Returning from the Trip

I was gone only for a little more than three days. So I should not have been so lonely for MW. Ok, horny also, but mainly missing her company in any fashion. I called her as soon as I entered the highway heading home. Alas, she did not answer the phone. I left a message. During the six-hour drive I called again, and she was in good humor telling me what she will do to me when I am home. I am sure she was just teasing me, but I was looking forward to all that. Upon my arrival I proceeded to unload my vehicle. I arrived with a computer bag, another heavy bag that contained valuables, a gym bag with clothes, and several items on hangers. She stood by the door as I greeted her. She grabbed my private parts through my pants. I paused a bit then walked upstairs to put the bags and stuff down. After I returned to her, I hugged and held her close. She was about to cry. Not because of the overwhelming affection that we each showed, but because I did not hug her before going upstairs and depositing the stuff. I am so bad! But we worked it out.

In the evening we settled down to watch a movie as usual. All was quiet and uneventful, but pleasant. She grasped my package at the base and held it much of the time. Once in a while she squeezed until one of the boys popped out of her grasp. I tend to be stoic, but I made a sound each time: part pain, part appreciation. Although I expected to score in the Beavis and Butthead terminology, we did not even get close otherwise.

The Day after the Trip

I was up early as usual. We don’t heat the house at night, so it was cold as I sat down at my computer around 3:30. I turned on a portable heater, and had my computer boot while I made espresso. After that I did some work while sipping the thick brew. Around five I felt a tinge under my balls. As usual, I hurried to the bedroom to find out what MW wanted. It happened that one of our cats decided to be extra loving, and proceeded to make love to her only as cats do: kneed her feet, lick her face with a cat's raspy tongue, walk on her body with hard little feet, nestle between her legs so that she is essentially immobilized on her back, etc.. I kissed her arm, the only thing that was bare, and took the pussycat with me as I closed the door to the bedroom. She is so good with that signaling device.

Since winter nights are long, I expected her to sleep late. Around seven I began to see the sky lightening, so I went to see her. I stood in the doorway to be sure that if she is not yet awake I would not disturb her. She was awake, and sent me to make coffee. I turned on all the heaters, and returned with the freshly brewed beverage. This was our first morning together since my leaving for the trip. Afterward we cuddled.

I received email from her while on the trip. One of them said,

“My sweet Pet....... I do miss you. Of course I have made some decisions during your absence.

1. You will remain naked unless I give you permission to wear clothing
2. Your bed will be on the closet floor
3. I will access your parts whenever I feel the need
4. If your chores are not done to my satisfaction, punishment will be applied (no excuses accepted)
5. Public humiliation is in your future”More later :) Love you

To which I answered,

"Dear Mistress Wife,I have achieved instant erection as I read this. I think that I could live with this wonderful approach to an FLR. I am truly looking forward to it. Thank your for your thoughts and your caring. I love you and also lust for you. Your pet”

You can see why I was anxious to get home. So, this morning, after the coffee and cuddle, we had breakfast. I did some chores, and then attended to cleaning the mistress bathroom which I had been neglecting of late with some credible excuses. Our son and significant other (SO) were at home, so I could not do this work in my natural state. After I finished I did some more cleaning and straightening, and then came into the room that we share for computer usage and communication “

I smelled ‘Murphy’s Oil Soap’,” She said as I walked by her.

She was working on some research using her computer. She paused. I stopped and waited, because I knew that having smelled a cleaning agent was not the point of her statement. Sure enough, she continued,

“If we were alone, you would be in your natural state and with a weight hanging on your balls.”

I was not sure whether to feel relieved or feel a loss of opportunity. And then I thought, If I want to turn her on at the next opportunity, all I need to do dab some of Murphy’s Oil Soap on my jaws as an aftershave lotion. What could be easier than that?

Adding another DWO Monitor

MW is a bit sensitive about [not] receiving credit where credit is due. For example, my DWO monitor needed to be reset to zero today. I usually don't do that unless there is a posting that I do prior, in order to explain how the DWO was reset to zero. You just have to be there!

As usual, she is right, and I suffer. Regardless, I have reset the counter to zero, and will report on the details later.

We will show:

• Maximum Ever: this is a ratchet that will hold the highest number of DWO ever.
• Last Time : DWO prior to reset.
• As Of : DWO since date of reset.

Under "Maximum ever" we will report only since we started counting, in this case just a few days ago. "Reset" refers to actually having an orgasm at which time the counters are reset to zero or a new value.

The Morning After Christmas

I felt a tingle under my balls. I was not sure, but rather than taking a chance on escalation, I stood up from my desk chair and silently but with hurried steps walked to the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open silently and scanned the darkness. My eyes slowly adjusted and I could see the edge of the bed in the middle. I stepped in and waited.

“I am awake,” I heard her voice.I approached the bed, and lifted the cover near enough to slip my head under it. I pushed forward slowly until my forehead bumped into something warm and soft. Tilting my head up to allow my lips to take the front action I again moved forward until they encountered warm skin. I made contact with her thigh on the first try. I began to take little nibbles and give kisses to show how much I appreciated being allowed to do that. After a few more kisses I withdrew and said, “Good Morning. Which would you like first, coffee or cuddle?”

"Cuddle,” she responded.

I went around the bed, unbuckled the signaling device, and slipped under the covers. It was a welcome place in the cold room. She turned toward me onto her left side as I wiggled my way close to face her. We touched full length with my body lower and my face between her generous breasts. Her right arm draped over me she pulled me closer. My left arm and hand were free to roam over her right side and back. This is the position that we often use to start the day, and it never gets old or diminishes in its intimate intensity.

I ran my palm down her side feeling the feminine hills and valleys as my fingers traveled down all the way past her knee. Then turning direction I ran my hand up tracing the back of her thighs, her buns, and her back. This was just to get a first greedy feeling of most of her. Now I could begin to get serious about exploring all that. I kneaded the muscles of her back gently, mostly for my pleasure. I moved my hand with lovingly gentle pinches of her skin, circling toward her buns. When arriving at one of her dimples I paused and used my fingers to feel the depth and shape of that lovely little depression where her back and butt meet. Remembering the many times that my tongue explored this place I wished that my tongue could be in more than one place at the same time.

After exploring the twin of her first dimple I began to kneed her buns and to move around to cover that entire curvaceous surface with my eager touch. Her thighs were waiting, so I had to move on. From our position I could feel all of her right thigh. I spent time on the smooth and slightly harder surface of the back of her thigh just enjoying the skin and imagining how it looks. My hand wrapped around that inner seam that is the transition between one buttock and thigh, and my fingers slipped slowly between her thighs so that I could feel that very soft area of her inner thigh where it meets my center of being. I lingered there but still moving the fingers to allow the intense textual sensitivity to toy with my brain. I wished for my tongue to be there, and for my nose to inhale her exquisite aroma. After a while I slid my hand slowly down to meet another lovely place behind her knee, another favorite place where I can lick and kiss for long times. This place is where her thighs and calves meet in a three dimensional form that approaches what is called a “hyperbolic paraboloid” in mathematics, a “saddle shape” in less formal usage, and “back of her knees” in the bedroom parlance. Regardless of the name, the feeling is the same: smooth thin skin with extra warmth and that sensuous familiarity that can grab the attention of all my senses.

Her calf invited my touch, so I had to move on. In my mind I could see its perfectness as I traced and carefully massaged its muscles. Knowing that I would never have enough, I had to move on to pay attention to other parts yet that I had not visited in detail this morning.

All of this time my face was enjoying the soft warm skin between her breasts. My tongue explored her cleavage while carefully avoiding getting them wet but enough to impart their flavor to me. The only thing that came between us was my little guy who was by this time eager to participate. He left a slick trail on the front of her thighs as I wiggled to try to park him in one of those little valleys that happened to be near.

She must have known what he wanted, because she reached down as I gently pushed her onto her back and slid up to be between her thighs. Her hand escorted the little guy into my center of being, where lately only my tongue was allowed to enter. I helped along by short and slow strokes to allow natural lubrication to do its job. We were in!

I did not rush; rather, I slowed down to truly feel her. This was the time when I could heighten all of my senses to assist in total joy. With my weight supported by my knees and one elbow I could feel her along my front, and could touch and feel most of her with my other hand. I did, and she felt perfect. These were those moments when nothing mattered because my mind was occupied by the joy of the occasion that comes so seldom. I was very aware of her, of her comfort, and of her generosity. These feelings came with a responsibility in addition to the pleasure. I felt proud to receive all that.

It did not take long for me to receive what she had intended to give to me. In the final moments I made some sounds that only she had ever heard. Then I stopped, resting on my elbows to continue to feel body-to-body, and to play with one breast or the other in remembrance of the waves that lead to the climax. I took a long time feeling her beauty, her generosity, her warm loving body with my hands. Her scent reinforced our closeness. There was nothing that I would have changed about this significant event.

I began to think whether I would be expected to clean up after myself. As usual, I was perfectly willing to do so before it happened, but not at this point. She bailed me out of my trepidation by saying,

“You may bring the coffee now.”

I answered, “Yes Mistress,” and hurried to the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot that was ready to brew. I turned on the house heaters, and then cleaned up the little guy. In a couple of minutes the two cups of coffee were ready.

Later in the bedroom we sat looking through the windows, watching the pre-dawn morning. Our mountain looked clear, lit up by the bright moon. This was home.

I Feel Good on Christmas Eve

“Bitch” is what I called her.

One would think that in my situation this would be cause for my balls to be hurting for a while. I wish, but she is too kind. I have been slacking. I like to write, and do some fun stuff while I ignore the things that creep up on moldy columns to devour our life, kind of like in the movies. Well, maybe not that extreme, but I admit that I had been a better submissive husband to my MW in the past. All right, I suck as a submissive husband! Sheesh, I know it. Damn!

The daytime temperature is in the sixties for a while, so we can keep the doors open for warmth and fresh air for a couple of hours. MW asked me to peel 207 potatoes for her family Christmas Eve meal preparation. I am listening to Christmas music over the satellite radio that she has set up.

I normally begin to despise Christmas music a couple of weeks after Halloween, so please excuse me. I think that this time is a bit different, and it may have to do with my getting old. I think of my MW working in the kitchen, “slaving over a hot stove” as it were, while I am pounding the keyboard. The sounds in the background are pleasant, again, sort of like in a movie. She walks by me from time to time, slashing my left or right tit with her nail, as the occasion warrants. I could live with that! No, wait, I am living with that. Ok, back to the subject.

She thought that peeling potatoes would be a perfect job for me. I sort of agreed in order to avoid painful butts. But first I needed to do some chores. After breakfast, several hours ago, she said, "I have the kitchen. You go do whatever it is that you do do.”

I did. So, now, hours later, I am back in the kitchen trying to find a place for peeling the 207 potatoes. Ok, maybe it is less than 207, but it seems like a lot. Much like when I was on KP while in "basic training" in the Army (that’s “Kitchen [fucking] Police” for those who have not been formally initiated into the brotherhood). Getting back to the kitchen I realized that the breakfast dishes had been drying on the counter, augmented by pots and pans that she used to prepare the feast for our family gathering on this hallowed evening. As a good husband, I first put away the clean dishes that I washed the evening before, then scrubbed and washed the others from breakfast and of late. I am so good!

That left some space on the counter to do the potato peeling. Meanwhile I hear Christmas music on the satellite radio. It is somewhat better quality than at WalMart, you know, more traditional, less “Jingle Bell Rock” as such. This is when I went to her as she was checking her email, and said, “Bitch!”

She appreciated that. We both love her to be a bitch, and she seldom indulges. But oh my! When she does …. Yes, we appreciate it when she does, even once in a while in the kitchen, but just not enough as far as my taste is concerned. After we kissed, I began the frigging potato peeling. When I finished several hours later, (just kidding) I had enough peels to feed starving people in my old hometown for a month. At least, it seemed that way. I dumped the peels outside the front door so that the bunnies can collect them while our guard dogs are dormant. Actually, the bunnies don’t take any shit from the dogs, but don’t let the dogs know that! They already have a low self esteem. I guess that they take after me when it comes to submission to females. I don't know about male bunnies other than that they are real f**kers in the literal sense.

We are expecting the family to gather for this joyous occasion. An occasion that my sweet, wonderful MW is arranging for us. God, I love her! I hear clanking in the kitchen superimposed over more Christmas music and hard material shattering. I think that I need to do some drudgery to clean up shattered glassware. I love to clean up after her. It makes her obligated. Maybe. Ok, forget it.

For now, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a very happy new year. I will be out of touch for a few days on account of taking another trip. Maybe.

Unintended Exposure

Why Are We Doing This?

I began my blog a short time ago, so I know that if I keep it, the style will develop over time. At this time I want any photograph that I post made by me. These photos are not in the public domain, and I need not get anybody’s permission. Well, that is not entirely true. MW must approve them prior to posting otherwise I am in deep trouble. But that’s another topic.

I made a comment on one of my favorite blogs the other day. In it I suggested that we, the readers, would like to see some personal photographs of the couple whose relationship inspired the blog. I did not mean that they should present full-frontal-nudity, just some segments that don't give away one's identity but give a hint of the person behind it. The polite response by the author was “definitely not.” My intention in this posting is to kick around this idea and see what we do and why we do it.

I can think of some possible reasons for posting these blogs in the first place, and why we want to keep it private yet we reveal our most private activities within them. I am not a psychologist, not even a lay psychologist, so don’t take my ranting as authoritative.

Why Do I Read These Blogs?

All this got started because I am fascinated with the idea of serving women. I know, I can’t do that in my real life, at least not with the obvious sexual content that I imagined. Yet I also know that I have been serving women all my life. Zeroing in on this narrow aspect was like eating my favorite food. It was and is possible to overdose.

The two aspects of the same idea are (1) serving women in a sexual manner: in the bedroom, so to speak, and (2) as a life style that carries over to everyday situations. I say again, that either one is unlikely to happen in my life except in the specific case of serving my wife. However, I needed the stimulation offered by these ideas, because my life over the years did not really provide that.

Then, at some point, Female Led Relationships became a hot topic, and I knew that I must get something out of the idea. In a fortuitous way it helped to solve a problem in our marriage. I am not saying that one day I addressed my wife, Honey, let’s do FLR,” and she eagerly replied,

“Oh my, I really want to do FLR. Let’s begin immediately!”

It was more of a slow development of a full time FLR applied part time, if you can make sense of that. Reading these blogs gave me ideas, and stroked my id, although in reality, I have never masturbated over them. It was like reading sexy novels, only much, or some, of it was true. It was like peeking into someone’s house who had left the curtain open on purpose. It was like watching a real D/S scene by invitation.

Why Do I Write This Blog?

Because MW told me to do it. Actually, I did want to write it earlier, but it was not until she set it up for me that I started. My pessimistic side would suggest that she just wanted me to keep busy and not bother her. My optimistic side thinks that she actually wanted me to express some of my thoughts so that she knew more of what went on in my devious mind.

One reason for this blog is that I love to write. Of course, it need not be about my sex life. I could do as well reporting the sex life of a walrus that took the wrong turn off Newfoundland. So, I will try to come up with the real reason: I think it is because it feels better than just to read about it. It feels good because I am NOT writing a novel in which I could make up anything that is plausible in the context. It feels good because I like the fact that I am in an FLR and can write about it to others who are interested in it and seek out this particular subject.

Why Do I Try To Remain Anonymous?

MW would do bad things to me if I were to show anything on my site that could connect either of us to our identity. Personally I am not worried, since I don't owe anybody anything. This life style no longer has the stigma that we might expect. I guess the part that we really would not want to share is the exact details of our life as opposed to the life style itself. Yet we are doing it within this open forum.

Inadvertently revealing my identity would be somewhat like becoming exposed in my underwear in public: underwear is little different from a swim suit, but it is not something that I want to share with everyone. I imagine that one's clients, employers, or colleagues could use this information to destroy an important relationship. In my case that is not too great a concern, but I don’t really want to deal with it. Besides, MW would be unhappy. I don’t think that this is more complicated than what I said.

Why Do I Want to Reveal the Smallest Details about our Lives ?

Well, I don’t really. For example, If I have a temporary problem of, shall we say, digestive nature, I will try not to broadcast it. Yet, if I have a temporary problem of losing erection under the most inopportune circumstances, I report it. I try to be circumspect about what I share. But, once I am committed to talk about what most people keep in the bedroom, it seems that I lose much inhibition. As long as I stay within bounds of good taste and avoid crude and obscene rendition, I should be all right. Of course, this covers a lot of territory.

One thought occurs to me as I write this. When reading other blogs of this nature, the respondents often comment with genuine care. They appear as sympathetic beings, mostly friends. They want to hear the details. The writers of the blogs are willing to detail these very personal issues about themselves and their relationship. These are details that they would not discuss with their personal friends unless the friends were known to be in the same life style. It is like we trust the readers even though we don’t really know them. This is very strange, but I see evidence of it all over the Internet. So, I am just one of those who are trusting in this particular instance.

Nobody is 100 percent or zero percent exhibitionist. I put myself in the low teens. I have been known to take a chance on stepping outside in my natural state. I am not saying that I am into flashing or streaking. Just that in some very narrow circumstances I might be willing to share some private aspects of my life. I think that I am doing exactly that via this blog. The redeeming quality is that “Nobody has to see it or read it who does not want to.” Hm. Where did I hear that before?

One other way to look at this is like a puzzle whose one very interesting piece is presented to the viewer, and the viewer is challenged to guess what the whole object is. It is, in a way, the same as relying on anonymity.

The information, whether textual or photographic, is revealing of our selves. Some people who know us could derive the whole from the pieces. Yes, we are taking a chance. It is thrilling, yet relatively safe. In the grand scheme of life, it is trivial.

I want to share with you a memorable quote,

"I must play many roles, but the people only know the parts I play in public. Only a few select friends know my private parts,”

said the leading female character (Brenda Vaccarro) in the movie, Zorro, The Gay Blade. I can say the same thing. It is true that I have posted photos of my private parts, but to the best of my knowledge, few people would recognize them. So, as public as they are now, they remain private, and vice versa. That is the reason why we do what we do. We get away with sharing our secrets, and vicariously living others’, yet we remain anonymous most of the time. Given that, I do not kid myself. I have a distinctive writing style. Those who know me in person would connect the dots in no time. For this reason, I regrettably need to skip over some details, be they textual or photographic. And if I am caught in the act, I can say, “Who? Me? No resemblance!”

Questions to Ponder

Why do we read these blogs?
Why do we write these blogs?
Why do we try to remain anonymous?
Why do we want to reveal some of the smallest details about our lives to strangers?
Would any of these questions be moot if we could be completely free with our life style?

Back to Reality

I posted something yesterday afternoon part of which was partly fantasy. If I had waited a few hours I would not have had to resort to it.

We retired to the bedroom for showers and a relaxing evening to watch a movie. I waited outside the shower for MW to finish, then dried her with a huge towel. After that I showered, shaved, and joined her in the bedroom. I gave her the usual evening leg and foot massage as we talked about some of the day’s events. At some point, and I don’t remember exactly what we were doing, she told me to get “into position”. Under the circumstances this meant a sort of “69” position, except that there was no mention or expectation of her doing anything for me other than allow me to serve her orally. That being my favorite sex, I happily took up the position facing the center of my being.


It was a little strange that she would skip the usual foreplay which always includes my massaging all of her beautiful parts, running my fingernails over her skin, and kissing and nipping any part of her that she allows until she becomes ready. She did not say, but my guess was that she spent some time watching some adult video and was ready even before I showed up.

This time she had even more surprises. She is not very willing to tell me what she wants. She assumes that I can read her mind about her changes of arousal and that I will do the right thing. About the most explicit that she gets is to suggest for me to use my fingers in addition to my tongue. I suppose that if I could use my cock instead of my much shorter finger it would be all right with her. As much as I would like to satisfy her that way it is not physically possible for me as long as my tongue is the major instrument of her pleasure, so she settles for well lubricated fingers with very closely trimmed nails.

This time she told me before we started that she will tap me on the shoulder when she wants more intensity. Well, that too, was new. I began gently and slowly parting her lips with my tongue. It took about a minute to work up to her little button of joy. She was moist and ready as I applied my technique that had worked so well over the years. Being in a kneeling position and leaning on my elbow I was not putting any weight on her. That is when I felt a slippery hand being wrapped around my cock. This too, was new. The feeling was intense and I had to slow down a bit to compose myself. That is one of the reasons why she almost never does that, knowing that it distracts me from the purpose. She tapped me on the shoulder so I picked up the pace while inserting my middle finger to help. She stopped playing with my cock as she came hard and pushed my head away. The orgasm shook her entire body and lasted several seconds as I waited a few inches away for her to pull me back. When it was over she pulled me back to continue. She took only a few seconds to reach another, and allowed me to continue for several seconds before she was done with me.

This was my cue to leave her alone with the “girls” in case they decided to continue without me. I walked into the bathroom and waited for her to call or join me when she was finished.

She walked in looking a little unsteady. We hugged and I went back to bed. When she returned she sent me for a cold wet washcloth which she put over her forehead. She admitted that when she herself induces the pleasure it sometimes causes an intense headache. I guess this is a plausible reason why we don’t do this more often: she thinks that she must pay for the pleasure through pain. If only I could have the pain instead!

After her headache abated the rest of the evening was pleasant and comfortable. I did not get mine off, but under the circumstances I had no wish to mention it. She already gave me a greater gift than my own orgasm. I am not being noble or super-submissive as I admit that. What I feel is her great trust in me, openness about her needs, and reliance on me as her lover to do this very personal service. It gives me joy to have this power in me that she can use at her pleasure. Yes, it also caters to my need to serve her and fits very well with our FLR.

The picture, taken at a different time, is a partial view of her from my “position”. I hope that you see why I think that this is a wonderful occupation for me.

Ripe for Fantasy

Yeah, I'm ripe!

It has been some time since MW took her enjoyment at my expense. The problem is that I have the imagination, and she has the control. So, unless the two meet, not a hell of a lot happens along these lines. Today was different. Yes, she does that from time to time. Also, I promise to have some pictures of her. It is just that things are not exactly right to do so at the moment ...

She planned to go shopping. That meant leaving me alone for a few hours. Normally that is not an issue [for abnormal situations see my November 3 2007 posting about the "free fall "episode]. She does not even need to leave me in CB bondage since I am honorable when it comes to stuff like that. Even if I were not, if she were to squeeze my balls I would confess, then I would be open to whatever punishment she decides. Anyway, what I am about to write is based on reality, only not all having happened at the same time and exactly the same way. It is not entirely fantasy, just a wistful re-living of good old times, and wishing for a reprise. Because it is a reconstruction of stuff and not exactly “The truth, most of the truth, and nothing but the truth,” I will call it fantasy. You may draw your own conclusion. For my own purpose I know that I will suffer the consequences since MW will take this as “topping from the bottom.” Still, I will continue because my creative juices need to come – so to speak.

The So-called Fantasy Itself

Before getting ready to leave she summoned me via the signaling device. I found her in the bedroom after receiving several jolts. It appears that she did not care whether I was just slow or it took time to find her. I dropped to my knees and kissed the top of her feet, the only parts which were exposed.

“Install the CB2000, including the Points of Intrigue,” she ordered.

I scurried to where the device was kept and fumbled for a few minutes while I
did what she wanted. She then told me,

“Make the PA ring accessible from the outside of the cage.”

I did so using a piece of hooked wire. The ring protruded between the bars of the plastic cage as if asking to be used. She connected a quick snap device to the ring. The other end of the snap was attached to a dog leash which she in turn attached to a hook in the closet. I had no choice but to follow and stand at the point of connection. She applied her makeup, dressed, etc. You know how long women take to look different than the way they are in order to look beautiful in their own perception. When she was done she returned to me and unhooked the leash. Tugging gently on my very personal connection I followed her downstairs into my exercise room. Once there she pulled a pair of real handcuffs out of her hip pocket, and applied them to my wrists. She made sure that they were double-locked so that they don’t tighten when or if I struggle with them.

She picked up a small weight that is part of an adjustable weight dumbell. I don’t know the actual weight, but would guess it to be about a pound. Using a plastic tie she attached it to the ring that is closest to the boys in the CB2000. She made a point of dropping the weight whose effect I immediately noticed. The pain caused an erection which caused instant pain via the Points of Intrigue (POI).

Since the leash was no longer needed, she unclipped it, and added a small weight to replace it. The small weight was some device that I happened to have as part of my weight equipment. It was not heavy, but it did begin to pull on the PA ring with authoritative force.

Next she used a disposable plastic tie to attach the handcuffs to the top of the Smith Machine. This one was personalized. I could figure out its purpose right away. In order for me to change anything I would need to be free of the Smith Machine so that I could use my handcuffed hands. In order to be free of the Smith Machine, I would need to break the personalized tie, so that she would know about it.

I was standing with my arms loosely above me securely attached to the machine. I was not in too much discomfort, but the weight on the tip of my cock through the PA piercing was beginning to be noticeable. The other weight that was attached to my balls was less bothersome for the moment, but the cage’s construction began to create a pinching effect that was no longer fun. The good part was that my erection was history, so I no longer needed to deal with the pain caused by the POI.

She kindly turned on the television set, and dialed one of those insipid old shows that did not impress me when they were made about thirty years ago. She gave me a drink of water out of a bottle. After fingering herself as I watched she kissed me on the lips, then smeared her personal juice on my lips. That was to leave a long-lasting impression on me. She left as she threw over her shoulders the note, “I may be back in a couple of hours.”

After a minute I heard her car leaving. I stood with relative comfort and her scent on my face. I judged the time using the half-hour intervals that commercial TV stations use to change programs. I estimated that I had been standing within my pains for about one hour and some minutes. My options were limited: (1) I could slouch and take the strain and pain on my wrists which would relieve only the pain on my back, (2) Try an succeed to break the plastic tie so that I can relieve all of my pains, or (3) I could stand and bear whatever pain I was accumulating due to my devices and position.

Option 1 was at most a temporary fix for my position. Yes it would relieve my back pain a bit, but add more around my wrists, then I would have to switch again. Option 2 was possible if I tried: my 165-pound mess of skin and stuff would help in breaking the device and allow me to relieve the other pains. But then I would have to answer to her, and I knew that the pain at that point would be greater than whatever I am bearing now or will be accumulating due to the current devices and position. Option 3 seemed the only logical alternative for the moment, so I chose to go with it. For another hour or so I continued to make the same choice.

I heard a vehicle arriving outside. I hoped that it was not our son or his SO. I don’t know who would have been more embarrassed in either case. I heard doors opening and closing in the house. About a half hour later MW came through the door. She was dressed only in a pair of tight jeans. It did not take long for the POI to kick in and give me some pain again. The view of her "girls" always does it to me, and her being clothed except topless is a thing that turns me on. After she attached clamps to my tits the pain was no longer localized to the little guy: it spread itself between tits and cock, but in a way I began to love it. She plied me with another drink of water, and the slick slipperiness of her fingers which she pulled out from between her hidden lips. The pain of my little guy increased, somewhat offset by the numbness in my tits which no longer remained in the forefront of pain management. For the moment.

She casually added another small weigh to the chain that was attached to both clips on my tits. The weight was just enough to avoid pulling off the clips, but heavy enough to increase my pain which in turn increased my other pain. She is good at this.

She asked me, “Do you wish to be set free now, or stay for another undetermined time but be assured of getting an orgasm?”

It took me a short time to realize that the word “undetermined” indicated that this was a trick question. I immediately replied, “I wish to be set free now, Mistress.”

Without a word she pulled a knife from her boot, and cut the personalized plastic tie that was keeping me attached to the Smith Machine.

“You are free. But for now, we’ll keep the weights where they are. Follow me.”

I could tell that my pains were not about to be relieved. I followed with the weights swinging at different frequencies so that I could not adjust to minimize the pain. But, hey, this was personal attention from MW to me. I would be a fool to complain. As we walked up the stairs, I heard the penetrating music of Carlos Santana with his “Black Magic Woman."

The words were barely discernible, yet they got through. Music does things to me. I was about to loose it. But no, I had to keep it for MW. It is for her to control.

It's So Peaceful Here.....................

On Shame and Humiliation

Just One Aspect of a Somewhat D/S Relationship

Shame and humiliation is a subject that is every submissive male’s fantasy. All the novels have not been written, but it just seems to be that way. I could write one now! It is also the basis of most FLRs regardless of how you specialize your kink.

I have my fantasies and realities with respect to my MW. As far as my reality is concerned, she could do anything to me and I would learn to live with it. But that is only because I trust her. Given that, shame and humiliation is a fascinating game, but only a game between us. She may do things to me (actually it is for me) that she would not do to another person. Why? It is because she loves me, and knows that the so-called shame and humiliation game that we play occasionally is something that makes me feel good temporarily. It also makes both of us feel good on the long run because we both get some satisfaction out of pleasing each other from time to time. We both realize that I do things for her that could be just as satisfying to her. That is the basis of a working relationship.

A person who perfectly described the situation about controlling a subject said, “If I wanted him to wear the collar I could order him to. That’s easy. But I can’t order him to have feelings.” Please see http://devastatingyet.wordpress.com/2007/08/ (August 25, 2007 post) for the source of this quote (thank you http://devastatingyet.wordpress.com/) .
Although the above subject is not dealing with humiliation directly, one can imagine wearing such collar in public and see the implications.

I separate humiliation between personal and adversarial. Adversarial humiliation arouses anger in me and I tend to respond with potentially devastating force. Personal humiliation is between me and another person whom I love, trust, and support. I choose to submit in order to support this attribute. If I did not choose to submit, my association and friendship with this person would be terminated. But force is never a tool that I use with the person whom I love and trust, namely, my MW. Even if she were to exceed my limit, or appear to abuse her power, I would just try to stop it and go from there.

I would never, under any circumstances harm MW. She is my life, my love, my mistress whom I trust beyond anything. It is a relationship that we have developed over the years of producing little pink things that grew up to be obnoxious teenagers and then perfectly reasonable human adults. As a result, we have a basis of trust in both directions. I am her saviour, her champion, her hero who would give his life for her. She is my Sweetheart, the mother of our children, the softness in all my hard realities, also the one who can cane my ass if she chooses. I love her for all of that. The kink, the humiliation, the D/S, the discipline is superimposed on all of this, but is not the essential part.

Perhaps I don’t have an extreme case of need for an FLR. It is kind of like alcohol to a social drinker: great to have, but I can live without it. Still, I would prefer to have it now, often, and for the rest of my life. But, as you know, life usually sucks. So don’t blame the other person if it does not turn out exactly the way you fantasized about it. Do some negotiating!

I assume that most of you reading this are into some form of FLR, otherwise you would be off to more satisfying fodder. So, please tell me. As a submissive partner in an FLR, how does humiliation relate to your everyday life? I can see that you go through the essential, that is serving your significant female, but how much do you want to be an obvious servant in front of other people? It seems that you can not really be shamed if only the two of you are doing it.

Maybe I am wrong.

The other part of this is you, as the dominant female, do you really want to shame or humiliate your partner, or are you just giving him the satisfaction that he craves? Or, and this is a big question, are you doing it because it does something for you?

These are the questions that don’t have a general answer, because every relationship is different. But the statistics and the specifics can be very interesting. Please don’t be shy with your responses. We would all love to hear them.

How Did I Get Here?

I have more than hinted about my tendency to be submissive to a particular female. It does not drive my life, but I understand that some men have this need to a much greater extent, or at least, they dedicate their lives to it more. I am dedicated, it is just that I try not to impose my fantasy on MW. It is completely up to her to do or not do anything along these lines. Yes, I wish that she would do more, but we are not yet living my fantasy: we are living reality.

Aside from that, please do me ….

Just kidding. I think.

No, really. I have been reading about this as long as those wonderful femdom books have become available (please see the book titles in the sidebar). I used to get off on the novels, but it was not until I studied these real books that FLR became real to me. It was then that I decided that “bedroom submission/domination is a sexy scenario, but submitting my self to my mate-for-life is the real thing”. We tried. We are on a rocky road, but even the bumps are great.

A short time ago I had a change of lifestyle that allowed me more free time. It was then that I began to look for real-life blogs of FLR. It was then that I realized that I already had some of it, and that I can have more. I became a “kid in a candy store” (or for you more modern folks, “a kid on a porno website”). I began to spend more time reading these and enjoying them. Being shy in a certain sense, I never left a comment. Then at some time I read a post that referred to people like me as “lurkers”. Yes, I was indeed lurking not because I had not developed a liking for some of these folks, not because I was above it, not because I wanted to remain anonymous. It was more like thinking that I was not (yet) really part of it.

Now I acknowledge that I am part of it. I may be wrong about all this, but I don’t see where or how I am hurting anyone. Even if my children recognized me in this venue, it should not be hurtful. Nothing that MW and I do hurts anyone, and most of it is fun and does not cost anyone. So why not indulge?

One final note to lurkers out there,

• Don’t be shy.
• Comment on anything that you like or don’t like, just try
  not to be hurtful.
• We don’t need hurtful, but we enjoy differing views. It
  is a way of supporting a good cause. Without your comments the blogs may
  go away.

"Oh, the Holidays"

I very much dislike that phrase mostly because it has been usurped by commercial intents.

I like the holidays. I like Halloween, Christmas, New Years' Eve. I abhor the friggin' gift-coveting commercial aspects. If we never watched television again, I think that we could get over this problem. Shit. I don't watch television. I dislike all the commercial crap, laugh-track, trivial sitcoms, etc. Don't get me started!

Sorry about that meltdown. I do really despise the crap that is portrayed as entertainment on television. Ok, it will not happen again. I am done with it. Maybe.

It is late in the day after that great morning which I related to you earlier. I am wearing only my birthday suit and the signaling device. I have had a couple of summons from MW with the appropriate reboot as in computer parlance. Let me tell you, if I were to hold a glass of wine, which I often do, the summons via the signaling device would do bad things to wine and glass. The signal is not hurtful. But it is momentarily penetrating. It is up to me to find wherever she is in the house (damn, it is a big house!) and see what I can do for her. I hate it, but also love it. She has such control over me when it comes to this.

She is really getting into the Christmas spirit. She is using some native remnant of vegetation as part of decoration. I don’t want to detail it for the reason that it would give away our presence and reveal our identity (Shocking, that it would be.) That sweet woman was decorating the living room with her memorabilia of children, friends, pets, etc.

The afternoon sun hit the many windows on the south side of the room. The room was warm, and she became hot. Not hot as in sexual, but in temperature. Ok, she was friggin' hot as in sexual also. Give me a break! I am trying to deal with a beautiful woman here while still maintaining some semblance of sanity. But that was not the purpose in my attempt to describe the scenario.

Sheesh, I am not sure where this is heading. So she removed her shirt. That left her with bras which I so willingly and helpfully began to dismantle for her as you can see.

One thing leading to another out popped one of her cherished private possessions. She was obviously aroused to an extent which I very much admired.

I had to negotiate the camera and my being at the same time. That was very difficult. Seeing her beauty devastates me. I can just melt into a puddle and be totally useless. I don’t know how I managed to eventually turn off the camera. You may thank me for sharing her beauty with you.

In the background I hear the music "Summer Time" playing. This has been a truly beautiful day.

Another Wonderful Morning

A Very Pleasant Morning

I know that I have said it before, "I am up early." Well, this morning I lay in bed thinking that I should be up and doing my thing as usual. I was comfortable on my back under the warm covers. I thought, “Do I really want to get out of bed into a cold room, walk down to the exercise room and freeze my thingies off? And then lift weights?” As you may have guessed, I stayed in bed.

I am such a slouch! It was not until after five that I actually allowed my skinny ass to slide over the edge and walk into the hall. I grabbed the signaling device and my pants (in case our son or significant other were to come up the stairs).

The morning just did not go well. I guess my feeling of overwhelming guilt over not "working-out" did not help. Yes, I am planning to work out later. Sheesh! What a pathetic excuse!

Around six I thought that I felt a twinge under my private parts. Déjà vu. I walked into the bedroom way on the other side of the house. MW was on her back on the huge bed at a right angle to the edge. Naturally I dropped to my knees and kissed and licked all around my center of being. I asked then, “Did you summon me?” The answer was “no”. I guess that I am becoming more attuned to her feelings.

Right. I don’t believe it either. It was a coincidence. I turned on the house heater and made coffee. Negotiating the space among the felines we settled in bed to sip the brew and watch the sunrise. Great time of the day.

After I gave up on my coffee I sidled down next to one of her most delectable thighs (she has two). I ran my tongue on the outside while my hand caressed the soft and warm inside of one, then the other. After a while I lost track of which was “one or the other”. Her aroma wafted over the side into my eager oral receptors. I was willing to plunge in and take all that she had to offer. But, knowing that she needs more encouragement before I do such, I controlled my urges. I gently pulled her pubic hair here and there, and occasionally squeezed her lips in a deep kiss using only my fingers. I did slip a finger in a sly fashion knowing that If I am quick, I am less likely to be tossed onto my ass. This went on for a while until she announced that we should start the day.

Hm. My day was already going, so how could I start again? But, she is the leader, so I went along. After my unsuccessful attempt at drilling through the mattress I left the bed and went after our daily business. I carried her scent on my face for a while. Not that I would wash it off. It just goes away on its own accord. The day is full of possibilities.

Other Real Life

Later in the morning MW left a Christmas card on my desk. It was addressed to an American soldier somewhere in "FPO" land. I wrote a note expressing my appreciation of his committment, and that if he needs anything to please let us know.

I was in the Army way back, and the only mail I recevied then were from my parents (appreciated) and from my former girlfriend who said that unless I say otherwise she will marry her second cousin with whom we double dated at some time prior to my departure to the Far East.

Ok, I was in for three years, and had some exciting times. I did get some joy out of cigars, an occasional bottle of rice whiskey, and the times when I could sleep with some feeling of safety. Oh shit, don't take this as bitching. I did have a good time after considering what all could have happened. Here I am with most of my original parts still somewhat functional. My hat off to our soldiers of today. They are every bit as good as we were ... way back then.

Later in the morning she squeezed my guys and I tried to hold back an unmanly response. You know, the kind that gets into "ouch" and shit like that. I mean, we should be more stoic and controlled than that. Well, I need to work on that part. After she let go, and I took a bit of time to collect my ability to respond, then I asked,

"My Sweet, what can I do for you?

"Your little guys are getting prickly," she said.

I took that as a suggestion to shave my balls. I did. I aim to please, and pleasing her is my prime directive.

I Really Got Lucky This Time

The Real Thing

After 88 days of not getting mine off, I got lucky! Yet I think that you will not believe this. I would not.

We have a huge bed that we share. It is about an acre in size, so that the cats and we all have our own space. Except that the cats don’t really respect our space, so MW and I take what is left. Still, it is a huge bed with a hard mattress and a cock (mine or hers, depending on how one holds it), and a soft topping that she likes. Of course, the friggin’ cats like whatever they like. Not that I object. I like cats. It is just that I also like to stretch out past my six-foot frame which is why we have such a big bed. But that’s another story.

We spent the evening watching the latest Harry Potter movie. I like those kids, I have enjoyed seeing the sweet young children grow up to be obnoxious teenagers accommodating the viewers for a fee. OK, they are not that obnoxious, at least, not as bad as my children were at that age. Hell, nobody was that bad.

I usually pass out at an early hour due to my wine consumption, and the habit of getting up early, like at 2AM. After some serious snoring something stirred me. Lying in bed face down I felt with my left hand, and I could almost identify it as part of female anatomy. As you probably know me by now, I have no use for such, so I went back to sleep. Well, maybe not. OK, I am kidding. Give me a friggin’ break! If I as much as thouch female anatomy I explode in orgasm. I conrolled my eruption admirably this time in anticipation of what might come.

It was a thigh indeed, owned by my MW and very much coveted by me while in a wakeful state. Of course, that required me to be in a wakeful state which at this time I was not. My face being close to the center of my being I did not need much prompting to become alert. Her scent will be enough to revive me after being “long dead” like in the movie, “Young Frankenstein.” That is meant in a good way, as in, “Let me sniff it, and I will live for ever!”

I began to run my fingers over her lips tentatively. I had to be careful because she is very protective of them, at least at the beginning. Once admitting entry, she is very generous, and I can pleasure her as much, and in any way that she allows. Alas, that is the only way. As I was saying… Her scent was making things happen down there, and she did not put up a fight, so I tried various things with my fail-safe organ, my tongue.

First it was with a side-by-side position that we used in the past successfully. After a few minutes it was obvious that I was not making a credible contribution, so I turned 180 degrees. For those of you victims of public education that means turning around until my head and legs were pointed in completely opposite directions as before. Oh shit, I should just give up on this!

I tried it from this, our favorite position, but she would not open her thighs. Now, I could force her lips open with my tongue. It would be great, I would triumph, and all that. I would also be pitched on my skinny ass off the bed. So, I did not force anything. I backed off, I smelled her scent as I was breathing the juices off my own face, and just cooled it for a while.

In a short time she made overtures about wanting the hard little fucker that kept getting between me and her. Hey, I am a nice guy, I won’t get in the way of a beautiful woman and her cock. So I went along with it. That little fuckin' traitor!

Oh My! It had been eighty-eight days! In case you are numerically challenged, that means 88 friggin days without orgasm. Can you imagine my state of mind?

I was on top of this gorgeous female with all the charms that I can think of, my “little guy” poking and quickly entering the very portal for which most men would be willing to die, given a chance. I did, and he did, and we went at it. No, we did not die. We just entered. For a short time.

Now, you have to take this in context. I am the guy who keeps saying, “Oh, excuse me,” because I keep bumping into people and things with my little guy pointing straight at my chin. I mean, I am one friggin walking hard-on most of the time! Usually. But not this time. The little fugger decided to go south without a forwarding address.

Aside from being embarrassing it was a tad frustrating. I was ready from day one, all along, and then here I was at day eighty-eight without so much as a thing the size of an acorn to do her justice. The little shit let me down. I could have killed him! No, wait, that would not work.

Anyway, I was very disappointed. Even pissed! I kept going through the routine, (OK, friggin’ “pounding away”) but to no avail. After slipping out a couple of times, with which she helped me to re-insert, it was obvious that he and I were history.

My sweet and understanding MW suggested that whatever I missed would be available when the “little shit” (not her choice of words) was ready whether or not I was around to help. Oh great! Now she was ready to use the creep without my help. Could I sleep through it? Yes, I have had wet dreams lately. I think that a plastic cast of him would suffice for her, and I could just go and search some other means during the dark hours of the night when nobody cares, and the little shit is doing his thing. This is pathetic.

He pissed me off! I am thinking of some real mean things that I could do to punish him.

Wait, this does not follow!

My tits hurt. I have fond memories of MW having her way with them. Oh my God! She allowed me to massage her voluptuous self after I got my wits stuffed back into my skull, and the little guy (very little at this time) just hanging on. I had my hands and fingers all over her back and back of her legs. It was an orgasm in waiting! She does that to me. Yes, the orgasm waited under the circumstances even though the little shit came back smiling. I just did not trust him for the time being.

I am ready. Will the little shit be ready? I know that he is full of it during the night and during the day when I keep bumping into things, but will he persist with me? Damn, he is a spoil-spurt.

My MW challenges me with her charms. I think that the little fugger will come through. After all, he is in a worse case than I am for my MW’s charms. We could die happy within her charms. At least he and I agree on this one thing.

I ask you. How in hell did I manage to fumble this? This was a no-challenge “just slip it in and do it” approach at some point. If I was adversely affected by the spirits, it could not have been too far since I am writing this afterward. Has anything like this ever happened to you?

I know that women don’t have this problem for a couple of reasons. One, if she were to lose her erection, I don’t think that we, thick headed schmucks, would notice. As beautiful as her clit is, in the throes of testosterone I don't think that I could tell her erection from one of her tits unless I were taking a photograph. Two, if she is using an attached device, the device seldom, if ever, loses erection. Given that, I probably will not get much sympathy from the ladies. But guys, help me with this! What did I do wrong?

MW has a comment,

I say, calm down, and prepare to use your other very useful parts this evening. The little fugger will COME through when he is good and ready. In the meanwhile, the rest of you can keep busy pleasuring ME.

A Good Morning

The Generic Morning

I am fond of saying, “If I can say, ‘This is a good morning’,” then it is a good morning, and it should be appreciated.” This is not a platitude. It has a point: When not much is stressing you, you may as well appreciate the hell out of what you are doing.

This is one of those many mornings when I really like what I do in my life. Yes, I have occasional highs, and they are seldom occurring lately since I sort of retired from the thrilling occupation (for you perverts, see my profile, I was in law enforcement for a thrill, not into pimping and such), but there is a lot more than the highs to make life worth the time we spend on it. Actually, in a profound sense, life is what we make of it.

Getting back to reality, I am on my routine. I am repeatedly awake during the night, looking at the clock, and deciding whether I should sleep more. At some point, say after two, I begin to think. Not consciously, just beginning to deal with unresolved issues that came to the front of my consciousness. If I had already had about four hours of sleep, I am ready to be up.

I silently slide off the bed and walk to my dresser. I pick up my signaling device, athletic shorts, and slip my feet into outdoor slippers. I walk to the kitchen where I pick up my protein drink, then walk downstairs to an unheated room in which I do weight training. I have free weights, Smith machine, weight benches, and a treadmill. I turn on the TV for distraction. If I am up at three, Jerry Springer’s show is on. I really don’t identify with him or his clientele, but it is better than the infomercials or religious shows that are on at that time of the day (besides I like the carefully selected females of the audience and the participans). Otherwise I watch the news.

I spend on the average an hour in serious weight lifting doing supersets mostly with free weights. The room temperature averages from 60 to 87 over the year. In the winter I rely on my accelerated metabolism to keep me warm as I exercise in my natural state. During warmer months I rely on my perspiration to keep me cool, but I also turn on fans and open windows and doors as necessary. Installing air conditioning is not an option at this time.

After I am done, I come upstairs and shower. Once clean, the time may be three or four o’clock. MW is still asleep, but I never know when she is ready for me, so I install the signaling device. I make a cup of espresso for myself, and settle with my computer to visit some friends, to read, or to write while I wait for a signal from MW.

This Morning

This morning I did not expect anything until late, like seven or so, because she was up during the night while trying to deal with persistent problems. A little after five I felt a twinge under my private parts. It did feel real, but just so. Not wanting to take a chance on escalation, I dropped what I was doing. If I were a pervert, I would wait until she ups the intensity of the device before responding. But I am not that way. Really. Well, maybe once in a while. I tippy-toed back to the bedroom. In the darkness I stood in silence within the partly lit doorway so that she could see me if she was awake. She spoke,

“There is something waiting to be kissed."

She usually leaves her beautiful buns uncovered when she knows that I will see them. This time being dark, she gave me a hint about where I can find them. It was also cold in the room, and her buns were covered. I pushed my head under the cover until my lips found bare skin. I did not find her buns right away, but as I always, say, "Most of the fun is getting there." Her buns were unreachable directly, as they were on the other side. But since her thighs were just under my lips, I took the pleasure.

“Coffee or cuddle?”

she asked after about a minute of my slobbery kisses near the center of my being.

“Cuddle first, coffee later,”

I added with instant diplomatic wit.

I crawled under the covers and settled with my face between the world’s most beautiful breasts.

You have to understand my love of her charms in order to appreciate my fascination with them. I admit that she is not necessarily the most beautiful woman today, but that term is meaningless anyway. She gave me all that she had when I married her. She was just barely out of her teens, fascinatingly curvaceous, strong, healthy, beautiful. Yes, the years have changed us some, but in her case she matured just the way a beautiful woman does, and that is what she allows me to share. We share skin, warmth, scents, juices, and intimate thoughts during these close times. Yes, I am ready to have sex, but it is not a requirement.

She pulled my face into that intimate place between her ample breasts. There I had the feeling of safety and peace. My tongue was allowed to massage the tender skin between her two beauties. I knew enough to stay away from her perky and challenging buds: she tends to bop me if I try, they are not to be touched unless she is really turned on. The position immediately triggered my response. She noticed it and manipulated the (not so) little guy between her knees right away. Being a bit sadistic, she began to drag her nails from my thigh and up, and really rake my tit. As if that was not enough to spill my juices, she took the tit and pinched it between her nails. I am not into pain as such, but this is really appropriately erotic. If I am ever in need of help to have an erection (genital, that is), this will do it.

I controlled myself admirably, but could not help creaming between her knees. We lay there for a while until she suggested that it was time for coffee. I slid off the bed, and opened the blinds so that we could observe the coming sunrise. It was still dark, but there was a hint of the coming sun.

Our “coffee” needs a bit of explanation. We are connoisseurs of the brew. We go to any Trader Joe’s or Starbucks store that is local, wherever we happened to be. At home, the nearest is about twenty miles away, but we do the trip anyway. I buy what we have found best in medium price over the years. Three or four cans of their freshest roasted beans will grace our pantry for about a month. For each brew I use a burr grinder to grind enough for the moment, and the fresh grounds go directly into a filter that the drip-coffee maker will process in one setting. I never brew more than two cups, all of which we will consume in one session. I like mine thick and strong, somewhat like espresso: if the spoon will stand up in it, the coffee is about right. She likes hers a little less robust. To mitigate the strength, I boil water and provide it with the coffee for her to dilute as she wishes. We both like it black without artificial flavors or sugars.

I served the coffee in bed. We leaned back on pillows to watch the mountains between us and the sky as they began to take form against the dawn. The night was cold enough for snow, especially at the elevation at the top, but as the morning advanced, we saw only a misty mountain. With windows on three sides of the bedroom, we had the grand view of dawn.

We discussed current problems, and plans to deal with them. Interestingly, since her sexual inclinations are less intense than mine, she frequently reverted to sexual innuendos. I considered that a good sign of things to come my way. She may be working herself out of the current destructive problems that we have been handling. She plans to do an art project whose product would be a piece that she wants to give to one or our sons for Christmas. I offered my help to provide the physical details (non-art, but necessary).

After coffee and exhausting the plans, we started the daily chores that make our routines: people, pets, and things that rely on us. I remained in my natural state still glowing from the gift of her presence, and looking forward to serving her in any way that she needs.

Am I the Only One?

Is anyone out there who likes to “cuddle” as I described it? It need not be in an FLR, since it relies on love and attraction between two people regardless of the style or their relationship. I have some questions.

1. What does it do for you or your mate? Does it lead anywhere other than more love and closeness?
2. Do you withhold it if you feel angry or cheated or slighted?
3. Do you do it when stressed, or only when all is well?
4. Is it less than “manly” for a man to want to do that?
5. Do you as a woman miss it, want it more often, and request it from your mate?

My Real FLR

Trial by an Old City

We were looking for a restaurant in a town with which we were unfamiliar. MW was already stressed over a hard day of sight seeing and not wanting to visit publicly available restroom facilities. I think that she was also becoming impatient with me over a mild physical impairment that I have (a comment by MW is, "My Pet is NOT intuitive").

She was helping me to navigate while I drove. Traffic was heavy. The old town had narrow streets that end in unexpected ways. Intersections were encountered every few hundred yards with traffic signals in unusual positions, and turning lanes at strange angles that restricted maneuverability. While I was trying to negotiate all that she pointed and exclaimed,

“Turn to the right here!”

We were in a lane from which I would have had to merge into fast moving traffic before making the turn. I could not see the mirror on the right side, because her arm was blocking it as she was pointing. She yelled again,

“Why don’t you listen to me? I said to turn right here!”

I slowed down, taking a chance on holding up traffic behind me. After seeing the right side rear view mirror again I eased between vehicles in the right turn lane. After that I had barely enough time, but I did make the requested turn.

I don’t know how the average man would handle this situation, but I can see some scenarios:

“Get your ‘…’ hand out of the way so I can see the ‘…’ mirror,”

or

“Quit yelling at me, I know where I’m going!”

And, this exclamation would be followed by more elevated-volume verbal exchange, sulking, demonstration of active and passive aggression, and reciprocal bad feelings. What did happen was that we both had a good laugh after I made the right turn indicated by her, and explained my position,

“I was trying, but your helping right arm was not helping: I could not see the
mirror.”

MW is not a person who would yell at me about ninety-eight percent of the time. She never shouts. This was a case when she had been under stress, and I realized that. Retaliation from me for being offended would have been childish and inappropriate. There is something profound about this realization. I admit that it is very appropriate for a man (me) to just shut up and do what I can within the context of an FLR. But it is also very appropriate of any person to do just what I did. Regardless of what stylized relationship we have, being polite, understanding, and rational under stressing circumstances gets the job done with minimal damage.

My demonstration of our encounter has a point. I was not always this understanding and forgiving. Growing into an FLR helped me to realize that kindness is a trait that serves both participants. Instead of expecting your partner to be kind, you be kind yourself. It is mushy stuff, but it works.

Our Vacation that Did and Did not Work

We both looked forward to relaxation after and between stressing times of holidays, relatives’ visit, and other matters. In a way, the vacation did work. We drove through God’s country most of the way. The stormy weather made everything look different, dynamic, frightening. We were safe in our reliable four-wheel-drive monster even if snow storms were to be had. We enjoyed the trip very much because of the beauty of the country, the weather, and our sharing their appreciation. Once at the resort at our destination we were adequately set up for the duration. We enjoyed revisiting old memories and forming new ones. The one thing that did not happen was becoming completely relaxed.

I will give you an example. Before leaving, following her direction, I packed our toys in a cardboard box. After arrival I left the box in the vehicle in anticipation of putting less stress on MW. I figured that if the toys are not blatantly exposed, she would ask for them when she was ready. After the first couple of days I knew that she would not be ready while we were there. There was something that held her attention such that she was unable to relax. I did not push, instead, I tried to set her more at ease, and so went the rest of the week at our vacation spot.

The trip back was also beautiful, relaxing, and at least from my vantage, enjoyable. We did encounter some disturbing situations once we were home, and that did not help. Now, the second day at home, we are still skirting issues of who is who, and who does what. We did have a talk this morning about this while sipping my excellent coffee. She wants to re-group, and take charge as she used to do. We will see.

Meanwhile I am still without explicit sex. Yes, we share tender moments, we lie together and enjoy each other’s warmth, scents, and feelings, but nothing gets done. I understand that she is not ready for sex. But why does not she allow me release in some way? I don’t think that I am being punished. She has not complained or tried to change my way. It is more like I am being ignored because there are more urgent matters for her to attend. Yes, I miss sex, but I don’t push her, because I know that she will eventually do what is right.

She is a sweet person who cares for all beings. It just so happens that I am only one of those beings, so I must wait my turn.

On Hold for Now

I know that I hinted of continuous and kinky sex, piercings, etc., and I did not deliver. I could have simply written one of my fantasies and present it as reality. Believe me, I can do that! But I did say early in my blog that I would always “Tell the truth, some of the truth, and nothing but the truth,” unless I say explicitly otherwise.

Our FLR is still intact, but one might say that it is on hold. We have no intention of giving it up. However, some of the features of FLR have been missing these few days. We had a situation waiting for us involving our son as we came home. This situation could turn out badly and we are now dealing with it. Then another matter came up that is independent of the first, but gave additional grave concern to MW. Under the circumstances I can not blame her for taking a vacation from her position of authority.

Although I am completely ready to anything and everything that we did before, I need to be realistic. I feel somewhat guilty because I have not been doing all the work that I usually do, at least not on time. For example, vacuuming, mopping, cleaning the toilets, windows, etc. They get done, but not on a regularly scheduled basis as they did before. It feels like nobody is in charge. I also have some pressing matters. I always deal with financial matters because MW considers those my domain which is all right with me. We do make decisions together, but I have the details to implement.

Well, one of these details has turned out messy. Before leaving on vacation I wrote a sizeable check on an account that was assumed to be as good as gold, and deposited the check onto my regularly used checking account. Confident that we were covered, we used the checking account for most of our expenses while on vacation. Upon my return I also paid some bills from the same account. After mailing the paid bills I listened to my answering machine that had been collecting calls over the last ten days. A call from the bank informed me that the sizeable check that I deposited was returned because it was written on a closed account. Being Saturday, I had to wait until Monday to track down the reason for this, and also to call the bank and explain that I did not write a bad check on purpose. It is all straight now, but my checking account balance is down near zero, and I have to wait with any purchases until I can re-deposit the funds, which will be a few days from now. Of course, this does not mean that I could not “get it up” at a moment’s notice if MW felt the need for my services (hint).

This may take a while to sort out. One positive thing about this is that MW may be snapping at me from time to time, but we have not had an argument or a fight. We are not dispassionate, far from it. We just are able to ride the white waters on the inner-tube of life with some semblance of dignity while our buns bounce on the rocks below. It is just a matter of time before we regroup. If I don’t post any juicy details, it is because they are yet to occur, so hang in there. We will be back. (MW says, "Yes, indeed").

Be Prepared =^..^=

Are you ready my Pet? We leave for vacation early tomorrow morning. Have you shaved your "naughty bits?" (My Pet has been listening to Monty Python) Fun and games packed? That vibrating wand we enjoy so much? Oils, ropes, switches, rods, crop, blindfold, tit clamps? I'm sure the local hardware store has most of what we might need. Who knew a hardware store could be so much fun?

More Anticipation of the Trip

Packing and Pre-Trip Anxiety

MW and I are getting ready for our trip. It will require loading our vehicle with things that we need, things that we want, things that we may or may not need depending on the weather, etc. A rain or snow storm is predicted on our day of departure. We are planning to cross some high mountains, so we need to have survival items for contingencies. All of this means that we will take a lot of stuff that we will not use, and wish that we had brought others.

She has already told me to bring the piercing kit for a possible addition to my current state of anatomy enhancement. Might come in handy when we get snowed in. I get turned on every time that I think of it. She is aware of it, of course. It is unmistakable if you know where to look, and in my “natural state” it is quite easy. This morning she also said that I should pack a pair of sweatpants in case I need to wear something comfortable in public while being encumbered by things. I think that I convinced her (with respect!) that I am not a sweatpants man. I would rather wear something like a size larger than needed pair of old Levi’s which I happen to have. Of course, the topic gave me another erection. Yes, I need to contain myself.

Power Exchange

You may need to fasten your seatbelts before reading this posting. It is not just the controversial nature of the subject, although it may be controversial within our narrow context. It is more having to do with one’s credibility or willingness to visualize abstract concepts such as “the thing is there, only it is not”. All right. I am just toying with you. You will do fine.

A reader made a comment on my prior post about my meaning of “Exchange of power.” Since I don’t have anything of sensual or sexual or kinky nature to report this time in anticipation of the trip, I think that this would be a good time to define what I was talking about.

“You can keep digging deeper and deeper and find yourself coming out at the other side.” I am saying this again, and will probably repeat it as long as I support this blog. One reason is that I may have forgotten that I said it before. Hey, wine will do that to you! The other, the real reason, is to point out how some lines of reasoning can circle back in unexpected ways. I will give you an example.

Say, there is a man who deems himself submissive and selfless, and wants to serve a woman unconditionally. Her pleasure, her desire, her authority are paramount, whereas his are not. Let’s see, now, who gets what out of this relationship? By his own admission he gets nothing (he is selfless). By his own desire of selfless servitude she gets everything. Hm. I see something wrong here: he gets what he wants, she gets what he gives her.

You could turn this around, and assume that there is a woman who wants and needs to dominate a man. She succeeds to form a relationship that allows her to do just that. If the man wants to be dominated, is she really dominating him? If the man did not want to be dominated, my guess is that he would back out of the relationship. So, the question again, is, “Is she really dominating him, or is she giving him what he wants?”

I am not at all suggesting that the only male submissive relationship between male and female is when the male voluntarily gives up power to the female. If that were the truth, then the assumption that the male had all the power to begin with would have to be true. I see it differently.

I have demonstrated in an earlier post that all relationships are D/S. Their rules are dictated by the dominance scale that maintains a stable relationship. In this sense the dominance scale is a measure of power exchange. It is analogous to energy as defined in the physical sciences. One can not have energy, and one can not use up or waste energy. The only thing that one can do with energy is to convert it from one form or manifestation to another and reap the benefits in the process. Also observe that energy is essentially limitless in this universe (there is entropy but I don’t want to be too side-tracked by discussing it). One is not born with a given amount of energy and eventually use it up before or at death. Worse even, if one were to use it up while still living, what would he do for energy later?

In a like manner power can be defined from a psychological perspective (not physical as in the physical sciences) as “an ability to manipulate others.” One is not born with an amount of power that one can use up and then become powerless. Power by itself is useless unless one applies it to get what one wants. So, like energy, one can not have power and one can not give power to another person and possess less power as a result. But one can convert power into benefits. This enables the other person to use power to manipulate the one who receives the benefit in exchange. As to which person gets or receives the power conversion or the benefit is one of my circular assertions about “digging deeper and deeper until you come out the other side.”

As a final observation I will say that, “Power exchange is always defined from a certain perspective, and that another perspective will see the same in a completely different way.” Still, it is a convenient means to describe one’s point of view.

I am not sure where I was going with this, but I seem to have arrived where I started. It reminds me of the “European Vacation” movie where the Griswold family is traveling in a traffic circle in London.

Pontification #3: Dispelling a Couple of Myths

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Getting Lucky

I did not get lucky on the day before, but, I did get lucky on Thanksgiving Day. MW made the event perfect. We had family, friends, happy reunion within our private domain, wonderful food, no tension. It was an event to remember. But I did not get lucky in the way I meant. At least, not then.

Last night I did get lucky. Late in the evening MW told me to gather her toys and make them available. I knew then that pleasure was to follow. I laid out some of her favorite toys on the bed, and waited.

I have sensitive and appreciative tits, and she knows how to use them. It is kind of funny how my tits work like an ON/OFF switch. If she wants me to have an instant erection, she will pinch using her sharp nails, and I have no control over the result. My simple-minded little guy will snap to attention and remain so until he perceives that he is being ignored. But he will rally again upon provocation over and over again.

There is a pair of clamps connected with a delicate chain. I don’t remember what the original purpose of the clamps was, but I do know for what we use them: to cause my tits to suffer. She applied them in the manner in which they do their duty. It hurts upon application. After a while the pain becomes less sharp. I know that it is there but I can live with it. I also know that when she removes the clamps I will really hurt. You just have to be there!

She gave me ten minutes to do anything that I want to do. I quickly removed the PA ring in anticipation of a great fuck to come. Figuring that in ten minutes I can come and go, so to speak. Well, nothing is that simple. As much as I wanted to, and as much as she turns me on, and as much as I desire her, my little guy failed me. OK, it could have been too much wine, but I am not really looking for an excuse. The little shit did not come through when I expected him to do so. If it did not hurt so much, I would kick the crap out of him. Sorry, that would be self abuse and we are not allowed to do that.

MW graciously allowed me to go beyond the ten-minute mark. My tongue never fails me, so I took the next avenue of approach. Oh My! I could live with that. She began to show signs of my success, even suggested enhancements that I could provide. I am being vague on details here on purpose to avoid intrusion on her privacy. I was enjoying the sight, the scent, the tactile feedback, the mind fuck that she provided. Imagine a window into a scene that continues, showing perfect footage (in movie terms) of the most loving and sensual experience that a man can have in the presence of a woman. This was it.

The next thing I knew was, she was telling me to leave and that she would finish the job herself. I sat in my living room, naked, thinking of many things. After a few more drinks I did not really know where things went bad. I guess it was, as in the Cool Hands Luke movie, we had a situation of a failure to communicate.

She joined me later and we got together. I certainly don’t hold a grudge, and hope that she does not feel guilt. I just would like to get back to what we were doing and finish the job that I was supposed to do. Damn. I have a way to fuck up a wet dream.