuggly sex
He made love to me last night.
I was crying, sad, distraught, absolutely destroyed over something personal that happened. Nothing he caused; we're just in a bad situation and some people not under our control are making the worst of it. He held me close, stroked my hair, whispered sweet words of love to me.
He started kissing me with a tender sort of passion, holding my head with his fingers entangled in my hair. We kissed for a long, long time, our hands wandering over each other.
I worshiped his cock. He stroked my head, held it firmly between his hands as I sucked him.
He told me to move and let him inside of me, pulled me to him in the spoons position, and slid slowly, slowly into me. He whispered how good that felt, how much he liked being a part of me. He stroked my breasts firmly while he moved inside of me, but he was very very deliberately not hurting me. It was like he was trying to apply the soothing balm of his lovemaking to the emotional wounds inflicted upon me during the day.
After his orgasm, he slid his fingers inside me and brought me several orgasms of my own. I begged him to hit me, feeling like I deserved to be abused - he tried a couple of experimental swats, but them seemed to sense my head space concerning this and refused to do it any more. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" He asked me, after I panted "please, please, please hit me.." for the tenth time.
He wouldn't do it. I came. He dialed back the intensity of his strokes for a moment, then escalated again, bringing me another orgasm, then repeating. Four in total. I screamed on the last one. "OH FUCK, HUSBAND!!" I cried out, apparently very loudly. Yes, that's what I said, verbatim. Yes, I call him husband.
He pulled me into his arms following the last one and held me, telling me how lucky he is to have me and how awesome I am and how much I turn him on. Also murmuring about how loud his girl is.
I love this man.
I was crying, sad, distraught, absolutely destroyed over something personal that happened. Nothing he caused; we're just in a bad situation and some people not under our control are making the worst of it. He held me close, stroked my hair, whispered sweet words of love to me.
He started kissing me with a tender sort of passion, holding my head with his fingers entangled in my hair. We kissed for a long, long time, our hands wandering over each other.
I worshiped his cock. He stroked my head, held it firmly between his hands as I sucked him.
He told me to move and let him inside of me, pulled me to him in the spoons position, and slid slowly, slowly into me. He whispered how good that felt, how much he liked being a part of me. He stroked my breasts firmly while he moved inside of me, but he was very very deliberately not hurting me. It was like he was trying to apply the soothing balm of his lovemaking to the emotional wounds inflicted upon me during the day.
After his orgasm, he slid his fingers inside me and brought me several orgasms of my own. I begged him to hit me, feeling like I deserved to be abused - he tried a couple of experimental swats, but them seemed to sense my head space concerning this and refused to do it any more. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" He asked me, after I panted "please, please, please hit me.." for the tenth time.
He wouldn't do it. I came. He dialed back the intensity of his strokes for a moment, then escalated again, bringing me another orgasm, then repeating. Four in total. I screamed on the last one. "OH FUCK, HUSBAND!!" I cried out, apparently very loudly. Yes, that's what I said, verbatim. Yes, I call him husband.
He pulled me into his arms following the last one and held me, telling me how lucky he is to have me and how awesome I am and how much I turn him on. Also murmuring about how loud his girl is.
I love this man.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
This is what he wants
I went to join him in the bedroom last night, still a bit frustrated and irritated. I briefly considered leaving my pants on, so vexed I didn't want to expose myself like that, then thought better of it and stripped them off. He pulled me close to him, talked to me. Asked me if I was okay. "I'm fine." I told him, grumpy.
"What's the problem, love?" he asked me. When I didn't answer right away, his voice changed. Softer, but with a firmness underneath - velvet over steel: "I know what the problem is. The problem is you're being all mopey and standoffish, and I'm letting you get away with it." He got out the flogger, turned off the lamp. He stripped my shirt off, I reluctantly went along with it. I didn't want to. It wasn't about me then though. His first strike hit me on my ass, wrapped around my hip. I gasped. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked me. I didn't answer; he struck at my breast. "Answer me!"
"What's the problem, love?" he asked me. When I didn't answer right away, his voice changed. Softer, but with a firmness underneath - velvet over steel: "I know what the problem is. The problem is you're being all mopey and standoffish, and I'm letting you get away with it." He got out the flogger, turned off the lamp. He stripped my shirt off, I reluctantly went along with it. I didn't want to. It wasn't about me then though. His first strike hit me on my ass, wrapped around my hip. I gasped. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked me. I didn't answer; he struck at my breast. "Answer me!"
A few tips
When you've given someone the authority to say it, "Didn't I say I'm busy?" is not a good response to "Didn't I tell you to come to bed with me?"
"Mopey and standoffish" is not an acceptable mode of behavior.
Liberator products are LOUD when struck with a flogger. LOUD.
Collapsing into giggles when he repeatedly hits the ramp instead of your ass while you're sucking his cock? Not the best idea ever. But maybe worth it.
The proper answer to "Does your ass need fucking too?" is "Yes."
Sneaking off in the early morning hours to write this. Will respond to all your wonderful comments later. Back to bed with my sore ass now.
"Mopey and standoffish" is not an acceptable mode of behavior.
Liberator products are LOUD when struck with a flogger. LOUD.
Collapsing into giggles when he repeatedly hits the ramp instead of your ass while you're sucking his cock? Not the best idea ever. But maybe worth it.
The proper answer to "Does your ass need fucking too?" is "Yes."
Sneaking off in the early morning hours to write this. Will respond to all your wonderful comments later. Back to bed with my sore ass now.
Friday, October 14, 2011
What do you want?
Sometimes, I have to suppress the urge to clean out the "toy" drawer, to take them all and toss them.
Sometimes I think my husband would be just fine with no sex at all.
I do my best to remain positive in every aspect of my life, but some things wear me down. My mom is constantly, constantly taking everything I do the wrong way, the most insulting way, while not saying anything until she has stewed in her own juices far past the point of my making any sort of amends. My husband has no desires for anything at all. No, really. I tell him we can do whatever he wants, even if what he wants is to play video games until 2 in the morning or watch TV and eat popcorn - but he doesn't actually want to do anything with me. He senses that I get irritated and then he tries to come up with something, but honestly, seriously, he doesn't want to do anything with me, not specifically. He's perfectly happy with the two of us coexisting, doing separate things on our computers across the room. If I leave the room, he objects, but as long as I sit somewhere he can see me if he chooses to look over he's fiiine.
Sometimes I think my husband would be just fine with no sex at all.
I do my best to remain positive in every aspect of my life, but some things wear me down. My mom is constantly, constantly taking everything I do the wrong way, the most insulting way, while not saying anything until she has stewed in her own juices far past the point of my making any sort of amends. My husband has no desires for anything at all. No, really. I tell him we can do whatever he wants, even if what he wants is to play video games until 2 in the morning or watch TV and eat popcorn - but he doesn't actually want to do anything with me. He senses that I get irritated and then he tries to come up with something, but honestly, seriously, he doesn't want to do anything with me, not specifically. He's perfectly happy with the two of us coexisting, doing separate things on our computers across the room. If I leave the room, he objects, but as long as I sit somewhere he can see me if he chooses to look over he's fiiine.
Brewing
Visitors make things harder.
I love seeing them, but greatly miss the opportunities for intimacy. They stay late, chatting, asking for help with this or that or the other thing. I think longingly about what could happen when they leave, but alas, when they finally depart it is too late. Day after day.
I've given 1(one!) morning blow job this week. Just one. It was lovely. But...just one? I thought this morning... but circumstances conspired against us. Again. Morning sex is what keeps me going when the nighttime sex is nonexistent.
Saw an issue of Cosmopolitan at the supermarket. Circle on the cover screaming about kicking your inner good girl to the curb for some kinky sex. Wonder what they mean by kinky? Flipped through it to see if I could find and skim the article, but then it was our turn. Won't pay for that trash just to sate my curiosity. Would have done a blog post about it if I'd found it.
Have been using Moom for my armpits and legs. I like it a lot.
We may be going away for day or two. Should be fun if it happens.
Middle of the month, second payday. We get to keep a little of this one, yay!
Everyone have an awesome weekend!
I love seeing them, but greatly miss the opportunities for intimacy. They stay late, chatting, asking for help with this or that or the other thing. I think longingly about what could happen when they leave, but alas, when they finally depart it is too late. Day after day.
I've given 1(one!) morning blow job this week. Just one. It was lovely. But...just one? I thought this morning... but circumstances conspired against us. Again. Morning sex is what keeps me going when the nighttime sex is nonexistent.
Saw an issue of Cosmopolitan at the supermarket. Circle on the cover screaming about kicking your inner good girl to the curb for some kinky sex. Wonder what they mean by kinky? Flipped through it to see if I could find and skim the article, but then it was our turn. Won't pay for that trash just to sate my curiosity. Would have done a blog post about it if I'd found it.
Have been using Moom for my armpits and legs. I like it a lot.
We may be going away for day or two. Should be fun if it happens.
Middle of the month, second payday. We get to keep a little of this one, yay!
Everyone have an awesome weekend!
Thursday, October 13, 2011
He always wins in the end
We played a board game, and by luck of the spinner, or choices, or whatever, I came out better than he did. It's mostly a chance thing rather than skill, and I didn't even win - but I came out better than he did.
Later, after we went to bed and were snuggling:
"You're mine."
"Uh-huh."
"That means I can do whatever I want with you."
"Uh-huh."
"I could beat you up if I want."
"mmhmm."
"I could put you in whatever position I wanted and fuck your brains out."
"mmhmm." I shuddered at the thought.
"Have you been a good girl?"
"Yes." I knew I had been, I hadn't done anything wrong, was completely naked so I couldn't have forgotten to take off my pants, hadn't ignored him at any point. I baked homemade cookies! Of course I'd been good.
"I dunno about that. I seem to recall someone here challenging me and taking all my pieces."
I laughed, "I can't help it if you suck at that game."
"I can," pinching my nipple hard, "and I'm about to show you what I can help."
Later, after we went to bed and were snuggling:
"You're mine."
"Uh-huh."
"That means I can do whatever I want with you."
"Uh-huh."
"I could beat you up if I want."
"mmhmm."
"I could put you in whatever position I wanted and fuck your brains out."
"mmhmm." I shuddered at the thought.
"Have you been a good girl?"
"Yes." I knew I had been, I hadn't done anything wrong, was completely naked so I couldn't have forgotten to take off my pants, hadn't ignored him at any point. I baked homemade cookies! Of course I'd been good.
"I dunno about that. I seem to recall someone here challenging me and taking all my pieces."
I laughed, "I can't help it if you suck at that game."
"I can," pinching my nipple hard, "and I'm about to show you what I can help."
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Pressed into pressing: my husband as Dom
My awesome fellow blogger maui girl feels she's lacking submissive counterparts with vanilla husbands; submissive women who struggle with their husband's overly-kind version of niceness. I boggled at this. Surely, my husband was as vanilla as anyone.
Sex and periods
There's a theme I've noticed a lot in the sex blogs that I read - no sex during her period. People have various reasons for this, discomfort, whatever. I want to know, though, when people say "no sex," do they mean absolutely none? For her whole period?
Because, whoa.
My husband has never given a thought to if I was bleeding or not for us to have sex. Period? Okay, extra lubrication, yay! Consequently, I have never given it a second thought either.
Prior to my pregnancy, I had some serious issues. We're still not sure exactly what it was, doctors didn't know. I had a period that lasted for 45 days. No sex for 45 days would have killed me. I was already terrified by the constant bleeding, to remove the intimacy of sex from me as well would have completely destroyed my soul. I would bathe thoroughly every night, we kept a large towel on the bed to protect it from any mess that might be made, and we did what we do. Orgasms were also a major help for my pain relief, because I was having some serious pain.
I fondly remember one day when I couldn't even get out of bed with the pain, was bent over double screaming, bleeding like crazy, and he stayed home from work and gave me orgasms over and over.
After I had our child, we weren't supposed to have any kind of vaginal penetration-type sex for six weeks. So we did other things - face-fucking, anal, clitoral stimulation. God, I was ready for something in my pussy after those weeks - but I couldn't have lived with no sex at all. None at all? Argh.
So, tell me. Does no sex mean no blowjobs, no anal, no breast fucking? All of those things are sex to me. Or does it just mean no penis-in-vagina?
I'm also curious as to how my readers deal with periods and sex.
Comments, please!
Because, whoa.
My husband has never given a thought to if I was bleeding or not for us to have sex. Period? Okay, extra lubrication, yay! Consequently, I have never given it a second thought either.
Prior to my pregnancy, I had some serious issues. We're still not sure exactly what it was, doctors didn't know. I had a period that lasted for 45 days. No sex for 45 days would have killed me. I was already terrified by the constant bleeding, to remove the intimacy of sex from me as well would have completely destroyed my soul. I would bathe thoroughly every night, we kept a large towel on the bed to protect it from any mess that might be made, and we did what we do. Orgasms were also a major help for my pain relief, because I was having some serious pain.
I fondly remember one day when I couldn't even get out of bed with the pain, was bent over double screaming, bleeding like crazy, and he stayed home from work and gave me orgasms over and over.
After I had our child, we weren't supposed to have any kind of vaginal penetration-type sex for six weeks. So we did other things - face-fucking, anal, clitoral stimulation. God, I was ready for something in my pussy after those weeks - but I couldn't have lived with no sex at all. None at all? Argh.
So, tell me. Does no sex mean no blowjobs, no anal, no breast fucking? All of those things are sex to me. Or does it just mean no penis-in-vagina?
I'm also curious as to how my readers deal with periods and sex.
Comments, please!
The Occupy movement
I wrote this, then thought I shouldn't post it, then thought, "WTF, who cares?" So here are my thoughts.
I'm pretty sure I'm in the 99%. I'm not wealthy at all.
I do not buy anything from Starbucks, ever, certainly not every day. My husband bought a small coffee from them once at an airport. It's not a protest not to buy from them, just an "I really can't afford that." I make our bread so that we can eat good, nutritious food without paying a high price for it. We've been out to see a movie twice in the last three years, once was for our anniversary. We don't go out to eat. Maybe once every two weeks? More like three times in two months, to be more accurate. We don't drink soda. We don't have cable TV.
We worked hard to get where we are. We started out with just about nothing, I worked at a general store and tutored as much as I could while going to school, he worked at a different store in the same chain once he was allowed to work, and he went to school and tutored too. He got a job in his field by being in his instructor's faces so he was the first person they thought of when someone came looking. He made a name for himself online over a period of years, while doing his fairly low-paying job very well. I continued working part-time and got a Bachelor's degree, and I got pregnant (while still finishing it up). We were eligible for government aid for the pregnancy despite both our jobs - pregnancy care is expensive and we would never have been able to pay all the bills otherwise.
So now, he has a good job working for a big company because of the name he'd made for himself, but we had to move and now I can't work. I was working part time to be with our child, but can't find that sort of work here. We're still just making our bills, but we have good insurance through his work and we're not starving or miserable. We do splurge on Netflix. We're happy. We have awesome, awesome sex, and we enjoy each other's company very, very much.
So, we're part of this "other 99%," but those aren't the types of stories people are interested in hearing. I'm not dissing the movement as I understand the "rage at unfairness" position- but this is my story.
I'm pretty sure I'm in the 99%. I'm not wealthy at all.
I do not buy anything from Starbucks, ever, certainly not every day. My husband bought a small coffee from them once at an airport. It's not a protest not to buy from them, just an "I really can't afford that." I make our bread so that we can eat good, nutritious food without paying a high price for it. We've been out to see a movie twice in the last three years, once was for our anniversary. We don't go out to eat. Maybe once every two weeks? More like three times in two months, to be more accurate. We don't drink soda. We don't have cable TV.
We worked hard to get where we are. We started out with just about nothing, I worked at a general store and tutored as much as I could while going to school, he worked at a different store in the same chain once he was allowed to work, and he went to school and tutored too. He got a job in his field by being in his instructor's faces so he was the first person they thought of when someone came looking. He made a name for himself online over a period of years, while doing his fairly low-paying job very well. I continued working part-time and got a Bachelor's degree, and I got pregnant (while still finishing it up). We were eligible for government aid for the pregnancy despite both our jobs - pregnancy care is expensive and we would never have been able to pay all the bills otherwise.
So now, he has a good job working for a big company because of the name he'd made for himself, but we had to move and now I can't work. I was working part time to be with our child, but can't find that sort of work here. We're still just making our bills, but we have good insurance through his work and we're not starving or miserable. We do splurge on Netflix. We're happy. We have awesome, awesome sex, and we enjoy each other's company very, very much.
So, we're part of this "other 99%," but those aren't the types of stories people are interested in hearing. I'm not dissing the movement as I understand the "rage at unfairness" position- but this is my story.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Review: Liberator ramp & wedge combo
Wow. I got this box delivered to my door and it is huge.
I got the pillows out of the box and marveled at the size, the firmness, the richness of the fabric. They're very, very pretty. They're a rich, royal purple. A purple-lover's dream. I took some photos, but they don't do it justice so I won't share them. Drugstore.com has purple, black, red, and leopard. Liberator adds tan, blue, and zebra to that mix, and also has some photos for good ideas of positions with these gems.
I got the pillows out of the box and marveled at the size, the firmness, the richness of the fabric. They're very, very pretty. They're a rich, royal purple. A purple-lover's dream. I took some photos, but they don't do it justice so I won't share them. Drugstore.com has purple, black, red, and leopard. Liberator adds tan, blue, and zebra to that mix, and also has some photos for good ideas of positions with these gems.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Not a proper review
We had a brief argument about something stupid, and I flipped off into the bedroom. I changed into something filmy and basically transparent and went to bed, and my husband joined me there. He made short work of flipping me onto my back and shoving my filmy transparent nightie up over my breasts, and he started sucking my nipple. Once it was hard, he pulled his mouth away and started rubbing his day's growth of beard against it. I groaned.
"How's that feel?" he asked me.
"Mmm, mmm, it hurts," I complained.
"How's that feel?" he asked me.
"Mmm, mmm, it hurts," I complained.
Friday, October 7, 2011
DIY: Make a flogger
To start with, you'll need rope.
This stuff is what I bought to use. 100 feet gave me enough to make my two, but you'll want the 100 for just one as well - I used more than half of it.
"It is great for camping, tie downs, emergency and survival uses," says the description on a different listing for the same product. Heck yeah. Flogging emergency, years without a flogging over here. Survival definitely at stake. Lovely purple paracord to the rescue. Of course you can choose whatever color you fancy, or use a different sort of rope altogether. If you choose a different rope, or a thicker one that you'll need to unravel, you'll want a smaller cord as well for the handle. With this flogger, I bought some small white cord at Lowe's for the handle so it would show up better in the photographs - I previously just used the paracord for both. It could look quite.. striking if you wanted to splurge and get another color for the handle.
This stuff is what I bought to use. 100 feet gave me enough to make my two, but you'll want the 100 for just one as well - I used more than half of it.
"It is great for camping, tie downs, emergency and survival uses," says the description on a different listing for the same product. Heck yeah. Flogging emergency, years without a flogging over here. Survival definitely at stake. Lovely purple paracord to the rescue. Of course you can choose whatever color you fancy, or use a different sort of rope altogether. If you choose a different rope, or a thicker one that you'll need to unravel, you'll want a smaller cord as well for the handle. With this flogger, I bought some small white cord at Lowe's for the handle so it would show up better in the photographs - I previously just used the paracord for both. It could look quite.. striking if you wanted to splurge and get another color for the handle.
 |
| I wondered what kind of person buys nylon paracord as a gift. I had a good giggle out of that, my husband chuckled as well. |
Thursday, October 6, 2011
DIY Demonstration
Despite not being a workaholic, my husband does still sometimes take his work home. He was working past 10:00 last night, and I gave up on waiting alongside him and made my way to bed. I waited there for a while, but eventually the hour got the better of me and I drifted off.
Sometime later, I was awakened by him stroking me. I made some happy noises to feel him, and he asked me softly, "Who told you you could go to sleep, huh?"
Sometime later, I was awakened by him stroking me. I made some happy noises to feel him, and he asked me softly, "Who told you you could go to sleep, huh?"
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Squeak, toy, squeak
I wrote this a while ago and forgot to post it, like, after the relevant bit. But here you go. Note: I wrote the story out for him the morning after this happened, so included some bits of what he did in it, since I felt it needed a little fleshing out with more detail than I was able to muster as I got more and more aroused talking to him.
After I told him the story, he rubbed my back and fondled me a little, then said "How about you suck some cock? I think you've earned that.."
"But you don't like sex.."
After I told him the story, he rubbed my back and fondled me a little, then said "How about you suck some cock? I think you've earned that.."
"But you don't like sex.."
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Intrinsic
I had a little bit of an epiphany the other day, caused by mental stirrings due to several exchanges I have seen going on.
Submission has always been a part of me. That's not to say that I was mild-mannered or retiring or particularly servile as a child, but certain situations would stir this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and I liked it. A scene in a widely-read, much-loved children's novel made me tingle so much that I dog-eared that part and read it over and over, in bed at night.
Another book had a passing reference to "What if they all wanted to bite your butt?" and that sent tingles across my entire back as well.
I read a lot - a whole lot - of romance novels. A post on npr's pop culture blog mentioned learning a lot from romance novels. Not a case of learning about romance in general, but a case of learning about your romance, "that made me extra excited, maybe I should try that sometime." I certainly know exactly what that is like; romance novels are where I learned about myself.
Submission has always been a part of me. That's not to say that I was mild-mannered or retiring or particularly servile as a child, but certain situations would stir this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and I liked it. A scene in a widely-read, much-loved children's novel made me tingle so much that I dog-eared that part and read it over and over, in bed at night.
Another book had a passing reference to "What if they all wanted to bite your butt?" and that sent tingles across my entire back as well.
I read a lot - a whole lot - of romance novels. A post on npr's pop culture blog mentioned learning a lot from romance novels. Not a case of learning about romance in general, but a case of learning about your romance, "that made me extra excited, maybe I should try that sometime." I certainly know exactly what that is like; romance novels are where I learned about myself.
The mind is a funny thing
Incomprehensibly, the first thing I remembered when I woke up, spooned close into my love, was disappointment.
Then I remembered the countless orgasms crashing over me one after another in waves, breaking, swelling, breaking again as he played me like a sexual instrument custom designed for his touch.
Recalled next to my drowsy consciousness was the sex, all of the light touches and tender caresses and passionate kisses, absolute adoration pouring forth from him for me. He held my head, sometimes my throat, tightly while he thrust into me so I could feel his control. That was all.
The fog of my bewilderment finally cleared and the reason for the disappointment made itself known. This man who made such intensely passionate love to me had said: "I'd do things to you, but I'm afraid I'll fall asleep."
Then I remembered the countless orgasms crashing over me one after another in waves, breaking, swelling, breaking again as he played me like a sexual instrument custom designed for his touch.
Recalled next to my drowsy consciousness was the sex, all of the light touches and tender caresses and passionate kisses, absolute adoration pouring forth from him for me. He held my head, sometimes my throat, tightly while he thrust into me so I could feel his control. That was all.
The fog of my bewilderment finally cleared and the reason for the disappointment made itself known. This man who made such intensely passionate love to me had said: "I'd do things to you, but I'm afraid I'll fall asleep."
Monday, October 3, 2011
Ella, revisited
Okay. It took a while, but here it is.
Lelo's Ella rocks.
I used it by myself and I wasn't all that impressed. Although to be completely honest, playing with toys by myself isn't really my thing, so that is no judgment on any particular toy.
But oh, my, as a thing in my husband's hand? He only used the traditional end on me, not the G-spot one. But he used it to penetrate my pussy while he took my ass, and that was just right for that double-penetration sensation. He's also used it several times to continue sex once his own cock is done for the night, and that is quite good as well. We have this and the Njoy Pure Wand - they each have their strengths. The strength of Ella, in comparison, is that it doesn't weigh much and can be left in place without shifting itself around. Doing kegel exercises around it is very very pleasant.
We prefer non-vibrating toys for various reasons, not least of which is the desensitizing that can occur when vibrations are applied to sensitive bits. Like the song says, "I'm sensitive, and I'd like to stay that way."
Ella's little bump is placed just right for rocking against the g-spot, as I'm sure countless other women have already mentioned. I'll add my opinion to theirs; it's true.
The silicon texture is lovely, it provides just a little bit of drag, so much like skin. It has a little give to it, but it's mostly firm. It's completely seamless. It's quite beautiful; it intrigues without intimidating.
Definitely a worthwhile addition to our toy drawer.
Lelo's Ella rocks.
I used it by myself and I wasn't all that impressed. Although to be completely honest, playing with toys by myself isn't really my thing, so that is no judgment on any particular toy.
But oh, my, as a thing in my husband's hand? He only used the traditional end on me, not the G-spot one. But he used it to penetrate my pussy while he took my ass, and that was just right for that double-penetration sensation. He's also used it several times to continue sex once his own cock is done for the night, and that is quite good as well. We have this and the Njoy Pure Wand - they each have their strengths. The strength of Ella, in comparison, is that it doesn't weigh much and can be left in place without shifting itself around. Doing kegel exercises around it is very very pleasant.
We prefer non-vibrating toys for various reasons, not least of which is the desensitizing that can occur when vibrations are applied to sensitive bits. Like the song says, "I'm sensitive, and I'd like to stay that way."
Ella's little bump is placed just right for rocking against the g-spot, as I'm sure countless other women have already mentioned. I'll add my opinion to theirs; it's true.
The silicon texture is lovely, it provides just a little bit of drag, so much like skin. It has a little give to it, but it's mostly firm. It's completely seamless. It's quite beautiful; it intrigues without intimidating.
Definitely a worthwhile addition to our toy drawer.
Life is good
He's long and lean and wiry and he moves with the unconscious grace of a man who knows his body is just a shell for his spirit, and thus occupies it completely, without hiding inside it. He slides back into bed with me, his arms and his leg wrap around me and encircle me with absolute love and complete acceptance and understanding. His hand threads through my hair and holds my head against his chest, regularly squeezing me to him and murmuring sweet words of joy and fulfillment.
I am not silent in this. I have my own words of delighted satisfaction that spill over; I couldn't contain them if I tried. I am purring and squeezing him back.
"Life is good with you." he tells me as I gaze adoringly up at him.
Sweeter words were never spoken.
I am not silent in this. I have my own words of delighted satisfaction that spill over; I couldn't contain them if I tried. I am purring and squeezing him back.
"Life is good with you." he tells me as I gaze adoringly up at him.
Sweeter words were never spoken.
Oh, wow
I had a horrible headache earlier. I'm very sensitive to caffeine and I resisted taking the migraine medication because I knew it would keep me awake long past a reasonable hour, but I finally caved to the pounding and took it.
Then my husband took me to bed with him.
It was good. Nothing we haven't done before. Or that's what I thought.
Suddenly he whispered "I bet these breasts are sensitive," stroking them while he fucked me sideways, "It'd be a shame if something happened to them. Then again, maybe they deserve something to happen to them."
And he flogged my breasts with the small flogger that I made. Oh. Yes, please. He had to stop after a bit because he got too excited from my responses and he wanted to last longer. After he was finished fucking me, he held me facing him in one arm and flogged my breast (the other was pressed against him) with the other hand, while kissing me, until I screamed several times into his mouth. So incredibly intense. I could feel his confidence and skill with the implement grow as he used it.
He stopped and stroked my heated flesh oh, so so gently, lightly, lovingly, carefully. Barely touching it at all, actually. It was heavenly. We talked for a long time, and he held me encircled gently in his arms while I listened to his heart beat.
I had a fantasy once, as a young teenager. The specifics of it changed, but it always involved two men - one who would torture me horribly and one who would come and rescue me from the torturer, soothe me, make love to me, hold me. I have both in one guy. How amazingly awesome is that? That's part of what we talked about.
I thanked him for the fucking, the flogging, and the talking. I kept telling him how much I loved him and making happy noises, until I remembered the pills I took and that I probably wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon. I explained this to him and asked him if it was okay if I left so he could rest better. He said he'd miss me, but it was probably better. He does have work in the morning.
So happy.
Then my husband took me to bed with him.
It was good. Nothing we haven't done before. Or that's what I thought.
Suddenly he whispered "I bet these breasts are sensitive," stroking them while he fucked me sideways, "It'd be a shame if something happened to them. Then again, maybe they deserve something to happen to them."
And he flogged my breasts with the small flogger that I made. Oh. Yes, please. He had to stop after a bit because he got too excited from my responses and he wanted to last longer. After he was finished fucking me, he held me facing him in one arm and flogged my breast (the other was pressed against him) with the other hand, while kissing me, until I screamed several times into his mouth. So incredibly intense. I could feel his confidence and skill with the implement grow as he used it.
He stopped and stroked my heated flesh oh, so so gently, lightly, lovingly, carefully. Barely touching it at all, actually. It was heavenly. We talked for a long time, and he held me encircled gently in his arms while I listened to his heart beat.
I had a fantasy once, as a young teenager. The specifics of it changed, but it always involved two men - one who would torture me horribly and one who would come and rescue me from the torturer, soothe me, make love to me, hold me. I have both in one guy. How amazingly awesome is that? That's part of what we talked about.
I thanked him for the fucking, the flogging, and the talking. I kept telling him how much I loved him and making happy noises, until I remembered the pills I took and that I probably wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon. I explained this to him and asked him if it was okay if I left so he could rest better. He said he'd miss me, but it was probably better. He does have work in the morning.
So happy.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Floggers
Before I begin this post, I feel the need to warn my readers that I will say some unpopular things. I also advise discretion for the video links in the first part of the post. I feel the need to link to them because they illustrate what I mean, but by all means feel free not to look at them. The first part of this post is not sexy. Nothing I say is meant as a value judgement against anyone who may feel differently. These are my informed opinions, and I hold them dear.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Topping from the bottom
I am a submissive woman. I want to please my husband more than I want anything else - but I'm still a person, despite my extreme turn-on by being objectified and used.
That very turn-on is part of my personhood.
I am a person in a monogamous, long-term, loving relationship in which my husband wants me happy as much as I want him happy. It's just a bonus for him (most of the time) that him using me is one of the things that keeps me happy.
So, if there's a thing that I think will make our dynamic better, hotter, stronger, because it will ignite the submissive part of me more, I tell him. I don't demand things; if he did it solely because I wanted it then it would take the heat out of it. But I do let him know, regularly, how hot this thing would be to me and how much I'd like to try it. If he does it, I think it is because arousing me gets him hot, rather than that he thinks 'the thing' will turn him on, but it's still because he wants to.
The morning cocksucking thing is a good example. I've been telling him how hot I think that would be for a few months now. He is a nice guy, really, the nicest guy I've ever met. The thought of waking me up just to suck his cock unsettled him enough that it wasn't even a turn-on for him to have it done. But if I'm already clearly awake and frisky (not groggy), he has no problem telling me to do it, he enjoys it immensely and it leaves him no work to do except hold my head the way I love so much. That just means that in order to submit to him, I must wake up and be alert. The last thing I want is him unsettled in order to turn me on, so I don't need him to wake me. I need to submit to him. I need that absolute dominance, my throat full of cock, unable to breathe, able only to please him with my mouth.
Just like any relationship, there's compromise. He can't read my mind. He's just a man. He thrives on my responses to what he does to me. He didn't come into this on his own; I was and am his first everything, and it has been a long journey, but he is Dominant. He just happens to be my Dominant, tailor made to everything that gets inside my head and arouses me. The things he does are designed to titillate me, and we both know that. While he would not want to go back to vanilla, he would have been fine staying there.
I know not every Dom/me is like that. I know often enough they have their own things, and forcing a sub to do those things even if he/she doesn't really want to will still turn the sub on. It would me as well, if there was a thing he wanted me to do to that I didn't want. It has, the few times he has insisted on such a thing.
But, surely, any Dom/me (in a relationship) worth his/her salt wants to know what goes on inside their sub's head - wants to know those keys to the innermost desires that will turn that sub into a molten puddle of goo, or at least a malleable lump of putty. Every set of people is different, but the top side has to be more difficult, getting inside the bottom's head, figuring out what works and what doesn't. The explicit details of "this will work and this won't" have to be like gold. Again, people not = mind readers.
Of course, I would never suggest "you don't want to do that to me" or "you do want to do that to me" during a scene, or even say such things directly otherwise. As I mentioned, that spoils the entire thing. Beyond this, "topping from the bottom" seems a moot point to me. I see it as open communication and loving desire to make everything work better - to oil the works, so to speak.
That very turn-on is part of my personhood.
I am a person in a monogamous, long-term, loving relationship in which my husband wants me happy as much as I want him happy. It's just a bonus for him (most of the time) that him using me is one of the things that keeps me happy.
So, if there's a thing that I think will make our dynamic better, hotter, stronger, because it will ignite the submissive part of me more, I tell him. I don't demand things; if he did it solely because I wanted it then it would take the heat out of it. But I do let him know, regularly, how hot this thing would be to me and how much I'd like to try it. If he does it, I think it is because arousing me gets him hot, rather than that he thinks 'the thing' will turn him on, but it's still because he wants to.
The morning cocksucking thing is a good example. I've been telling him how hot I think that would be for a few months now. He is a nice guy, really, the nicest guy I've ever met. The thought of waking me up just to suck his cock unsettled him enough that it wasn't even a turn-on for him to have it done. But if I'm already clearly awake and frisky (not groggy), he has no problem telling me to do it, he enjoys it immensely and it leaves him no work to do except hold my head the way I love so much. That just means that in order to submit to him, I must wake up and be alert. The last thing I want is him unsettled in order to turn me on, so I don't need him to wake me. I need to submit to him. I need that absolute dominance, my throat full of cock, unable to breathe, able only to please him with my mouth.
Just like any relationship, there's compromise. He can't read my mind. He's just a man. He thrives on my responses to what he does to me. He didn't come into this on his own; I was and am his first everything, and it has been a long journey, but he is Dominant. He just happens to be my Dominant, tailor made to everything that gets inside my head and arouses me. The things he does are designed to titillate me, and we both know that. While he would not want to go back to vanilla, he would have been fine staying there.
I know not every Dom/me is like that. I know often enough they have their own things, and forcing a sub to do those things even if he/she doesn't really want to will still turn the sub on. It would me as well, if there was a thing he wanted me to do to that I didn't want. It has, the few times he has insisted on such a thing.
But, surely, any Dom/me (in a relationship) worth his/her salt wants to know what goes on inside their sub's head - wants to know those keys to the innermost desires that will turn that sub into a molten puddle of goo, or at least a malleable lump of putty. Every set of people is different, but the top side has to be more difficult, getting inside the bottom's head, figuring out what works and what doesn't. The explicit details of "this will work and this won't" have to be like gold. Again, people not = mind readers.
Of course, I would never suggest "you don't want to do that to me" or "you do want to do that to me" during a scene, or even say such things directly otherwise. As I mentioned, that spoils the entire thing. Beyond this, "topping from the bottom" seems a moot point to me. I see it as open communication and loving desire to make everything work better - to oil the works, so to speak.
A few loosely related memories
Before I got pregnant, we wanted a child pretty badly - a breathing testament to our love for each other. We were trying, but we weren't planning on seeking fertility assistance. I was buying pregnancy tests from Dollar Tree in bulk and taking one randomly 2-3 times a week. They were always negative. I had periods back in those days that put me in bed all day, writhing and - literally - screaming. To put my pain tolerance in perspective, when I finally had my child and was in unmedicated, induced labor (which I've been told is more painful than the natural kind), I barely grunted.
One of those days, my husband actually took off from work and spent the day in bed with me, giving me orgasms (Best. Pain relief. Ever.) and rubbing my back alternately.
One Saturday morning, we were snuggling together until quite late, and I worked my way down his body and I did that cocksucking thing that I so love to do. We were grieving the recent loss of a family member at the time so everything was slow and gentle. Afterward, I went into our bathroom and took a pregnancy test. The second line showed, but only so faintly that I was unsure. My husband came in when I whispered in a hush for him to, and I showed it to him and asked him what he made of it. "Maybe you're a little bit pregnant?" he said, followed by "but you can't get pregnant doing what we just did."
So funny.
One of those days, my husband actually took off from work and spent the day in bed with me, giving me orgasms (Best. Pain relief. Ever.) and rubbing my back alternately.
One Saturday morning, we were snuggling together until quite late, and I worked my way down his body and I did that cocksucking thing that I so love to do. We were grieving the recent loss of a family member at the time so everything was slow and gentle. Afterward, I went into our bathroom and took a pregnancy test. The second line showed, but only so faintly that I was unsure. My husband came in when I whispered in a hush for him to, and I showed it to him and asked him what he made of it. "Maybe you're a little bit pregnant?" he said, followed by "but you can't get pregnant doing what we just did."
So funny.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)