We were conversing over coffee early this morning. MW pointed out how good she has been lately. I had not noticed her being extra good, or just good for that matter (I may get into trouble for this comment). I must have looked puzzled, for she continued.
She then pointed out the impending arrival of her parents on their semi-annual visit. Oh yes! I know all about that. She goes nuts a couple of weeks before, and stays nuts during the week-long visit and another week or two afterward. Read that as “I must tread lightly and pretend that I am not here, but there is no way I will get away with anything even if it was not my fault.” That’s all right. I have a relatively thick hide.
Funny thing, although she has been mistreating me a bit lately (but not in a good way), it was not to the extent that she had in the past under similar circumstances. It reminded me of the “Former Chief Inspector Dreyfus” in one of the Pink Panther movies as he was trying to convince his shrink that he was sane (just before he escaped from the asylum, and created the doomsday machine by kidnapping its designer and lovely daughter and destroyed the UN building in New York). He said, “Every day in every way I am getting better and better …”
So is MW. I think that in about three weeks we might get back to what we call normal. For now I am still dragging my ass after another session of hard labor on the roof. I have one more day to go before completion. Then we will have to give it the smoke test as we used to say in the lab while in college. Rain is expected at the end of the week. Need I say more?
Oh yeah, she is distracted on account of the impending visit. For example, my balls have been sprouting the usual curly stuff, and she does not acknowledge it. I mean, usually, when I miss a shave, she whips my ass for it. Now, a quarter inch stubble means nothing. I walk around in my natural state. She does not comment on my parts, including the Prince Albert enhancement and such. So I know that she is in “parent space”. I am sorry about that. She likes them, she loves them, but they drive her … ah … you know. We all have our baggage.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Poster Couple for FLR Part 3 - She Is not expected to Do or not do what I Require
The FLR Perspective
Oh, yes, I expect certain fringe benefits from this strange relationship, just like any other human male would. I even will get angry, frustrated, and behave in an unsuitable manner when I think that I don’t get my way. But there too, is a sort of safety valve. She can call me on it and hold me accountable for my actions. I, on the other hand, don’t retain that right, and I am fully accountable to her. Why? See "Poster Couple for FLR Parts 1 and 2" for all the reasons. This is a good way to avoid, or at least minimize topping from the bottom. It also lessens the burden and pressure on MW of being the leader in an administrative sense. She is my princess, my queen, my boss, but she is also my wife, my lover, and my sweetheart. And from time to time, my disciplinarian.
Just Bitching about Stuff
It is interesting to note that blogs of FLR, especially WLR, are popping up like mushrooms. It is gratifying to see. It is very much like the feminist movement of an earlier era, and the gay community that came out of the closet. Now it is our turn. Real soon we will be in your face just like them, and people will be sick of it. They will say, ”I don’t care what your kink is, just get it the hell out of my face. FLR pride? Give me a friggin’ break.” Or some such paraphrased remarks.
If you measure the success of a blog by the number of visits, re-visits, or comments on postings, I can tell you what works. It is the blog where the man struggles with his strange kinks, and the wife is not exactly supportive. On the other hand, if all is well, then there really is no need for supportive or warning comments from readers. So, if I were to need the stroking of my ego, I would post writing on my problems, rather than my feelings of satisfaction. Description of an erotic scene works occasionally, but the problem is that there is so much fantasy and pornography out there that writing about real events in our lives, with rare exceptions, don’t have a chance of being appreciated.
In view of that, I could get into the mode of bitching about what I am not getting versus showing my appreciation of what I am actually getting. You may have to settle for some of each.
As I said, MW and I are not exactly the poster couple for FLR. We tend to slip back into the barely there situation. It is still 24/7, and no change of that is anticipated. It’s just that the female domination part becomes low key, and the male servitude with respect to religiously applied house cleaning, etc., slips without punishment. Just like in life, all things go in cycles.
Stuff Happens
I have mentioned my recent submission to hard labor. Alas, it is not MW’s doing. I can do it to myself in the worst way. The work on the roof repair is progressing, but hampered by recent rains that kept me indoors for over a week. You may think of me as a person who is easily intimidated by circumstances, but consider this. The slope of the roof is such that if I slip, there is no stopping until I hit the brick walkway 22 feet below.
I have done work up there before, and I have slipped, but I had the foresight of tying a cheap ass rope around my waist before getting to the edge. The other end of the rope was over the ridge, tied to my truck. Somewhat limiting, looks stupid, is unreliable, but hey, it's me.
Wind does not help, and rain makes useful work infeasible. So it has been only the last few days when I could justify to get up there with a ton of tools to do the deed. Within the last few days I acquired a safety harness that could save my ass from splattering below. I might still bang my head on a hard surface on the way down, but at least my fall would be arrested a few feet above the pavement, and the paramedics would not need to scrape me off the bricks.
Up there I need to move heavy concrete tiles, rip off strips of wood that hold them on, replace tarpaper, apply roofing cement to rips and holes, then put them all back the way they should be. It is hard work to say the least. If I don't do it right, all the effort will have been wasted. Full time adrenaline pumping due to the potential of disaster is making me prematurely old. The only positive aspect is the excellent view of the neighborhood and our mountain. Then again I could just step out onto the third floor deck at the same level and have a similar view but without the danger. I could be sipping wine while sitting there admiring the wiew into the neighbours' yards, So this is not really that justifiable.
The picture here gives you an idea. I would have posed on the top, but I could not do so on account of I was taking the picture when MW was away visiting her friends. The distortion is an artifact of my cheap cell phone camera.
The next picture was taken with our real camera by MW after she returned from her visit with friends. You can see me on the third level of the four level platform when I am trying to fix it from the side-to-side wobble that gave me the creeps. I hate being at heights.
Finally, I show a third picture with details of the partly completed repairs. The view over the ridge, the tiles, and the underlayment gives you an idea of what was involved.
Then there is the real estate project that MW started. It is now almost entirely in my lap. So, as you can assume, my slippage of FLR housemaid servitude has been hijacked to an extent. I am still willing, but I am really dragging my ass after work. MW is letting me get away with that. I would still enjoy some examples of her assertiveness, but I think that she too is feeling the strain. On the positive side, I have fewer opportunities to snack, so the expansion of my waistline is also on hold. Add to that trying to deal with helping family who are not exactly where they think they should be add another challenge. Of course, income tax time is approaching, so I need to attend to that. Would not it be nice if, way back, I said to MW,
Note: Although I commented about two other pictures above, you no longer see them because I removed them. They were fine pictures, but too close to home.
Oh, yes, I expect certain fringe benefits from this strange relationship, just like any other human male would. I even will get angry, frustrated, and behave in an unsuitable manner when I think that I don’t get my way. But there too, is a sort of safety valve. She can call me on it and hold me accountable for my actions. I, on the other hand, don’t retain that right, and I am fully accountable to her. Why? See "Poster Couple for FLR Parts 1 and 2" for all the reasons. This is a good way to avoid, or at least minimize topping from the bottom. It also lessens the burden and pressure on MW of being the leader in an administrative sense. She is my princess, my queen, my boss, but she is also my wife, my lover, and my sweetheart. And from time to time, my disciplinarian.
Just Bitching about Stuff
It is interesting to note that blogs of FLR, especially WLR, are popping up like mushrooms. It is gratifying to see. It is very much like the feminist movement of an earlier era, and the gay community that came out of the closet. Now it is our turn. Real soon we will be in your face just like them, and people will be sick of it. They will say, ”I don’t care what your kink is, just get it the hell out of my face. FLR pride? Give me a friggin’ break.” Or some such paraphrased remarks.
If you measure the success of a blog by the number of visits, re-visits, or comments on postings, I can tell you what works. It is the blog where the man struggles with his strange kinks, and the wife is not exactly supportive. On the other hand, if all is well, then there really is no need for supportive or warning comments from readers. So, if I were to need the stroking of my ego, I would post writing on my problems, rather than my feelings of satisfaction. Description of an erotic scene works occasionally, but the problem is that there is so much fantasy and pornography out there that writing about real events in our lives, with rare exceptions, don’t have a chance of being appreciated.
In view of that, I could get into the mode of bitching about what I am not getting versus showing my appreciation of what I am actually getting. You may have to settle for some of each.
As I said, MW and I are not exactly the poster couple for FLR. We tend to slip back into the barely there situation. It is still 24/7, and no change of that is anticipated. It’s just that the female domination part becomes low key, and the male servitude with respect to religiously applied house cleaning, etc., slips without punishment. Just like in life, all things go in cycles.
Stuff Happens
I have mentioned my recent submission to hard labor. Alas, it is not MW’s doing. I can do it to myself in the worst way. The work on the roof repair is progressing, but hampered by recent rains that kept me indoors for over a week. You may think of me as a person who is easily intimidated by circumstances, but consider this. The slope of the roof is such that if I slip, there is no stopping until I hit the brick walkway 22 feet below.
I have done work up there before, and I have slipped, but I had the foresight of tying a cheap ass rope around my waist before getting to the edge. The other end of the rope was over the ridge, tied to my truck. Somewhat limiting, looks stupid, is unreliable, but hey, it's me.
Wind does not help, and rain makes useful work infeasible. So it has been only the last few days when I could justify to get up there with a ton of tools to do the deed. Within the last few days I acquired a safety harness that could save my ass from splattering below. I might still bang my head on a hard surface on the way down, but at least my fall would be arrested a few feet above the pavement, and the paramedics would not need to scrape me off the bricks.
Up there I need to move heavy concrete tiles, rip off strips of wood that hold them on, replace tarpaper, apply roofing cement to rips and holes, then put them all back the way they should be. It is hard work to say the least. If I don't do it right, all the effort will have been wasted. Full time adrenaline pumping due to the potential of disaster is making me prematurely old. The only positive aspect is the excellent view of the neighborhood and our mountain. Then again I could just step out onto the third floor deck at the same level and have a similar view but without the danger. I could be sipping wine while sitting there admiring the wiew into the neighbours' yards, So this is not really that justifiable.
The picture here gives you an idea. I would have posed on the top, but I could not do so on account of I was taking the picture when MW was away visiting her friends. The distortion is an artifact of my cheap cell phone camera.
The next picture was taken with our real camera by MW after she returned from her visit with friends. You can see me on the third level of the four level platform when I am trying to fix it from the side-to-side wobble that gave me the creeps. I hate being at heights.
Finally, I show a third picture with details of the partly completed repairs. The view over the ridge, the tiles, and the underlayment gives you an idea of what was involved.
“Why don’t you hire a professional?”you ask. I have tried. They take one look at the house and the roof, and leave laughing. On a couple of occasions I managed to hire some desperate roofers. Alas, they did not know their ass from a hole on the roof. I paid, the roof continued to leak. Back to self induced repair.
Then there is the real estate project that MW started. It is now almost entirely in my lap. So, as you can assume, my slippage of FLR housemaid servitude has been hijacked to an extent. I am still willing, but I am really dragging my ass after work. MW is letting me get away with that. I would still enjoy some examples of her assertiveness, but I think that she too is feeling the strain. On the positive side, I have fewer opportunities to snack, so the expansion of my waistline is also on hold. Add to that trying to deal with helping family who are not exactly where they think they should be add another challenge. Of course, income tax time is approaching, so I need to attend to that. Would not it be nice if, way back, I said to MW,
"Dear, I am tired of fucking with all this. Here: it’s yours. You take over, manage all this, and dominate me in the bedroom and in the living room closet (or such). I will wash the dishes and rub your feet. You will love it.”I wonder where we would be now?
Note: Although I commented about two other pictures above, you no longer see them because I removed them. They were fine pictures, but too close to home.
Monday, January 28, 2008
A Gift from Mistress Wife
Late in the evening we finished watching a movie. I don’t think that we were doing or talking about anything sex connected, but we were relaxed. It was a convenient occasion to visit the bathroom. She went one way, I the other. I took care of some other business before returning to the bedroom a few minutes later.
She was lying across the bed at a diagonal. Her legs spread, with her feet closest to me, all I needed to do to kiss her buns was to lean over her. I did. I buried my face in her wonderfully padded cheeks and snuggled with them for a minute. Not wanting to overstay my welcome I reluctantly pulled away and did a few casual fingernail tracings across her back. She reacted like an appreciative cat (that may be an oxymoron). She wiggled, and practically purred.
Encouraged by her obvious pleasure I moved onto the bed next to her, and did more of these, what we call, fingernail massages. I ranged over her outstretched arms, and drew circles on her back. Slowly I moved down to her buns, and made sure that they had their share of the pleasure. With loose fingers I returned to her back for some kneading. Then I massaged her arms one at a time. While doing so I began to eyeball her legs as my next target.
The backs of her thighs have that lovely smooth white skin that just beg kissing and licking. The same place is also the hardest part of her. I guess there is less fat on a woman’s body over the back of the thigh. With the way her legs were stretched, I massaged her strong muscles beneath my fingers. I stayed with these lovely muscles a bit before my fingers began to be tempted by her softer inner thighs. I could not help but spend several minutes on each before moving down to her perfectly shaped calves. I worked with them only a short time, because she already had her usual evening foot and leg massage earlier. After some more fingernail massage of her legs she turned over onto her back.
This move opened an entirely new playground for me. I repeated my various fingernail moves on her front while carefully staying away from her hardening nipples. I would love to kiss, suck, nibble, and gently pinch them, but she would punch me out if I tried. Her girls are very sensitive, and only on rare occasions while I am pleasuring her with my tongue will she allow me, even encourage me, to actually pinch them. As I approached the center of my being I moved my face a bit closer than my massage warranted just to be able to inhale her feminine scent. She knew what I was doing, and encouraged it by spreading her legs.
I gave up on the massage and began to make love to her inner thighs. They have the smoothest and softest skin on her entire body. I could spend a lifetime kissing them. Her aroma was enchanting. It drew me irresistibly to my center of being. I did a few tentative licks of her lips while observing her reaction. It was to make sure that I was not intruding. She showed ease and contentment, so I did some bolder moves going deeper between her lips. My tongue is highly educated, and with its advanced degree I am usually able to give MW much of what she wants. Of course, I never really know what is on her mind, but one or more shattering orgasms are usually a good indicator of at least partial satisfaction. She pushed away my eager tongue after the first while she caught her breath. After a few seconds I approached again tentatively to see whether she was ready to continue. She was. We gave her clit another round of pleasure before I was again pushed away.
It appeared that she was finished with me. I asked whether I should leave her alone with the girls so that she could complete her pleasure. She declined, but told me to fetch a towel to wipe our shared juices from her. I did, but left all that lovely juice on my face just to extend my enjoyment of being so close to her. I could live with this.
She was lying across the bed at a diagonal. Her legs spread, with her feet closest to me, all I needed to do to kiss her buns was to lean over her. I did. I buried my face in her wonderfully padded cheeks and snuggled with them for a minute. Not wanting to overstay my welcome I reluctantly pulled away and did a few casual fingernail tracings across her back. She reacted like an appreciative cat (that may be an oxymoron). She wiggled, and practically purred.
Encouraged by her obvious pleasure I moved onto the bed next to her, and did more of these, what we call, fingernail massages. I ranged over her outstretched arms, and drew circles on her back. Slowly I moved down to her buns, and made sure that they had their share of the pleasure. With loose fingers I returned to her back for some kneading. Then I massaged her arms one at a time. While doing so I began to eyeball her legs as my next target.
The backs of her thighs have that lovely smooth white skin that just beg kissing and licking. The same place is also the hardest part of her. I guess there is less fat on a woman’s body over the back of the thigh. With the way her legs were stretched, I massaged her strong muscles beneath my fingers. I stayed with these lovely muscles a bit before my fingers began to be tempted by her softer inner thighs. I could not help but spend several minutes on each before moving down to her perfectly shaped calves. I worked with them only a short time, because she already had her usual evening foot and leg massage earlier. After some more fingernail massage of her legs she turned over onto her back.
This move opened an entirely new playground for me. I repeated my various fingernail moves on her front while carefully staying away from her hardening nipples. I would love to kiss, suck, nibble, and gently pinch them, but she would punch me out if I tried. Her girls are very sensitive, and only on rare occasions while I am pleasuring her with my tongue will she allow me, even encourage me, to actually pinch them. As I approached the center of my being I moved my face a bit closer than my massage warranted just to be able to inhale her feminine scent. She knew what I was doing, and encouraged it by spreading her legs.
I gave up on the massage and began to make love to her inner thighs. They have the smoothest and softest skin on her entire body. I could spend a lifetime kissing them. Her aroma was enchanting. It drew me irresistibly to my center of being. I did a few tentative licks of her lips while observing her reaction. It was to make sure that I was not intruding. She showed ease and contentment, so I did some bolder moves going deeper between her lips. My tongue is highly educated, and with its advanced degree I am usually able to give MW much of what she wants. Of course, I never really know what is on her mind, but one or more shattering orgasms are usually a good indicator of at least partial satisfaction. She pushed away my eager tongue after the first while she caught her breath. After a few seconds I approached again tentatively to see whether she was ready to continue. She was. We gave her clit another round of pleasure before I was again pushed away.
It appeared that she was finished with me. I asked whether I should leave her alone with the girls so that she could complete her pleasure. She declined, but told me to fetch a towel to wipe our shared juices from her. I did, but left all that lovely juice on my face just to extend my enjoyment of being so close to her. I could live with this.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
We Have Done It Again
For the Record
We had an ordinary day, followed by what began as an ordinary evening. Then MW began to mess with the ON/OFF switches (my tits). I must have been tired or something, because my only reactions were a few moans of pain or pleasure, plus the apparent inability to breathe.
I had a chance to catch my breath after she switched her attention to the boys. As painful as they can be, they don't interfere with my breathing. Alternating between the boys and the ON/OFF switches she held my attention.
After a while she must have thought that the apparatus needed some exercise, so she turned on her side and picked up both tits. Pinching and twisting them must have cleared the cobwebs from the contacts, for the little guy was promptly responding. After several minutes of on and off switching she slyly commented, “We should do something about him,” She took off the large tee shirt that she wore. Lying on her back gave me the clue that we were invited. Hallelujah again!
It might be impolite to go into much detail. As usual, I went at it slowly and gently. Resting on one elbow or another, I enjoyed feeling her softness all over. This always enhances my pleasure. I would have continued slowly, but after a few minutes I was again concerned about hurting her with my smooth, but knobby Prince Albert ring. So, I let it happen.
We had another one of those “first time” experiences. My orgasm inside her lasted a long time. Much longer than any I have ever had. It just went on. It would be interesting to have had somebody time it so that we could have some kind of record preserved. Alas, there were only the two of us, and we were both busy with the job on hand.
We had an ordinary day, followed by what began as an ordinary evening. Then MW began to mess with the ON/OFF switches (my tits). I must have been tired or something, because my only reactions were a few moans of pain or pleasure, plus the apparent inability to breathe.
I had a chance to catch my breath after she switched her attention to the boys. As painful as they can be, they don't interfere with my breathing. Alternating between the boys and the ON/OFF switches she held my attention.
After a while she must have thought that the apparatus needed some exercise, so she turned on her side and picked up both tits. Pinching and twisting them must have cleared the cobwebs from the contacts, for the little guy was promptly responding. After several minutes of on and off switching she slyly commented, “We should do something about him,” She took off the large tee shirt that she wore. Lying on her back gave me the clue that we were invited. Hallelujah again!
It might be impolite to go into much detail. As usual, I went at it slowly and gently. Resting on one elbow or another, I enjoyed feeling her softness all over. This always enhances my pleasure. I would have continued slowly, but after a few minutes I was again concerned about hurting her with my smooth, but knobby Prince Albert ring. So, I let it happen.
We had another one of those “first time” experiences. My orgasm inside her lasted a long time. Much longer than any I have ever had. It just went on. It would be interesting to have had somebody time it so that we could have some kind of record preserved. Alas, there were only the two of us, and we were both busy with the job on hand.
Honey, You Need Not Change A Thing!
A comment on an earlier post was from Helpmate Hubbie in the form of a question, “
"i'm curious as to what changes you would most like to see made?”My answer began with,
“Asking this question could be rephrased as, ‘What is your favorite fantasy?’”
I would love to answer either of these questions, but I will not do so in the current context.
If you have read enough of my blog, then you know that I am somewhat of a jaundiced realist when it comes to FLR. The reason is that only a very few FLRs are what we could define in a somewhat strict sense, “A relationship in which a dominant female assumes and maintains leadership, and a submissive male follows her in all respects.” There are different flavors of this, and I am trying to live one.
Life is change. We evolve, develop, adapt. Nothing is wrong with trying to improve your situation. However, there is something odd about what we are trying to do. Maybe it’s the reason for trying to change, maybe it’s the method, and maybe it’s just the details. Here is how I see a submissive man trying to phase his life into an FLR.
How do I serve Thee? Let me count the ways.
Not in any particular order:
- You need not change a thing, just enjoy my devoted servitude.
- Acknowledge my services in cleaning, cooking, caring for the children, washing your car, etc.
- Tease me and deny me.
- Make me hand wash your underwear.
- Discipline me if I fail to serve you well.
- Take over all sex.
- Have sex in the kitchen, living room, dining room, broom closet, … with always you on top.
- Demand oral sex daily.
- Demonstrate your being in charge to friends and strangers but only in subtle ways.
- Take over handling family affairs, finances, and all decisions.
- Share me with your female friends for servitude.
- Have sex with other males and females.
- Share me with your male and female lovers.
- Have wild D/S, B/D, CBT, water play, and etc. sessions often.
- Make me wear feminine clothes.
- Keep me naked.
- Demand that I lick your toes.
- Demand long body and foot massages.
I am not suggesting that all submissive men want all of these and nothing else but these. I am not in any way trying to make fun of wanting or needing any of this. There is an overlap in various needs and desires between us. However, if you don’t have at least a few of these “rules” in your mind, you are not even trying to be in an FLR.
Some men are satisfied to be a leader in a relationship, and play with some of these rules occasionally. In a way it is somewhat like the closet transvestite who will dress, admire himself in the mirror, then put it away until next time. Between sessions he is all vanilla but with the tension building. Those of us who want something longer lasting will have to make sacrifices. This is were voluntary servitude comes in. The place where I draw the line is claiming that our women need not change a thing, but just to enjoy the benefits.
It takes two to have a relationship. The only time that most or all of these get turned around is when the woman initiates the FLR, and trains her man to follow. “To dream the impossible dream …” OK, it could happen. I have seen some writing on it, and I don’t know how much is just a man’s fantasy. Most realistic writing appears to be about what I presented here. The man struggles against odds, reminiscent of his sperm swimming upstream with almost no chance of reaching and completing its goal. But the way to get there can be fantastic!
I ask you,
"How do you separate fantasy FLR from a real one?"
"Do you care?"
"Do you know when you have finally arrived?"
At the beginning I said that I will not answer the two questions in this context. The reason is because, if I were to say that I want to change something, then it would be an automatic admission that I am not satisfied. It would also say that I would want my female partner to change in order to satisfy me. That just goes against all my my rules. That's not saying that my FLR is perfect according to my rules, just that my rules do not allow me to change it by my own decree. There is a subtle but real difference.
Friday, January 25, 2008
From Her Point Of View Continued … session 2
If I had to guess, I would say this:
- She likes to be in charge as long as being in charge does not increase the stress on her.
- She does not want the responsibility that comes with being in charge, but likes the power.
- She would love to keep the power, but delegate the details, unless the details have to do with something with which she is currently involved by choice.
- She does not want the constant drain on her attention that deals with all the things a leader in FLR needs to monitor: running the household, maintaining the health and welfare of the dependents, keeping the submissives happy, etc.
Most of the above involve work. Mental and sometimes physical work, which tends to take away from the attraction of being in charge. Well, at least for some people, and I think that she is one.
Each of us is unique in the way we see our roles in an FLR. I did say that MW’s role as a leader was bestowed upon her. She did not ask for it. For all I know, she did not, and still does not want it. She has not said one way or the other. Knowing her as I do, I would say that she is doing an admirable job of it under the circumstances. I can see her as a would-be monarch who suddenly inherited a queendom through succession rather than ascendancy. She did not choose her position. It was thrust upon her. As such, she makes the best of it, but don’t anybody complain, for she never asked for it or agreed to do it.
Given the above, I question, “Who in reality is in charge? The monarch or the steward?” I wish that she would let me know. From time to time she gets my attention with a course correction that has lasting effect. But even then, I am not sure whether she does it to reinforce her position as a leader, for her own kinky gratification, or to give me a token of what I crave.
Before you think that I am off on a negative thread, I assure you that is not true. I am curious, I would like some answers, and at the same time I fear finding out the answers. It may be better to let things go as they are, and never find out the whole truth. I am mostly happy with our relationship. I would change some components, but as I said, I may not be smart enough to make a change and know the total outcome, so I tend to leave things alone. It's the unintended consequences issue.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
From Her Point Of View: the Introduction
MW has not been writing on her blog. I asked her why. She did not say.
She has made some short posts which are mostly non-committing. It is as if she did not want to share her thoughts with the world. This is curious. Then why have the blog in the first place?
I commented in a couple of places that she and I talk relatively freely about our feelings. At least, I do. I don’t know how much she is holding back. I know only of what she shares. If she has reservations or negative thoughts about our FLR, I would not know. The only sign of what she may be missing was indicated by a comment about two years ago. I don’t remember her exact words, but she seemed to miss the occasional spontaneous sex that I used to initiate. As I said more than once, “All has to do with sex.”
Sex is either driving the relationship, or is destroying the relationship by its intensity and frequency or lack of intensity and frequency. It is impossible for two people to mesh so perfectly that their need for intimacy coincide in intensity, duration, frequency, type, etc.. for any length of time. They may have occasionally perfect sex that turns out satisfying for both. But most often there is something that was not addressed, and it gnaws at one’s ability to maintain status quo.
We can take a typical FLR male’s perspective and see where the satisfaction happens to be. Let’s say that he is very happy and smug in knowing how selfless and subservient he is. He takes care of the object of his servitude to the extent that she needs not do anything except to enjoy it. This is the ultimate of the male’s submission. It is also the ultimate of decadence on the part of the female. It works momentarily, then it begins to cause dissatisfaction among the submissives, even perhaps among the dominants. The dynamics have been removed from the relationship. Nothing unpredictable happens any more.
There Is No Perfect FLR
There is no perfect FLR. Once having reached perfection, FLR is no longer perfect. It is best to enjoy FLR on the way to perfection that will never be reached. This brings the line of thought back to how sex or lack of sex fuels the FLR. Scratch a submissive male, and you will find a horny male just barely below the surface. In my case you need not scratch at all. I am horny, and I am proud of it. MW knows it, and it is a constant source of amusement for both of us, but mostly for her. She knows that I could be doing something totally unrelated to sex, and be really immersed in its intricacies. If she so much as gently drags her nail across one of my nipples, even through a shirt, she immediately has my attention, and the attention of the little guy. This proves to me that she is aware of my condition, willingness, capability, and preoccupation with sex. And that is what I am trying to present here: her awareness. The problem is, that I don’t know what she thinks. Even though we share much, I still don’t know what she wants, what motivates her, why she does or does not do things which I consider fun and harmless. For all I know, she has these same thoughts about me.
One thing I realize is that I am expected to be spontaneous. For example, she likes to go to eat in restaurants. I have told her,
Some years ago I made a decision to not have sex with her unless she initiated it. I alluded to this at the beginning of my blog, but did not elaborate. Suffice it to say that my new approach, in context with all else, worked well. We removed a lot of strife from our relationship. It appears, however, that we also removed some needed spontaneity that she liked occasionally. Much like the person who is taking presrcribed medication to alleviate, say, depression. It works, but it also suppresses other wanted emotions.
I can see that she is now charged with the burden of responsibility that I used to carry. She gets only what she directs me to do when it comes to sex. I have become sort of like an intelligent dildo: I will perform perfectly when called upon, but the self motivation is no longer there. We both end up missing the same thing in this respect.
The above is not completely true. I do initiate sex once in a while. I do it with delicacy such that it is up to her to allow me to continue or not. Most of the time I stop based on her signals. Even though I don’t find it entirely satisfactory from the libido perspective, it is still a safe and civil approach. It also demonstrates what I profess, that is, I serve her, she is in charge, and we do what she wants. The complexity of the interaction and subsequent feelings defies definition. All I can do is describe the feelings and activity, and leave conclusions unsaid.
After our short interchange at the beginning of this post we kicked around an idea. She seems hesitant to write her thoughts, so maybe I should attempt it. I could pretend to be her, and write what I think and what I feel of our FLR.
The more I thought about this, the less confident I became about doing it. I am afraid that I would end up writing about a fantasy female, but from a male point of view. We have all seen this happen in erotic novels.
She has made some short posts which are mostly non-committing. It is as if she did not want to share her thoughts with the world. This is curious. Then why have the blog in the first place?
I commented in a couple of places that she and I talk relatively freely about our feelings. At least, I do. I don’t know how much she is holding back. I know only of what she shares. If she has reservations or negative thoughts about our FLR, I would not know. The only sign of what she may be missing was indicated by a comment about two years ago. I don’t remember her exact words, but she seemed to miss the occasional spontaneous sex that I used to initiate. As I said more than once, “All has to do with sex.”
Sex is either driving the relationship, or is destroying the relationship by its intensity and frequency or lack of intensity and frequency. It is impossible for two people to mesh so perfectly that their need for intimacy coincide in intensity, duration, frequency, type, etc.. for any length of time. They may have occasionally perfect sex that turns out satisfying for both. But most often there is something that was not addressed, and it gnaws at one’s ability to maintain status quo.
We can take a typical FLR male’s perspective and see where the satisfaction happens to be. Let’s say that he is very happy and smug in knowing how selfless and subservient he is. He takes care of the object of his servitude to the extent that she needs not do anything except to enjoy it. This is the ultimate of the male’s submission. It is also the ultimate of decadence on the part of the female. It works momentarily, then it begins to cause dissatisfaction among the submissives, even perhaps among the dominants. The dynamics have been removed from the relationship. Nothing unpredictable happens any more.
There Is No Perfect FLR
There is no perfect FLR. Once having reached perfection, FLR is no longer perfect. It is best to enjoy FLR on the way to perfection that will never be reached. This brings the line of thought back to how sex or lack of sex fuels the FLR. Scratch a submissive male, and you will find a horny male just barely below the surface. In my case you need not scratch at all. I am horny, and I am proud of it. MW knows it, and it is a constant source of amusement for both of us, but mostly for her. She knows that I could be doing something totally unrelated to sex, and be really immersed in its intricacies. If she so much as gently drags her nail across one of my nipples, even through a shirt, she immediately has my attention, and the attention of the little guy. This proves to me that she is aware of my condition, willingness, capability, and preoccupation with sex. And that is what I am trying to present here: her awareness. The problem is, that I don’t know what she thinks. Even though we share much, I still don’t know what she wants, what motivates her, why she does or does not do things which I consider fun and harmless. For all I know, she has these same thoughts about me.
One thing I realize is that I am expected to be spontaneous. For example, she likes to go to eat in restaurants. I have told her,
"Any time that you want to go out, tell me, and we will.”Her response was something like,
“If it was not your idea but mine, then it’s just not worth it.”This is similar to the lack of spontaneity with respect to my initiating sex: If she has to start it and dictate it, it is just not worth the effort. And there is the rub.
Some years ago I made a decision to not have sex with her unless she initiated it. I alluded to this at the beginning of my blog, but did not elaborate. Suffice it to say that my new approach, in context with all else, worked well. We removed a lot of strife from our relationship. It appears, however, that we also removed some needed spontaneity that she liked occasionally. Much like the person who is taking presrcribed medication to alleviate, say, depression. It works, but it also suppresses other wanted emotions.
I can see that she is now charged with the burden of responsibility that I used to carry. She gets only what she directs me to do when it comes to sex. I have become sort of like an intelligent dildo: I will perform perfectly when called upon, but the self motivation is no longer there. We both end up missing the same thing in this respect.
The above is not completely true. I do initiate sex once in a while. I do it with delicacy such that it is up to her to allow me to continue or not. Most of the time I stop based on her signals. Even though I don’t find it entirely satisfactory from the libido perspective, it is still a safe and civil approach. It also demonstrates what I profess, that is, I serve her, she is in charge, and we do what she wants. The complexity of the interaction and subsequent feelings defies definition. All I can do is describe the feelings and activity, and leave conclusions unsaid.
After our short interchange at the beginning of this post we kicked around an idea. She seems hesitant to write her thoughts, so maybe I should attempt it. I could pretend to be her, and write what I think and what I feel of our FLR.
The more I thought about this, the less confident I became about doing it. I am afraid that I would end up writing about a fantasy female, but from a male point of view. We have all seen this happen in erotic novels.
I Like Being Her Pet
I am going through the clothes that I brought up from the laundry room. About 80 percent are her clothes, the remaining are common, as in bed sheets and stuff, and mine. Her clothes are to be hung on hangers. I riffle though the hanging clothes in the closet to find vacant hangers, and I glean what I can. I return to the huge bed on which I have laid out the clean and dry laundry. I attach her pants, shirts, et cetera, to hangers, and put them on the bar in the closet. I handle her, what I call, beautiful underwear, with care. I imagine these garment encasing her physical presence. I was there last night. I know what it is like.
I love to do this for my wife. I do other things too, but this is very personal.
Before my so-called retirement from active duty she had me "make the bed" only on weekends. Making the bed involved straightening the sheet and blankets if any, so that dust or cat does not touch the inside sheets directly. She limited my input only because we both knew that I had very little sleep in those days, so my involvement with homework was based on that. All of this changed a bit after we realized that lately I have had more time to prove my worth to her. I voluntarily assumed the chore of "making the bed" daily even though she did not request it. Since then she expects it every day. In fact, the few times when I neglect this duty for some possibly compelling reason, she has disciplined me because of it. This is where stealth submission will get a man.
I love to do this for my wife. I do other things too, but this is very personal.
Before my so-called retirement from active duty she had me "make the bed" only on weekends. Making the bed involved straightening the sheet and blankets if any, so that dust or cat does not touch the inside sheets directly. She limited my input only because we both knew that I had very little sleep in those days, so my involvement with homework was based on that. All of this changed a bit after we realized that lately I have had more time to prove my worth to her. I voluntarily assumed the chore of "making the bed" daily even though she did not request it. Since then she expects it every day. In fact, the few times when I neglect this duty for some possibly compelling reason, she has disciplined me because of it. This is where stealth submission will get a man.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
A Bit of Tit Play
We were at the hardware store yesterday. I was buying material and tools for the roof job. MW was, as usual, in the garden department loading up on plants. She needed some tool for an art project, so we walked into the tools section to find it. On the way out I noticed her picking up a pair of small spring clamps. I did not think much of it at the time. She is an artist, and that sort of thing comes in handy with her many projects.
Late in the evening we were watching a movie that we have seen a number of times before. We enjoyed it, but neither of us was too involved in it. She asked,
The funny thing about clamps is that they automatically draw my attention to their potential for use on my tits. I actually tested these one of these evil little things on my forefinger as I was unloading the truck when we returned from the hardware store. It was just too damned tight, and I had no desire to test it for real.
After she returned with the clamps she set next to me and began to play with them. I guessed what she had on her mind, so I commented,
I thought about it: I know they are too damn tight, but what if she really wants to try them on me? If I refuse, I might set her back with her confidence, and it would be a demonstration of my lack of serious commitment. I turned to lie on my back next to her, and closed my eyes to avoid seeing when she would execute her plan.
In a few seconds she had a clamp on one of my nipples. It was bad. It was worse than any other clamp that she had used before. I barely managed my composure while I waited for the other tit to be equally abused. I did not have to wait long. She appeared happy with the response from the little guy, for she went to get the camera. While I was busy trying to deal with the pain, that little creep was having a great time. Actually, after a few minutes my tit pain began to turn into a burning pain, so even the little schmuck had enough. This was evidenced by his turning into less of a hard guy. She snapped some pictures a little after his peak.
Late in the evening we were watching a movie that we have seen a number of times before. We enjoyed it, but neither of us was too involved in it. She asked,
“Where did you put the greenies?”She often likes to ask obscure questions like that, and expects me to figure out what she means. You know me, I did not have a clue.
“Define greenies, please.”After a few more similar questions and answers I finally remembered that the clamps that she bought had green plastic coating on them. I told her where I left them. She got up and went to retrieve them.
The funny thing about clamps is that they automatically draw my attention to their potential for use on my tits. I actually tested these one of these evil little things on my forefinger as I was unloading the truck when we returned from the hardware store. It was just too damned tight, and I had no desire to test it for real.
After she returned with the clamps she set next to me and began to play with them. I guessed what she had on her mind, so I commented,
“Those are too tight for what you want to use them.”She did not respond, and was obviously pursuing her plan in her mind.
I thought about it: I know they are too damn tight, but what if she really wants to try them on me? If I refuse, I might set her back with her confidence, and it would be a demonstration of my lack of serious commitment. I turned to lie on my back next to her, and closed my eyes to avoid seeing when she would execute her plan.
“Aren’t you interested in the movie?” she asked.
"I am, but I am also trying to make myself available for you. It’s obvious that you want to try them on me.”All this time I was trying not to show a reaction to what I assumed was about to happen. But you know the little guy, he has his own mind. He practically waved at her and yelled, “Hey, here I am! Come and get me.”
In a few seconds she had a clamp on one of my nipples. It was bad. It was worse than any other clamp that she had used before. I barely managed my composure while I waited for the other tit to be equally abused. I did not have to wait long. She appeared happy with the response from the little guy, for she went to get the camera. While I was busy trying to deal with the pain, that little creep was having a great time. Actually, after a few minutes my tit pain began to turn into a burning pain, so even the little schmuck had enough. This was evidenced by his turning into less of a hard guy. She snapped some pictures a little after his peak.
I wished that MW would play with him. He was more than ready, but no, she was interested only in the tit pain.
She removed the clamps. You know how the pain suddenly peaks at that point. Well, it did on both of my little nubs. My cock suddenly came back to full glory as a result. I just don’t know where he gets these weird cravings. It’s like I have to supply all his fun through my pain. You know, it’s the old “it hurts me more than it hurts you” thing. Selfish bastard!
MW massaged my nipples, then surprised me with another jolt of pain by snapping the clamp on with a fraction of a second motion. She waited for me to adjust, and no doubt, suffer in anticipation for the next one to come. It did come in a similar fashion. In a minute or so the pain turned into numbness, and I was OK. Then she began to run her hand over my chest pulling my skin in different directions. This caused the clamps to aggravate the condition and impart fresh pain. From time to time she dragged her hand over the clamps to make the feeling even more intense. She pressed her hands on the clamps and asked me questions. I had a hard time answering. She knew what she was doing.
She is not a cruel person. She is definitely not cruel enough for my taste when it comes to playing like this. She could have caused more pain if she had wanted. A few minutes later she removed the clamps, then massaged my poor tits. She asked me again about why I got on my back and closed my eyes. I explained that even though I thought the clamps to be too severe for me, I wanted to be sure that she knew my dedication to her. I wanted her to know that I would not refuse anything that she would want to do to me. She responded by saying that she already knew that. Is not she great?
Alone No More Jan 21, 2008
This is about yesterday (Sunday). Again I did about four hours of hard labor. The weather was perfect for it. I was not as tired as the day before, but I quit at noon anyway, planning to spend the quiet afternoon working inside. All this time my son and SO were at home, but since there was work to be done, he made himself scarce (at least, that was my interpretation).
After I stopped working outside I settled down with my computer. I was trying to create a database using Microsoft Access when I remembered to check my email that MW and I keep private. There were two messages. In the first one she approved my previous two postings, complained about having to sleep on somebody’s couch, and that “… we have some unfinished business ...” The latter maybe good or bad. Or bad but in a good way. We will see.
In the second message the essence was, “…I was supposed to stay here until Monday, you know? I chose you. … I might have to take it out of your foreskin.” I interpreted this as, “I will be coming home today instead of tomorrow, and you might be hurting a bit here and there because of my abbreviated stay.”
I know that she was just giving me a hard time in a playful manner. She really wanted to come home because she missed me. That, and the lumpy couch on which she slept, plus being tired of the rich foods and too many drinks.
Somewhat later she phoned and said for me to “get her out of there as soon as possible.” It took me a while to get ready, plus the drive there, so it was about two ours later that I arrived. As usual, I received very personal hugs and a kiss on the lips from the ladies. I helped them with some heavy-duty chores, and then we all sat down for a last glass of wine (my first). One of the ladies has a naturally funny way to tell about an event. She is not a comic, just has a way about presenting the material. This time it was about how she inadvertently started a fire the night before last on her living room table, and how they managed to put it out after a while. There was some alcohol involved but not in the fire, more like in a lapse of judgment.
About an hour later the conversation began to turn to discussing medical procedures, so I put on my sunglasses, collected my cell phone, etc.. This was a sign to MW that I was ready to go if she was. After more personal hugs and a kiss on the lips (did I say this before?) we parted.
A beautiful drive with almost no traffic brought us home as darkness approached. About an hour later we decided to retire to the bedroom. I explained to MW that on Monday (today) I was going to clean the bathroom, then shop for some hardware items, as opposed to working on the roof. With her early return my plans were short-circuited. She was now using a bathroom whose floor showed signs of usage. She did not exactly say, but indicated that my claim sounded like an excuse. Hm.
She was already in bed and ready to watch a movie when I finished showering. Actually, I awakened her when I asked if she was ready for the leg and foot massage. She did have a hard night before. Since she skipped dinner, I asked whether I should bring her that sinful dessert snack which she mentioned only about four times since we left her friends. She said yes, and that to wake her if necessary. I was back with the snack in about five minutes. She just woke up again. We did not think that we would stay with the movie very long, or that we would do much that evening. Indeed we did not.
After I stopped working outside I settled down with my computer. I was trying to create a database using Microsoft Access when I remembered to check my email that MW and I keep private. There were two messages. In the first one she approved my previous two postings, complained about having to sleep on somebody’s couch, and that “… we have some unfinished business ...” The latter maybe good or bad. Or bad but in a good way. We will see.
In the second message the essence was, “…I was supposed to stay here until Monday, you know? I chose you. … I might have to take it out of your foreskin.” I interpreted this as, “I will be coming home today instead of tomorrow, and you might be hurting a bit here and there because of my abbreviated stay.”
I know that she was just giving me a hard time in a playful manner. She really wanted to come home because she missed me. That, and the lumpy couch on which she slept, plus being tired of the rich foods and too many drinks.
Somewhat later she phoned and said for me to “get her out of there as soon as possible.” It took me a while to get ready, plus the drive there, so it was about two ours later that I arrived. As usual, I received very personal hugs and a kiss on the lips from the ladies. I helped them with some heavy-duty chores, and then we all sat down for a last glass of wine (my first). One of the ladies has a naturally funny way to tell about an event. She is not a comic, just has a way about presenting the material. This time it was about how she inadvertently started a fire the night before last on her living room table, and how they managed to put it out after a while. There was some alcohol involved but not in the fire, more like in a lapse of judgment.
About an hour later the conversation began to turn to discussing medical procedures, so I put on my sunglasses, collected my cell phone, etc.. This was a sign to MW that I was ready to go if she was. After more personal hugs and a kiss on the lips (did I say this before?) we parted.
A beautiful drive with almost no traffic brought us home as darkness approached. About an hour later we decided to retire to the bedroom. I explained to MW that on Monday (today) I was going to clean the bathroom, then shop for some hardware items, as opposed to working on the roof. With her early return my plans were short-circuited. She was now using a bathroom whose floor showed signs of usage. She did not exactly say, but indicated that my claim sounded like an excuse. Hm.
She was already in bed and ready to watch a movie when I finished showering. Actually, I awakened her when I asked if she was ready for the leg and foot massage. She did have a hard night before. Since she skipped dinner, I asked whether I should bring her that sinful dessert snack which she mentioned only about four times since we left her friends. She said yes, and that to wake her if necessary. I was back with the snack in about five minutes. She just woke up again. We did not think that we would stay with the movie very long, or that we would do much that evening. Indeed we did not.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Alone Again, Temporarily Jan 19, 2008
Mistress Wife is away for a few days visiting friends. I drove her to her friends' place. As usual, the ladies were thrilled to see me, and gave me very personal hugs and a kiss on the lips. We spent some time over a glass of wine. As I was leaving, I again received personal hugs and a kiss on the lips, and that did not even include MW. That was yesterday (Friday). Today I have done some work on the roof repair I mentioned before. Actually, all I did was preparation to enable me to do the work. Still, it took about four hours of hard labor. During that time I put on some favorite CDs and enjoyed the music echoing off the slope of the hill. I was a bit concerned that I might be disturbing the neighbors, but not too much. Houses here are hundreds of yards apart, and it was not too loud. I think.
I was happy to quit a bit after noon. I fixed lunch, and ate it while checking the mail. I spent the afternoon trying to use Microsoft Access. I am sure that it is a good tool, but the implementation of a database is not exactly intuitive. Is anyone out there who knows a good tutorial? After some hours of messing with it I felt the tension, and decided to postpone the work to some other day. Now it is after dinner, and I am just messing around. I write my proposed blog, and MW will approve it with or without corrections, but only after she returns from her visit. Meanwhile I am left to my own devices.
I wish that she had left some kind of reminder for me to contemplate while I miss her. You know, a CB2000 or something. Alas, she had not done so. I will have to rely on my memory and my fantasy.
I suppose that I could play with the little guy and give him a good time. After all, MW has not explicitly forbidden me to do so. I think it would be OK if I did. But then she would know, and I would have to try to justify it, and I could not. This is the thing about chastity imposed by females in an FLR. The hardware (or plastic-ware) is just a symbol. I could cut it off with my bolt cutter in a second. It is the reason and the commitment that makes my chastity binding. I wait for her to release me. I wish that it were more often, but we are following her schedule on this one. Since I don’t even have hardware or plastic-ware to cut off this time, I am even more aware of my commitment. It is both good, and bad. It is good because I honor her decision. It is bad because I miss a lot of pleasure without reason. On the balance I will go with her decision. It is always better for me to do so. After all, that is what an FLR is about. Thank you, MW.
I was happy to quit a bit after noon. I fixed lunch, and ate it while checking the mail. I spent the afternoon trying to use Microsoft Access. I am sure that it is a good tool, but the implementation of a database is not exactly intuitive. Is anyone out there who knows a good tutorial? After some hours of messing with it I felt the tension, and decided to postpone the work to some other day. Now it is after dinner, and I am just messing around. I write my proposed blog, and MW will approve it with or without corrections, but only after she returns from her visit. Meanwhile I am left to my own devices.
I wish that she had left some kind of reminder for me to contemplate while I miss her. You know, a CB2000 or something. Alas, she had not done so. I will have to rely on my memory and my fantasy.
I suppose that I could play with the little guy and give him a good time. After all, MW has not explicitly forbidden me to do so. I think it would be OK if I did. But then she would know, and I would have to try to justify it, and I could not. This is the thing about chastity imposed by females in an FLR. The hardware (or plastic-ware) is just a symbol. I could cut it off with my bolt cutter in a second. It is the reason and the commitment that makes my chastity binding. I wait for her to release me. I wish that it were more often, but we are following her schedule on this one. Since I don’t even have hardware or plastic-ware to cut off this time, I am even more aware of my commitment. It is both good, and bad. It is good because I honor her decision. It is bad because I miss a lot of pleasure without reason. On the balance I will go with her decision. It is always better for me to do so. After all, that is what an FLR is about. Thank you, MW.
She Comes First
A Proper Context for the Term
A fellow blogger kindly suggested that I invest in the book “She Comes First …” by Ian Kerner. I agree with his intention and sentiment. I have a vast collection of books over which any budding FLR man would love to orgasm. See my book list in the sidebar for a sample. But before I get into these lubricious details, I want to take a tiny side-tour using the term in the title of this blog.
In our relationship “She Comes First” is more than in the obviously sexual implication. Even back in the vanilla days I tried to be gentlemanly with her. I was awed with her youthful and abundant beauty, so she held my attention as far as any female would. Then we started making babies, and another world of appreciation opened which bound me to her even more. It was not in a manner of “You, my woman, I, your master,” but more like a treasure that needed my protection and repeated appreciation. This is not to say that I was perfect at serving her needs, rather, that in most situations I put her ahead of me for a number of reasons.
We had problems. We were inexperienced in sex, dealing with marriage, emotional problems, economic problems, etc. All that time I was trying to earn a living and a practical college degree that would catapult me from menial to professional jobs. Our sex life was not dull. We learned many things and enjoyed them along the way. But it took her a long time to become relatively free to express her feelings, and I suspect that she is still holding back some.
The idea of “She Comes First” is now even more to the point: I put her ahead of me in all respects. Obviously, sex, although it is high on the list, is not the only item.
The Real Meaning of the Term
I ran across this book maybe a year ago. I considered buying it. I would enjoy reading it, and may do so some day. I am interested in all aspects of the subject. However, after reading the description I realized that other than vicarious pleasure I would get little out of it. The book is for the novice. You may see an excellent review of it at http://blogcritics.org/archives/2004/10/20/015504.php
I am already very good at giving MW pleasure in any way that she wants, especially along the subject of this book. It is indeed true that she comes first, and that she decides what, when, where, how, etc. Please ask her at http://www.mistressusan.blogspot.com/ if you doubt me. I doubt that I would learn anything new that would enhance her appreciation of what I am already doing. I am not sure that she would allow me to do anything different than what she indicates that I should do. In other words, I hesitate to experiment because she is very touchy.
What I could not learn from any book are the nuances of oral pleasure, which apply to MW. These took a long time to evolve, and are changing even now. I could have learned this only at her feet. While the general technique is portable to other women, the specific application is unique to the lovers that we comprise.
Regardless of how much of an expert I may be as a linguist, it does not matter except in the esoteric and aesthetic senses. I can talk about my expertise and my style, but I will still share the practical part only with MW. As much as I would love to entertain thoughts of her sharing me with others of like preferences, it is not going to happen. I certainly have no plan to do it on the sly. What I have may be precious to her, but it is a commodity whose value is limited only to her.
It is conceivable that some day I would be doing this service to another deserving female, and I would probably love it. If that were the case, I would again have to learn her preferences, rather than applying a manual of cunnilingus or the nuances that MW has taught me.
A fellow blogger kindly suggested that I invest in the book “She Comes First …” by Ian Kerner. I agree with his intention and sentiment. I have a vast collection of books over which any budding FLR man would love to orgasm. See my book list in the sidebar for a sample. But before I get into these lubricious details, I want to take a tiny side-tour using the term in the title of this blog.
In our relationship “She Comes First” is more than in the obviously sexual implication. Even back in the vanilla days I tried to be gentlemanly with her. I was awed with her youthful and abundant beauty, so she held my attention as far as any female would. Then we started making babies, and another world of appreciation opened which bound me to her even more. It was not in a manner of “You, my woman, I, your master,” but more like a treasure that needed my protection and repeated appreciation. This is not to say that I was perfect at serving her needs, rather, that in most situations I put her ahead of me for a number of reasons.
We had problems. We were inexperienced in sex, dealing with marriage, emotional problems, economic problems, etc. All that time I was trying to earn a living and a practical college degree that would catapult me from menial to professional jobs. Our sex life was not dull. We learned many things and enjoyed them along the way. But it took her a long time to become relatively free to express her feelings, and I suspect that she is still holding back some.
The idea of “She Comes First” is now even more to the point: I put her ahead of me in all respects. Obviously, sex, although it is high on the list, is not the only item.
The Real Meaning of the Term
I ran across this book maybe a year ago. I considered buying it. I would enjoy reading it, and may do so some day. I am interested in all aspects of the subject. However, after reading the description I realized that other than vicarious pleasure I would get little out of it. The book is for the novice. You may see an excellent review of it at http://blogcritics.org/archives/2004/10/20/015504.php
I will now talk of some of the reasons why I need not buy the book at this time.
I am already very good at giving MW pleasure in any way that she wants, especially along the subject of this book. It is indeed true that she comes first, and that she decides what, when, where, how, etc. Please ask her at http://www.mistressusan.blogspot.com/ if you doubt me. I doubt that I would learn anything new that would enhance her appreciation of what I am already doing. I am not sure that she would allow me to do anything different than what she indicates that I should do. In other words, I hesitate to experiment because she is very touchy.
What I could not learn from any book are the nuances of oral pleasure, which apply to MW. These took a long time to evolve, and are changing even now. I could have learned this only at her feet. While the general technique is portable to other women, the specific application is unique to the lovers that we comprise.
Regardless of how much of an expert I may be as a linguist, it does not matter except in the esoteric and aesthetic senses. I can talk about my expertise and my style, but I will still share the practical part only with MW. As much as I would love to entertain thoughts of her sharing me with others of like preferences, it is not going to happen. I certainly have no plan to do it on the sly. What I have may be precious to her, but it is a commodity whose value is limited only to her.
It is conceivable that some day I would be doing this service to another deserving female, and I would probably love it. If that were the case, I would again have to learn her preferences, rather than applying a manual of cunnilingus or the nuances that MW has taught me.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Getting Personal
As I pointed out above, I have been avoiding anything personal to be included in my posts. Yes, I know, talking about very personal events as I have is not exactly impersonal. Still, the anonymity of it offers some protection from pious eyes. Then there is another aspect of this blog that may make or break its effect on the appreciating reader. It has to do with “how real the people are”. You know, writing ranging from fantasy to super realism. It is not my intent to shock anyone or to be too blatant. There are enough such blogs that do that. This forum is a mix of some thoughts that I wish to develop in my own mind, some that I wish to share, and others that may be an unadmitted cry for help. I will continue, at least for a while, with the same rules: disclose only enough to allow its reality to make my case, but withhold other details to avoid persecution. Damn, I am becoming such a whiny schmuck these days ….
I have issues pressing on me from more and more directions. I am beginning to feel the stress. It might be a good thing if I were to come up with positive ways to handle them. And there is the one to watch: “if” I come up with positive ways. I won’t bore you with a list of issues, but will mention some to give an idea of what my problems are.
We live in a huge house. It is large in square footage, stature, height, maintenance, and costs. We can’t exactly afford it, but we are locked in as a matter of practicality, which I will not disclose at this time. I have been fighting nature with respect to roof leaks. You know, if there is a roof, there is a roof leak. We have a big roof. You get the picture.
I am skilled at fixing things, be they physical, mechanical, emotional, or psychological in nature. You might call me “an engineer of all disciplines”. By the way, I didn't mean "Jack of all trades." I am actually good at all of that. The trouble is that some problems that I am trying to fix have to do with, for example, heights. I have done it, but I didn’t like it. Yet here I am again about to rip tiles off a steep roof three stories above ground. I will let you know if I live.
Another issue has come up recently. MW has decided to go into some real estate venture that could pay off in a number of ways. As we know, nothing in this life is certain, so there is a risk. In order to finance this new adventure I need to cash in some investments. Yes, I know, you are thinking,
The investment under scrutiny here has not been doing well lately, and I hate to sell when I get a fraction of its former value. It might go up. And we will get little with which to finance the real estate project. The other thing is, I don’t really like to make deals, and this will be a series of deals. MW assured me that she will handle all that, all she would need is my support. Well, she is sweet, well meaning, but has even shorter history of making real estate deals than I, and is less confident when she is representing us. I just know that my involvement will be more than either of us assumed.
There are other maintenance issues that I must address, but each one will be taking lower priority than the one I mentioned here, and of course, the project. So as I said, I feel the pressure.
I have issues pressing on me from more and more directions. I am beginning to feel the stress. It might be a good thing if I were to come up with positive ways to handle them. And there is the one to watch: “if” I come up with positive ways. I won’t bore you with a list of issues, but will mention some to give an idea of what my problems are.
We live in a huge house. It is large in square footage, stature, height, maintenance, and costs. We can’t exactly afford it, but we are locked in as a matter of practicality, which I will not disclose at this time. I have been fighting nature with respect to roof leaks. You know, if there is a roof, there is a roof leak. We have a big roof. You get the picture.
I am skilled at fixing things, be they physical, mechanical, emotional, or psychological in nature. You might call me “an engineer of all disciplines”. By the way, I didn't mean "Jack of all trades." I am actually good at all of that. The trouble is that some problems that I am trying to fix have to do with, for example, heights. I have done it, but I didn’t like it. Yet here I am again about to rip tiles off a steep roof three stories above ground. I will let you know if I live.
Another issue has come up recently. MW has decided to go into some real estate venture that could pay off in a number of ways. As we know, nothing in this life is certain, so there is a risk. In order to finance this new adventure I need to cash in some investments. Yes, I know, you are thinking,
“Poor dear, he has to cash in some investments. I could just cry for him.”No, it’s not like that. We are not talking about real money here, just enough to get the project going for a few months at best. I wish I had more.
The investment under scrutiny here has not been doing well lately, and I hate to sell when I get a fraction of its former value. It might go up. And we will get little with which to finance the real estate project. The other thing is, I don’t really like to make deals, and this will be a series of deals. MW assured me that she will handle all that, all she would need is my support. Well, she is sweet, well meaning, but has even shorter history of making real estate deals than I, and is less confident when she is representing us. I just know that my involvement will be more than either of us assumed.
There are other maintenance issues that I must address, but each one will be taking lower priority than the one I mentioned here, and of course, the project. So as I said, I feel the pressure.
A Bit of Mundane Admission
I tend to wait for momentous occasions to post something because I want to avoid boring the reader. Once in a while, (Oh, all right, too friggin’ often) I succumb to pontification whether I say it or a reader does.
In general I have a reason to steer away from too much non-anonymous reality. It is to keep our identities from being inadvertently revealed. As a consequence, I have a constant struggle between baring my soul, and keeping it in the shadows. So, you will occasionally see sunlit scenes that present in the most intimate detail of what I would not discuss with my psychologist, had I one, yet I skip over general but potentially interesting and endearing events and scenarios for fear of being found out. Such contradicting directives make life interesting. They are very much like the attempt of the "stealth submissive" who wants to serve to his female partner without her knowing it. He feels compelled to satisfy, but the question is, “Whom?”
Mundane reality depicted in my writing can be useless, revealing, entertaining, devastating, etc., depending on who is using it for what. Ok, my stuff is likely to fall under the first category. Although my situation is unique, I don’t have anything earthshaking to present. Still, some nefarious character could do me harm just for the sake of doing me harm. I have very few old adversaries who could track me to this blog, but in my line of (former) work I should not take the chance. Given that, I tend to take the conservative approach and skip revealing details. Pity.
I would love to talk about the wonderful place where we live, our excellent family, the good times we have when and where we are, real problems with which we deal, and plans that we have. It would make my blog more real, more open, more personal to those who care. As it is, I will use some of these ideas with some circumspection. I will reveal some of my person, yet I will avoid opening the door to vindictive reaction. The attempt may fail, but will be a challenge. Work with me on this!
Choosing to be open in a blog depends on the context of the blog, and also on what the author has to gain or lose. The context of my blog is controversial in general, and I don’t have a strong agenda to promote what I espouse at the risk of losing some social status or opportunities. I do have something to lose, and very little to gain. It is not like being a “freedom fighter” where one has nothing more to lose but his life. I have been there, and I assure you that this is different. The gain here is trivial, and the loss is substantial. It may change, but for now I choose anonymity.
In general I have a reason to steer away from too much non-anonymous reality. It is to keep our identities from being inadvertently revealed. As a consequence, I have a constant struggle between baring my soul, and keeping it in the shadows. So, you will occasionally see sunlit scenes that present in the most intimate detail of what I would not discuss with my psychologist, had I one, yet I skip over general but potentially interesting and endearing events and scenarios for fear of being found out. Such contradicting directives make life interesting. They are very much like the attempt of the "stealth submissive" who wants to serve to his female partner without her knowing it. He feels compelled to satisfy, but the question is, “Whom?”
Mundane reality depicted in my writing can be useless, revealing, entertaining, devastating, etc., depending on who is using it for what. Ok, my stuff is likely to fall under the first category. Although my situation is unique, I don’t have anything earthshaking to present. Still, some nefarious character could do me harm just for the sake of doing me harm. I have very few old adversaries who could track me to this blog, but in my line of (former) work I should not take the chance. Given that, I tend to take the conservative approach and skip revealing details. Pity.
I would love to talk about the wonderful place where we live, our excellent family, the good times we have when and where we are, real problems with which we deal, and plans that we have. It would make my blog more real, more open, more personal to those who care. As it is, I will use some of these ideas with some circumspection. I will reveal some of my person, yet I will avoid opening the door to vindictive reaction. The attempt may fail, but will be a challenge. Work with me on this!
Choosing to be open in a blog depends on the context of the blog, and also on what the author has to gain or lose. The context of my blog is controversial in general, and I don’t have a strong agenda to promote what I espouse at the risk of losing some social status or opportunities. I do have something to lose, and very little to gain. It is not like being a “freedom fighter” where one has nothing more to lose but his life. I have been there, and I assure you that this is different. The gain here is trivial, and the loss is substantial. It may change, but for now I choose anonymity.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
We Don’t Play Much
Life is demanding even when one is not required to do much. You know, the monsters in the moat must be fed when there are no intruders, the roof of the shelter needs to be patched when it leaks, and one needs to go out hunting (or gathering if you are the vegetarian bent) when the knap sack turns slim. So, it takes a bit of time away from just screwing around naked.
The other thing is dealing with depression. Everybody becomes depressed from time to time. I do. But some of us get this to a more extreme degree. Dealing with it is a real issue.
My sweet MW has this problem, and I have learned to deal with it. In my earlier years I thought that she was just a brat, and was not willing to face reality. To a certain extent that was true, but the more weighty reason was something else. I wish that I could go back in time and do it right. Now I face this problem in a more sympathetic manner. Even when she becomes bitchy, retaliatory, abusive (not in a good way), I recognize the signs, and treat her with love. She acknowledges it, and calms down. The rest is up to me. I also realize that when she is this way, I can set her off even without trying. It is crucial that I recognize her response, and don’t react to it as the average fool would, or as I used to do in my less enlightened times, with: “Up your ass, woman!” As I said, I have learned.
I don’t know what brings on these episodes of depression. It has been clinically demonstrated that some of it has to do with hormonal imbalance. But given that, there is usually a psychological trigger, and I am in a position to provide that even without trying. Being aware of this impending doom I try to avoid pushing her. Heaping guilt on what she already feels is the wrong thing to do. I fail sometimes, but in general I seldom bitch. Of course, there is going to extremes. There are two ways that I could go.
First, I could avoid any kind of complaint or even hint of lack of satisfaction with respect to her. This will give her a feeling of “all is well”, so she does not add to her own unnecessary feeling of guilt which would contribute to any onset of depression. Of course, this means that “I am completely happy, and she need not change a thing,” which would be untrue. Also, she would still succumb to the “hormonal imbalance” and get depressed anyway.
Second, I could complain about my not getting whatever satisfaction I need, and that we could and should do a lot of things, mostly concerning my sexual preferences.
You can see that neither is constructive nor satisfactory. In the first case I would miss out on a lot of stuff. How long? Who knows? In the second case I might get something grudgingly which I would resent if or when it happened. Worse, if my timing is wrong, and she is depressed, she would have the proverbial meltdown. Then it would be a major undertaking to recover our usual good times.
I try to take a middle road. When she is well, which is most of the time, I will hint about the good times that we can have, about what good things I can do for her, and hope that she gets turned on by them. If, or when I bitch about what I am not getting that I think I deserve, I feel bad afterward. I don’t want to produce guilt in her, or me. That would be a childish and too emotional way to try to get things done. Anything can happen even between “perfectly normal couples”, and the outcome is seldom desirable. See domestic violence, divorce, etc. I have handled those professionally, and they are a constant reminder to me: be kind when dealing with people, especially those whom you love.
It is true that we seldom play any more. We used to have planned get-togethers where we could and did just about anything consensual. Great times. We still have wonderful times when our libidos (mostly hers) mesh. She describes those times as, "Our planets are aligned." I am more sexually primed, so I could do most of this at a moment’s notice. I need just a few seconds to prime the little guy. MW is great when she is ready, but tends to be sexually absent between. We still hug, kiss and feel a lot, but only in a loving vanilla way. In my selfish thoughts I wish that she did some tease and denial. It would keep me going, and she would not need to participate to the full extent. But even as it is, I will follow her lead.
I am not selfless. I am not altruistic in serving her. I am just a horny and kind man who loves his wife, and appreciates the good things when I experience them. I realize that life in general is not necessarily there to satisfy me. We take what we get, give what we can, and try to do our best. Aside from an occasional fantasy-fulfillment, life on the average is just average. It is when I become obsessive with my needs is when I make a mess of it. So, I try to be kind.
Yesterday
MW invited our youngest son and his significant other (SO) for dinner. She gave them a choice of shish kebob or fajitas. The dupe chose fajitas. MW began to prepare the meal around three in the afternoon. Even as she began she was already complaining about it, “If I continue cooking, I won’t be able to stand up. I’m so tired.” Then she came into the living room, looked around disgusted to see all the mess left over after she had removed the Christmas decorations. She looked very dejected. Now she had still another mess to clean up. I, unwisely suggested, that if she did not feel like picking up the mess before, now is not a good time on account of the day being late already, and she cannot do everything on one day. Something like that. She did not see it that way, so she went on tidying up anyway.
Some of you might say, “Why didn’t you pickup the stuff, and allow her to rest?” and you would be right asking that. The usual problem is that I am not supposed to mess with her stuff, and it was all her stuff. So, after my silly comment I tried to maintain a low profile. She went on to straighten the place so that two more people could actually sit down in the room. Of course, a couple of cats immediately moved in to keep the new place warm for guests.
Our son and SO arrived on time. I served some drinks that we bought for the occasion, and had a good time listening to the boy talking about his plans. Dinner was excellent. It was not just fajitas. There were various dips, salsa, chips, shrimp, several cooked and fresh vegetables, salad, hot sauces, etc. After dinner the conversation went on while I put away the leftover food, cleaned up the dining area, and washed the dishes.
Having eaten Mexican food always requires me to add something carbonated. After taking out the trash I was ready to sit down with a special beer that I just opened. The boy asked whether we would be interested in seeing the house that he just bought. They plan to move in upon completion early next month. We agreed to go. Since he and I had been drinking, his girlfriend volunteered to drive.
The place is in the valley about 13 miles away at the edge of civilization. We seldom go in that direction lately. The trip brought up some memories. It is in an area that I often patrolled while in law enforcement. The house is just being completed in a nice new neighborhood. It has spacious rooms and huge backyard, bordered by a park. I could tell that he was proud of it.
After we returned home I was anxious to retire. MW asked whether I wanted to watch a movie, and I said, “I suppose, but I don’t think I will last more than a few minutes.” We watched about twenty minutes of The Two Towers from the Ring trilogy. After we went to bed, I passed out in a minute.
Then There Was This Morning …
I was up early as usual. Before I left the cold bedroom I looked back at her. She was lying on her side hugging a pillow. Her bare skin, covering her hills and valleys, looked as inviting as ever. I was thinking, I did not want to be out of a warm bed, yet there she is sleeping uncovered. Obviously our metabolisms are widely different.
Sometimes she sets me up. Feigning sleep, she makes her butt available for me to love, and if I don't, she is disappointed. I never want to disappoint her, especially when it comes to kissing her beautiful butt or anything. I did not want to disturb her sleep, so I did not kiss her butt this time. I grabbed the signaling device while making sure that she had the controller hanging on the wall by her side.
I turned on my computer and did some work and play. I never visit pornographic sites on purpose. It is not because I am so pure, but just that they don’t do anything for me. To me, real things are a turn-on. I might be willing to watch videos posted by real people. It is yet to come in my life, and I am hoping that I will like it. I will let you know if or when I try.
Hours later I felt a twinge around my private parts. I was not sure that it was real. I went to investigate anyway. She was covered and showed no signs of being aware of my presence. I left with the intent of not disturbing her. After a few minutes I felt the same twinge. Still not being sure, I checked again. Same result. I went back to my computer to try to install some software that had been giving me a hard time. Then I felt the twinge again. This time I was annoyed, but I went to see the potential source, and said, “Why don’t you acknowledge my presence? I was not sure that you wanted me, but here I was.”
“I was just playing,” she said.
We discussed the possibilities, and I set off to make coffee. She opened the blinds on this second floor bedroom so that we could watch the sunrise over the mountain. I served the coffee and we sat in bed enjoying still another wonderful morning when we are well, having no major problems, and all we needed to do was to work out some of the temporary kinks.
After coffee it was she who suggested a cuddle. Glory be! I, of course, took the opportunity. It did not take long to settle with my face being between her generous breasts and be very happy. Actually, my face would be happy between her anything, but I don’t want to be an ingrate and complain. Her breasts are just fine! I had a hard time participating in a conversation on account of being somewhat muffled by voluptuous female charms. Not that I wanted to change anything. I was so comfortable that she had to awaken me after a few minutes. I am such an ingrate.
We enjoyed about an hour of closeness before she started to mess with one of my tits. Let me tell you: nobody messes with my tits and gets away with it. Well, maybe she does, and she did. She realized that my little guy expressed his opinion, and suggested that maybe we could get together. In almost no time she was on her back and drawing me on top. I did not need more encouragement. He and I complied.
For those of you who have not had this experience with her, and I know that none of you have, heh heh … this is something pleasant, to say the least. I like to go at it slowly and gently to be sure that she does not get hurt. If you remember, I wear a Prince Albert ring. The other reason for slow strokes is to prolong the experience.
Back to the momentous occasion. She had hold of both of my nipples by this time and made good use of them. They are still sore as I am writing this. Even with the slow strokes, I did not last more than about ten minutes, but who was timing? After it was over I stayed where I was and just moved around a bit while she clamped onto the (not so) little guy with her thighs. Then a first-time event in my life occurred: I had another orgasm. I am not making this up, this has never happened before. Sure, I used to get off a few times a day after we were first married, with some pause between tries. But as time went on, one orgasm was the sentence for the rest of my life. Until now. I am not confident that this will happen again, but I am willing to try.
We lay together for a while. She said, and I don’t remember her exact words, “It is good to be so close to you.”
An After Note
MW says that this double orgasm has occurred for the second time. I asked her when, and under what circumstances. She indicated that it was some years ago without giving specifics. Oh well, who am I to argue? Or could it be that she was with another man, which is why I don’t remember? Then again, after having a few glasses of wine I tend to "not remember" a lot of things.
The other thing is dealing with depression. Everybody becomes depressed from time to time. I do. But some of us get this to a more extreme degree. Dealing with it is a real issue.
My sweet MW has this problem, and I have learned to deal with it. In my earlier years I thought that she was just a brat, and was not willing to face reality. To a certain extent that was true, but the more weighty reason was something else. I wish that I could go back in time and do it right. Now I face this problem in a more sympathetic manner. Even when she becomes bitchy, retaliatory, abusive (not in a good way), I recognize the signs, and treat her with love. She acknowledges it, and calms down. The rest is up to me. I also realize that when she is this way, I can set her off even without trying. It is crucial that I recognize her response, and don’t react to it as the average fool would, or as I used to do in my less enlightened times, with: “Up your ass, woman!” As I said, I have learned.
I don’t know what brings on these episodes of depression. It has been clinically demonstrated that some of it has to do with hormonal imbalance. But given that, there is usually a psychological trigger, and I am in a position to provide that even without trying. Being aware of this impending doom I try to avoid pushing her. Heaping guilt on what she already feels is the wrong thing to do. I fail sometimes, but in general I seldom bitch. Of course, there is going to extremes. There are two ways that I could go.
First, I could avoid any kind of complaint or even hint of lack of satisfaction with respect to her. This will give her a feeling of “all is well”, so she does not add to her own unnecessary feeling of guilt which would contribute to any onset of depression. Of course, this means that “I am completely happy, and she need not change a thing,” which would be untrue. Also, she would still succumb to the “hormonal imbalance” and get depressed anyway.
Second, I could complain about my not getting whatever satisfaction I need, and that we could and should do a lot of things, mostly concerning my sexual preferences.
You can see that neither is constructive nor satisfactory. In the first case I would miss out on a lot of stuff. How long? Who knows? In the second case I might get something grudgingly which I would resent if or when it happened. Worse, if my timing is wrong, and she is depressed, she would have the proverbial meltdown. Then it would be a major undertaking to recover our usual good times.
I try to take a middle road. When she is well, which is most of the time, I will hint about the good times that we can have, about what good things I can do for her, and hope that she gets turned on by them. If, or when I bitch about what I am not getting that I think I deserve, I feel bad afterward. I don’t want to produce guilt in her, or me. That would be a childish and too emotional way to try to get things done. Anything can happen even between “perfectly normal couples”, and the outcome is seldom desirable. See domestic violence, divorce, etc. I have handled those professionally, and they are a constant reminder to me: be kind when dealing with people, especially those whom you love.
It is true that we seldom play any more. We used to have planned get-togethers where we could and did just about anything consensual. Great times. We still have wonderful times when our libidos (mostly hers) mesh. She describes those times as, "Our planets are aligned." I am more sexually primed, so I could do most of this at a moment’s notice. I need just a few seconds to prime the little guy. MW is great when she is ready, but tends to be sexually absent between. We still hug, kiss and feel a lot, but only in a loving vanilla way. In my selfish thoughts I wish that she did some tease and denial. It would keep me going, and she would not need to participate to the full extent. But even as it is, I will follow her lead.
I am not selfless. I am not altruistic in serving her. I am just a horny and kind man who loves his wife, and appreciates the good things when I experience them. I realize that life in general is not necessarily there to satisfy me. We take what we get, give what we can, and try to do our best. Aside from an occasional fantasy-fulfillment, life on the average is just average. It is when I become obsessive with my needs is when I make a mess of it. So, I try to be kind.
Yesterday
MW invited our youngest son and his significant other (SO) for dinner. She gave them a choice of shish kebob or fajitas. The dupe chose fajitas. MW began to prepare the meal around three in the afternoon. Even as she began she was already complaining about it, “If I continue cooking, I won’t be able to stand up. I’m so tired.” Then she came into the living room, looked around disgusted to see all the mess left over after she had removed the Christmas decorations. She looked very dejected. Now she had still another mess to clean up. I, unwisely suggested, that if she did not feel like picking up the mess before, now is not a good time on account of the day being late already, and she cannot do everything on one day. Something like that. She did not see it that way, so she went on tidying up anyway.
Some of you might say, “Why didn’t you pickup the stuff, and allow her to rest?” and you would be right asking that. The usual problem is that I am not supposed to mess with her stuff, and it was all her stuff. So, after my silly comment I tried to maintain a low profile. She went on to straighten the place so that two more people could actually sit down in the room. Of course, a couple of cats immediately moved in to keep the new place warm for guests.
Our son and SO arrived on time. I served some drinks that we bought for the occasion, and had a good time listening to the boy talking about his plans. Dinner was excellent. It was not just fajitas. There were various dips, salsa, chips, shrimp, several cooked and fresh vegetables, salad, hot sauces, etc. After dinner the conversation went on while I put away the leftover food, cleaned up the dining area, and washed the dishes.
Having eaten Mexican food always requires me to add something carbonated. After taking out the trash I was ready to sit down with a special beer that I just opened. The boy asked whether we would be interested in seeing the house that he just bought. They plan to move in upon completion early next month. We agreed to go. Since he and I had been drinking, his girlfriend volunteered to drive.
The place is in the valley about 13 miles away at the edge of civilization. We seldom go in that direction lately. The trip brought up some memories. It is in an area that I often patrolled while in law enforcement. The house is just being completed in a nice new neighborhood. It has spacious rooms and huge backyard, bordered by a park. I could tell that he was proud of it.
After we returned home I was anxious to retire. MW asked whether I wanted to watch a movie, and I said, “I suppose, but I don’t think I will last more than a few minutes.” We watched about twenty minutes of The Two Towers from the Ring trilogy. After we went to bed, I passed out in a minute.
Then There Was This Morning …
I was up early as usual. Before I left the cold bedroom I looked back at her. She was lying on her side hugging a pillow. Her bare skin, covering her hills and valleys, looked as inviting as ever. I was thinking, I did not want to be out of a warm bed, yet there she is sleeping uncovered. Obviously our metabolisms are widely different.
Sometimes she sets me up. Feigning sleep, she makes her butt available for me to love, and if I don't, she is disappointed. I never want to disappoint her, especially when it comes to kissing her beautiful butt or anything. I did not want to disturb her sleep, so I did not kiss her butt this time. I grabbed the signaling device while making sure that she had the controller hanging on the wall by her side.
I turned on my computer and did some work and play. I never visit pornographic sites on purpose. It is not because I am so pure, but just that they don’t do anything for me. To me, real things are a turn-on. I might be willing to watch videos posted by real people. It is yet to come in my life, and I am hoping that I will like it. I will let you know if or when I try.
Hours later I felt a twinge around my private parts. I was not sure that it was real. I went to investigate anyway. She was covered and showed no signs of being aware of my presence. I left with the intent of not disturbing her. After a few minutes I felt the same twinge. Still not being sure, I checked again. Same result. I went back to my computer to try to install some software that had been giving me a hard time. Then I felt the twinge again. This time I was annoyed, but I went to see the potential source, and said, “Why don’t you acknowledge my presence? I was not sure that you wanted me, but here I was.”
“I was just playing,” she said.
We discussed the possibilities, and I set off to make coffee. She opened the blinds on this second floor bedroom so that we could watch the sunrise over the mountain. I served the coffee and we sat in bed enjoying still another wonderful morning when we are well, having no major problems, and all we needed to do was to work out some of the temporary kinks.
After coffee it was she who suggested a cuddle. Glory be! I, of course, took the opportunity. It did not take long to settle with my face being between her generous breasts and be very happy. Actually, my face would be happy between her anything, but I don’t want to be an ingrate and complain. Her breasts are just fine! I had a hard time participating in a conversation on account of being somewhat muffled by voluptuous female charms. Not that I wanted to change anything. I was so comfortable that she had to awaken me after a few minutes. I am such an ingrate.
We enjoyed about an hour of closeness before she started to mess with one of my tits. Let me tell you: nobody messes with my tits and gets away with it. Well, maybe she does, and she did. She realized that my little guy expressed his opinion, and suggested that maybe we could get together. In almost no time she was on her back and drawing me on top. I did not need more encouragement. He and I complied.
For those of you who have not had this experience with her, and I know that none of you have, heh heh … this is something pleasant, to say the least. I like to go at it slowly and gently to be sure that she does not get hurt. If you remember, I wear a Prince Albert ring. The other reason for slow strokes is to prolong the experience.
Back to the momentous occasion. She had hold of both of my nipples by this time and made good use of them. They are still sore as I am writing this. Even with the slow strokes, I did not last more than about ten minutes, but who was timing? After it was over I stayed where I was and just moved around a bit while she clamped onto the (not so) little guy with her thighs. Then a first-time event in my life occurred: I had another orgasm. I am not making this up, this has never happened before. Sure, I used to get off a few times a day after we were first married, with some pause between tries. But as time went on, one orgasm was the sentence for the rest of my life. Until now. I am not confident that this will happen again, but I am willing to try.
We lay together for a while. She said, and I don’t remember her exact words, “It is good to be so close to you.”
An After Note
MW says that this double orgasm has occurred for the second time. I asked her when, and under what circumstances. She indicated that it was some years ago without giving specifics. Oh well, who am I to argue? Or could it be that she was with another man, which is why I don’t remember? Then again, after having a few glasses of wine I tend to "not remember" a lot of things.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Poster Couple for FLR Part 2 - She is the De-Facto Leader
In a prior post I began to explain my views on the covenant between MW and me:
- I Have Given to Her the Authority over Me
- She is the De-facto leader
- She Is not Expected to Do or not Do what I Require
- She Has the Last Word
- She Is not Expected to Give me a Life of My Fantasy And one final issue based on the above,
- What if We Give Up on FLR?
This is part 2 elaborating on her as the leader.
Leadership is taken by force, earned, or bestowed. All three work, but they each require different maintenance methods. In our case leadership was bestowed upon MW. I wish that it had been taken by her, but she was just not that way. Given all of her desirable qualities, I would not want to take a chance on changing anything about her. A personal relationship is very complex, and I am not smart enough to even wish for a change, knowing that any change will cause other unforeseen changes. In war and politics this is often called unintended consequences.
MW does well as a leader in most cases, and when not, nobody questions her except herself. That does not mean that she will not ask me for advice, or will not listen to my input when or where she thinks it is appropriate. The meaning of appropriate here depends on interpretation, but there too, she decides, and I follow. All of this is predicated on my previous admittance, “I have given her the authority over me.”
I wish sometimes that she would take a more active lead. I am very pleased when she decides things that she, I, or we together will do. I want to be lead by her. I also know from experience that being a leader is a strenuous task. I can do it, and on the occasions when she chooses not to do it, I am there for her. But that does not change anything in our FLR.
Without trying to get kinky I wish to point out a powerful force in my life. I absolutely succumb to her female charms, be they visual, oral, aural, or based on pheromones. I also admit that most of this is based on sex. After all, I would never have married her without the sexual attraction. It is a good assessment of her charms that she keeps my mind riveted to her after so many years of marriage. We change in appearance over the years, and look different as we age. She remains my lover of past, present, and forever.
Getting back to the maintenance methods of leadership, there is one thing in common: one must reinforce it from time to time. Without reinforcement the underlings (I in this case) become lackadaisical, lose focus, produce less than they are capable or are expected of doing so.
A leader may have to rely on followers for many reasons. In our case it is seldom a matter of life or death, so we are more mundane. Still, when it comes to, say, time to clean the mistress bathroom, and it was not done when it was due, the leader needs to impart a reminder to the submissive.
Even when all is done perfectly, a demonstration of the power of one’s position is in order just to keep leadership in perspective. And that is part of the joy of serving in a loving FLR. Of course, this is only from my perspective.
The final point is perhaps the most important in the minds of submissives: sexual service. It is the driving force of all males in an FLR regardless of what they claim. They start with it; their attention is focused on it. They may sublimate their sexual desires from time to time, but it tends to pop up in unexpected places and in ways. More on this subject later.
Some might argue this, and you are welcome to comment. Show me a “selfless” (by his own description) male submissive in an FLR, one who is willing to serve without expectations, and I will show you a male who has all kinds of kinky thoughts on what he is getting or expecting to be getting out of his service. As I said before, with the rare exceptions of convenience and economics, sex is behind all relationships, be they FLR or vanilla.
The Night before Last
We have purchased a massage table some months ago. It was with great expectations of my massaging MW as often as she can take it. We did use it twice for massage. The rest of the time it has been a convenient place on which to put something temporarily. Because we seldom use it, the table accumulates junk. If or when we think of using it, the junk has to be moved, and, this is just a guess, she does not feel the work involved in moving the junk justifies the benefit. I would have cleared the table long ago, but the junk on it was not mine.
A few days ago she cleared the massage table. Since then it remained more or less clear of lumps with the exception of an occasional cat. I have been hinting about giving her a massage, and she tentatively agreed, but something always got in the way. This is why it surprised me when she said let’s do it.
The procedure was simple. It was not a planned routine. I was not following any rules other than trying to discern her preferences. Maximum pleasure was the issue. I worked on one side, then the other, then the one again. She then asked me to apply lotion to her feet. Although she was naked (I, of course, was in my natural state already), and I was handling all that lovely femaleness, I did not get overly sexual. Yes, I did some nibbling, some kissing, some sniffing, but those are things that any male would do when being exposed to her. I figured that she would ask for whatever she wants knowing that I am willing and able to satisfy. I kind of expected that she would have me serve her orally. I mean, it was right there in my face so to speak. It did not happen. Still, it was a very pleasant forty-five minutes or so.
After the massage we settled down to watch one of our favorite movies. Sitting side by side, I often reach across to her and feel any of her parts that happen to be accessible. I like her soft parts, and her firm parts. I guess I like all of her parts. One of us mentioned that it would be really nice to cuddle for a short time. I don’t know who it was, but I thought that it was a great idea. She said that if I want to cuddle, I could do so with her leg. She moved her leg closer to allow me access.
I spent some time making love to her leg. Not in a crude way, just hugging, petting, caressing, licking, feeling it. I did quite a few deep inhales of her essence, and all of this caused my little guy to assume his big guy attitude. Actually he tends to transform into a drooling monster, but I don’t want to brag.
After I figured out that I was not going to get any more than what I already had, I gave up on the attempt. In spite of lack of orgasmic events it was an enjoyable evening.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
The New Year Grinding On
I have never been good at catching things. There are some things that I do well, but the awesome defense method portrayed in movies once in a while (before the friggin super powered and totally unrealistic crap came to be dominant) was within a good fist fight. In this, usually the protagonist, easily and without seeming effort holds up his hand and intercepts a fist aimed at his face. Nice choreography, bad realism. Even if I were that swift, the point of impact would be pushed back, flattening my nose, and I would go with it unless I outweighed the antagonist by some tons of body mass.
In a similar fashion, but less strenuously, I have seen jugglers handle their little balls with adroit abandon. Maybe they had been practicing, which I tend to overlook. I figure that if I can’t do it on the first try, it’s not worth doing. Yes, that sucks in some situations, and I was proven wrong as I walked away with the symbolic fat lips as a result. For some strange reason, I have always gotten away with my lack of practice beforehand. Then again, I have led a sheltered life in spite of the bad things into which I tend to get myself. This is not new. I was borne into it, I continued it as a child, and practiced it as an adult. One might call it a habit borne of lack of common sense. In fact, my most recent failures are based on exactly that. But I don’t want to bore you with more introspection.
As you may have guessed I am in a bit of depressed mood. The cause is my feeling of helplessness: I don’t yet see a way out of these problems. I see my limitations, I see my potential for failure, and the one thing that I don’t see at this time is the positive approach to handle them. The only thing that saves my skinny ass is remembering that, regardless of how badly I had messed up a situation before, I always figured out a way to get myself out of it. So, here is a toast to myself, “I wish you luck, you dumb schmuck!”
It’s All About Sex
I spent some time trying to find results of scientific research into the subject of how important sex is in a relationship, especially in marriage. I found many articles, advertisements advices, etc., but none published in legitimate research studies. Then I did some more research on “sexless marriage” and variants of the phrase. I again came up with many. What was interesting is, that with respect to this phrase, most links by far were about the following:
- What to do when your partner is less motivated for sex
- How to improve your marriage through more sex
- Why partners cheat (unsatisfied sex)
- Unhappy marriages (lack of or no sex)
- Marriage saving secrets (enhance your sex)
The list goes on, but the theme is common: if there is not sufficient sex, or the kind of sex that one wants, there is a problem. Duh?
A study reported that “2 percent of the respondents reported no sex in a year.” This is from US National Health and Social Life Survey in 1994 (Laumann et al. 1994). Ok, this is an old survey, so we don’t really know how applicable it is to us at this time. But it indicates that 98 percent did have sex.
I don’t want to make this a dry, boring, scientific article that would require tenuous and lengthy research with interviews, although the interviews might be interesting. I could try a survey on my blog, but aside from being fun, it would be biased: people who read this blog are into sex already, and think that it is important in a relationship.
A relationship, for the largest majority, is all about sex. Sexual attraction is what prompts a man to approach and then court a woman (or vice versa). Everything else is expected to follow. A man does not exhibit “pure love” toward the object of his desire unless she is attractive to him in some way. We will skip over extreme psychological abnormality and go on with the discussion. I am willing to include homosexuality here, but you may have to help me with that since I don’t have a credible insight into that aspect of sexual attraction.
A man has certain needs, be they vanilla or major kink, and he is looking around for someone to satisfiy them. That is a reason for hooking up with a partner in the first place. So he gets some of what he wanted, and is happy for the moment. Then he wants more of the same or maybe some different needs to be satisfied. If he is not getting it from his partner, the least he will do is complain. If fhe cant’t get his needs met he will either split or try to get it outside the partnership.
A slight departure from the above is this. A long term relationship is likely to share love that is eternal. I know, I am getting into romantic stuff that most realists will dismiss. I am talking of a couple who has shared a life time of sex, love, joy, and are no longer in the rutting mode for some legitimate reason. They stay together because they are committed. The basis of their commitment is all the good things that they have shared. Finally, sex is transcended by love and compassion. Rare, but real.
Is FLR Different When It Comes to Sex?
I have read and continue to read many blogs that have come and gone dealing with FLR. Regardless of how enthusiastic one or both partners are, this relationship fails when it no longer meets expectations, or when one of the partners does something stupid. There is no magic just because one is in an FLR. The expectations can be anything, but it always comes down to sex, especially from the man’s point of view. Most FLRs start out with a man desiring to be dominated in the bedroom. Whether or not that works, he keeps pushing to extend his partner’s dominance over him to other aspects of their relationship. He is trying to live his fantasy of being dominated by a woman. Any woman. It just so happens that he is in a relationship with one, so naturally he assumes that she will provide his sexual fantasy. Just because he claims being submissive to a female, does not take away this powerful need that is not being satisfied.
The woman may or may not be a natural dominant. Even though a dominant position offers many benefits, it comes with responsibilities and annoyances. Unless the idea of an FLR is or becomes strong in her mind, she will not support it against a man’s constant pushing and nagging.
An FLR can accommodate the satisfaction of many fantasies. Any particular fantasy can be examined from the point of view of both partners. For example, sissyfication. Is that about sex? Who wants it more, man or woman? To what degree does either want it? Is it escalating? I think that I know the answer to all of these questions. As a side note, I have a problem with the word sissyfication and I will write about it later. Nevertheless, sissyfication, or any other kink, is not a requisite of FLR, just a satisfaction of one’s sexual fantasies. However, a kink is more likely to be condoned in an FLR than in a vanilla relationship. The list of these fantasy attributes often found in an FLR is long and would be fun to explore. Maybe at another time.
Before you throw me under the bus, I want to point out again that there are successful long-term FLRs and that I am in full support of them. It is also evident that there are successful long-term non-FLRs. We just don’t have reliable statistics to support the efficacy of either flavor of relationship. In any case, long term relationships have one thing in common: satisfactory sexual performance. Without that, either relationship will fail.
Feeling Self Pity Again
You people out there read my blog. I don’t know whether you search for certain keywords, stumble on this site and go away disgustedly unsatisfied, or because you are looking for some intellectual or kinky stimulation just a tad above pornography. Fine. Watever. It would be nice, however, if you left a note in case you got anything positive out of visiting here. I feel as if I am alone. Mental masturbation works only for a while. Then one needs a stroke by some other folk. So, give me a stroke once in a while!
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Poster Couple for FLR
Regardless of what I may have claimed or you assumed based on my writing, MW and I are not exactly the poster couple for FLR.
We, in the FLR movement, all have our own idea of what a dominant leading female and what a submissive male should be. Even though we largely agree in principle, I am willing to bet that not two of us would agree 100 percent on the details. The problem is that there are degrees of leaders and followers, and even the ideal combination is impossible to define. So how do we deal with the rest of us? I don’t know, but in any case, it is great fun pursuing, experiencing, comparing, and arguing the details.
For example, MW is not what I would call a typical alpha female. She is not even what I would call a great leader (she will probably have my ass in a vulnerable position for this). In the same vein, I am definitely not less than an alpha male, and I am somewhat of a leader, so I am totally unsuited to be a submissive. But neither comment by me should detract from the wonderful FLR that MW and I have. How can that be? Let me point out the ways.
I will be elaborating on the following covenant that are the bases of our FLR. Please withhold instinctive reactions to throw stones at me until you have read my description of the individual subject. Then comment all you want:
- I Have Given to Her the Authority over Me
- She is the De-facto leader
- She Is not Expected to Do or not Do what I Require
- She Has the Last Word
- She Is not Expected to Give me a Life of My Fantasy
And one final issue based on the above, - What if We Give Up on FLR?
I will give you the first installment here. You will have to wait for the others.
Poster Couple for FLR Part 1 - I Have Given to Her the Authority over Me
Oh my, that means that I had the power to do so in the first place!
Well, yes, in a way. A non-violent person does not just take over another person in our society. It takes both persons to accomplish that takeover. So, regardless of who does what to whom, at least in our case, I willingly gave to her the authority over me. That is not true in a legal sense unless backed up by the courts, but then we are not talking about that. We are talking about a loving personal relationship with one of the partners in charge.
This is not the “slavery” position in which I would have no property, no access to possessions, no social relationship, no outside world, unless she provides it. No, this is more of a benign ownership where the owner (MW) has my best interest while making sure that I do all that is expected of me in our behalf. This is easy for her, because it does not change anything outside of our FLR, but within the FLR she has all the rights. It is up to her what rights to exercise and what rights to allow me to exercise.
In a way the situation is comical. To the casual observer I am just a polite fellow. Only MW knows why I still do everything that I am expected to do even when we are with the unenlightened people. She is realistic enough to not expect me to do anything that would jeopardize our way of life, so we maintain a low profile unless we are in assured privacy. Only, MW and I know who holds my balls, so to speak, and I am very happy with it. This is sane and thrilling at the same time.
I will be dealing with the other parts of our covenant later. Do any of you care to comment on this part?
Catching Up
Being a Friday, I thought of doing some weight lifting as I lay partly awake around four. It was still chilly in the room, but much warmer than even a week ago. I have been neglecting my exercises using the excuse that it is too damn cold to go into that unheated room naked and handle cold metal. As I said, I am supposed to remain in my natural state unless I need to deal with the outside world or be told otherwise.
I got out of bed, grabbed the zapping end of my signaling device, and went to my computer to do some work. In other words, I chickened out again thinking, It may be a bit warmer on Monday, and besides, I had intended to restart my weight lifting routine on Monday anyway.
A little after six MW summoned me only as she could. After I found her soft thighs in the dark and kissed them in detail, she asked, “Have you exercised?”
"No Mistress.”
“Why?”
"It’s not warm enough yet.”
"It’s warm enough,” she asserted over my lame reasoning. “Bring me coffee when you have finished. You may remove the device while exercising.”
"Yes Mistress.”
I got out of bed, grabbed the zapping end of my signaling device, and went to my computer to do some work. In other words, I chickened out again thinking, It may be a bit warmer on Monday, and besides, I had intended to restart my weight lifting routine on Monday anyway.
A little after six MW summoned me only as she could. After I found her soft thighs in the dark and kissed them in detail, she asked, “Have you exercised?”
"No Mistress.”
“Why?”
"It’s not warm enough yet.”
"It’s warm enough,” she asserted over my lame reasoning. “Bring me coffee when you have finished. You may remove the device while exercising.”
"Yes Mistress.”
During the above conversation she punctuated each of her statements and my responses with a signal to the boys. Of course, I was on my way downstairs even as I answered her last command. She can be soooo good to me! You can see how she takes care of me. I am happy to be her pet.
Edging
The word edging is used in a special context, usually with heavy sexual implications. We don’t do that. And yet, I may be wrong. Judge for yourself.
I don’t like pain except in some narrow circumstances (I will have more to say about this in a later post). So, I try to be a good pet according to her rules. I am not a believer of mistreating or hurting a pet even as part of education, but I have been know to swat one on the butty with a rolled up newspaper. You know, after catching him in the act of clearly unacceptable behavior.
I am talking about a dog here, folks! Sheesh!
That’s kind of what I will expect and accept from MW. Not that I am dictating what she can or cannot do to me, just that I know where I stand with her.
In view of the above I find it curious that I push her from time to time. Actually, most of these little pushing incidences are only in her opinion. But, I know that I am not supposed to argue, or even to continue a conversation at some point, yet I do so. This is what I meant by edging. I know that I am taking a chance, but I still think that I can make my case, and after that I will be in the clear.
Once in a while I am wrong about that, and so I fall off on the other side of the edge. Then I feel like a wise guy who got his ass kicked. She gets to reassert her authority, and I get to have some stripes on my ass. Sounds like a workable solution. What makes it a little more daring is that I don’t know when this will happen. It is because we don’t think alike. I probably would not want to be married to one who thinks like me. It would be too boring to know exactly what is going to happen.
Hey, any of you guys do this sort of edging?
Thursday, January 3, 2008
It Is Over
The holidays are over. This is when people become depressed, hate to go back to work, commit suicide, etc. I feel a little on the down side about the formerly constant high offered by the sequence of holidays, offers of parties, shopping, drinking. But in a good way.
I am savoring the aroma of what I had just experienced. Earlier this morning I ran across a posting where a fellow blogger asked, and I must paraphrase, for I did not save the link (I apologize, I will try to find it),
As a side note, she told me to remove the CB2000 last night so that I could give the little guy a good cleaning. The cage is still off. For the time being.
She summoned me in the morning as usual. We had our coffee, cuddling, and talk of getting out of bed for breakfast and such. Then she made a comment about my little guy doing this and that. I took that as a challenge. Not in the sense of taking over, but more like “Oh yeah, let me show you what He can do …” She did actually challenge us, so I got away with it. The first thing that gave me a hint was when she parted her thighs and allowed me to slide between them. Aside from being every man’s dream, it was a boost to him. You know, the little guy who at this time had already gone through the requisite transformation.
I am so silly, I thought that I was invited to go along.
As I sit here writing I still enjoy her scent on my face. You just had to be there!
Well, actually the little guy and I are attached, and from time to time, when he is mistreated, (and I appreciate it) I feel his pain. This time he was very well treated. First class accommodations between a pair of lips that lead to my center of being. I was devastated. I did not expect it. I did not believe my good luck. I went with it and enjoyed it to the hilt.
She paid attention to me too. She took both of my tits in hand, and mistreated them to the extent where I could have squirted all over the neighborhood just from that. As it turns out, she allowed me to squirt into more private space. During this time she was telling me about what I would be allowed to do when this is done. Things such as giving her what is due her, and that I may end up on my back while this is happening. Please don’t think that this deterred me from doing what came naturally.
If anyone were to ask me about the scale, I would say that it was the most intense orgasm that I have ever experienced.
Yeah, I suppose that I would say that every time. But this was different, which may be why I remained so horny afterward. I can never tell whether she is having the “big O” during this time, but it just seemed like either she was, or she was ready for me to flip and give it to her. I asked her explicitly whether I should turn around and continue.
Oh my! She said that I should! I did. Can you guess what I did next?
I still savor her aroma . I may never wash my face again.
Unless you have a preference for this sort of thing, you can’t really put yourself in my place. Ok, some of you over-sexed people may want to do so, but I meant it in a hypothetical way. Really. There is nothing better in my life, even though I am willing to experience this and more. She did not follow through with her promise of “turning over and riding my face”. In a tiny way I was a bit thankful, although now I wished to have had the experience.
I have yet to ask her how many “O”s she had so that I can post it on my blog. I have no regrets, nothing that I would change, and it was a most wonderful experience with MW. No, wait, I do have one regret: she may be a bit reluctant to continue this sexy relationship for the nonce. You know, some people need to take a short break between orgasms. Imagine that.
Please see her comment today at http://www.mistressusan.blogspot.com/
I am savoring the aroma of what I had just experienced. Earlier this morning I ran across a posting where a fellow blogger asked, and I must paraphrase, for I did not save the link (I apologize, I will try to find it),
“Is there anything in life better than the aroma of a really turned on female?”My response was, “No,” and that I would follow her like a good little puppy.” Which is where I am.
As a side note, she told me to remove the CB2000 last night so that I could give the little guy a good cleaning. The cage is still off. For the time being.
She summoned me in the morning as usual. We had our coffee, cuddling, and talk of getting out of bed for breakfast and such. Then she made a comment about my little guy doing this and that. I took that as a challenge. Not in the sense of taking over, but more like “Oh yeah, let me show you what He can do …” She did actually challenge us, so I got away with it. The first thing that gave me a hint was when she parted her thighs and allowed me to slide between them. Aside from being every man’s dream, it was a boost to him. You know, the little guy who at this time had already gone through the requisite transformation.
I am so silly, I thought that I was invited to go along.
As I sit here writing I still enjoy her scent on my face. You just had to be there!
Well, actually the little guy and I are attached, and from time to time, when he is mistreated, (and I appreciate it) I feel his pain. This time he was very well treated. First class accommodations between a pair of lips that lead to my center of being. I was devastated. I did not expect it. I did not believe my good luck. I went with it and enjoyed it to the hilt.
She paid attention to me too. She took both of my tits in hand, and mistreated them to the extent where I could have squirted all over the neighborhood just from that. As it turns out, she allowed me to squirt into more private space. During this time she was telling me about what I would be allowed to do when this is done. Things such as giving her what is due her, and that I may end up on my back while this is happening. Please don’t think that this deterred me from doing what came naturally.
If anyone were to ask me about the scale, I would say that it was the most intense orgasm that I have ever experienced.
Yeah, I suppose that I would say that every time. But this was different, which may be why I remained so horny afterward. I can never tell whether she is having the “big O” during this time, but it just seemed like either she was, or she was ready for me to flip and give it to her. I asked her explicitly whether I should turn around and continue.
Oh my! She said that I should! I did. Can you guess what I did next?
I still savor her aroma . I may never wash my face again.
Unless you have a preference for this sort of thing, you can’t really put yourself in my place. Ok, some of you over-sexed people may want to do so, but I meant it in a hypothetical way. Really. There is nothing better in my life, even though I am willing to experience this and more. She did not follow through with her promise of “turning over and riding my face”. In a tiny way I was a bit thankful, although now I wished to have had the experience.
I have yet to ask her how many “O”s she had so that I can post it on my blog. I have no regrets, nothing that I would change, and it was a most wonderful experience with MW. No, wait, I do have one regret: she may be a bit reluctant to continue this sexy relationship for the nonce. You know, some people need to take a short break between orgasms. Imagine that.
Please see her comment today at http://www.mistressusan.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
More New Year’s Thoughts
The boys are suffering. With the CB2000 and the signaling device attached they don’t stand a chance at being free. I try to feel their pain. Wait, I do actually feel their pain! In spite of all that I think that MW did the right thing.
It is not that I could not remove all that and be done with it. I would be free of encumbrances, and I would not need to answer to anyone. The situation is that I want to answer to her, and I want to rely on her to give me pleasure or pain. And this is part of that. I wear the devices because she wants me to do so. That makes all the difference. I am hers to use in any way that she chooses. This is my fantasy melded with reality. She is generous enough to grant me all of this. We don’t need a key to keep me locked. Her decision to lock me is more binding than a real lock that I could cut in a second. That is why, for the long duration of my DWO, I had not taken control. She has control, and I go with it.
I remember the passage in the movie, The Three Amigos where El Guapo’s sidekick, Pepe, said,
Meanwhile, it is more the other way. She "takes me", and I love it.
It is not that I could not remove all that and be done with it. I would be free of encumbrances, and I would not need to answer to anyone. The situation is that I want to answer to her, and I want to rely on her to give me pleasure or pain. And this is part of that. I wear the devices because she wants me to do so. That makes all the difference. I am hers to use in any way that she chooses. This is my fantasy melded with reality. She is generous enough to grant me all of this. We don’t need a key to keep me locked. Her decision to lock me is more binding than a real lock that I could cut in a second. That is why, for the long duration of my DWO, I had not taken control. She has control, and I go with it.
I remember the passage in the movie, The Three Amigos where El Guapo’s sidekick, Pepe, said,
“Just take her!”Yes, El Guapo could have taken her. But, as satisfying as it might have been at the time, on the long run, it would have been wrong! Even though he was rude and crude, he knew that a man should not “take a woman” unless she wants to be taken, which is another totally fascinating subject to be explored later. I want to point out here that I would be very much thrilled to “take her” as long as I am sure that she wants to be taken. It is my way to give her what she wants and be assured that no harm will come to her.
Meanwhile, it is more the other way. She "takes me", and I love it.
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