Mar 262017
 

The Wanderer and I spent a night together in which he immediately, with no warm up, beat my ass with a thick leather belt and created welts that marked for a week. We did so many things in the short amount of time we spent in the hotel. Here’s three:

Throat. Something I know he doesn’t do much of but something I enjoy is a hand around my throat. After a belt spanking, playing around a bit, dinner, orgasms, and a spanking, he laid me on the bed and fingered me to an orgasm. Nothing out of the usual, until his hand went around my throat. I’m pretty sure it was for my benefit far more than his, but instantly his large hand held my every thought. That physical reminder that I was vulnerable was all I needed to surrender any shred of control to him. He didn’t apply a lot of pressure along my pulse on either side of my neck, but I didn’t need it to feel powerless. I shut my eyes, focused on his other fingers deep inside of me and curling slightly, rubbing at place that had me crying out and shuddering in ecstasy.

Hot wax. The sad fact is that we were planning on playing with wax six months prior – he even bought the candles. But then I reconciled with my husband, so that didn’t work out at all. I had actually used one candle he bought on my friend – to show her how sensual and intimate wax and knife feels.

With The Wanderer, it was what I thought it would be – sensual and intimate. I was fuzzy brained from pain, tired from orgasms, yet for some reason I was a bit squirmy every time the drops hit my body. It hurt and stung in a way that I was surprised with, but perhaps my head space was all over the place by that point. He measured the drops, his eyes never leaving my body – I was the sole focus of his attention, something that I adore with any type of scene – the sole focus and connection found. After awhile, the pattering of the drops calmed me and I was able to breathe a bit into the rhythm he set, to watch his gaze, drops sizzling and then cooling to hardened little reminders of his travel. He teased around my nipple, not quite touching it but circled around. My skin was pinpoints along the trails, flushed from his attention as much as the heat.

Hand job. Prior to the wax, he had requested a hand job. If anyone were to ask me my deficiency in the bedroom, I would tell them that it was a hand job. I rarely even attempt to give them, and here he was asking for one. “You’ll have to teach me,” I warned. So he promised me he would, and he was an excellent teacher, able to verbalize exactly what it was he wanted from me. My hand wrapped around his shaft and he directed to where exactly to hold on the length. Unsure, I squeezed a bit and he directed me to clench harder. Up and down, my fingers felt the muscles and veins and ridges, my palm felt how deliciously hard he was. His encouragement with the timber of his voice, the erotic words directing me, and I found myself growing wet, imagining what I felt in my hand sliding up and down inside my cunt.

As he hardened even more, his thigh muscles tightened and his hips thrusted a bit into my hand, and I felt powerful. I was creating these sensations that he was enjoying, producing pleasure that had nothing to do with me and every bit directed just for him. There is something selfless about a hand job: it allowed me to be more of an observer of his pleasure, gifted me an intimate view of how he reacts and what he liked, such an intimate glimpse.

I felt him pulse and throb against my fingers and palm, watched as his milky orgasm reached its climax and shot out of his cock, heard his groan of satisfaction. It was so hot.

I can’t wait to see him and learn some new techniques to pleasure him with my hand(s).

Masturbation Monday Week 134To read his thoughts on hand jobs, click here. To see a picture of the wax, click here.

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Aug 142016
 

So with my husband and I reconciling, one of the first things on his list was anal play for him. He hadn’t experienced it in months and I think that he was even made to feel that it was viewed negatively in some regard.

He missed it.

He had thrown out all the toys that he was in possession of that we had split, so we no longer had the very cool dildo that went beautifully with our harness (and also fit inside of me with vibrations); I was still in possession of the harness. So, off we went to a sex store where we found just a standard dildo that the harness would hold in. It was more malleable than the other dildo, which actually helped cut down on me accidentally hurting him; the downside is when I really got going it would slip out a little easier. It was also lighter, so while nothing was inserted into me, at least it stayed put in the harness a bit better.

Armed and ready, we were going to try pegging again.

Actually, it was a scene that I was giving him with pegging so he laid down tied in the center of the bed with a pillow under his bottom. I started with softer sensations (he dislikes pain of any kind). My hands would roam and my mouth was active the whole time:

tongues danced together with gentle caresses reaquainting fingertips with his body, soft sighs and a building of passion and love and trust;

blindfolding him with a soft leather strip so he could focus more on the physical sensations and less visually, my mouth hovering above his own as my tongue darting out to trace his lips as he tried to catch a kiss;

brushing his skin with feathers as my mouth would roam and suck at delectable areas that incited moans;

using stinging flicks of a toy as my teeth would nibble and occasionally bite, causing goosebumps and pinkened marks to appear across his body;

taking the tines of the wheel and traversing across his body as teeth would sink into muscles, causing him to jump or take sharp intakes of breath as he worked through the brief flashes of pain;
an ice cube melted in my mouth as my tongue swept across his reddened areas, cooling down the heated flesh right before I would drip hot wax from a candle, reheating the area and giving a contrast.

When I increased the sensations in roughness, I also took less care of tenderness – kissing him less, manhandling him more. When he would try to move away from a sensation, my hand was around his neck or my elbows were digging into a pressure point to keep him still, with a warning that he soon heeded to stay still and work through accepting the sensations. A black hood (a new toy of mine) with just an opening for the mouth was pulled over his face, effectively turning him more of an object that I was toying with and a mouth to fuck, as I immediately told him to stick out his tongue so I could straddle and fuck his face. I made sure to press my hips down every so often to make his breathing a little more labored as he brought me pleasure.
It wasn’t long before I placed on a glove, a lot of lube on one finger, positioned myself between his legs, and then my mouth teased the tip of his erection as I slowly circled his anus before inserting the finger. As my finger moved deeper into his body, my mouth moved lower down his shaft. Two fingers increased my sucking, which moved at the same time of my fingers – down and in, up and out. Three fingers – a bit trickier as my pinky always seems to be in the way, my tongue swirled around the ridges of his head as I inserted before attempting to deep throat him as my fingers tried to fill his body.

He sighed and moaned and groaned, his hips occasionally tried to thrust up and welcome the sensations even further. He was so hard in my mouth, occasionally pulsing at a delicious part, hitting the back of my throat at times, his muscle clenching around my fingers as they curled slightly, explored, slid in and out.
I decreased the sensations before stopping, taking off my glove and moving up his body, briefing sliding my own body to where he was inside of me and grinding on top of him while I took off his hood and kissed back his humanness. I kissed the sides of his neck as I took off his blindfold, slowing rotating my hips rather than fucking him roughly, leaned down to passionately kiss him before I slowly unraveled him to freedom, wanting him to have full use of his hands and legs. His hands immediately went to my hips to fuck us to pleasure, but I removed myself off him and told him to put me in the harness.
Less than a minute later I was again between his legs, liberally applying lubrication on my dildo, positioning it at his entrance. He seemed surprised that rather than enter him, I leaned forward and kissed him, pressing my body down on his own and telling him how much I loved him. Then I leaned up and carefully entered him, watching his face closely in between the toy disappearing into his depths. He gave me verbal feedback the whole way in, positive that it felt good, that it wasn’t hurting, that he could take more. When I was all the way in, I praised him as I leaned forward for a kiss again before straightening up and slowly easing out and then in. One hand stroked his cock and the other caressed his balls. Masturbation Monday Week 102

Soon I was fucking him, both hands gripping his hips like he so often did to me to have more leverage and go as deep as I could, and his own hand was stroking himself. I slipped out a couple of times, but eventually his body tensed and his hips lifted as his hand slowed while white spurts shot across his chest with his orgasm. It was a magnificent sight; it was verbally decadent to hear his sounds; it was incredible to create and be a part of.

I finished the scene for him with a warm wash cloth, cleaned the beautiful white streaks and hardened candle wax off his skin, had him sit up for a drink of water before rolling over so I could wipe off the excess of lube between his cheeks. I had a candle going of massage wax the whole time and poured enough over his broad expanse of back, rubbing his muscles and feeling any residue tension leave his body, before using another warm wash cloth to remove any oil that didn’t soak into his skin. I covered him with a blanket as he laid so peacefully and heard him snore before I even left the room to clean up our toys. Masturbation Monday badge - small

 

 

Aug 082016
 

Wicked Wednesday

Chase didn’t want Tracey to go out with her friends one night; they had both been taking turn going out with friends more and more, and he suspected it partly because their relationship felt like it was in a rut – not good or bad, but they had been coasting along  balancing children for awhile now.

“What can I do to keep you here tonight, to change things up a bit? If I can’t offer it, if you want to go, then fine, but I’d like to try.”

She looked surprised at his offer, thought for a few moments, mentioned that if they both stayed home than she wanted less family time  and more adult time. Quietly, leaning in because it seemed hotter, she also whispered suggestions to shake things up. “I want it rough tonight: I want us to play with the candle wax – it’s been so long since we’ve done that. Then let’s have some drinks after the kids go to bed  in the hot tub. Finally, I want to be dominated.” She sucked on the lower part of his earlobe before leaning back and looking into this face.

While smiling, he hesitated, “I don’t know how to do that.”

“You already do it sometimes,” she reassured.

And indeed he did, he was commanding her to keep her hands to herself sometimes, playfully pinning her wrists if she cheekily disobeyed. He was yanking her hair the way she told him she liked way back when they first started dating, at the base of the skull and with a fistful of hair.

The kids Chase immediately distracted with kicking out of the house to play outside, as inside the parents played with wax. He kept mentioning that he didn’t understand the appeal of it – he didn’t like it when Tracey did it to him years ago, and he had been avoiding doing it to her for almost as long, the candles sitting in a drawer she kept with a vibrator, but after she instructed that she needed foreplay to get pleasurably sensitive before dripping it, he realized he did enjoy hearing and seeing her respond in a way that he’d forgotten she would. He made a mental note to use wax more often, felt himself harden with every reaction.

His resistance to the candles with the commentary just couldn’t get her into the right head space at first, but before she called quits to continuing, he fingered her to an orgasm at the same time as dripping the heated wax across her nipples. That’ll do it, she thought, while orgasm slammed into her so hard, and to her surprise he blew out the candle right after,  rushed to pull down his pants, not even bothering to fully undress before thrusting into her body. His enthusiasm, his lack of care of undressing for so meticulous a man, increased her own pleasure as he climaxed rather quickly for him.

They enjoyed some quiet cuddling before going back to being centered on the kids and dinner.

A few hours and drinks later, after kids were in bed, Chase poured her another drink. “I really can’t have any more,” Tracey said, grabbing a towel and a water bottle. He poured himself another and she teased that he shouldn’t have another either – they didn’t drink much and both were already pretty tipsy.

“We’ll be fine,” he insisted as he carried the drinks out and we headed towards the steamy tub. The air kissed their skin as they each stripped slowly, loving how each gaze made them feel so desired, before the heated water enveloped skin and teasingly hid from view. His hands were first to explore the curves and valleys, unhurriedly under the night sky; her smaller hands a bit more assertive and conveying a sense of urgency.

Yet, they talked of future things and dreams, hands drifted and glided towards each other as if by accident, the jets pulsing at their backs, the drinks poured down throats.

Drunk and hot, she crawled out of the hot tub and laid her towel out on the concrete alongside of the in-ground tub, stretched her naked body for his viewing pleasure as she laid down, felt the cool air refresh her overheated skin.

He turned and rested his chin on the side of the concrete, his eyes not leaving  her own as his fingertips danced across her skin, unable to resist.

By the time they made it into the house and the bed, neither of them were sure if sex were possible in their inebriated state, but he claimed he was one determined man and he rolled alongside her on the mattress, kissed and caressed her into a wet mess. “I’m so drunk, I may accidentally finger your ass,” he laughed at himself.

She smiled lovingly at him and rejoined, “Who knows? I may enjoy that with some lube,” but she also knew that he wouldn’t want to try that – even drunk, at least not yet. Maybe when they both sobered, they could explore that, however. She had never thought of it before.

They roughly fuck for hours, a feat neither of them could remember doing since the time when they first began dating, when he proclaimed that he fucked the alcohol right out of his pores. “You know, we’re noisier than we think we are,” he said at one point, his hand covering her mouth.

“Yes,” she groaned as he thrusted into her depths, trying desperately to form a coherent sentence when he uncovered her mouth to add: “so stop fucking me so I can shut up.”She felt unable to be quiet, though knew she wasn’t screaming.

Chase laughed, pulled out of her luscious body but only to flip her onto her stomach, grounded her face into the mattress. “Problem solved,” he declared proudly, but groaned in his own pleasure minutes later.

Tracey laughed at the irony – after all, she wasn’t the only one that was verbal.

Sometimes, she realized, she just enjoy drunken sex and the messy sloppy fun that comes with it. She was determined to make more nights like tonight happen, and not wait for him to initiate prioritizing time together. She was also relieved the next day when they found out they were not as loud as feared – no children were waken during the night.

photo credit: Collage via photopin (license)

photo credit: Collage via photopin (license)

Jun 142016
 

Mr. Texas took leave, a whole four days. I had every intention of corrupting my sweet darling vanilla. Just a little, just some baby steps.

So on the way to a rope social, with an hour drive ahead of us, I asked about limits. I like having meaningful conversations and getting to know my partners on car rides.

“Tell me if you’ve done these, are curious about it, soft limit – which maybe with some time and knowledge you may be willing, or hard limit – which is a hell no you wouldn’t consider it.”

He gave me that serious look, the one that I see on a daily visit. It’s the look I get when I warn him away, when I tell him we’re moving too fast, when he’s explaining why we should just go with the flow, or when I’ve had a bad day and he’s listening. That look, with his gorgeous hazel/green eyes and long eyelashes (seriously, why do more men have them?),  said to tread carefully right now.

“Blindfold.” I tried to think of a very non threatening thing to mention that most people have tried – of course my darling didn’t even do oral sex before me and thought that was kinky.

“Maybe I’ve done it. If I did, it was forever ago. Curious.”

“Great,” I flashed him a smile when he turned to look at me. “Then that’s up this weekend.” I had already brought a blindfold, and a few other things, to his house in preparation of his corruption. “Bondage.”

“Be specific.”

“Really?” we had already discussed my velcro cuffs, we were headed to a rope event. He turned and gave me a look. “Okay, rope bondage or velcro cuffs, tied ankles and wrists.”

“Curious.”

“Great, another for this weekend.” I paused, thinking of my intentions so I received all the consent I needed. “Hot wax.” I really didn’t think we would do this, but I brought a candle, just in case.

“On who?”

“Well, either of us. Me, if you’d like. You, if you’ll let me.”

“If you liked it, then I’d be willing on you. Soft on me.”

“Okay, fair enough. And maybe if you like doing it to me, I can convince you to try it with your body as well.”

Another look. Whatever, I’m used to them. It’s an overused look with me. Might as well push on. “I already tried the pinwheel on you. Up for it again?”

“Maybe.”

“Great, that’s a yes to me.” Look. Flashed smile in return. Rinse and repeat. “Nipple clamps.”

“Well I know you like them,” I’m not sure how he got that impression, but they are excellent for predicament bondage so I may have mentioned them a time or two or dozen.

“Gag?”

“Tell me the appeal for you.” So I did: I discussed how it was control and power play, how it was a more quiet mind and further surrender into just feeling. “Maybe. I could see that.”

Hmm, I didn’t pack a gag. Oh well, I can makeshift one. “Face sitting.”

“What? Why?” He didn’t sound enthusiastic about this one, yet the man loved going down on me. I was a bit surprised.

“What if you’re tied up and I want to have sex with you, but I’m not wet. Your mouth would help that issue so that I could have sex with you.”

“Okay, that would be fine.” I was a bit taken aback that it almost wasn’t.

“Vibrators. Clearly on me, as we’ve already discussed no penetration for you.”

“Hard limit. I just don’t see the point. I just…no.” He didn’t even hesitate.

What the heck?! I did bring a vibrator, as I wanted to give him the experience of both tying and being tied up, and I figured it would be a fun thing to bring. It was just a vibrator. His claiming hard limit took me aback on something that I viewed as so simplistic – but I needed to be understanding and respectful of his limits. Still, in a way that I simply can’t help, I was already thinking how to slowly introduce a vibrator into our sex life.

“Knife play?”

“Curious. You’ve talked about it so much. And here’s the thing – I don’t see the appeal but after hearing you discuss it or you approaching me with the idea so often, it’ll seem more normal, more something I’m willing to try.”

“Fantastic, then we’ll get along great, as long as you keep an open mind. I’ll expose you to a lot of different things.” I remembered my own journey into kink with my old fashioned husband – wondered briefly why I was trying this again with someone so lacking experience, but remembered that the more I was exposed to things, the more I wanted to try them and the experience was easier with someone beside me. I looked over at him and thought some people are just worth the patience.

I don’t believe that he’ll be my forever – I’m not even sure he’ll be my next month, but for this month he was mine and he was eager to experience new things with me.

And for now, that was enough…even if vibrators were a hard limit.