Sunday, November 25, 2007

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.

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