We had a great day again. MW thought that I should pay for it by marking my ass with a paddle. She mentioned it a couple of times, but did not do anything about it, so I did not anticipate much. I figured that she would forget.
MW was catching up on some email after dinner. I paid attention to her, to be sure that I could help her dry after a shower. I was about to shut down my own computer for the evening when she left the room. Alas, some chores got in the way in the form of furry felines. Upon my completing the chores she was already in the bedroom. I missed my chance.
The day before, and today she talked of my painting her toe nails with polish. We both prefer to do it when the sun is up, so I missed that chance too. I felt like a failure. I don’t know how she felt, but she did not seem to be angry about it.
She lay down in bed, and allowed me to kiss her feet before I picked up the lotion. I followed our evening ritual of applying lotion to her legs and feet. This is a wonderful opportunity for us to bond once a day. I give her pleasure and she gives me pleasure by allowing me to do this. I massage her legs. Her legs are impressive. They look good in nylons, bare, standing or walking, sitting or reclining. I could spend hours feeling them, kissing them, lovingly looking at them. Her feet are sensuous. With her sexy shoes she draws my attention. She can stand bare-footed and I drool over them. She can feel my face with her toes, part my lips with them, and have me make love to them with my tongue and lips. I get lost in pleasure.
But I digress.
After the massage she said something that I can’t remember clearly, but it had to do with getting close to the center of my being. Her heavenly aroma drew my attention already, so this was exactly what I needed. As usual, I misunderstood her suggestion, and tried to kiss her lips. I think she meant to sniff only. But even that was perfect.
We settled down to watch a movie on a DVD. She gets involved in some dramas, and tends to have bad dreams when the drama is violent. So, after the movie she picked another that was less stressful and more light-hearted to take the edge off the drama. I liked it, but was passing out as we sat side by side. With the movie over I was ready to sleep. She again reminded me of the re-marking of my ass. Well, I was not about to do it to myself, so I waited. I did not have to wait long.
She had me lie across her thighs, with those curvaceous beauties capturing the little guy and the boys. I am sure that they were as happy about that as I was. Just that they did not know what I knew was coming.
She used a homemade paddle that packs a heavy wallop. She was being very nice about it, not really trying to hurt me, just sort of. Well, you just had to be there at the receiving end to really appreciate that. Lying across her thighs is erotic by itself. I mean, one could give up a fortune to experience that. She had me do that. Can you imagine my ass up and the family jewels between her thighs?
I could not use my hands, but I felt as much as possible through our frontal contact. She began with the paddle. I thought that she would give me a few whacks, and then put me down for the night. She did give me a few whacks. They were light, then hard, then severe, then light again. I could not guess what would come next. After sixty or so whacks she began to work on the back and sides of my thighs, but not really ignoring my butt. At some point she picked up the pace so much that I lost count, and I just gave up the pleasure of her attention. It hurt, but in a really good way. She alternated barehanded strikes with the paddle, and then two-handed strikes. She was a virtuoso with her hands and instrument. I was no longer sleepy.
She had me kiss her thighs, the place where she had the boys captured during the Miss Treatment episode. It was appropriate, and I could have done more. But this was a special gift from her to me, so I did not feel greedy. I felt grateful. She may have hurt her hands on me. Such lovely self-sacrifice given to me. I love her.
I was expecting to be dismissed for the night, but she said, “You will write this up for your blog.”
“Yes.” After a pause, I said, “Do you mean now?”
“Yes, now,” she responded.
This is way past my bedtime. I could handle it, just that I have some mechanisms that always get me up early, like around three o’clock, and I need my sleep. One of the mechanisms is a cat. If that fails, it’s another cat. Sometimes it is MW who needs something, such as having me turning on or off a fan, opening or closing a window, or getting her a drink of water. Once I am up, I tend to stay up. I make the word’s strongest coffee, and settle down to mess with my writing and such using my computer.
Well, here I am, writing about the evening’s pleasures provided by my loving and lovely Mistress Wife. There is nothing that I would have changed about this evening. She can really make my life wonderful, and she is doing it.
Showing posts with label little guy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label little guy. Show all posts
Monday, September 8, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
Really The End Of Her Vacation
The Last Day Of Her Vacation
Saturday came, the day when I was to join MW at the resort for her last evening there. I packed my bag late afternoon, and left to do just that. On the way I stopped in town to buy some wine and other essentials and then entered the freeway to drive across the valley.
Upon my arrival she and the girls, Laura and Beatrice, were happy to see me as usual with the accompanying hugs, etc. We sat around sipping wine until dinnertime. I barbecued a steak for each of us. We had a pleasant dinner. Afterward I set up the massage table (we never travel light). I have a shoulder condition that I have been nursing back to usability. One of the ladies, Laura, is into healing, so she volunteered the help of the three of them to fix me real good. I am not much of a supporter of psychic healing, but I figured that I couldn’t go wrong with three women getting their hands on my body at the same time. I just hoped that the Little Guy would cooperate by not making a spectacle of himself. Even though I was dressed in shorts (outerwear) and teeshirt, he has a way to draw attention. I was ordered up on the massage table on my back, and then they took it from there.
If at this point you are expecting lurid details of an intimate massage, you may be disappointed. About the closest was when Laura felt bump under my shirt. “Have you seen a doctor about this?” she said. My wife answered before I had realized what bump she was talking about, “That’s his nipple.” I guess I should have had my shirt off to avoid misunderstandings of this nature. I wonder what they would have thought of the other lump that was forming further south of my nipple. Alas, they did not discover that one. I enjoyed being their center of attention.
After the session broke up MW and I retired to the mistress suite. I had expectations of sexual nature, but I could tell the she was not quite ready. It was also late, and we knew that we had to be up early, so we got naked and went to bed. We shared some skin, and then I passed out.
Going Home
I was up early the next morning. MW and her nocturnal friends were still asleep, so I left for the dining room where I set up the computer again to catch up with some chores. I checked MW a few times before the sun was up. I assumed that she would not mind being awakened around eight. I made coffee and returned to the bedroom to kiss her butt awake. I took my time to run my tongue over her twin dimples while inhaling her pleasantly musky aroma. She was up, I was up. We set in bed sipping coffee.
The plan we made the night before was to leave well before checkout time. I had a lot of work to do before I had to leave on another trip that involved a six-hour drive. I started thinking that this would put MW in a difficult situation. Her planned activities with her friends would be shortened, they would be rushed, she would need to do some chores at home that I normally do, and I would still be way behind schedule to set off on my trip. After being apart for a week already, except the three times I already mentioned, I would be gone for another four or five days. It was apparent that she did not want me to leave. She actually missed me. I made arrangements to postpone my trip until the next day.
After coffee we played a bit, and I put on something to make me appear decent in polite company. Read that as “I did not want to scare the straights with my PA piercing, tortured tits, and shaved balls.” I put on my athletic shorts and tried to keep my poor tits out of view. The women were in the living room already packed. I apologized for being two hours late in the implementation of our plan, and asked them to relax, for after we check out we are going to lunch. After they tossed around a lot of guilt, and worry about my late start of my trip, I generously allowed them to thank me profusely. When MW showed up all dressed, she found three happy people.
Not having eaten since dinner the night before, I was ready for breakfast. MW had other Ideas, and I began to load the Beast. The luggage, food, and furniture were to go into three distinct heaps on the floor, which I could then translate to the vehicle. There was a good reason for this. The longest time was consumed by unloading the refrigerator. Since I was the only one with an ice chest, MW ended up loading it to the gills with perishables from the almost full refrigerator. She always returns home with more food than she takes on a trip.
I checked out at the front desk, and we were leaving just as the maid pushed her cart into the unit. We agreed to meet at the Dos Amigos restaurant for lunch. The two ladies went ahead to, I assume, enjoy a drink, while MW and I drove to Beatrice’s condo and I unloaded their luggage. As I said, there was a lot. Only ours remained in the Beast. We joined them at the restaurant.
We shot a couple of hours on lunch, then MW I headed back toward home.
At Home Again
Our dogs and cats were happy to see us. I unloaded the luggage and ice chests, and attended to chores. By the time I finished we were ready to have a drink and relax. But MW still had things for me to do. After I showered she had me put on the CB3000. It was not for punishment or denial; it was just because she could make me do it. While in my natural state I did some computer work for her, paid some bills, and was finally in a position to relax early evening.
We enjoyed the evening. It was good to be home again. I suggested that I could get a real early start on my trip in the morning. She expressed her wish to have coffee with me on the top deck, something that she missed while she was away. It was thus decided by her that I would leave later, in order to give her my time.
In the morning I was up early again, did some messing around on the Internet, and bumped into her in the dark unexpectedly. It appears that one of the cats awakened her. Dawn was just becoming visible. I made our coffee, and we met on the upper deck. The morning air was cool enough to be pleasant, due to the breeze. We talked until the sun came up from behind the mountain.
We returned to the bedroom where she instructed me to remove the cage. I did, and was back with her in a flash. She drew me on top of her and did that wonderful thing with her fingers and my on/off switches.
“You know, I could give you your thrill afterward, I hinted that maybe this time she would allow me to server her orally after I have had mine.
“You could do it now,” she replied.
I did not wait, but turned around and began to do that wonderfully fragrant and tasty chore that I love so much.
I think that she was trying too hard. By her admittance she had one orgasm, but I could tell that it was not an earthshaking event. She stopped me after that because of an instant headache. We paused, and the headache was gone in a while. I rejoined her at the top and we continued with very traditional sex.
She whispered, “Maybe I will have you clean me afterward.”
She usually says something like that to mess with my mind, so maybe this time she meant it, I thought. Whether or not she meant it, it did not happen. I did have an excellent sendoff. It’s interesting how we behaved almost like newlyweds, but with a kink.
After I finished some chores I had breakfast, and then loaded my luggage into the Beast. It took me a long time to get away, because somehow she kept finding more things for me to do. I don’t think that the dead rat floating in the bucket of water outside the front door was done by her in an attempt to delay my departure. We have had some rains. In any case I did have to dispatch the dead animal.
The last chore she had for me was to photograph her standing on the bridge while I stood below with the camera. It was done, and I could leave on my trip. We kissed again, and I was gone.
Saturday came, the day when I was to join MW at the resort for her last evening there. I packed my bag late afternoon, and left to do just that. On the way I stopped in town to buy some wine and other essentials and then entered the freeway to drive across the valley.
Upon my arrival she and the girls, Laura and Beatrice, were happy to see me as usual with the accompanying hugs, etc. We sat around sipping wine until dinnertime. I barbecued a steak for each of us. We had a pleasant dinner. Afterward I set up the massage table (we never travel light). I have a shoulder condition that I have been nursing back to usability. One of the ladies, Laura, is into healing, so she volunteered the help of the three of them to fix me real good. I am not much of a supporter of psychic healing, but I figured that I couldn’t go wrong with three women getting their hands on my body at the same time. I just hoped that the Little Guy would cooperate by not making a spectacle of himself. Even though I was dressed in shorts (outerwear) and teeshirt, he has a way to draw attention. I was ordered up on the massage table on my back, and then they took it from there.
If at this point you are expecting lurid details of an intimate massage, you may be disappointed. About the closest was when Laura felt bump under my shirt. “Have you seen a doctor about this?” she said. My wife answered before I had realized what bump she was talking about, “That’s his nipple.” I guess I should have had my shirt off to avoid misunderstandings of this nature. I wonder what they would have thought of the other lump that was forming further south of my nipple. Alas, they did not discover that one. I enjoyed being their center of attention.
After the session broke up MW and I retired to the mistress suite. I had expectations of sexual nature, but I could tell the she was not quite ready. It was also late, and we knew that we had to be up early, so we got naked and went to bed. We shared some skin, and then I passed out.
Going Home
I was up early the next morning. MW and her nocturnal friends were still asleep, so I left for the dining room where I set up the computer again to catch up with some chores. I checked MW a few times before the sun was up. I assumed that she would not mind being awakened around eight. I made coffee and returned to the bedroom to kiss her butt awake. I took my time to run my tongue over her twin dimples while inhaling her pleasantly musky aroma. She was up, I was up. We set in bed sipping coffee.
The plan we made the night before was to leave well before checkout time. I had a lot of work to do before I had to leave on another trip that involved a six-hour drive. I started thinking that this would put MW in a difficult situation. Her planned activities with her friends would be shortened, they would be rushed, she would need to do some chores at home that I normally do, and I would still be way behind schedule to set off on my trip. After being apart for a week already, except the three times I already mentioned, I would be gone for another four or five days. It was apparent that she did not want me to leave. She actually missed me. I made arrangements to postpone my trip until the next day.
After coffee we played a bit, and I put on something to make me appear decent in polite company. Read that as “I did not want to scare the straights with my PA piercing, tortured tits, and shaved balls.” I put on my athletic shorts and tried to keep my poor tits out of view. The women were in the living room already packed. I apologized for being two hours late in the implementation of our plan, and asked them to relax, for after we check out we are going to lunch. After they tossed around a lot of guilt, and worry about my late start of my trip, I generously allowed them to thank me profusely. When MW showed up all dressed, she found three happy people.
Not having eaten since dinner the night before, I was ready for breakfast. MW had other Ideas, and I began to load the Beast. The luggage, food, and furniture were to go into three distinct heaps on the floor, which I could then translate to the vehicle. There was a good reason for this. The longest time was consumed by unloading the refrigerator. Since I was the only one with an ice chest, MW ended up loading it to the gills with perishables from the almost full refrigerator. She always returns home with more food than she takes on a trip.
I checked out at the front desk, and we were leaving just as the maid pushed her cart into the unit. We agreed to meet at the Dos Amigos restaurant for lunch. The two ladies went ahead to, I assume, enjoy a drink, while MW and I drove to Beatrice’s condo and I unloaded their luggage. As I said, there was a lot. Only ours remained in the Beast. We joined them at the restaurant.
We shot a couple of hours on lunch, then MW I headed back toward home.
At Home Again
Our dogs and cats were happy to see us. I unloaded the luggage and ice chests, and attended to chores. By the time I finished we were ready to have a drink and relax. But MW still had things for me to do. After I showered she had me put on the CB3000. It was not for punishment or denial; it was just because she could make me do it. While in my natural state I did some computer work for her, paid some bills, and was finally in a position to relax early evening.
We enjoyed the evening. It was good to be home again. I suggested that I could get a real early start on my trip in the morning. She expressed her wish to have coffee with me on the top deck, something that she missed while she was away. It was thus decided by her that I would leave later, in order to give her my time.
In the morning I was up early again, did some messing around on the Internet, and bumped into her in the dark unexpectedly. It appears that one of the cats awakened her. Dawn was just becoming visible. I made our coffee, and we met on the upper deck. The morning air was cool enough to be pleasant, due to the breeze. We talked until the sun came up from behind the mountain.
We returned to the bedroom where she instructed me to remove the cage. I did, and was back with her in a flash. She drew me on top of her and did that wonderful thing with her fingers and my on/off switches.
“You know, I could give you your thrill afterward, I hinted that maybe this time she would allow me to server her orally after I have had mine.
“You could do it now,” she replied.
I did not wait, but turned around and began to do that wonderfully fragrant and tasty chore that I love so much.
I think that she was trying too hard. By her admittance she had one orgasm, but I could tell that it was not an earthshaking event. She stopped me after that because of an instant headache. We paused, and the headache was gone in a while. I rejoined her at the top and we continued with very traditional sex.
She whispered, “Maybe I will have you clean me afterward.”
She usually says something like that to mess with my mind, so maybe this time she meant it, I thought. Whether or not she meant it, it did not happen. I did have an excellent sendoff. It’s interesting how we behaved almost like newlyweds, but with a kink.
After I finished some chores I had breakfast, and then loaded my luggage into the Beast. It took me a long time to get away, because somehow she kept finding more things for me to do. I don’t think that the dead rat floating in the bucket of water outside the front door was done by her in an attempt to delay my departure. We have had some rains. In any case I did have to dispatch the dead animal.
The last chore she had for me was to photograph her standing on the bridge while I stood below with the camera. It was done, and I could leave on my trip. We kissed again, and I was gone.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Problems With Chastity Devices
Why Use A Chastity Device?
I am beginning to think that there are no true chastity devices, only tokens. Consider the origin of this. Back in the era of the Crusades a Lord left his Lady for years at a time. Whether or not she was the kind who would stray was irrelevant. He went off to pursue his needs, and left her to want her needs. So who was going to provide them? He was getting his, but was she expected to remain chaste? If she would, why? By the way, it was not the Lord who was wearing the chastity device.
So, whether or not his approach to the solution was justified, her views were not addressed. She may have been willing and able to remain chaste, but he was so insecure that he would not trust her. Then again, if she was such a flake that she would screw any male with a hard on, a chastity device was simply working the symptom, not the cause. I am just saying that on the long run, it was wrong!
Is all of this is a Big Fantasy?
Getting back to the present, I feel that it is still wrong. If you don’t trust your partner, get rid of him. You don’t need some horny schmuck who will get his jollies at the slightest provocation and give you a sexually transmitted disease as an unintended side effect.
If all you worry about is his daily masturbation, but you get all the sex you want from him anyway, why should you care?
If he is such an asshole who masturbates to the point that he has no use for you, then get him therapy or get rid of him. I mean, really, people, try to solve the problem rather than mess with the symptoms!
I don’t know what percentage of the material out there that deals with chastity is real. My guess is a few percent, if that much. Maybe one percent. The rest is male fantasy. If you want examples of fake stuff, contact me, and I will give you examples. It is far more difficult to give you true stories.
Now that I have badmouthed [the myth of] male chastity, I can get to the meat of the matter, so to speak. We are all weird in some way, and some of us are weird sexually. For example, I like CBT, D/S, serving my wife. I want to be dominated sexually, and, difficult to believe, emotionally and psychologically, as long as all that is not in a really weird way, such as really hurting someone.
I can function as a normal human. I don’t frequent prostitutes or professional dominas. I just need a little kink in my life to spice up the mundane tasks that I face daily. Love alone will not suffice. I am not Sir Lancelot. I am more like Sir Frigging Horny. Give me some of this, and I will give you a lot of what you want. Simple.
The only thing that chastity has to do with me is that I am true to my wife. That would change if she no longer wanted me. As I said, I am not Sir Lancelot, but I am just as devoted to her. But I need something in return. Love, care, food, companionship are nice and necessary. But there is the other stuff that I mentioned, part of which is the toys that were the subject of this treatise. I am fascinated with them. If MW pays attention to my interest, she can use any device she wishes for any length of time. Or not. It is her attention that I crave. I also crave the devices, but I don’t need to get too technical to illustrate my point.
The Problems
Some of you may be tired of this subject popping up at a high frequency. It is as if that is all that supposedly submissive men think about. I have said before that I am not exactly submissive, but I submit to my wife as long as she wants me to. I would love more of her control, but I must be realistic.
I have also said that we play with chastity. I love the feeling of helplessness when I know that there is a chance of her forcing me to do things. A device such as this can be subtle, such as under clothes, yet I know exactly where I stand. It can be blatant, such as when I am not wearing clothes. It is totally unnecessary for me to wear such a device because I am honorable, and if she says, “You will not touch your male parts,” I will not touch them. Not because I am physically prevented, although that in itself is a great turn on. Because I agreed to follow her order.
Some of these devices are not real, rather, they are a token of what they are supposed to be. Say, a piece of plastic that I could crush with one hand would not keep me from cheating in any way. The token part is to show her that I take it seriously enough so that I don’t try to defeat it. Then there are those that would take a lot more than a good squeeze by one hand to defeat even in the slightest manner.
As most men who are into this, and as some couples, we have gone through many devices. Some of my early homemade devices were downright silly and very primitive. We bought some over the years, used them for a while, and dismissed them. I am still trying to find one that works for me.
I find the “belt style” devices intriguing. I love to read about them, I like to see men in them. In spite of that I am not even tempted to buy one. It is something I assume that I could wear at home while being in my natural state only as a punishment or for my wife’s amusement. There are many reasons for my not wanting to have one. The most compelling is a matter of personal cleanliness. When I have to rely on the keyholder for that purpose, that is asking too much, and can be just too inconvenient.
The trivial devices such as “seven gates of hell” are strictly for D/S play. They can be sexy, fun, and cause enough pain and humiliation to make them worth the effort, but they are non-functional for chastity or orgasm control. If chastity devices have leather parts, or parts that rust or get otherwise damaged by liquids, their effectiveness and life span are limited.
Metal devices were the precursors of the now ubiquitous plastics. Back when a man did not have to worry about metal detectors picking up his hardware, a wife could send her cheating-prone hubby on a business trip with it on. She must now rely on plastic. Metal devices have class. They tend to exude an aura that plastic, especially the colorful ones, cannot match. Metal also suggests a permanence and strength, although a bolt cutter could make confetti out of it in a hurry. My favorite is stainless steel. That is not the same as chrome-plated pot metal or aluminum.
Plastics are a great innovation. They are easy to mass-produce, cheap to make, don’t set off alarms, are light weight and come in colors (yuck!). They also easily break, and are easily defeated by an unscrupulous wearer who does not mind having his fun now and paying for it later.
Variations on the theme dealing with “safety”, “security”, and functionality have come along in the form of piercings. In a way some devices take advantage of piercings and would not function well without them. In an other way the piercing was in itself a chastity device that became enhanced by the newly acquired hardware. This is one reason why I pierced my little guy. The jewelry that I can wear is barbaric, but damned sexy. It is also versatile in D/S. Just visualize me being lead by a leash attached to a Prince Albert ring that is permanently in place place. See We Are Playing Again.
My first real chastity device was a CB2000 (see Mistress Wife Is At Home ). We still use it from time to time. MW likes to vary the scenario and I am all for it. It broke, and I fixed it. With my fixes it still works as well as when it was new. However, I had a problem with long-term wear, say more than a full day. Not that I am squeamish, too sensitive, or that I can’t stand some pain and discomfort. Here is what happens. My little guy is uncut. That means a fully functional foreskin is there for all to see. Well, maybe only those who pay first. Without the cage there is no problem.
With the cage, the foreskin in place covering the head, urination tends to leave residues even after careful splashing of water onto the cage. So there is some unpleasant smell as a result. Trying to fix this problem I have pulled back the foreskin, and left the head bare, so to speak. It works because the little guy fills the space in the cage. I even get a thrill out of it, and the cleaning effort, even when I am away from home, tends to be more effective. This, however, creates another problem. My foreskin swells, and I must assume that leaving it swollen for more than a couple of days will cause some harm other than just pain. So this is not a long term solution.
We tried a CB3000 lately. It is a slight improvement in looks and size over its predecessor. I like the looks. It is sexy, but I like it less than the predecessor, because my parts will not dry as readily due to the almost solid tube. In other respects it has identical problems. My solution to this foreskin-swelling problem is to have the device off for a few hours each day. Even in a very strictly controlled Keyholding relationship this is possible if one tries. It even opens possibilities of D/S that a 24/7 device would not allow. For example, some keyholders will bindfold or handcuff a male while the device is off. A more interesting and less cumbersome approach was offered by a male in his relationship. His wife hands him a solid steel hinged collar which he locks around his neck She has the key to the lock. After that he is allowed to remove the cage. The collar remains on him until she decides otherwise, which will most likely be when the cage is reinstalled. Since he has to go out once in a while, like to work, it goes without saying that the cage goes back on unless he works at some porno shop. He did not say what would happen if he misused his cock while out of the cage, but I imagine that the issue could be addressed by the keyolder prior to the exchange of collar for cage.
MW and I are also using a strip of plastic called the Kali’s Teeth Bracelet. It may be a misnomer as far as the “bracelet” part is concerned, but it is effective to a certain extent. I could still orgasm wearing it, but no male or female would want to be, ah, entered by me, so that sort of cheating is not really feasible. This too, is a short-term device. The last time I had this on I wrote in one of my recent posts . It was on the order of three days, and MW wanted me to keep in on for another three days until we meet again (she was out of town for a week). Well, aside from the extreme pain that woke me every morning over and over again, this too caused some swelling in addition to the pinprick holes that the nasty little teeth created. My sweet and perverse MW also likes to gently knee me in the balls from time to time. Wearing this device makes that very painful for me. Sure, the pain is temporary, and hurts too much only when I have an erection. Then again I have an erection most of the time when she is around, especially when she is having fun with me.
I pointed our in an earlier posting that I have considered buying the #12A from Miss Lori’s site (see Lori's Devices). This seemed to have solved all the problems that people had with other devices. But I had a hard time visualizing how it is used. I wrote to her expressing this concern, and also that my measurements are all over the map, and that trying to fit me to any device may be futile. She answered promptly. Among other things, she said, “… Your length does not matter … The #12 series does not allow erections so your length will not change that much using this device.”
Ah " …, does not allow erections?" Where do they go? I mean, when my little guy goes from zero to seven inches in two seconds and changes from finger size to, you know, stand back. It is almost like pulling a ripcord on an inflatable boat: if you stand too close, you may get a pair of fat lips. So, how does “not allowing” work exactly? Could I be facing a bit of unintended side effects, like maybe extreme bulging in unnatural ways and places? Maybe a blowout? Miss Lori was very nice to have included a picture that demonstrated to a certain extent why length does not matter. I have not asked permission to show it, so I can’t. But it does tell me some things. (1) #12A, or equivalent variety from her toy store, is difficult to install, but once on it stays on, (2) extreme size changes of my anatomy caused by temperature variations and the effect of sexual provocation would be very exciting, but not necessarily in a good way, (3) the issue of foreskin is not addressed.
Being as handy as I am with tools, I fabricated a prototype of the #12A just to investigate the feasibility. I incurred a bit of damage, it was fun, and I can try it again, but overall my conclusions stand. Now, if I could “consumer test" this device without having to pay first, I could do it justice. It would take going through the seasons, so to speak, to give it a chance to handle reactions to temperature changes in addition to MW's presence that tends to inflate my versatile parts. But I would prefer not to spend all that money just to find out what I think I already know.
Those of you who don’t know will find this funny. My little guy and the boys change configuration to the extent that you would not recognize them from moment to moment. In cold weather the little guy pulls in to the point where I may have to search for him sometimes. The boys snuggle up with the scrotum puckering around to provide a thermal insulation. The whole package is barely there.
In warm weather, however, the picture is much different. You would not believe that you are seeing the same set of parts. The little guy is no longer little. The boys swing low.
Given these seasonal variations, I have had some real problems with the cage variety of chastity device. It becomes very pressing in cold weather. If I loosen it to accommodate the cramped parts, then the cage falls off when I get warm, such as in a shower.
I know, you can’t satisfy everybody every time. The Lori's #12 device is perfect: shiny like jewelry, barbaric, and about 100 percent effective. However, I would not want a permanent erection with it on. I would love to have this item. I would love to play with it. I would love to suffer using it. I would love to have MW teasing me with it on just to see me lose control. But dang it! It cannot be a long-term device because of the foreskin problem.
No, I will not get a circumcision. I like the little guy just the way he is. But the #12 series of chastity devices assume that there is no foreskin. I don’t see a way around that. So, I could buy one, and we would play with it, but we could not install it and then forget it for the rest of my life as some users claim. Alas, it would be just another expensive toy. Then again, aren’t they all?
I would like to know whether I am the only one with the swelling foreskin problem. Have any of you guys experienced this? Of course, if your thing is already cut, you would not have the answer (sort of like a woman, and I don’t mean disrespect, not knowing about the direct effect of Kali). Still, I am listening.
Being Humbled Again
MW has been doing some unrelated research and came across "information" which is relevant to the above material.
I am convinced that we must not believe everything we read on the Internet. I have been saying this for years. So what do I do? I succumb to the very temptation that I try to discredit. This time it has to do with our interpretation of chastity devices. In specific, their origin. I admit that I did not research it before presenting it as the basis of my post. The bottom line is, according to this "information" the medieval folks did not invent the chastity device as we know them today. It is a nice legend, but we must give credit where credit is due. Then again, I have not checked the authenticity of this new "information", so I may still be wrong. If you are interested, check out this
http://www.arizonapowerexchange.org/newsletter/Apex_Sept2008.pdf
It is probably more credible then what we find on the websites of vendors of chastity devices, or blogs by proponents of male chastity.
I am beginning to think that there are no true chastity devices, only tokens. Consider the origin of this. Back in the era of the Crusades a Lord left his Lady for years at a time. Whether or not she was the kind who would stray was irrelevant. He went off to pursue his needs, and left her to want her needs. So who was going to provide them? He was getting his, but was she expected to remain chaste? If she would, why? By the way, it was not the Lord who was wearing the chastity device.
So, whether or not his approach to the solution was justified, her views were not addressed. She may have been willing and able to remain chaste, but he was so insecure that he would not trust her. Then again, if she was such a flake that she would screw any male with a hard on, a chastity device was simply working the symptom, not the cause. I am just saying that on the long run, it was wrong!
Is all of this is a Big Fantasy?
Getting back to the present, I feel that it is still wrong. If you don’t trust your partner, get rid of him. You don’t need some horny schmuck who will get his jollies at the slightest provocation and give you a sexually transmitted disease as an unintended side effect.
If all you worry about is his daily masturbation, but you get all the sex you want from him anyway, why should you care?
If he is such an asshole who masturbates to the point that he has no use for you, then get him therapy or get rid of him. I mean, really, people, try to solve the problem rather than mess with the symptoms!
I don’t know what percentage of the material out there that deals with chastity is real. My guess is a few percent, if that much. Maybe one percent. The rest is male fantasy. If you want examples of fake stuff, contact me, and I will give you examples. It is far more difficult to give you true stories.
Now that I have badmouthed [the myth of] male chastity, I can get to the meat of the matter, so to speak. We are all weird in some way, and some of us are weird sexually. For example, I like CBT, D/S, serving my wife. I want to be dominated sexually, and, difficult to believe, emotionally and psychologically, as long as all that is not in a really weird way, such as really hurting someone.
I can function as a normal human. I don’t frequent prostitutes or professional dominas. I just need a little kink in my life to spice up the mundane tasks that I face daily. Love alone will not suffice. I am not Sir Lancelot. I am more like Sir Frigging Horny. Give me some of this, and I will give you a lot of what you want. Simple.
The only thing that chastity has to do with me is that I am true to my wife. That would change if she no longer wanted me. As I said, I am not Sir Lancelot, but I am just as devoted to her. But I need something in return. Love, care, food, companionship are nice and necessary. But there is the other stuff that I mentioned, part of which is the toys that were the subject of this treatise. I am fascinated with them. If MW pays attention to my interest, she can use any device she wishes for any length of time. Or not. It is her attention that I crave. I also crave the devices, but I don’t need to get too technical to illustrate my point.
The Problems
Some of you may be tired of this subject popping up at a high frequency. It is as if that is all that supposedly submissive men think about. I have said before that I am not exactly submissive, but I submit to my wife as long as she wants me to. I would love more of her control, but I must be realistic.
I have also said that we play with chastity. I love the feeling of helplessness when I know that there is a chance of her forcing me to do things. A device such as this can be subtle, such as under clothes, yet I know exactly where I stand. It can be blatant, such as when I am not wearing clothes. It is totally unnecessary for me to wear such a device because I am honorable, and if she says, “You will not touch your male parts,” I will not touch them. Not because I am physically prevented, although that in itself is a great turn on. Because I agreed to follow her order.
Some of these devices are not real, rather, they are a token of what they are supposed to be. Say, a piece of plastic that I could crush with one hand would not keep me from cheating in any way. The token part is to show her that I take it seriously enough so that I don’t try to defeat it. Then there are those that would take a lot more than a good squeeze by one hand to defeat even in the slightest manner.
As most men who are into this, and as some couples, we have gone through many devices. Some of my early homemade devices were downright silly and very primitive. We bought some over the years, used them for a while, and dismissed them. I am still trying to find one that works for me.
I find the “belt style” devices intriguing. I love to read about them, I like to see men in them. In spite of that I am not even tempted to buy one. It is something I assume that I could wear at home while being in my natural state only as a punishment or for my wife’s amusement. There are many reasons for my not wanting to have one. The most compelling is a matter of personal cleanliness. When I have to rely on the keyholder for that purpose, that is asking too much, and can be just too inconvenient.
The trivial devices such as “seven gates of hell” are strictly for D/S play. They can be sexy, fun, and cause enough pain and humiliation to make them worth the effort, but they are non-functional for chastity or orgasm control. If chastity devices have leather parts, or parts that rust or get otherwise damaged by liquids, their effectiveness and life span are limited.
Metal devices were the precursors of the now ubiquitous plastics. Back when a man did not have to worry about metal detectors picking up his hardware, a wife could send her cheating-prone hubby on a business trip with it on. She must now rely on plastic. Metal devices have class. They tend to exude an aura that plastic, especially the colorful ones, cannot match. Metal also suggests a permanence and strength, although a bolt cutter could make confetti out of it in a hurry. My favorite is stainless steel. That is not the same as chrome-plated pot metal or aluminum.
Plastics are a great innovation. They are easy to mass-produce, cheap to make, don’t set off alarms, are light weight and come in colors (yuck!). They also easily break, and are easily defeated by an unscrupulous wearer who does not mind having his fun now and paying for it later.
Variations on the theme dealing with “safety”, “security”, and functionality have come along in the form of piercings. In a way some devices take advantage of piercings and would not function well without them. In an other way the piercing was in itself a chastity device that became enhanced by the newly acquired hardware. This is one reason why I pierced my little guy. The jewelry that I can wear is barbaric, but damned sexy. It is also versatile in D/S. Just visualize me being lead by a leash attached to a Prince Albert ring that is permanently in place place. See We Are Playing Again.
My first real chastity device was a CB2000 (see Mistress Wife Is At Home ). We still use it from time to time. MW likes to vary the scenario and I am all for it. It broke, and I fixed it. With my fixes it still works as well as when it was new. However, I had a problem with long-term wear, say more than a full day. Not that I am squeamish, too sensitive, or that I can’t stand some pain and discomfort. Here is what happens. My little guy is uncut. That means a fully functional foreskin is there for all to see. Well, maybe only those who pay first. Without the cage there is no problem.
With the cage, the foreskin in place covering the head, urination tends to leave residues even after careful splashing of water onto the cage. So there is some unpleasant smell as a result. Trying to fix this problem I have pulled back the foreskin, and left the head bare, so to speak. It works because the little guy fills the space in the cage. I even get a thrill out of it, and the cleaning effort, even when I am away from home, tends to be more effective. This, however, creates another problem. My foreskin swells, and I must assume that leaving it swollen for more than a couple of days will cause some harm other than just pain. So this is not a long term solution.
We tried a CB3000 lately. It is a slight improvement in looks and size over its predecessor. I like the looks. It is sexy, but I like it less than the predecessor, because my parts will not dry as readily due to the almost solid tube. In other respects it has identical problems. My solution to this foreskin-swelling problem is to have the device off for a few hours each day. Even in a very strictly controlled Keyholding relationship this is possible if one tries. It even opens possibilities of D/S that a 24/7 device would not allow. For example, some keyholders will bindfold or handcuff a male while the device is off. A more interesting and less cumbersome approach was offered by a male in his relationship. His wife hands him a solid steel hinged collar which he locks around his neck She has the key to the lock. After that he is allowed to remove the cage. The collar remains on him until she decides otherwise, which will most likely be when the cage is reinstalled. Since he has to go out once in a while, like to work, it goes without saying that the cage goes back on unless he works at some porno shop. He did not say what would happen if he misused his cock while out of the cage, but I imagine that the issue could be addressed by the keyolder prior to the exchange of collar for cage.
MW and I are also using a strip of plastic called the Kali’s Teeth Bracelet. It may be a misnomer as far as the “bracelet” part is concerned, but it is effective to a certain extent. I could still orgasm wearing it, but no male or female would want to be, ah, entered by me, so that sort of cheating is not really feasible. This too, is a short-term device. The last time I had this on I wrote in one of my recent posts . It was on the order of three days, and MW wanted me to keep in on for another three days until we meet again (she was out of town for a week). Well, aside from the extreme pain that woke me every morning over and over again, this too caused some swelling in addition to the pinprick holes that the nasty little teeth created. My sweet and perverse MW also likes to gently knee me in the balls from time to time. Wearing this device makes that very painful for me. Sure, the pain is temporary, and hurts too much only when I have an erection. Then again I have an erection most of the time when she is around, especially when she is having fun with me.
I pointed our in an earlier posting that I have considered buying the #12A from Miss Lori’s site (see Lori's Devices). This seemed to have solved all the problems that people had with other devices. But I had a hard time visualizing how it is used. I wrote to her expressing this concern, and also that my measurements are all over the map, and that trying to fit me to any device may be futile. She answered promptly. Among other things, she said, “… Your length does not matter … The #12 series does not allow erections so your length will not change that much using this device.”
Ah " …, does not allow erections?" Where do they go? I mean, when my little guy goes from zero to seven inches in two seconds and changes from finger size to, you know, stand back. It is almost like pulling a ripcord on an inflatable boat: if you stand too close, you may get a pair of fat lips. So, how does “not allowing” work exactly? Could I be facing a bit of unintended side effects, like maybe extreme bulging in unnatural ways and places? Maybe a blowout? Miss Lori was very nice to have included a picture that demonstrated to a certain extent why length does not matter. I have not asked permission to show it, so I can’t. But it does tell me some things. (1) #12A, or equivalent variety from her toy store, is difficult to install, but once on it stays on, (2) extreme size changes of my anatomy caused by temperature variations and the effect of sexual provocation would be very exciting, but not necessarily in a good way, (3) the issue of foreskin is not addressed.
Being as handy as I am with tools, I fabricated a prototype of the #12A just to investigate the feasibility. I incurred a bit of damage, it was fun, and I can try it again, but overall my conclusions stand. Now, if I could “consumer test" this device without having to pay first, I could do it justice. It would take going through the seasons, so to speak, to give it a chance to handle reactions to temperature changes in addition to MW's presence that tends to inflate my versatile parts. But I would prefer not to spend all that money just to find out what I think I already know.
Those of you who don’t know will find this funny. My little guy and the boys change configuration to the extent that you would not recognize them from moment to moment. In cold weather the little guy pulls in to the point where I may have to search for him sometimes. The boys snuggle up with the scrotum puckering around to provide a thermal insulation. The whole package is barely there.
In warm weather, however, the picture is much different. You would not believe that you are seeing the same set of parts. The little guy is no longer little. The boys swing low.
Given these seasonal variations, I have had some real problems with the cage variety of chastity device. It becomes very pressing in cold weather. If I loosen it to accommodate the cramped parts, then the cage falls off when I get warm, such as in a shower.
I know, you can’t satisfy everybody every time. The Lori's #12 device is perfect: shiny like jewelry, barbaric, and about 100 percent effective. However, I would not want a permanent erection with it on. I would love to have this item. I would love to play with it. I would love to suffer using it. I would love to have MW teasing me with it on just to see me lose control. But dang it! It cannot be a long-term device because of the foreskin problem.
No, I will not get a circumcision. I like the little guy just the way he is. But the #12 series of chastity devices assume that there is no foreskin. I don’t see a way around that. So, I could buy one, and we would play with it, but we could not install it and then forget it for the rest of my life as some users claim. Alas, it would be just another expensive toy. Then again, aren’t they all?
I would like to know whether I am the only one with the swelling foreskin problem. Have any of you guys experienced this? Of course, if your thing is already cut, you would not have the answer (sort of like a woman, and I don’t mean disrespect, not knowing about the direct effect of Kali). Still, I am listening.
Being Humbled Again
MW has been doing some unrelated research and came across "information" which is relevant to the above material.
I am convinced that we must not believe everything we read on the Internet. I have been saying this for years. So what do I do? I succumb to the very temptation that I try to discredit. This time it has to do with our interpretation of chastity devices. In specific, their origin. I admit that I did not research it before presenting it as the basis of my post. The bottom line is, according to this "information" the medieval folks did not invent the chastity device as we know them today. It is a nice legend, but we must give credit where credit is due. Then again, I have not checked the authenticity of this new "information", so I may still be wrong. If you are interested, check out this
http://www.arizonapowerexchange.org/newsletter/Apex_Sept2008.pdf
It is probably more credible then what we find on the websites of vendors of chastity devices, or blogs by proponents of male chastity.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Start Of Another Vacation For Mistress Wife
The Last Few Days
I have related to you the vacation and the two days after that Vacation. Aside from MW forcing me to wear the CB2000 this time, not much has happened. She was a bit distracted again about some upcoming events. I will talk about the more pleasant ones and skip the others.
I know that we just had a vacation a couple of weeks ago, but she had another planned earlier in the year, and somehow there was not a good way to re-schedule it. I have mentioned some of her female friends before, and how MW arranges a nice few day’s stay at some resort for the three or four of them including MW. This was one of those occasions. The resort this time was near home, so she planned to have me serve them in many ways.
Two days prior she had me install Kali’s teeth just for her fun and enjoyment. It is not an impressive device unless you already know the details (see Kali). I suffered for two nights with the infernal hardons that feel like some animal is chewing off the little guy. On the third day I was to drive her to the resort and help her and friends to move in. I again loaded the Beast and we met her friends where MW rented a three-bedroom condo for the week. Nice place. She chose to keep me with her in the Mistress suite overnight. I, of course, did the kitchen wench detail suitably impressing her friends. Not that I am so good, but her friends are not used to seeing a good man doing the right thing.
After dinner the four of us lounged in the living room. There was wine, interesting movie, many bare female legs. My favorite, of course, was the pheromones. MW does not flaunt me before her friends, and in fact, forbids me to do anything with them unless she specifically tells me to do something, such as carry their luggage or apply lotion to a foot or two. Yes, I get away with a greeting or departing hug and occasional deep kiss (very deep). But all that is just sort of friendly rather than blatantly sexy. They don’t really know that I am so pussy-whipped by MW, but I am sure they have an idea that our relationship is not exactly vanilla. After all, what average male would clean up after dinner and remain pleasant, entertaining, courteous, and sexy as hell. Ok, maybe not that sexy, but you get the picture.
These females (not including MW) are nocturnal, so it goes without saying that they will stay up late, whereas I pass out early. I stayed with them watching the movie until about 9:30. I excused myself, showered, and went to bed. The little piece of plastic goodie wrapped around my little guy began to give me a real hard time around 1AM. It was bad enough that I had to get out of bed and just walk around thinking of Nancy Pelosi and Hillary Clinton together. I think I was OK when I imagined them driving over the edge of …
Sorry about that, just a bit of perversion on my part. I have this thing against lawyers in general. In any case, the little guy settled down and I went back to sleep. That is, until about 1:30. At that point even the lawyer thoughts were no help, so I needed to get into some real serious stuff like Bill Clinton, but without Monica et. al. At some point I had to throw in Al Gore, and that worked. I recalled a photograph that one of my sons acquired. It showed Slick Willie and Algore in leather bondage gear with Algore wearing handcuffs. I am sure that the photo was not genuinely depicting their situation at the time. Algore is too damned serious for that. After this point I could actually go back to sleep. Until about three. The little fugger got me up again. At that point it was no use trying again. I am sure that I was being punished for my irreverent thoughts, as useful as they had been.
MW was showering after her exhausting night of joy with her friends. I waited until her return when we talked and she wanted to cuddle. That was great, except that it did things to the little guy again, so there I was in agony, being punished again for my sinful thougths agains great political leaders.
MW was very understanding, heh-heh, and let me get out of bed to make some coffee for myself while she settled down for some serious sleep.
I returned to the dining room and started coffee. While it was brewing I set up my laptop computer and bought a week’s time of wireless Internet. As much as I liked the place, they did not provide free access, so it’s either pay or suffer. Nobody wants to be without Internet. Oh, sure, I could go to the lobby and hog their computer there while trying to cover the monitor with my body. Yeah, right! I would rather suffer.
Over the next few hours I did some work, some play, some reading, and some writing. I consumed a lot of caffeine in the form of my evil black brew. A minute before 8AM I entered the Mistress bedroom and dropped my shorts to join MW in bed. The little guy again raised hell, and we suffered, but that could not be helped, and was wort it. Snuggling up to MW’s butt does things to both of us: juicy fun with stiff accompaniment. Well, this time, it was just a pain in the cock. She enjoyed it, but only in a perverse way. At least, that is what I perceived.
I made more coffee that we shared in bed. After coffee one thing led to another, and I made a comment, “I could just eat you.”
I say that a lot…
“Yes you could.” She answered.
I am usually dense when it comes to hints, but this time I decided to take a chance, and began to shimmy down south. I knew I was on the right track when she parted her legs and my face encountered a very wet pair of beautifully fragrant lips.
As much as I like to be down there, I need to breathe, and the position of my neck demands an unusual amount of stress, which tends to cut off the blood supply to my head. Passing out under the circumstances is not a good thing, so I do what is necessary. Without going to a lot of detail, I will say that there is an easy solution to the awkward position: turning around into a so-called "69 position." This is not to suggest that I expect reciprocation from MW, although I would not refuse it. More like it is a natural position for me. I am not actually on the top. She is on her back, I often get up on my knees and support myself with one or two elbows while our lips and other juicy parts connect. I can go on for hours in that position if she wants me to do so. I wish…
I began with enthusiasm and I think that even a novice lover of nether lips would have done well, considering how juicy and ready she was. It must have been all the communal pheromones lingering since the evening before. I have heard that with women living together when one is menstruating, often the others will do so. This was not menstruation, but you get the idea.
With a little help from a couple of my fingers she arrived at what I perceived to be a very satisfactory conclusion to a lovingly executed situation. Make that two or three. Oh my goodness! She was delicious in all ways. Yes, the little guy was hurting, and it was just a bit distracting, but I was willing to suffer anything to give my MW a good time, and she was gracious enough to allow me the chance.
I did not want to wash my face afterward, but she insisted since we were not alone in the condo. To me her scent is heaven. To her after such an event it is “Love juice seasoned by the passage of time, not to be shared by straights.” Pity.
We had more coffee, as if I needed it, and then she booted me out of the place since I had work to do at home, and she needed to get on with her week’s vacation with friends. Kali is still wrapped around the little guy, and I am to join her in three days for a barbecue that I am to provide at that time. I feel really abused. Please feel sorry for me.
Meanwhile I am to enjoy her remote control pain over me via Kali. Why do I get myself into these situations?
I have related to you the vacation and the two days after that Vacation. Aside from MW forcing me to wear the CB2000 this time, not much has happened. She was a bit distracted again about some upcoming events. I will talk about the more pleasant ones and skip the others.
I know that we just had a vacation a couple of weeks ago, but she had another planned earlier in the year, and somehow there was not a good way to re-schedule it. I have mentioned some of her female friends before, and how MW arranges a nice few day’s stay at some resort for the three or four of them including MW. This was one of those occasions. The resort this time was near home, so she planned to have me serve them in many ways.
Two days prior she had me install Kali’s teeth just for her fun and enjoyment. It is not an impressive device unless you already know the details (see Kali). I suffered for two nights with the infernal hardons that feel like some animal is chewing off the little guy. On the third day I was to drive her to the resort and help her and friends to move in. I again loaded the Beast and we met her friends where MW rented a three-bedroom condo for the week. Nice place. She chose to keep me with her in the Mistress suite overnight. I, of course, did the kitchen wench detail suitably impressing her friends. Not that I am so good, but her friends are not used to seeing a good man doing the right thing.
After dinner the four of us lounged in the living room. There was wine, interesting movie, many bare female legs. My favorite, of course, was the pheromones. MW does not flaunt me before her friends, and in fact, forbids me to do anything with them unless she specifically tells me to do something, such as carry their luggage or apply lotion to a foot or two. Yes, I get away with a greeting or departing hug and occasional deep kiss (very deep). But all that is just sort of friendly rather than blatantly sexy. They don’t really know that I am so pussy-whipped by MW, but I am sure they have an idea that our relationship is not exactly vanilla. After all, what average male would clean up after dinner and remain pleasant, entertaining, courteous, and sexy as hell. Ok, maybe not that sexy, but you get the picture.
These females (not including MW) are nocturnal, so it goes without saying that they will stay up late, whereas I pass out early. I stayed with them watching the movie until about 9:30. I excused myself, showered, and went to bed. The little piece of plastic goodie wrapped around my little guy began to give me a real hard time around 1AM. It was bad enough that I had to get out of bed and just walk around thinking of Nancy Pelosi and Hillary Clinton together. I think I was OK when I imagined them driving over the edge of …
Sorry about that, just a bit of perversion on my part. I have this thing against lawyers in general. In any case, the little guy settled down and I went back to sleep. That is, until about 1:30. At that point even the lawyer thoughts were no help, so I needed to get into some real serious stuff like Bill Clinton, but without Monica et. al. At some point I had to throw in Al Gore, and that worked. I recalled a photograph that one of my sons acquired. It showed Slick Willie and Algore in leather bondage gear with Algore wearing handcuffs. I am sure that the photo was not genuinely depicting their situation at the time. Algore is too damned serious for that. After this point I could actually go back to sleep. Until about three. The little fugger got me up again. At that point it was no use trying again. I am sure that I was being punished for my irreverent thoughts, as useful as they had been.
MW was showering after her exhausting night of joy with her friends. I waited until her return when we talked and she wanted to cuddle. That was great, except that it did things to the little guy again, so there I was in agony, being punished again for my sinful thougths agains great political leaders.
MW was very understanding, heh-heh, and let me get out of bed to make some coffee for myself while she settled down for some serious sleep.
I returned to the dining room and started coffee. While it was brewing I set up my laptop computer and bought a week’s time of wireless Internet. As much as I liked the place, they did not provide free access, so it’s either pay or suffer. Nobody wants to be without Internet. Oh, sure, I could go to the lobby and hog their computer there while trying to cover the monitor with my body. Yeah, right! I would rather suffer.
Over the next few hours I did some work, some play, some reading, and some writing. I consumed a lot of caffeine in the form of my evil black brew. A minute before 8AM I entered the Mistress bedroom and dropped my shorts to join MW in bed. The little guy again raised hell, and we suffered, but that could not be helped, and was wort it. Snuggling up to MW’s butt does things to both of us: juicy fun with stiff accompaniment. Well, this time, it was just a pain in the cock. She enjoyed it, but only in a perverse way. At least, that is what I perceived.
I made more coffee that we shared in bed. After coffee one thing led to another, and I made a comment, “I could just eat you.”
I say that a lot…
“Yes you could.” She answered.
I am usually dense when it comes to hints, but this time I decided to take a chance, and began to shimmy down south. I knew I was on the right track when she parted her legs and my face encountered a very wet pair of beautifully fragrant lips.
As much as I like to be down there, I need to breathe, and the position of my neck demands an unusual amount of stress, which tends to cut off the blood supply to my head. Passing out under the circumstances is not a good thing, so I do what is necessary. Without going to a lot of detail, I will say that there is an easy solution to the awkward position: turning around into a so-called "69 position." This is not to suggest that I expect reciprocation from MW, although I would not refuse it. More like it is a natural position for me. I am not actually on the top. She is on her back, I often get up on my knees and support myself with one or two elbows while our lips and other juicy parts connect. I can go on for hours in that position if she wants me to do so. I wish…
I began with enthusiasm and I think that even a novice lover of nether lips would have done well, considering how juicy and ready she was. It must have been all the communal pheromones lingering since the evening before. I have heard that with women living together when one is menstruating, often the others will do so. This was not menstruation, but you get the idea.
With a little help from a couple of my fingers she arrived at what I perceived to be a very satisfactory conclusion to a lovingly executed situation. Make that two or three. Oh my goodness! She was delicious in all ways. Yes, the little guy was hurting, and it was just a bit distracting, but I was willing to suffer anything to give my MW a good time, and she was gracious enough to allow me the chance.
I did not want to wash my face afterward, but she insisted since we were not alone in the condo. To me her scent is heaven. To her after such an event it is “Love juice seasoned by the passage of time, not to be shared by straights.” Pity.
We had more coffee, as if I needed it, and then she booted me out of the place since I had work to do at home, and she needed to get on with her week’s vacation with friends. Kali is still wrapped around the little guy, and I am to join her in three days for a barbecue that I am to provide at that time. I feel really abused. Please feel sorry for me.
Meanwhile I am to enjoy her remote control pain over me via Kali. Why do I get myself into these situations?
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Our “Annual Drive-each-other-crazy Obligatory Visit to her Parents in another State”
We do this once a year. Before I present our thrilling trip, I want to point out that MW endured some years of family vacations with my parents along, so she had earned some credit that she has been using up lately. My parents are long gone; it is now only hers...
July 28, 2008
July 28, 2008
Due to an on-going restoration of my office all of our computer equipment is squeezed into our bedroom that already has the regular bedroom stuff and then some! This is a big cramp: two desks, two chairs, one work station, one filing cabinet, three computers with monitors, printer, scanner, book case, and miscellaneous junk. I have just finished cabling so that we don’t trip over them.
I am up at 3 AM working on my computer. I try to be quiet and don’t have any lights on except the little USB light. Mistress Wife creeps silently out of bed and moves as if sleepwalking. I can’t discern her form in the dark, but I hear an occasional crunch as she steps on toys the cats left. I ask, “Are you up for good?” She does not answer. I walk to her and run my lips over her lovely parts. Again I ask what the problem is.
“We will be leaving in 28 hours.”
She is already stressed over what could be a good time. Pity.
July 29, 2008
We are sipping my robust brew on the front deck watching the bunnies, quail, doves, thrashers, etc. She begins to make oblique references to something that did not register on my mind immediately. Then at some point I feel the edge of former hurt. I remember forgetting her anniversary of something or other. Today is her birthday. Suddenly I understand the subtle pokes at my psyche. I put down my coffee, and blurt, “I will return.” I hasten to the garage where I kept an item just for this occasion. I left it in the garage because she stays out of there, so it was unlikely for her to find it too soon. It was meant as her birthday gift.
I retrieve the box and go upstairs to present the contents. She is thrilled. It is, by her words, “A lovely gift from my pet. A glass turtle. He remembered my birthday.” I am in a state of grace. I may be totally guilty of something in the next minute, but for now I relish here appreciation of a decadent and frivolous beauty.
We are only an hour or so late leaving. I run to keep up with the demand for my services: take care of the animals, pack our miscellaneous electronic gear, pack my own stuff, and load a ton of material into the Beast. The Beast is a tall, big, beautiful, black truck that can accommodate the driver and five passengers, has four wheel drive and off-road equipment. Yes, we are decadent and proud of it.
“We will be leaving in 28 hours.”
She is already stressed over what could be a good time. Pity.
July 29, 2008
We are sipping my robust brew on the front deck watching the bunnies, quail, doves, thrashers, etc. She begins to make oblique references to something that did not register on my mind immediately. Then at some point I feel the edge of former hurt. I remember forgetting her anniversary of something or other. Today is her birthday. Suddenly I understand the subtle pokes at my psyche. I put down my coffee, and blurt, “I will return.” I hasten to the garage where I kept an item just for this occasion. I left it in the garage because she stays out of there, so it was unlikely for her to find it too soon. It was meant as her birthday gift.
I retrieve the box and go upstairs to present the contents. She is thrilled. It is, by her words, “A lovely gift from my pet. A glass turtle. He remembered my birthday.” I am in a state of grace. I may be totally guilty of something in the next minute, but for now I relish here appreciation of a decadent and frivolous beauty.
We are only an hour or so late leaving. I run to keep up with the demand for my services: take care of the animals, pack our miscellaneous electronic gear, pack my own stuff, and load a ton of material into the Beast. The Beast is a tall, big, beautiful, black truck that can accommodate the driver and five passengers, has four wheel drive and off-road equipment. Yes, we are decadent and proud of it.
I shower when I think that all that is done. She has me install the CB3000, and then I dress.
The way out of town is boring. I already know that I will suffer at least until we get to check into a motel in the evening. Tight cock ring, tight cage, in tight shorts, pressed upon by tight pants does not help as I sit driving. I keep adjusting the seat like John Candy in “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” (until he breaks it). Even when I take a break to give the boys a chance to breathe I am in pain. In spite of that I appreciate her gesture. About half way to our first day’s destination we stop for a picnic lunch in an area just off the highway. Food is good; we relax a bit. I need to make a deposit, so I head into the bushes. Have you ever tried to pee with a cage on while trying to negotiate tight pants, tight shorts, and the wind? I should squat. The outcome is not bad, but I do have to wash my hands thoroughly.
At the motel after half a day of suffering she says, “Take off the device so that we can check for problems.” I finish unloading our equipment, which takes about twenty minutes. All the floor space in the room is taken up by our stuff that I don’t want to leave in the Beast overnight. I undress and remove the cage. Cleaning the equipment and shower time follows. She generously allows me to remain unfettered, but nothing much happens.
July 30, 2008
I am up early as usual and grouchy because there is no way for me to make or get coffee. I read a book, and keep glancing at her bare buns while thinking of what I would like to do with them. At some point I assume that she would not mind connecting with the world again, so I slip into bed behind her. While feeling her smooth curves with my hand, I snuggle up to her back. It takes a short time for the little guy to become the big guy. We enjoy our closeness for a while. Then she says, “We should try something we haven’t for a while. I guess what is coming up.
She lifts her knee, and then guides my slick tip between her lips. We try to connect for a few minutes. It sure would be nice to get down there and lubricate her fragrant private parts with my tongue before going further. Even afterward would be nice. She takes charge of the big guy, and guides him into her warm folds. At that point he takes charge, and I am along for the fantastic ride.
I load our equipment into the Beast, check out of the motel, and then drive through the small town to buy coffee and ice for the trip ahead. We head toward our destination at a relaxed pace, allowing all the stressed-out idiot vacationers to pass us on the two-lane highway. It’s not that I am dragging my ass, just that I stay with the speed limit primarily to conserve fuel and maintain a sane control over the situation. I am comfortable with my thoughts, also with the realization that MW did not bring up the subject of the cage, so it was neatly packed in my luggage. The boys are thankful.
Another half day of driving through the small roads of the colorful countryside brings us to our destination. I haul our equipment up to the second floor of the hotel. Foolishly I pour myself a drink. Being the day after her birthday she expects a fine dinner out. I already consumed half a shot of Scotch, so she expects me to be prostrate with alcohol in my innocent veins thereby being unable to choose, find, and drive to a fine restaurant. I am unfamiliar with the local streets and have no map and she knows that. In not so many words, I am in deep stuff. I feel that we have to go out to eat even if by a limousine.
After one drink neither my driving nor my reasoning ability are affected enough to matter. I decide to drive. The search for a restaurant does not go well. There are many, but with heavy traffic, and always being on the wrong side of the road from our target we are being selective. Driving into the sunset and looking through bug-smudged windshield while each of us is trying to satisfy the other, we are lucky to survive. A few miles down the street I turn back. After some more false starts we pick a decent Italian restaurant that does not seem to have too long a wait. As we sit in the lobby the contention between us is thick in the air. She is almost crying. After fifteen minutes of my concentration on the female customers we are escorted to a booth. Things improve from there. I order a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon from a private label. She orders tea, her favorite appetizer, and a salad. I order a smallish pasta meal. The wine is excellent. We mellow a bit as the evening progresses.
July 31, 2008
The reason for this trip is for MW to visit her parents. It is understood that I am to participate to the smallest extent possible. This decision is based on the tension, and resulting seriously bad times between us borne of earlier years’ experiences with the same. The problem is that she has an obligation that she can’t handle in a lighthearted manner. It goes deep. As a result, she needs my stable presence to assure her that she will not be sucked into a psychological twilight in handling conflicting emotions. I have a more simplistic way of handling situations: I get to the point and do what needs to be done. She, on the other hand, tries to satisfy everyone present, which ends up at her expense more than she can afford emotionally. In theory she could do all that. In practice it takes too much from her. This results in an amount of tension that neither of us can handle with grace.
When I pick her up at the end of her visit I had already spent several pleasant hours alone at the hotel, so I am in good shape. She, on the other hand, had spent the same hours building up stress like a coiled spring. I am aware of it, but not the extent of it.
We are in bed after watching a movie on one of our DVDs. I am ready to sleep; she tries to read to unwind a bit. With tremendous self-control she beats the mattress with her fists behind my back while she blurts the source of her angst. I understand. The only comment I make is, “I am glad that it was not my back that you have just pummeled. You are welcome to use a light instrument like a crop if you really feel the need, however.”
August 1, 2008
The morning begins with the expected stress. I make the mistake of offering her advice on how to handle her situation. It is not meant to be a lecture, but she takes it as such.
I am always on her side even when I think that she is wrong. She must know that. But when she is stressed like this, she may see things differently. We resolve some issues, and she decides to check her email on the Internet. We are staying at a hotel where Internet access is free. As a consequence, we have no recourse about the flaky service provided. She tries several times, but the connection goes in and out. Each time she complains. I remain silent since there is not anything that I can do, and I know that she is aware of it.
I drop her off at her relatives’ house, then return to the hotel for some hours of solitude. During the day I do some reading, some writing, and also visit some blogs of people who post their experiences on FLR. One particular posting strikes me as relevant to our relationship.
The way out of town is boring. I already know that I will suffer at least until we get to check into a motel in the evening. Tight cock ring, tight cage, in tight shorts, pressed upon by tight pants does not help as I sit driving. I keep adjusting the seat like John Candy in “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” (until he breaks it). Even when I take a break to give the boys a chance to breathe I am in pain. In spite of that I appreciate her gesture. About half way to our first day’s destination we stop for a picnic lunch in an area just off the highway. Food is good; we relax a bit. I need to make a deposit, so I head into the bushes. Have you ever tried to pee with a cage on while trying to negotiate tight pants, tight shorts, and the wind? I should squat. The outcome is not bad, but I do have to wash my hands thoroughly.
At the motel after half a day of suffering she says, “Take off the device so that we can check for problems.” I finish unloading our equipment, which takes about twenty minutes. All the floor space in the room is taken up by our stuff that I don’t want to leave in the Beast overnight. I undress and remove the cage. Cleaning the equipment and shower time follows. She generously allows me to remain unfettered, but nothing much happens.
July 30, 2008
I am up early as usual and grouchy because there is no way for me to make or get coffee. I read a book, and keep glancing at her bare buns while thinking of what I would like to do with them. At some point I assume that she would not mind connecting with the world again, so I slip into bed behind her. While feeling her smooth curves with my hand, I snuggle up to her back. It takes a short time for the little guy to become the big guy. We enjoy our closeness for a while. Then she says, “We should try something we haven’t for a while. I guess what is coming up.
She lifts her knee, and then guides my slick tip between her lips. We try to connect for a few minutes. It sure would be nice to get down there and lubricate her fragrant private parts with my tongue before going further. Even afterward would be nice. She takes charge of the big guy, and guides him into her warm folds. At that point he takes charge, and I am along for the fantastic ride.
I load our equipment into the Beast, check out of the motel, and then drive through the small town to buy coffee and ice for the trip ahead. We head toward our destination at a relaxed pace, allowing all the stressed-out idiot vacationers to pass us on the two-lane highway. It’s not that I am dragging my ass, just that I stay with the speed limit primarily to conserve fuel and maintain a sane control over the situation. I am comfortable with my thoughts, also with the realization that MW did not bring up the subject of the cage, so it was neatly packed in my luggage. The boys are thankful.
Another half day of driving through the small roads of the colorful countryside brings us to our destination. I haul our equipment up to the second floor of the hotel. Foolishly I pour myself a drink. Being the day after her birthday she expects a fine dinner out. I already consumed half a shot of Scotch, so she expects me to be prostrate with alcohol in my innocent veins thereby being unable to choose, find, and drive to a fine restaurant. I am unfamiliar with the local streets and have no map and she knows that. In not so many words, I am in deep stuff. I feel that we have to go out to eat even if by a limousine.
After one drink neither my driving nor my reasoning ability are affected enough to matter. I decide to drive. The search for a restaurant does not go well. There are many, but with heavy traffic, and always being on the wrong side of the road from our target we are being selective. Driving into the sunset and looking through bug-smudged windshield while each of us is trying to satisfy the other, we are lucky to survive. A few miles down the street I turn back. After some more false starts we pick a decent Italian restaurant that does not seem to have too long a wait. As we sit in the lobby the contention between us is thick in the air. She is almost crying. After fifteen minutes of my concentration on the female customers we are escorted to a booth. Things improve from there. I order a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon from a private label. She orders tea, her favorite appetizer, and a salad. I order a smallish pasta meal. The wine is excellent. We mellow a bit as the evening progresses.
July 31, 2008
The reason for this trip is for MW to visit her parents. It is understood that I am to participate to the smallest extent possible. This decision is based on the tension, and resulting seriously bad times between us borne of earlier years’ experiences with the same. The problem is that she has an obligation that she can’t handle in a lighthearted manner. It goes deep. As a result, she needs my stable presence to assure her that she will not be sucked into a psychological twilight in handling conflicting emotions. I have a more simplistic way of handling situations: I get to the point and do what needs to be done. She, on the other hand, tries to satisfy everyone present, which ends up at her expense more than she can afford emotionally. In theory she could do all that. In practice it takes too much from her. This results in an amount of tension that neither of us can handle with grace.
When I pick her up at the end of her visit I had already spent several pleasant hours alone at the hotel, so I am in good shape. She, on the other hand, had spent the same hours building up stress like a coiled spring. I am aware of it, but not the extent of it.
We are in bed after watching a movie on one of our DVDs. I am ready to sleep; she tries to read to unwind a bit. With tremendous self-control she beats the mattress with her fists behind my back while she blurts the source of her angst. I understand. The only comment I make is, “I am glad that it was not my back that you have just pummeled. You are welcome to use a light instrument like a crop if you really feel the need, however.”
August 1, 2008
The morning begins with the expected stress. I make the mistake of offering her advice on how to handle her situation. It is not meant to be a lecture, but she takes it as such.
I am always on her side even when I think that she is wrong. She must know that. But when she is stressed like this, she may see things differently. We resolve some issues, and she decides to check her email on the Internet. We are staying at a hotel where Internet access is free. As a consequence, we have no recourse about the flaky service provided. She tries several times, but the connection goes in and out. Each time she complains. I remain silent since there is not anything that I can do, and I know that she is aware of it.
I drop her off at her relatives’ house, then return to the hotel for some hours of solitude. During the day I do some reading, some writing, and also visit some blogs of people who post their experiences on FLR. One particular posting strikes me as relevant to our relationship.
MW wants to be in charge, because she likes the perks of being in charge. On the other hand, she does not need or want the responsibility or the obligation that go with being in charge. In a simpleminded fashion I can assess this relationship as, “She gets the mine, and I get the shaft.” This is not as bad as one could assume since I love to get the shaft by her. But it is definitely not the ideal FLR. Given the stress-induced volatility of her nature this presents us with a difficult situation. She needs my complete attention, and I can’t give it to her under the circumstances. So, FLR is out the window, she feels abandoned by me, and we get nowhere in trying to explain how things really are. We don’t fight, just remain unsatisfied in most ways.
When she is stressed, she can’t force herself to be in charge. I would not expect her to arrange a full-scale DS session with me, but it would be nice if she just came out as a person who knows what she wants, and has me help her in any way that she needs. I could continue my role as a submissive husband to provide all that. Instead of telling me or even asking me to do things, she skirts issues and makes vague references that even in my best moments I would not understand. I don’t give her what she needs, and I fail as her submissive. The scenario reinforces her already negative feelings, so there is no chance of a reasonable solution.
The relevance to what I read in the aforementioned blog is that at times like this is when a working FLR could really be helpful. She needs to know that I am there to serve all the time, especially when she needs it most. All she needs to do is ask or tell me the details. She knows that I am not thrilled to be with her relatives for all the hours that she decides to spend with them, but that does not mean that she can’t say, “I need you with me for such and such occasion, and after that you can leave.” I have done that in the past, and can do it again. The problem is that she then begins to watch me, and notices that I am not exactly thrilled. I am not the most gracious guest who entertains and charms the pants off all the other guests. She takes this as antagonistic behavior on my part, so she does not want me to be there. She ends up “throwing herself onto the grenades,” and I am not there to pick up her pieces.
August 2, 2008
The grand conjunction of her visit is about to take place. Two of our adult children fly in to join her and her relatives. I am invited but am not pressed to attend, so I decline. She does another visit in the morning, and comes back to the hotel to relax until the reunion. Late in the afternoon our children arrive to pick her up. They head to the event.
I settle back to a relaxed evening. I have dinner out of our larder in the kitchenette. For the next two hours I read a mystery novel. About every fifteen minutes I flip through the hundred or so channels on television only to be dismayed by the trash that is offered. My novel has far more attraction, so I stay with it.
The phone rings around nine in the evening. MW wants to know whether I would like to join the three of them for dinner. My first thought is to decline the invitation, and remain naked in bed enjoying my book. Then I realize that this is her way of asking me to be with her, with the children.
Fortunately for all of us I had not been drinking my usual amount of wine, so I graciously accept her invitation. I put on my clothes and zip down the freeway to the restaurant where we are to meet. Since I am not hungry, I take my dinner in the form of an excellent Margarita. I take some pictures of the three of them as they are conversing. We are having a pleasant time. After dinner I drive the two of us back to the hotel. MW appears relaxed. I made the right choice in joining them for dinner.
August 4, 2008
I don’t remember what we did the yesterday. She decides that we would start our trip home one day ahead of schedule. After breakfast I load the Beast. We stop at her folks again to say goodbye. We leave before noon with far less stress and some pleasant expectation of the trip home. We do our favorite sight seeing at national parks and old towns that we remember from prior trips. We go out of our way to find roads that we have not traveled recently. We choose to travel those two lane roads that still allow us to see what the country was before the interstate highways were put in with the subsequent chain motels, hotels, restaurants, and rest stops.
We take many pictures. MW chooses not to give away our location, so I include only one here. You can interpret it to a certain extent and form a conclusion. The small towns through which we pass allow a glimpse into the past. I find it charming and sad. Houses built in the past century, homes with small cornfields and vegetable patches in the front yard, decaying buildings and rusting farm equipment speak of a different life style of the past.
Old crumbling buildings, barns with sagging lumber, and old businesses locked and boarded up for ever. Some ambitious families thrived in these places until the children left to the cities, and the homestead lacked the support it needed. Soon now, bulldozers will be used to make still another shopping mall, and modern housing developments will sell their houses to people from out of state who come for the “relaxed old style country living”. Yeah, right!
We drive into the early evening. Because we started home one day early, we had to cancel our reservation. Being in a small town with accommodations ranging from “undesirable” to “forget it” leaves us two options: drive home or go back a few miles and try in a larger town. Driving home would be another 6-7 hour affair, so we decide to backtrack. In this larger place we have more options. We choose a motel where we stayed many years before. It is relatively clean, but it is a dump in other respects. However, we like each other’s company, and there is a Mexican restaurant next door. We walk across the lot to have dinner.
August 5, 2008
The last day of our trip home begins with my driving to the local coffee shop for coffee. It is not Starbucks, but it is better than the swill I would get at a Denny’s or such. I return with two cups. After coffee I have breakfast, then load the Beast again for the last time while MW is dealing with her email. We head for home.
In spite of all the coffee that I consume on this trip, I keep falling asleep at the wheel, so I need to stop often to pump some adrenaline into my veins. I also stop to buy more of the thick black stuff to keep me juiced. Somehow we make it into a city where we often stop to have lunch. The place is a college town that caters to tourists passing through year around. The waiter staff consists of college students in most eateries. We seldom get adventurous, but the place that we frequent is different. It serves flavorful simple meals and has a microbrewery on site that displays the equipment. The atmosphere is college-like, although the clientele is definitely not. Then there are the waitresses about whom I should not talk. In some people’s opinion they are way too young for me.
I park the beast in a slot about half the size needed. We squeeze ourselves out the doors. A glance around to assess potential damages does not reassure me. I notice that the tattoo and piercing parlor next to the restaurant is still in business. I toy with the idea of visiting it. But, knowing that MW is already hungry after skipping breakfast, I control my urges. We enter the restaurant. It is a shame that the time of the day is lunchtime. Because the place is packed, we don’t get our usual booth, so MW is more than slightly annoyed. I am OK with the table, but realize that a storm is brewing. A nearby booth is vacated, so I ask the waitress to move us to it. As the lunch crowd thins the noise in the place abates, I am beginning to hear and understand her words. After a bit of recrimination directed at me she is all right.
After lunch we drive through some of America’s most beautiful country to get to our next stopping point. As usual I am well fortified with coffee, and manage to keep us on the road most of the time. We stop to pick up MW’s favorite dessert, and then continue to head down to the final destination, home. A couple of hours later we again face the grand entrance to our homestead, being greeted with a view of Titanic proportions, framed in the gateway to a well known legendary location in the USA (MW wants to keep this private for now).
I have some work to do to unload the Beast, take care of the animals, and make MW comfortable. I am tired, but it feels good to be home.
August 8, 2008
It is two days after the trip. We are well settled once again. I am awakened by one of our cats who likes to get attention at around 2AM. I put him out upon his request, and make espresso to start my day. A few hours on the computer to catch up on writing, accounting, and some surfing has me relaxed. Around six I again look at the beautiful butt that MW presents as she sleeps on her side. I just have to do something about it. I slide behind her, and feel her softness along her back, cupping her butt, then down her thighs feeling her perfect legs. She is ready for coffee. I am ready for sex. We compromise. Sex first, followed by coffee.
I prepare my perfectly thick but deadly brew, and we enjoy the cool quietness of the landscape on the upper deck. We make plans to return to FLR real soon. It is the start of another perfect day.
We drive into the early evening. Because we started home one day early, we had to cancel our reservation. Being in a small town with accommodations ranging from “undesirable” to “forget it” leaves us two options: drive home or go back a few miles and try in a larger town. Driving home would be another 6-7 hour affair, so we decide to backtrack. In this larger place we have more options. We choose a motel where we stayed many years before. It is relatively clean, but it is a dump in other respects. However, we like each other’s company, and there is a Mexican restaurant next door. We walk across the lot to have dinner.
August 5, 2008
The last day of our trip home begins with my driving to the local coffee shop for coffee. It is not Starbucks, but it is better than the swill I would get at a Denny’s or such. I return with two cups. After coffee I have breakfast, then load the Beast again for the last time while MW is dealing with her email. We head for home.
In spite of all the coffee that I consume on this trip, I keep falling asleep at the wheel, so I need to stop often to pump some adrenaline into my veins. I also stop to buy more of the thick black stuff to keep me juiced. Somehow we make it into a city where we often stop to have lunch. The place is a college town that caters to tourists passing through year around. The waiter staff consists of college students in most eateries. We seldom get adventurous, but the place that we frequent is different. It serves flavorful simple meals and has a microbrewery on site that displays the equipment. The atmosphere is college-like, although the clientele is definitely not. Then there are the waitresses about whom I should not talk. In some people’s opinion they are way too young for me.
I park the beast in a slot about half the size needed. We squeeze ourselves out the doors. A glance around to assess potential damages does not reassure me. I notice that the tattoo and piercing parlor next to the restaurant is still in business. I toy with the idea of visiting it. But, knowing that MW is already hungry after skipping breakfast, I control my urges. We enter the restaurant. It is a shame that the time of the day is lunchtime. Because the place is packed, we don’t get our usual booth, so MW is more than slightly annoyed. I am OK with the table, but realize that a storm is brewing. A nearby booth is vacated, so I ask the waitress to move us to it. As the lunch crowd thins the noise in the place abates, I am beginning to hear and understand her words. After a bit of recrimination directed at me she is all right.
After lunch we drive through some of America’s most beautiful country to get to our next stopping point. As usual I am well fortified with coffee, and manage to keep us on the road most of the time. We stop to pick up MW’s favorite dessert, and then continue to head down to the final destination, home. A couple of hours later we again face the grand entrance to our homestead, being greeted with a view of Titanic proportions, framed in the gateway to a well known legendary location in the USA (MW wants to keep this private for now).
I have some work to do to unload the Beast, take care of the animals, and make MW comfortable. I am tired, but it feels good to be home.
August 8, 2008
It is two days after the trip. We are well settled once again. I am awakened by one of our cats who likes to get attention at around 2AM. I put him out upon his request, and make espresso to start my day. A few hours on the computer to catch up on writing, accounting, and some surfing has me relaxed. Around six I again look at the beautiful butt that MW presents as she sleeps on her side. I just have to do something about it. I slide behind her, and feel her softness along her back, cupping her butt, then down her thighs feeling her perfect legs. She is ready for coffee. I am ready for sex. We compromise. Sex first, followed by coffee.
I prepare my perfectly thick but deadly brew, and we enjoy the cool quietness of the landscape on the upper deck. We make plans to return to FLR real soon. It is the start of another perfect day.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
In Confinement
I am posting this and subsequent ones as a matter of historical significance which were overlooked during the last three or so months.
As I pointed out earlier, MW has put my private parts into confinement via the CB2000. Lock in place, key on a strap that she has around her lovely neck, I am incapable of fondling my tool.
Last time I orgasmed was March 30. She generously allowed me to share my source and center of existence (her pussy). I have been tempted to help myself since then, but I always back off. I think that she has a reason for denying me, and I should not thwart it.
With the device on as of May 17, my choice has been removed. I am at her mercy.
In general, I am fascinated by chastity devices. The so-called “chastity belts” are the most intriguing. Alas, they are impractical because of the hygienic implications. After all, I would have to ask my Mistress for going to the bathroom. I think.
The cock and ball cage, on the other hand, is almost ideal. It prevents me from fondling myself. It is an offering from me to her. I abstain from the little pleasures for her benefit. It’s not the prevention of masturbation. Truly I cannot masturbate with the device on, but I would not have done that anyway, unless she generally allowed, or specifically commanded me to do so.
There are other implications. I am uncut, so foreskin must be accommodated somewhere. Without the cage it is not a problem. I never had a problem with it. With the cage there are some issues. I use some blunt poking device to pull back my foreskin for a couple of reasons. One, I like to see the naked head of the little guy in the cage. It turns me on. Two, it makes hygienic sense. After urinating, it is good to be able to rinse off the parts. Wit the foreskin pulled back, and remaining so, things remain cleaner.
The only indication of a potential problem is that the foreskin swells over time. I am not convinced that this is a real problem, but still, an indication of something with which to deal. Aside from that, I could stay in the cage for the rest of my life as long as my MW wants me to do so. Given that I am not ever allowed to do anything with her, being in the cage just gives me a reason for why I get no release: physical impossibility.
I have been imprisoned for less than three days this time. Two nights of it. Last night was typical. I woke with the expected nocturnal tremendous hard on. Without the cage the erection can be ignored or fondled with appreciation. I can go back to sleep. With the cage it is a bit painful because of the confinement. The available space is about a third of what is needed. The little guy pushes on the front of the tube, thereby pulling everything forward, including balls and such. Some of the hard substance pushes back into my body, since the skin holding the balls between the two rings can stretch only so far. It is not really painful, but it is interesting to see the prisoner pushing through the bars. All that applies with the POI in place, but with an additional item. The teeth of the POI begin to cut into the hardening shaft, and they are relentless. Lying in bed and wishing it to go away is no help. As I have said, I am a sucker for pain when it comes to intentionally applied genital situation. I consider this one of those intentionally applied pains. Even the process of sitting up intensifies the pain, but it must be done. I get up, walk around for a while. That seems to help. When it no longer hurts, the pain no longer feeds back to maintaining the erection, the teeth no longer dig in. I can maybe go back to sleep. A while later I go through the same process. And then again. I just wish that it had not been only my idea to use the POI, but that she had ordered it. I would rather suffer at her hands, than something self-inflicted. But, the lock is on, and I am stuck with it.
Later when I am up I can see the little guy in the cage. I think of something to do with her, and get an instant hard on. Pinkish skin poking through the bars again. There is a lot of potential there. I hope she feeds it to me if or when she allows me release. At times like this I want it, yet I know that afterward I want it less. Still, it is a measure of my dedication, and I should be tested every time. Not like giving MW another responsibility or another chore. More like, I would be expected to clean up after myself so that she does not have to. It almost makes sense on the long run. In any case, if I were to give her oral pleasure, this would be an excellent way. I would be obligated to do it no matter how much I might dislike the flavor of my own stuff. In a kinky way it would be a natural turn-on, knowing that I can never refuse the pleasure of giving her an orgasm or two with my tongue. Having me do it after I orgasmed would be kinky at the least, and very “just” in a grand way.
A few days ago she did indicate that I could take the initiative in a sexual way. That was before the cage was installed, and I could have done so. I tried, but she was not ready. So, that idea fizzled out quickly. Maybe we can try again. Of course, I would have to use a strap-on dildo under the circumstances. We could buy a reasonable toy. It takes two items: a realistic dildo and a reliable strap-on harness. We could even “clone a Willie”. That would be a blast. She could have me suck my own cock, so to speak.
Now, why we would use a dildo when I have a perfectly serviceable cock that is ready, willing, and able? Well, there is the weird thing about it. We can’t use the real cock while it is in the cage. We could take it out at her convenience, then we could use it in any way that she likes and then put it back. I could even get an orgasm or two while out. But then I would no longer be in chastity. Would I? I could even pleasure myself on occasion. I suppose I could still serve her in any way. As it is, self-gratification may be a more reasonable, or at least, more frequent approach. I would not bother her, and she would not feel pressed. But then, I would have to be out of the cage. Damn! I can’t figure out what I really need. I know what I want, but that would be selfish. So, I will just go with whatever I get. But I tell you, being caged is a tremendous turn on. Knowing that she has the key is even better.
As I said, she let the boys out for a few hours before telling me to reinstall the cage. She, of course, clicked the lock shut. I have had it on for almost a week now. Also have been without orgasm for 48 days as of now. Pretty long for a guy who could have it several times a week.
May 24, 2008. Last night she suggested that we remove the cage. She unlocked it, and I had a hard time pulling out of it until I realized that the PA ring was still attached to the tip of the cage. After I removed the clamp, I pulled out the little guy. The foreskin was very swollen. I went into the shower and enjoyed the hot water, the freedom, and washed all parts well. During the night she checked the problem. I suggested that maybe we could let the little guy out for an hour each evening while we were together. That would give us a chance to see any problems, and I would still be under her supervision. I am not sure what her opinion was. However, she let me sleep naked, and I am still in my natural state, without the cage, this early morning hour.
The skin around my balls and my cock are still sore, but not so much that I can complain. There are some marks like ones left by Kali’s teeth, and I don’t know how that came about. Given that she said I will be pierced again, these are trivial.
I woke her by cuddling up to her from behind. She felt great as usual. One thing led to another… I had two orgasms. I can do that when unencumbered.
As I pointed out earlier, MW has put my private parts into confinement via the CB2000. Lock in place, key on a strap that she has around her lovely neck, I am incapable of fondling my tool.
Last time I orgasmed was March 30. She generously allowed me to share my source and center of existence (her pussy). I have been tempted to help myself since then, but I always back off. I think that she has a reason for denying me, and I should not thwart it.
With the device on as of May 17, my choice has been removed. I am at her mercy.
In general, I am fascinated by chastity devices. The so-called “chastity belts” are the most intriguing. Alas, they are impractical because of the hygienic implications. After all, I would have to ask my Mistress for going to the bathroom. I think.
The cock and ball cage, on the other hand, is almost ideal. It prevents me from fondling myself. It is an offering from me to her. I abstain from the little pleasures for her benefit. It’s not the prevention of masturbation. Truly I cannot masturbate with the device on, but I would not have done that anyway, unless she generally allowed, or specifically commanded me to do so.
There are other implications. I am uncut, so foreskin must be accommodated somewhere. Without the cage it is not a problem. I never had a problem with it. With the cage there are some issues. I use some blunt poking device to pull back my foreskin for a couple of reasons. One, I like to see the naked head of the little guy in the cage. It turns me on. Two, it makes hygienic sense. After urinating, it is good to be able to rinse off the parts. Wit the foreskin pulled back, and remaining so, things remain cleaner.
The only indication of a potential problem is that the foreskin swells over time. I am not convinced that this is a real problem, but still, an indication of something with which to deal. Aside from that, I could stay in the cage for the rest of my life as long as my MW wants me to do so. Given that I am not ever allowed to do anything with her, being in the cage just gives me a reason for why I get no release: physical impossibility.
I have been imprisoned for less than three days this time. Two nights of it. Last night was typical. I woke with the expected nocturnal tremendous hard on. Without the cage the erection can be ignored or fondled with appreciation. I can go back to sleep. With the cage it is a bit painful because of the confinement. The available space is about a third of what is needed. The little guy pushes on the front of the tube, thereby pulling everything forward, including balls and such. Some of the hard substance pushes back into my body, since the skin holding the balls between the two rings can stretch only so far. It is not really painful, but it is interesting to see the prisoner pushing through the bars. All that applies with the POI in place, but with an additional item. The teeth of the POI begin to cut into the hardening shaft, and they are relentless. Lying in bed and wishing it to go away is no help. As I have said, I am a sucker for pain when it comes to intentionally applied genital situation. I consider this one of those intentionally applied pains. Even the process of sitting up intensifies the pain, but it must be done. I get up, walk around for a while. That seems to help. When it no longer hurts, the pain no longer feeds back to maintaining the erection, the teeth no longer dig in. I can maybe go back to sleep. A while later I go through the same process. And then again. I just wish that it had not been only my idea to use the POI, but that she had ordered it. I would rather suffer at her hands, than something self-inflicted. But, the lock is on, and I am stuck with it.
Later when I am up I can see the little guy in the cage. I think of something to do with her, and get an instant hard on. Pinkish skin poking through the bars again. There is a lot of potential there. I hope she feeds it to me if or when she allows me release. At times like this I want it, yet I know that afterward I want it less. Still, it is a measure of my dedication, and I should be tested every time. Not like giving MW another responsibility or another chore. More like, I would be expected to clean up after myself so that she does not have to. It almost makes sense on the long run. In any case, if I were to give her oral pleasure, this would be an excellent way. I would be obligated to do it no matter how much I might dislike the flavor of my own stuff. In a kinky way it would be a natural turn-on, knowing that I can never refuse the pleasure of giving her an orgasm or two with my tongue. Having me do it after I orgasmed would be kinky at the least, and very “just” in a grand way.
A few days ago she did indicate that I could take the initiative in a sexual way. That was before the cage was installed, and I could have done so. I tried, but she was not ready. So, that idea fizzled out quickly. Maybe we can try again. Of course, I would have to use a strap-on dildo under the circumstances. We could buy a reasonable toy. It takes two items: a realistic dildo and a reliable strap-on harness. We could even “clone a Willie”. That would be a blast. She could have me suck my own cock, so to speak.
Now, why we would use a dildo when I have a perfectly serviceable cock that is ready, willing, and able? Well, there is the weird thing about it. We can’t use the real cock while it is in the cage. We could take it out at her convenience, then we could use it in any way that she likes and then put it back. I could even get an orgasm or two while out. But then I would no longer be in chastity. Would I? I could even pleasure myself on occasion. I suppose I could still serve her in any way. As it is, self-gratification may be a more reasonable, or at least, more frequent approach. I would not bother her, and she would not feel pressed. But then, I would have to be out of the cage. Damn! I can’t figure out what I really need. I know what I want, but that would be selfish. So, I will just go with whatever I get. But I tell you, being caged is a tremendous turn on. Knowing that she has the key is even better.
As I said, she let the boys out for a few hours before telling me to reinstall the cage. She, of course, clicked the lock shut. I have had it on for almost a week now. Also have been without orgasm for 48 days as of now. Pretty long for a guy who could have it several times a week.
May 24, 2008. Last night she suggested that we remove the cage. She unlocked it, and I had a hard time pulling out of it until I realized that the PA ring was still attached to the tip of the cage. After I removed the clamp, I pulled out the little guy. The foreskin was very swollen. I went into the shower and enjoyed the hot water, the freedom, and washed all parts well. During the night she checked the problem. I suggested that maybe we could let the little guy out for an hour each evening while we were together. That would give us a chance to see any problems, and I would still be under her supervision. I am not sure what her opinion was. However, she let me sleep naked, and I am still in my natural state, without the cage, this early morning hour.
The skin around my balls and my cock are still sore, but not so much that I can complain. There are some marks like ones left by Kali’s teeth, and I don’t know how that came about. Given that she said I will be pierced again, these are trivial.
I woke her by cuddling up to her from behind. She felt great as usual. One thing led to another… I had two orgasms. I can do that when unencumbered.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Mistress Wife Going Away For A Few Days
MW is planning to leave on Sunday on a trip with two of her friends. The purpose is for each of them to get away from pressing problems for a few days, and to enjoy the things that they can do together in a relaxed setting. To me it means that I will drive her to her friend’s house, load their baggage into the friend’s car, and return home to take care of the daily chores that I normally handle. I will also have to assume responsibility for her personal pets and plants that require daily attention.
Aside from that she gave me two more instructions: don’t do anything dangerous, and put a lock on the little guy every night. The dangerous part is easy to understand, but hard to implement. I can make anything be dangerous, and I have scars to prove it. I guess that she was more concerned about doing things that are a “danger to life and limb.” But I did ask her to clarify the second request. If I were to follow her order, and put a lock on the little guy each night, I would end up with about six locks hanging on the poor fellow on the day that she would return. Besides, I don’t have six locks. She amended the order by saying that I am allowed to remove the single lock each morning. I could comply with that.
On Saturday morning after our coffee and cuddle she told me that she was expecting a full body fingernail massage in the evening, and that I was to remind her in case she forgot or tried to talk me out of it. I don’t see how I could force her, but I agreed. The mentioned massage most often leads to her being served orally and experiencing several orgasms. Obviously, I was awaiting the evening with great anticipation of the wonders of her charms.
On her orders I stayed busy most of the day. I did my hard labor in the morning, then did some maintenance on data backup on my computer. Late in the afternoon I did some catching up with some blogs. The day went quickly and without my falling off any high objects even though I was challenged. The scaffolds are still up, and I am using them.
In the evening I went to shower, and settled down to read while it was her turn in the shower. She joined me in bed, which was my cue to begin either the leg-and-foot massage or the full body massage. Because the former entails the application of lotion to her parts, and neither of us really want me to lick and suck lotion, I asked her which to do first. She understood the reason, and directed me to do the fingernail massage. It seemed that all was proceeding as planned.
The fingernail massage is not a well known technique. We developed it independently of others just to please her. It consists of running my fingertips over her skin. My nails are trimmed short, so there is no danger of damage to her. I can press hard, or skim lightly as I wish in order to vary the stimulus. I can scratch with one nail, or gently pull four-fingers’ worth across her skin.
I began with the front of her shoulder, and arm, then down the center of her chest, sides, and so on. I have written about this before. Each time the procedure is similar, but there is no set sequence to follow. It is a time of closeness and joy. She is experiencing pleasure, and I am joyful for being there to provide it. After having gone over her front she was about to flip over to give me access to her back. But before that, she said, “Bring me the clamps.”
We have several sets of these inexpensive but effective devices. They have been acquired over the years from various stores. It is second nature to us when running across one in the store to test one on one finger, and if it has potential, we buy a pair for later use. I often add a chain to connect the pair. The chain makes it easy for her to do pull on both clips, to yank them off simultaneously if she chooses. The chain also makes it easy to keep the two from getting mixed up with other toys.
There was a set from time a few weeks back on my night stand.
I fetched it and gave it to her. As expected, I kneeled next to her presenting my tits for the application of the devices. I think that she is thrilled by the knowledge of causing this kind of erotic pain to me. She is very good at pinching an inch of skin with my tit in the center, and affixing the clip without any attempt at being gentle. I like that perverted and planned approach.
If there are any of you who have not experienced this, and are curious, you should try it. I suppose that you could affix the clamp yourself, and feel the pain. But, in a way, it is like trying to tickle yourself. It is best when your mistress does it to you. Besides, if you do it to yourself, you take it off when you think that the pain is no longer fun. If your mistress does it, you keep it on until she takes it off. There is a tremendous difference in the range of feelings.
She did both of my tits. Each time the harsh pain hit me instantly, and lingered for a few seconds. It always takes my breath away. I think that it has to do with the close connection my tits have with my mind. I mean, I could be hurt worse at some other part of my body, and not take it that way.
In a short time the tit pain abated to a manageable level. I had the feeling of pressure, and imposed over that, a burning sensation around the edges where the device touched my skin.
She turned over onto her front, and I proceeded with the massage. After a few minutes the tit pain dulled, yet it kept my mind on my situation as I was doing my duty to MW.
Working on her back I explored all those lovely dimples and bumps. It is difficult to decide whether the front or the back of a woman is more attractive. It may depend on the woman, or my perception. It also changes. With MW, it changes. First it is the tits, then the thighs, then the dimples on her butt, then … you know. It’s one thing, then it’s another. Anyway, I was working on her dimples when she decided to turn over again. You should know what this means: her front side would be up! I was not going to try to stop her. She flipped, and I faced her pubic area.
“Lick my thighs!” she said.
That was very specific. I knew exactly what to do with her order.
Parting Gift
When presented with such thighs any man who is into the appreciation of female parts would have no choice but to comply. Kissing her thighs is a pleasure compared to none. The texture and softness of her skin is the epitome of femininity. The closeness of her pubic area, the center of my being, makes me weak. Her scents, being ready for pleasure, enhance my already rampant libido. I am ready to serve her. I do. We connect.
I first gently part her lips with my tongue working from below toward the top. I take time to make sure that lubrication is provided by our mingling juices. I make tentative touches to her clitoris to give a hint of what is coming. I take pleasure in her lips, French kissing them until it is time to move on to specific targets. Her sweet little bud is erect, trying to get my attention. I would love to move in and suck, but I must be careful. She is powerful, but she is also little. She deserves respect. She expects attention. She also demands proper treatment.
As we know, magic must be controlled. MW is holding the boys as I am applying my magic. She has succeeded in perfecting the control. With the proper pull in the desired direction, I take the cue from the boys and apply the same to her clit. It is very much like a human pantograph with my tongue at the business end. She has two shattering orgasms before she pulls me away.
“You could have used your fingers to work my G-spot,” she adds after a while.
I feel sad for missing another opportunity to pleasure my mistress. I have some things to learn. I get off the bed and walk around to my side. “I will never wash my face again,” I say smiling.
She knows how much I love her scent. She just smiles and turns off the light.
Three Is More To Come
On Sunday morning we again had our close time. I tried to avoid pressuring her, knowing that she was already stressed about her trip. I was about to leave and work on our breakfast when she said, “I really should be on top.”
I get weak in the knees when hearing that. Luckily, I was on my back, so it did not matter. In a short time she was on top. That happens to be my favorite position with her. I get to bury my face between her generous breasts. I can use both hands to feel her all over. I feel her weight on me. I smell her skin. I taste her essence.
Then again, any position is my favorite with her. We played for a while like that until she began to pull me over to the inverted position. We ended up with me on top.
We are not really trying to prove or do justice to female superiority here. She likes to be on the bottom because it gives her hands a chance to do some very sexy, somewhat mean, but only sensually painful things to me. As you can guess, that is just fine with me. She can, and does do things with the boys. But what usually gets my attention is her messing with my ON/OFF switches. She did, and I lost control. She knew exactly what she was doing, so I don’t blame myself. We stayed in position for a few minutes enjoying the afterglow. When it was over I was already thinking, Will she have me do it this time?
It was not to be this time. She did not have me clean up after myself, although that is still in my future.
A Short Morning
I had breakfast while she did some things on her computer. I did a couple of hours of work before it was time to load the luggage. She planned to take only two items. As always, she ended up with more, six to be specific. All was loaded into the back of the vehicle. We headed down into the valley to join her friends. She commented that there will be no one to do an “April fool’s” joke on me. She related some endearing events from her past of how her mother played the trick on her father. I think MW was trying to relax.
At her friend’s place we did the usual full body hugs all around. Some conversation later I volunteered to put everybody’s luggage into the other vehicle which one of them was to drive. More hugs later I left for home.
Aside from that she gave me two more instructions: don’t do anything dangerous, and put a lock on the little guy every night. The dangerous part is easy to understand, but hard to implement. I can make anything be dangerous, and I have scars to prove it. I guess that she was more concerned about doing things that are a “danger to life and limb.” But I did ask her to clarify the second request. If I were to follow her order, and put a lock on the little guy each night, I would end up with about six locks hanging on the poor fellow on the day that she would return. Besides, I don’t have six locks. She amended the order by saying that I am allowed to remove the single lock each morning. I could comply with that.
On Saturday morning after our coffee and cuddle she told me that she was expecting a full body fingernail massage in the evening, and that I was to remind her in case she forgot or tried to talk me out of it. I don’t see how I could force her, but I agreed. The mentioned massage most often leads to her being served orally and experiencing several orgasms. Obviously, I was awaiting the evening with great anticipation of the wonders of her charms.
On her orders I stayed busy most of the day. I did my hard labor in the morning, then did some maintenance on data backup on my computer. Late in the afternoon I did some catching up with some blogs. The day went quickly and without my falling off any high objects even though I was challenged. The scaffolds are still up, and I am using them.
In the evening I went to shower, and settled down to read while it was her turn in the shower. She joined me in bed, which was my cue to begin either the leg-and-foot massage or the full body massage. Because the former entails the application of lotion to her parts, and neither of us really want me to lick and suck lotion, I asked her which to do first. She understood the reason, and directed me to do the fingernail massage. It seemed that all was proceeding as planned.
The fingernail massage is not a well known technique. We developed it independently of others just to please her. It consists of running my fingertips over her skin. My nails are trimmed short, so there is no danger of damage to her. I can press hard, or skim lightly as I wish in order to vary the stimulus. I can scratch with one nail, or gently pull four-fingers’ worth across her skin.
I began with the front of her shoulder, and arm, then down the center of her chest, sides, and so on. I have written about this before. Each time the procedure is similar, but there is no set sequence to follow. It is a time of closeness and joy. She is experiencing pleasure, and I am joyful for being there to provide it. After having gone over her front she was about to flip over to give me access to her back. But before that, she said, “Bring me the clamps.”
We have several sets of these inexpensive but effective devices. They have been acquired over the years from various stores. It is second nature to us when running across one in the store to test one on one finger, and if it has potential, we buy a pair for later use. I often add a chain to connect the pair. The chain makes it easy for her to do pull on both clips, to yank them off simultaneously if she chooses. The chain also makes it easy to keep the two from getting mixed up with other toys.
There was a set from time a few weeks back on my night stand.
I fetched it and gave it to her. As expected, I kneeled next to her presenting my tits for the application of the devices. I think that she is thrilled by the knowledge of causing this kind of erotic pain to me. She is very good at pinching an inch of skin with my tit in the center, and affixing the clip without any attempt at being gentle. I like that perverted and planned approach.If there are any of you who have not experienced this, and are curious, you should try it. I suppose that you could affix the clamp yourself, and feel the pain. But, in a way, it is like trying to tickle yourself. It is best when your mistress does it to you. Besides, if you do it to yourself, you take it off when you think that the pain is no longer fun. If your mistress does it, you keep it on until she takes it off. There is a tremendous difference in the range of feelings.
She did both of my tits. Each time the harsh pain hit me instantly, and lingered for a few seconds. It always takes my breath away. I think that it has to do with the close connection my tits have with my mind. I mean, I could be hurt worse at some other part of my body, and not take it that way.
In a short time the tit pain abated to a manageable level. I had the feeling of pressure, and imposed over that, a burning sensation around the edges where the device touched my skin.
She turned over onto her front, and I proceeded with the massage. After a few minutes the tit pain dulled, yet it kept my mind on my situation as I was doing my duty to MW.
Working on her back I explored all those lovely dimples and bumps. It is difficult to decide whether the front or the back of a woman is more attractive. It may depend on the woman, or my perception. It also changes. With MW, it changes. First it is the tits, then the thighs, then the dimples on her butt, then … you know. It’s one thing, then it’s another. Anyway, I was working on her dimples when she decided to turn over again. You should know what this means: her front side would be up! I was not going to try to stop her. She flipped, and I faced her pubic area.
“Lick my thighs!” she said.
That was very specific. I knew exactly what to do with her order.
Parting Gift
When presented with such thighs any man who is into the appreciation of female parts would have no choice but to comply. Kissing her thighs is a pleasure compared to none. The texture and softness of her skin is the epitome of femininity. The closeness of her pubic area, the center of my being, makes me weak. Her scents, being ready for pleasure, enhance my already rampant libido. I am ready to serve her. I do. We connect.
I first gently part her lips with my tongue working from below toward the top. I take time to make sure that lubrication is provided by our mingling juices. I make tentative touches to her clitoris to give a hint of what is coming. I take pleasure in her lips, French kissing them until it is time to move on to specific targets. Her sweet little bud is erect, trying to get my attention. I would love to move in and suck, but I must be careful. She is powerful, but she is also little. She deserves respect. She expects attention. She also demands proper treatment.
As we know, magic must be controlled. MW is holding the boys as I am applying my magic. She has succeeded in perfecting the control. With the proper pull in the desired direction, I take the cue from the boys and apply the same to her clit. It is very much like a human pantograph with my tongue at the business end. She has two shattering orgasms before she pulls me away.
“You could have used your fingers to work my G-spot,” she adds after a while.
I feel sad for missing another opportunity to pleasure my mistress. I have some things to learn. I get off the bed and walk around to my side. “I will never wash my face again,” I say smiling.
She knows how much I love her scent. She just smiles and turns off the light.
Three Is More To Come
On Sunday morning we again had our close time. I tried to avoid pressuring her, knowing that she was already stressed about her trip. I was about to leave and work on our breakfast when she said, “I really should be on top.”
I get weak in the knees when hearing that. Luckily, I was on my back, so it did not matter. In a short time she was on top. That happens to be my favorite position with her. I get to bury my face between her generous breasts. I can use both hands to feel her all over. I feel her weight on me. I smell her skin. I taste her essence.
Then again, any position is my favorite with her. We played for a while like that until she began to pull me over to the inverted position. We ended up with me on top.
We are not really trying to prove or do justice to female superiority here. She likes to be on the bottom because it gives her hands a chance to do some very sexy, somewhat mean, but only sensually painful things to me. As you can guess, that is just fine with me. She can, and does do things with the boys. But what usually gets my attention is her messing with my ON/OFF switches. She did, and I lost control. She knew exactly what she was doing, so I don’t blame myself. We stayed in position for a few minutes enjoying the afterglow. When it was over I was already thinking, Will she have me do it this time?
It was not to be this time. She did not have me clean up after myself, although that is still in my future.
A Short Morning
I had breakfast while she did some things on her computer. I did a couple of hours of work before it was time to load the luggage. She planned to take only two items. As always, she ended up with more, six to be specific. All was loaded into the back of the vehicle. We headed down into the valley to join her friends. She commented that there will be no one to do an “April fool’s” joke on me. She related some endearing events from her past of how her mother played the trick on her father. I think MW was trying to relax.
At her friend’s place we did the usual full body hugs all around. Some conversation later I volunteered to put everybody’s luggage into the other vehicle which one of them was to drive. More hugs later I left for home.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Hanging In There
Those of you who have been reading my blog know that I am very much an advocate of “tease and denial” in sex play. MW and I communicate freely on the subject of sex. She knows my kinks better than I do. She is also very supportive of this particular kink, that is, she has denial perfected. However, she still needs to work on the tease part.
We have not been doing much lately in the sex department. She had me in the CB2000 on and off, but that is as far as things went. Which is why I have not been bragging about the fantastic sex scenes that we create occasionally.
We are still working on some version of the “real estate project” that she began to advocate a couple of months ago. The somewhat altered but still desired outcome of this project will be that our son and SO will be moving out upon fruition of MW’s efforts, thus leaving us to do more kinky stuff without observers. For example, that upper story deck that I repaired (see Free Fall) is now open for enjoyment. We have a grand view of one of the most famous mountains in the USA, just a half-mile away. We can sit there in the early morning hours sipping coffee, or in the late evening sipping mint julep. There is one aspect of limitation: we can be seen by those below us in the neighborhood. Even though the homesteads are sparse, binoculars have been known to be used for peeping on neighbors. I have suggested to MW to put an opaque or translucent curtain on the rail to prevent direct observation of my sexy physique below the waist. The neighbors and passers by already know that I am mostly naked most of the time. They see me outside in work boots and short pants. The pants are used only to avoid being arrested and jailed for indecent exposure.
I am still doing hard labor, although not as much of it as I used to do in my younger days. Somehow fatigue sets in after climbing the scaffold to the top (about twenty-five feet) each time I need another tool or some material to complete the task. A few hours of that gives me a hint to quit the sweaty job for the nonce, take a shower, pour a glass of wine, and feel like I have accomplished something good. Of course, I feel guilty for my bailing out early. Still, life is there to enjoy as long as we are around, so why the hell waste it on nothing but drudgery?
Post Script
I wrote the above early in the morning while MW was still asleep. At some point I felt the summoning effect of the signaling device, and went to see her. She was ready for my company and my fresh coffee. In a few minutes the coffee and company were provided. We talked for an hour or so. As usual, I maintained an erection and the thought, “It would be nice to snuggle up to her and feel those wonderful female curves under my fingers, and smell the clean feminine scent of her skin and more private parts.”
At about the time we usually break and talk about making breakfast she noticed the not so little guy, and commented, “It would be a shame to waste that….”
It did not take me long to be alongside her and living my earlier thoughts. Oh my! She was truly generous to me. Time to reset the DWO counter to zero.
We have not been doing much lately in the sex department. She had me in the CB2000 on and off, but that is as far as things went. Which is why I have not been bragging about the fantastic sex scenes that we create occasionally.
We are still working on some version of the “real estate project” that she began to advocate a couple of months ago. The somewhat altered but still desired outcome of this project will be that our son and SO will be moving out upon fruition of MW’s efforts, thus leaving us to do more kinky stuff without observers. For example, that upper story deck that I repaired (see Free Fall) is now open for enjoyment. We have a grand view of one of the most famous mountains in the USA, just a half-mile away. We can sit there in the early morning hours sipping coffee, or in the late evening sipping mint julep. There is one aspect of limitation: we can be seen by those below us in the neighborhood. Even though the homesteads are sparse, binoculars have been known to be used for peeping on neighbors. I have suggested to MW to put an opaque or translucent curtain on the rail to prevent direct observation of my sexy physique below the waist. The neighbors and passers by already know that I am mostly naked most of the time. They see me outside in work boots and short pants. The pants are used only to avoid being arrested and jailed for indecent exposure.
I am still doing hard labor, although not as much of it as I used to do in my younger days. Somehow fatigue sets in after climbing the scaffold to the top (about twenty-five feet) each time I need another tool or some material to complete the task. A few hours of that gives me a hint to quit the sweaty job for the nonce, take a shower, pour a glass of wine, and feel like I have accomplished something good. Of course, I feel guilty for my bailing out early. Still, life is there to enjoy as long as we are around, so why the hell waste it on nothing but drudgery?
Post Script
I wrote the above early in the morning while MW was still asleep. At some point I felt the summoning effect of the signaling device, and went to see her. She was ready for my company and my fresh coffee. In a few minutes the coffee and company were provided. We talked for an hour or so. As usual, I maintained an erection and the thought, “It would be nice to snuggle up to her and feel those wonderful female curves under my fingers, and smell the clean feminine scent of her skin and more private parts.”
At about the time we usually break and talk about making breakfast she noticed the not so little guy, and commented, “It would be a shame to waste that….”
It did not take me long to be alongside her and living my earlier thoughts. Oh my! She was truly generous to me. Time to reset the DWO counter to zero.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
My First Real Domination
I have always been interested in novels short stories, and letters in certain magazines, whose subject was the domination of a male. Over the years I have collected many such publications, and read and re-read them all. My wife knew of my kink, and may have considered it strictly a sexual orientation. We played with it once or twice, but it never went further than that.
After having produced our optimal number of children, she and I discussed the possibility of my undergoing vasectomy. It was a logical choice between that and her having the analogous procedure, since vasectomy was a minor outpatient surgery, and likely to be reversible. But I had another reason. In my readings of mail into sleazy magazines many such pieces dealt with forced castration, forced chastity, forced servitude, mostly kinky fantasies posed as if they were real. After our discussion of this surgical procedure on me I imagined my wife making an appointment for me at the clinic and driving me there. In a semi-private examination room she would introduce me to a female doctor who was to do the operation. I was told to undress and lie on the examination table…. You know how the rest of it was supposed to go. No, not castration, vasectomy!
It was in this background when I had to have my annual checkup in order to qualify for a medical group insurance. My wife did make the appointment, but the rest of the subsequent events deviated from my fantasy to a certain extent. For example, there was not to be a vasectomy this time.
I arrived at the appointed time, and waited with all the sick people in the waiting room. When the female nurse/assistant summoned me, I watched her shapely ass as she lead me down the hall into an examination room. She left me with the words, “Your doctor’s assistant will be with you shortly.”
Some minutes later after a knock on the closed door a young woman walked in and introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Delilah, physician’s assistant. I will be giving your physical this time.”
I invented this name replace the real one in order to protect her privacy. She was not what I would call exactly my type, namely, she was not as generously endowed as my wife. Still, she was attractive. She reminded me of a sleek healthy animal: muscular and lean with just the right amount of fat to give her femininity. My recent memory of the vasectomy fantasy kicked in and I felt a little strange because of the sudden potential for fantasy meeting reality.
She took notes as we both sat and I was answering her questions. After the interview she asked me to remove my shirt so that she can listen to all those gurgly internal sounds.
I was a few years older than she, but I was in good shape besides being handsome and charming. OK, at least I thought so. I removed the shirt and she did the listening, front and back. In the chilly air-conditioned room I felt the heat of her body on my chest. I smelled her clean breath. Her faint scent of a perfume lingered around me. I had a feeling that I was making too much of all that, but I just relaxed and enjoyed the moment anyway.
At this point I may be disappointing you for not providing the details. Suffice it to say that within the subsequent few minutes she had me walking between two walls of the room as she sat on a stool a few feet away watching me. I was in my natural state, not even a stitch on. All of this was professionally executed, not even a hint of a come-on, sex, or such. Still, somehow she had me undress without a protest one article of clothing at a time. She had a presence that did not need threats or promises. I also admit that the little guy behaved admirably. He was stirring, but did not betray my emotions.
When she was done with the medical examination she left smiling. I was left with the feeling that I did not, and I still don’t know how she did this. I related this to MW at some point, and she seemed amused by it.
I thank “Delilah” for a wonderful memory of my first domination by a female. She did suggest that I begin jogging to strenghten my heart at “my age.” I did start the next day.
After having produced our optimal number of children, she and I discussed the possibility of my undergoing vasectomy. It was a logical choice between that and her having the analogous procedure, since vasectomy was a minor outpatient surgery, and likely to be reversible. But I had another reason. In my readings of mail into sleazy magazines many such pieces dealt with forced castration, forced chastity, forced servitude, mostly kinky fantasies posed as if they were real. After our discussion of this surgical procedure on me I imagined my wife making an appointment for me at the clinic and driving me there. In a semi-private examination room she would introduce me to a female doctor who was to do the operation. I was told to undress and lie on the examination table…. You know how the rest of it was supposed to go. No, not castration, vasectomy!
It was in this background when I had to have my annual checkup in order to qualify for a medical group insurance. My wife did make the appointment, but the rest of the subsequent events deviated from my fantasy to a certain extent. For example, there was not to be a vasectomy this time.
I arrived at the appointed time, and waited with all the sick people in the waiting room. When the female nurse/assistant summoned me, I watched her shapely ass as she lead me down the hall into an examination room. She left me with the words, “Your doctor’s assistant will be with you shortly.”
Some minutes later after a knock on the closed door a young woman walked in and introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Delilah, physician’s assistant. I will be giving your physical this time.”
I invented this name replace the real one in order to protect her privacy. She was not what I would call exactly my type, namely, she was not as generously endowed as my wife. Still, she was attractive. She reminded me of a sleek healthy animal: muscular and lean with just the right amount of fat to give her femininity. My recent memory of the vasectomy fantasy kicked in and I felt a little strange because of the sudden potential for fantasy meeting reality.
She took notes as we both sat and I was answering her questions. After the interview she asked me to remove my shirt so that she can listen to all those gurgly internal sounds.
I was a few years older than she, but I was in good shape besides being handsome and charming. OK, at least I thought so. I removed the shirt and she did the listening, front and back. In the chilly air-conditioned room I felt the heat of her body on my chest. I smelled her clean breath. Her faint scent of a perfume lingered around me. I had a feeling that I was making too much of all that, but I just relaxed and enjoyed the moment anyway.
At this point I may be disappointing you for not providing the details. Suffice it to say that within the subsequent few minutes she had me walking between two walls of the room as she sat on a stool a few feet away watching me. I was in my natural state, not even a stitch on. All of this was professionally executed, not even a hint of a come-on, sex, or such. Still, somehow she had me undress without a protest one article of clothing at a time. She had a presence that did not need threats or promises. I also admit that the little guy behaved admirably. He was stirring, but did not betray my emotions.
When she was done with the medical examination she left smiling. I was left with the feeling that I did not, and I still don’t know how she did this. I related this to MW at some point, and she seemed amused by it.
I thank “Delilah” for a wonderful memory of my first domination by a female. She did suggest that I begin jogging to strenghten my heart at “my age.” I did start the next day.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Edging Again
Do as I say, not as I do
During our morning coffee we get to discuss just about any subject. The conversation is usually benign, beneficial, and from time to time entertaining. Once in a while MW gets me started on politics and she practically needs to put me into a straightjacket before I calm down again. But most subjects don’t rile me that much.
I have said in many forms that we, as submissive males to our selected partners must not whine, complain, request, demand, and act like a four-year-old who did not get his second helping of ice cream. In other words, we must not top from the bottom. It may be difficult to distinguish this from occasionally discussing legitimate grievances. However, when you bring up one of your favorite subjects (sex) in contexts such as, “you never …”, “why don’t we ever …”, or “it’s been umpteen days/weeks/months since you …” it is a hint that you are doing it. This is especially true when you are doing it without her asking you about it.
I Am Edging Again
I don’t remember my frame of mind when I said, “We have not done anything since September.” I was referring to MW’s tendency to become stressed by holidays, relatives, tenants, etc., and take the celibate route in general as a result of her preoccupation.
She did not take my comment in the spirit with which it was blurted. She icily responded, “Read your blog.”
I backpedaled at great speed while trying to explain that I was merely referring to some of the kinky stuff that we used to do. As you can guess, I was not very successful.
She appeared to get over it, so nothing else was said about it.
My Early Sins
Over the many years that we have been trying to perfect this FLR I bought several books on the subject. Some were meant to be read by the woman, others by both of the practicing couple (see the sidebar of my post). In every case I took it upon myself to research then purchase these books over the Internet or some other means.
I don’t remember exactly when I first ran across a reference to Ms. Rika’s new book, “Uniquely Rika,” maybe a couple of months ago, but at the time I made a note to research it at my convenience. The note itself was buried under other notes on my desk, so it was not until I read another mention of it, on which I made a comment (see my original reference to the posting and subsequent comment at Why FLRs Are Successful.
My Most Recent Sins
Apparently Ms. Rika read my comment, and we ended up exchanging some low-key email, which I forwarded to MW for her amusement (actually, just to make sure that she will not think that there is anything underhanded going on). A day later MW and I were busy with emails and such on our computers when MW exploded with deep indignation. Among other words I heard “email” mentioned. She left the room. I did not say anything for I felt that it would make things worse for me for the moment. Several minutes later she returned and I approached her with great tact and diplomacy to find out what my latest sin was. The bottom line was, she thought that for the first time she was ahead of me in finding kinky or provocative material on D/S or FLR, and that she sent me an email pointing me to the source. Then she received the copy of my email to Ms. Rika in which I state that I had just ordered the book. This act by me preceded, and indeed, superseded MW’s attempt to do a nice thing for me.
I tend to show less emotion about matters of importance that don’t deal with life and death, but I was very sympathetic with her attempt to do something nice for me and my botching it by extremely bad timing. Several apologies by me and a few hours of groveling later I think she had overcome her anger and disappointment, and we settled down to our evening routine.
Smoldering Ashes
Early in the morning of the day when all this took place I was up, and as usual, installed the signaling device so that she can summon me when ready. When I brought our morning coffee to her she said to leave the device on. This was unusual, because I was planning to work on some landscaping later, but I complied. Later in the day we had our encounter (my sins above), and the eventual wind-down in the evening. I removed the device to shower, but did not put it back, thinking that we will be sitting side by side, and there was no need. After I passed out she stayed up to watch a movie on television.
A couple of hours later she came to bed and started playing with the boys. Being as sensitive as they are, they take offense easily, and only the little guy responded with appreciation. It did not take her long to explain to me that the signaling device should have been left on, because she did not tell me to take it off. After several pleasantly painful minutes she had me do some trivial chores, then said, “In the morning present yourself to me, and then I will decide what device you will be wearing during the day.”
My response of “Ok” appeared to be wrong, for the boys continued to suffer. It was not until a, “Yes Mistreatess,” stopped her imparting of this loving corrective action. At the time of this writing I am anticipating some uncomfortable devices to be applied later this morning.
During our morning coffee we get to discuss just about any subject. The conversation is usually benign, beneficial, and from time to time entertaining. Once in a while MW gets me started on politics and she practically needs to put me into a straightjacket before I calm down again. But most subjects don’t rile me that much.
I have said in many forms that we, as submissive males to our selected partners must not whine, complain, request, demand, and act like a four-year-old who did not get his second helping of ice cream. In other words, we must not top from the bottom. It may be difficult to distinguish this from occasionally discussing legitimate grievances. However, when you bring up one of your favorite subjects (sex) in contexts such as, “you never …”, “why don’t we ever …”, or “it’s been umpteen days/weeks/months since you …” it is a hint that you are doing it. This is especially true when you are doing it without her asking you about it.
I Am Edging Again
I don’t remember my frame of mind when I said, “We have not done anything since September.” I was referring to MW’s tendency to become stressed by holidays, relatives, tenants, etc., and take the celibate route in general as a result of her preoccupation.
She did not take my comment in the spirit with which it was blurted. She icily responded, “Read your blog.”
I backpedaled at great speed while trying to explain that I was merely referring to some of the kinky stuff that we used to do. As you can guess, I was not very successful.
She appeared to get over it, so nothing else was said about it.
My Early Sins
Over the many years that we have been trying to perfect this FLR I bought several books on the subject. Some were meant to be read by the woman, others by both of the practicing couple (see the sidebar of my post). In every case I took it upon myself to research then purchase these books over the Internet or some other means.
I don’t remember exactly when I first ran across a reference to Ms. Rika’s new book, “Uniquely Rika,” maybe a couple of months ago, but at the time I made a note to research it at my convenience. The note itself was buried under other notes on my desk, so it was not until I read another mention of it, on which I made a comment (see my original reference to the posting and subsequent comment at Why FLRs Are Successful.
My Most Recent Sins
Apparently Ms. Rika read my comment, and we ended up exchanging some low-key email, which I forwarded to MW for her amusement (actually, just to make sure that she will not think that there is anything underhanded going on). A day later MW and I were busy with emails and such on our computers when MW exploded with deep indignation. Among other words I heard “email” mentioned. She left the room. I did not say anything for I felt that it would make things worse for me for the moment. Several minutes later she returned and I approached her with great tact and diplomacy to find out what my latest sin was. The bottom line was, she thought that for the first time she was ahead of me in finding kinky or provocative material on D/S or FLR, and that she sent me an email pointing me to the source. Then she received the copy of my email to Ms. Rika in which I state that I had just ordered the book. This act by me preceded, and indeed, superseded MW’s attempt to do a nice thing for me.
I tend to show less emotion about matters of importance that don’t deal with life and death, but I was very sympathetic with her attempt to do something nice for me and my botching it by extremely bad timing. Several apologies by me and a few hours of groveling later I think she had overcome her anger and disappointment, and we settled down to our evening routine.
Smoldering Ashes
Early in the morning of the day when all this took place I was up, and as usual, installed the signaling device so that she can summon me when ready. When I brought our morning coffee to her she said to leave the device on. This was unusual, because I was planning to work on some landscaping later, but I complied. Later in the day we had our encounter (my sins above), and the eventual wind-down in the evening. I removed the device to shower, but did not put it back, thinking that we will be sitting side by side, and there was no need. After I passed out she stayed up to watch a movie on television.
A couple of hours later she came to bed and started playing with the boys. Being as sensitive as they are, they take offense easily, and only the little guy responded with appreciation. It did not take her long to explain to me that the signaling device should have been left on, because she did not tell me to take it off. After several pleasantly painful minutes she had me do some trivial chores, then said, “In the morning present yourself to me, and then I will decide what device you will be wearing during the day.”
My response of “Ok” appeared to be wrong, for the boys continued to suffer. It was not until a, “Yes Mistreatess,” stopped her imparting of this loving corrective action. At the time of this writing I am anticipating some uncomfortable devices to be applied later this morning.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Another Bump in the Road
Early in the Day
We sat at our computers on a rainy afternoon, and it occurred to me to play a CD that has her favorite style of music. Being somewhat careless I failed to control the volume as the music started. The sudden onset of noise startled her. Her reaction prompted a response from me, which in turn a response from her. The rest was worse.
In the Evening
Later in the evening she tried to make amends. I did not respond well. The consequence was that she left me in our bedroom, while she went to spend the night, and the rest of her life away from me.
Even in my best moments I find it difficult to deal with emotional attitude of others. I was not in my best moments last night. I did not deal with anything. After spending some time reading I turned off the lights. I had plans of doing and not doing certain routine things in the morning because of the change of situation at hand. I fell asleep with those troubled thoughts.
Restitution In the Early Morning Hours
Some hours later I was awakened with the world’s most beautiful breasts draped across my face. I reached out with my free hand and found equally beautiful parts attached to the breasts. Considering my position I had to assume that all of those parts belonged to MW. She stayed for several minutes while I sported an erection and fondled all of her that I could reach. At some point I suggested,
“Come back to bed.”
She silently stepped back, then went to the bathroom. Afterward she left the bedroom. I assumed that she was going to retrieve her pillows and join me. Several minutes later I realized that she was not coming back. I got my naked ass out of bed and went to find her. She was lying on the living room sofa with some cats for company. We straightened the misunderstanding: I wanted her to come back to bed, and she needed firm reassurance that I meant it.
Back in bed we felt each other like new lovers for maybe a half hour. She could not fail to notice the little guy muscling in between us, so at some point she made the overtures for me to help out. I gently pushed her onto her back, and she generously spread her thighs for us.
We spent a long time feeling each other before she took the little guy in hand and escorted him to the center of my being. Not being in a hurry I took my time to enjoy her to the hilt. She mentioned buying a CB3000 “because it looked sexy”. She knew that I consider the idea erotic. While pinching my ON/OFF buttons she talked of my acquiring “more protein in my diet” after the inevitable, obliquely referring to my cleaning up after myself. That usually gets me going like nothing else. Eventually the little guy took control, regardless of the implications, while I abandoned mine to a glorious orgasm.
Resting on one elbow or another I remained on top breathing her scents and feeling her softness. It took a while for us to settle down to some more fondling, kissing, licking, and feeling, then parting. She did not follow through on the hinted “protein snack”. At the time I was happy with it. In retrospect I wish that she had tested me. But I can’t complain. It's something to which I can look forward.
We sat at our computers on a rainy afternoon, and it occurred to me to play a CD that has her favorite style of music. Being somewhat careless I failed to control the volume as the music started. The sudden onset of noise startled her. Her reaction prompted a response from me, which in turn a response from her. The rest was worse.
In the Evening
Later in the evening she tried to make amends. I did not respond well. The consequence was that she left me in our bedroom, while she went to spend the night, and the rest of her life away from me.
Even in my best moments I find it difficult to deal with emotional attitude of others. I was not in my best moments last night. I did not deal with anything. After spending some time reading I turned off the lights. I had plans of doing and not doing certain routine things in the morning because of the change of situation at hand. I fell asleep with those troubled thoughts.
Restitution In the Early Morning Hours
Some hours later I was awakened with the world’s most beautiful breasts draped across my face. I reached out with my free hand and found equally beautiful parts attached to the breasts. Considering my position I had to assume that all of those parts belonged to MW. She stayed for several minutes while I sported an erection and fondled all of her that I could reach. At some point I suggested,
“Come back to bed.”
She silently stepped back, then went to the bathroom. Afterward she left the bedroom. I assumed that she was going to retrieve her pillows and join me. Several minutes later I realized that she was not coming back. I got my naked ass out of bed and went to find her. She was lying on the living room sofa with some cats for company. We straightened the misunderstanding: I wanted her to come back to bed, and she needed firm reassurance that I meant it.
Back in bed we felt each other like new lovers for maybe a half hour. She could not fail to notice the little guy muscling in between us, so at some point she made the overtures for me to help out. I gently pushed her onto her back, and she generously spread her thighs for us.
We spent a long time feeling each other before she took the little guy in hand and escorted him to the center of my being. Not being in a hurry I took my time to enjoy her to the hilt. She mentioned buying a CB3000 “because it looked sexy”. She knew that I consider the idea erotic. While pinching my ON/OFF buttons she talked of my acquiring “more protein in my diet” after the inevitable, obliquely referring to my cleaning up after myself. That usually gets me going like nothing else. Eventually the little guy took control, regardless of the implications, while I abandoned mine to a glorious orgasm.
Resting on one elbow or another I remained on top breathing her scents and feeling her softness. It took a while for us to settle down to some more fondling, kissing, licking, and feeling, then parting. She did not follow through on the hinted “protein snack”. At the time I was happy with it. In retrospect I wish that she had tested me. But I can’t complain. It's something to which I can look forward.
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