Tenderness intensified

I can't get my head together. I can't remember enough of the experience to fully describe it. I'm running on so little sleep these last few days and my brain isn't at top performance, yet I want to preserve what I do remember.

Leaving large whitespace gaps for the similar things in my recall.

This is how it started:

We had been snuggling in our bed with our little one, who had since gone off to bed and sleep, and we were talking. The conversation led him to say: "I like having control over you. I wouldn't do anything crazy with it, though. I think you should take your pants off now."

He started talking about things I like, things he'd like to do to me, things he doesn't do often, in that vein. "I bet you'd like your ass fucked more often, too, wouldn't you?" He waited for my affirmative response as he stroked my bottom.

"Oh, how'd this get so slippery?" he asked me in a low voice as his finger gently prodded my anus.

"It's oil," I whispered, sanity and reason already fleeing at this intimate invasion.

"Oh, you like to oil your ass, huh?" he responded, slipping the finger inside. I grunted. He moved his finger around, spurring soft moans from me. "How's that make you feel?"

"Owned."



He drove me out of my mind with his voice and his finger there, making sure I knew I belonged to him.





"So..how does this work again? I think you make the girl all wet, and then..what?"

He pulled me close to him, his fingers stroking my clit slowly at first and speeding up gradually as my hips bucked against him.

"I could fuck you. Ooor.. I could stop touching you entirely right now. If I wanted to, I could just leave you here, panting, gasping, wanting me. Couldn't I?"







"Oh, please, please, please fuck me," I begged.

He then quick-fired these questions at me, barely giving me time to grunt affirmatives between them. With each one, my breathing quickened and I moaned a little louder.

"Oooh, you want me, huh, bitch?"

"You want me to fuck you, bitch?"

"You want my cock, don't you, bitch?"

"Let me hear you bark, sweet little bitch." This demand set off a flare in my brain and I all but screamed, following up with whimpers.

"That works, whimper for me, just like a dog," he spoke roughly in my ear, his fingers still working their magic.


I did get his cock in my pussy, and then he finished in my mouth, tiny explosions of being owned going off in my brain the whole time.


He plugged my ass later, forced at least two orgasms from me.. really, all a delicious blur of sensation.

After, he wrapped me in his arms, stroking my hair, whispering so much love to me. "Such a good girl," he told me.

These moments feel so incredible. Such intensity followed by an equally intense tenderness.

I can't fully describe the bliss, but that's what it is.

Little person

Last night, our child tied one end of a ribbon (a favorite 'toy' due to its extreme versatility) around the handle of our vacuum cleaner, then tied the other end around my husband's wrist.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm tying Daddy to the vacuum cleaner."

"Why are you doing that?"

"Because I like him tied here."

My husband and I looked at each other and raised our eyebrows.

Happiness

Inspired by aisha.

There's a line from Our Lady Peace that I always remember when my world comes crashing down - as it tends to, by pattern.

"I'm upset, happiness is not a fish that you can catch."

It's a good song.

My husband and I have weathered quite a bit of tragedy. Our marriage has been the rock that we've clung to as the storms have passed us. He makes me happy. He makes me laugh even on days when I look in the mirror at my reddened, tear-streaked face and wish we didn't have mirrors.

This makes the fifth man who has died in our lives since our marriage, none of them from old age. A girl really could develop a complex. That's in addition to illnesses, friends completely stopping communication for no clear reason, fires wiping out property, burglaries, vandalism, etc.

People tend to see patterns where there are none - the universe isn't out to get me, I know. It's out to get everyone equally, some of us just get a little more of the fallout.

Happiness is not a fish that you can catch, but it is something you can court and keep it coming back. The crushing, painful, unbelievable blows the world deals out don't have to be the spring from which all your refreshment is obtained. The world also has happiness on tap, even if you can't catch it, mount it and put it on your wall. Those moments of good cheer - those are the ones you have to hang on to, and let all the other ones slip by, carried away by time.

I apologize for the string of mixed metaphors.

The sadness lingers in me. Each time something else sad happens, it's like the whole pile comes back all at once, like every bad thing has just happened all together, with no time in between.

However, the happiness comes back, not to be contained by the dreary, sad, forlorn state. It always comes back, even when it seems indecent to be happy.

I have a good life. I have a wonderful husband, awesome friends, a beautiful, brilliant child.

I won't ignore all of those things because awful things happen, keep happening. I will grieve, but I will not stop living. I will cling to my husband and we will come out stronger.

We will be happy again.

Incredible

Sometimes he's so incredible he takes my breath away.

He doesn't withdraw from me. I can see, if he were a different man, this tragedy having an adverse affect on our intimacy. I spend a great deal of time crying, great heaving sobs wracking my body. He holds me.

I blew up at something, some stupid exchange yesterday. We were going to work out but the place was being cleaned, and I wanted him to walk faster. I was cold. He was wearing a jacket, and I hadn't worn one because working out generally makes it not necessary until we can get back home.

"It's not that cold!" he told me.

"Says the man wearing a jacket!" I snapped back, and stormed off in the wrong direction. He followed me, all the way back home via the scenic route around the complex. I came in, near tears, and my mom asked why we were back already, if we wanted to watch something. "I want to go to bed," I managed to get out past the blockage in my throat, and swept past her to curl myself into a ball on my bed. She gracefully kept our child with her, and he followed me, wrapped his arms around me as my dam burst and I cried.

He had me turn over so he could hold me better, held me there as I cried, thoroughly wetting his sweatshirt. He whispered sweet words to me, wished that he could make it better. No one can make this better, but he handled this, handled me, so well. He held me there for a long time. I slept a little, but didn't realize it. "Did I sleep?" I asked him, much later.

"A little."

"Did I snore?"

"A little."

We got up and rejoined my mom and our child, I made dinner, we watched a movie.

The saddest thing

A dear friend of ours succumbed to the pressures of this life yesterday and took his own life.

I am still processing. I am crushed.

Life is precious, all of you. This friend of mine knew that I loved him, but I still wonder if I could have done more. A recent falling out between us contributed to more distance than I would have liked in recent weeks, but he seemed to be doing well - you never really know when a phone call will literally save a life. An email from him on Monday said he'd talk to me later.

...

He never will.

Craving

"I can't take any more, please, please, please stop."

"Oh yes you can, and you will."

"I'll do anything if you'll stop."

"You'll do anything if I don't."

I want to be broken, sobbing with exquisite pain or pleasure, possibly both, begging for it to end but my cries unheeded. I need to be pushed over the edge, used until I am beyond exhaustion.

I can't say why because I don't know.

I only know that I need.

Mistaken motives

I got a spanking. His hand, then the flogger, across my upturned ass. The flogger felt delicious, it had been quite some time since he used it on me for so long.

"I think your ass has had enough," he said after perhaps half an hour, sliding next to me and pulling me into a tight spoon against him. My left hand was trapped under me, he grabbed my right and pulled it up between my shoulder blades, holding it there by the wrist. His free hand then started slapping my undefended breasts until I squirmed and screamed from the intensity of it.

He let go of my wrist, my arm remained effectively pinned in place by the closeness of our bodies, and he slipped his hand into my hair, where he grabbed a fistful of it and pulled while he spanked my breasts. My moans turned into reedy cries of "Oh my God" as the intensity of the tugging on my scalp translated to my brain. So hot.

"I'll give you a break if you suck my cock," he whispered darkly against my ear.

My shoulder aching from being held in that position, my nipples and breasts tingling from the abuse, I turned over and moved quickly to take his cock in my mouth. I sucked until my jaw ached from the sideways position, but he showed no signs of tiring and I didn't really want to stop anyway. I tugged on him, indicating I'd like it if he'd get on top of me, for jaw relief. He complied with me and rolled atop me to fuck down into my face while I lifted my head up to allow for deeper penetration.

He pinned my wrists over my head as he fucked my face, talking about what a slut I was, how it wasn't enough for me to suck cock, I had to have him on top of me. He let go of one of my wrists and put that hand on my forehead, pressing my head to the bed, making me unable to lift my head to him anymore. His cock continued moving, slamming into the back of my throat, making me gag. I tried to lift my head but he pushed me back down, leaning into me quite a bit. "You like for me to fuck your face like a pussy, don't you?" he asked as he kept thrusting, forcing noises from my throat in amongst my own stream of moans. I managed to make one of those noises into a positive response... because yes, I do. His breathing quickened and I did my best to keep up with him, to keep my lips and tongue working, and then he buried his cock as deeply as he could given the position we were in and emptied himself down my throat.

To think I just wanted some relief from gravity....

Be careful what you ask for.

Sharing

There's a hot fantasy that I enjoy, but to ponder the reality, the concept of it actually taking place?

No, just no.

"He shared me with his friends," I saw someone write on another blog.

So many complications would arise from such a thing - for one, his friends are mine. Yuck. I love our friends dearly, but I in no way desire to be used by them. Not even in fantasy. The fantasy multiple partners are just that, not real people at all. Even if his friends weren't mine, they'd likely be people I'd meet in casual situations regularly. Why on earth would I want those people to see me as some kind of object? Surely, the impressions from even a one-off session of "sharing" would last, and last, and last. Each time I saw one of those people it would bring back that moment - and I'm not convinced it would even be a hot moment for me to have brought back.

Therapy. I would need tons of it after any such encounter.

It's a different thing altogether from an open relationship, which we're not into personally either. At least within an open relationship every participant is equal, even if there is some power imbalance dynamic at play.

To be an object for sex, for pleasure to my husband, is very very hot to me in the moment, yes. To extend that to others of his choosing though, just to prove he could? Hell no.

That's a whole different level of crazy, at least where reality is concerned. It requires objectification beyond the moment, perhaps permanently. If that's your kink, more power to you, but for me and my relationship, no. I am most definitely not an emotional masochist. I enjoy an occasional bit of degradation talk during sex, but to be shared with a random amount of people who I know casually is way, way beyond a bit of degradation talk.

Many fantasies are lovely masturbation fodder, or even hot to have whispered to me in the midst of sex, but I would not want most of them. Some of them, like this one, would be completely ruined by reality.

What do you think? Would you be up for such an encounter? 

Our new year

We rang in the new year with a spanking for me.

I asked nicely for it. Spanking helps a lot of my stress melt away, helps me refocus on what is important, which is us and our relationship, and not stuff or fires burning stuff up.

It was pretty intense. We were in our living room, I was kneeling on the floor, my upper body resting on the cushions of the love seat. He fastened my right wrist to something with a cuff... I never looked up to see what I was fastened to.

I did a lot of squirming and crying out loudly.. the smacks from the various implements rang out along with our neighbors' fireworks. His hand, belt, flogger, the hard and hideously painful very nice wooden spoon each had their turns on my tender backside, and then it was over and we snuggled on the love seat.

It's good to have our own space, even for just a little while.