I took months to write from my notes, so I decided that I would share the brief notes that I made with the scene as I recall it from off of the notes. (I’ve shared a few times that I write notes immediately afterwards to write up, and how the process works for me.) The Wanderer and I began when I was chaotically busy, and the posts are nowhere near how delicious the moments truly were – later posts and scenes are more fully fleshed out as life calmed down a bit.
This was the second time I met up with him.
Spanking, implements, such a damn wimp – gift of a toy that I am so unworthy of, but purple!
He unzipped his suitcase, true traveler fashion. Parted open and exposed were paddles and other spanking implements. The suitcase laid on the couch unassuming, but I gulped, assumed, couldn’t take my eyes off and imagined the implements being used on my skin, my muscles, my body. They were a bit intimating considering that I view myself such a damn wimp.
He gave me a crop, and receiving presents are a rarity for me. I was so appreciative of it, and felt so unworthy considering how much of a wimp I am with impact that the toy would not be used to such an extent as both he and I would like. It was gorgeous, however, and purple – my favorite color. He was so kind to be considerate of color choice – something I knew that he took into account.
Does he know orgasms get me to accept pain to a further degree?
Will he grant me orgasms?
Will he wait until the tell-tale signs that everything feels good (like when I start to arch and moan into every moment)?
Will he think less of me when I move in undeniable this-fucking-hurts-and-I-don’t-like-it ways? Will he consider me the wimp I consider myself to be and will I fail to please him?
Will I utterly fail at this, as impact play is a tricky thing for me?
Please don’t let him think less of me!
“What’re my limits?” No sex. Immediately go for his belt and everything but sex.
I test the waters, unsure of what he’ll allow. My husband liked me to be the aggressor, Mimir would allow absolute no decision or action from me unless he gave me permission. Ordinarily, I am a take charge person, but I truly loved the lack of decision making and control Mimir created. I can’t help but compare – he’s a new partner and I want to please him. I am lucky in that I know a bit about him from being friends (or acquaintances?) for so long, but I don’t know what level he exerts dominance, what level of passivity or submission he expects from me.
So my fingertips lightly caress, then become bolder with hands, and then move from fabric to removing fabric, then from hands to mouth.
His cock swells and pulses against my tongue and I gently suck, run my tongue up and down his length. He hasn’t stopped me and his body is telling me he is enjoying this action. I add hands and increase the pressure and tempo of my mouth, becoming bolder with no indication that I should stop.
I never once push, ask, nor even communicate through body language that he should fuck me. I respect his boundary, as I am always very respectful and conscientious of any boundary given – I rather like them, as I like to know exactly as things stand and what is allowed or not.
Orgasm play, vibrator, head cradled in his hand then moved close to cuddling.
He stopped me before I pleased him, and at once I was disappointed and concerned that I pushed too far (luckily he would use my mouth for his release later). Ever the amazing man of sensations, I was on the bed and being gifted with his own mouth, his finger delving and exploring the wet mess he created.
I know I begged, arched, welcomed, clenched. I don’t know if I did my confusing “please” which could mean please don’t stop, or please stop and give me a break, depending on what side of the pleasure peak I am on.
He had told me before we met up to bring a vibrator, and I did, my trusted Lelo that I haven’t been able to break yet (though it’s no longer as strong, nor is it always working on the setting I choose). That man was as amazing with a toy as he was with his fingers, something that intimidates some men, but he knew how to apply the pressure, when to speed up, and when to let me breathe through one orgasm to another – which he brought with such an ease.
As I arched and screamed and tensed from one orgasm to another, he observed me almost tenderly – a word that I am sure he isn’t often described by, and he cradled my head in his hand – that act seemed so deeply intimate to me and I found myself drawn even closer to him because of it.
He cuddled me afterwards, something I’m not sure either of us do much of, and I welcomed it to my overwhelming senses. Of course, because I was so overwhelmed and overworked, every slight movement would elicit a gasp or moan from me, and his fingertips trailed and explored several times, especially delighting in the reactions that nipples elicited – if his attention to them was any indication.