Weekend Sex Marathon

Last week I wasn’t myself. I’m not sure whether it was due to stress, if I had a bit of a cold, or some other reason. But all week I was exhausted and my sex drive was lagging. H wasn’t upset, letting me fall asleep as early as I wanted and not even mentioning the lack of sex. By Friday night I was feeling much more like myself and my sex drive went crazy. We had sex twice before bed and H woke me up in the middle of the night for round three. Next thing I know it’s Saturday morning and H is waking me up with morning sex. I was soaking wet all day Saturday even after four rounds in under 12 hours, I was absolutely gagging for it (sadly, not literally :/). Saturday night we once again fucked twice before H passed out, but I was still vibrating with need. I let him sleep for as long as I could stand it (and no, masturbation did not in fact help at all) then woke H for yet another round. As for today? You guessed it, sex, sex followed by more sex. I should be happy, right?

 

H and I were talking about setting up play dates in the near future and what we wanted to do. Out came H telling me that he’d love it if I’d be more dominant with him. Not exactly what I wanted to hear. Plus, I’ve legitimately tried to be dominant with him in the past on a few rare occasions. He’s never been into it. I tied him up once, which he didn’t like. Another time I played with his ass and wanted to rim him, but he just pushed me away. So I told him I’ve tried to before and that he’s never seemed interested. According to H he just didn’t know what I was doing. Am I married to another sub?

 

Seems entirely possible to me. I know H doesn’t like pain, but masochism isn’t a requirement. Then again, he also didn’t seem to like bondage. Perhaps he just falls more on the vanilla side of things? I really don’t know. Can a guy who will give me small amounts of pain in bed, strangle me, tie me up occasionally, full swap same or different room and at least occasionally enjoy pegging or bottoming for another guy be classified as vanilla? Trying to figure H out is giving me a headache!

 

Truth is, there are times when I like to be more dominant. In general, I’m dominant with women. I go after them aggressively and take what I want from their bodies. Not in a painful way, but I am quite assertive. One of the guys I use to hook up with, R, was always good at bringing out my dominate side. I’m not exactly sure how he did it, but he loved me telling him what I wanted and me being aggressive with him. It’s been years since I slept with R, but no other guy has ever pulled that reaction out of me, including H. I think as a sub I get a vicarious thrill from dominating others. Sometimes I fantasize about binding and lashing someone. Seeing the rope cutting in to someone’s flesh and the red striped color darker the longer the whipping goes on…I honestly don’t think I’m a sadist, I think it just turns me on because want it so badly. I’ve never actually done anything like that, just a little hair pulling or light scratching and biting is about it.

 

So, can I be more dominant with H? Absolutely. Do I want to? Perhaps on rare occasions, but certainly not regularly. Even if I do end up fulfilling that role, I’m certain it will do nothing to alleviate the churning, painful need to submit that’s practically suffocating me every day. I’ve been thoroughly fucked somewhere in the realm of 8-10 times in the last 36 hours, as well as having masturbated repeatedly in that same time frame, and I’m still ravaged by want. At one point, H was eating me out and I had my legs pulled up and open as wide as I could. My still heavily bruised thighs were on display, and H was driving me insane with his mouth. He got me to that perfect level of sensitivity where I couldn’t stop cumming. I must’ve came for close to 10 minutes straight; everything he did made me cum that much harder. I love getting to that point. It happens sometimes during sex, but most easily when I’m getting eaten out. Even half out of my mind and oxygen deprived (I’m not very good at remembering to breath when I’m cumming), I was still wishing more than anything that H would just put his hands or his elbows on my bruised thighs and use them to hold me down, hurt me while I came for him. But alas, no such luck for me. H was very careful every single time we fucked to avoid touching my bruises, let alone putting pressure on them. FML!

 

I don’t know what to do. This need just keeps growing, and my imagination is only getting further and further out of control. As much as I want H and I to have a BDSM relationship, I just don’t think that’s a realistic goal. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this need locked away, or how I’m going to cope when I finally can’t control it any longer.

Playing With Fire

Below are two companion essays I wrote (and submitted!) in high school about my relationship with V (http://wp.me/s4jKhN-consent). These were both written in the fall of 2007, so I do hope ya’ll will forgive any immaturity in the writing. The assignment for the initial essay was to write a “descriptive essay”; the assignment for the second was to write a “narrative essay”.

 

Lost Love

 

I’ve never felt anything in the world like this before. When I am with this amazing man, I can’t see anything around me; the entire world fades away and all I see is him. I don’t know how I survived without him for so long or how I could ever do so again. The mere thought of him gets my heart racing and a nervous excitement nearly overwhelms me. Standing here with me, suddenly he is no longer an obsessive thought but a tangible presence for me to embrace and adore. But as I look into his soft, loving eyes, I know that this is truly the last time – it is time to say goodbye. My enchantment in finally seeing him is overshadowed by a sense of impending doom. Although this man whom I long for and dream about is here beside me, I am already beginning to feel the pain of our separation looming over us.

When I look into his deep brown eyes, I see the world before me. Everything I am, all that I could ever want or need is here, in him. He gently takes hold of my hand. Looking down, I see our fingers intertwined and feel that he is reaching out and embracing not just my hand, but my very being, my soul even. He has become such a part of me, and I of him, that I could no sooner separate from him than I would detach an arm or a leg. I cannot imagine me without him ever again; experiencing the absence of his touch, his smell, his presence; it would be no less than torture! This horrible, wretched day must be no more than a nightmare, a reflection of the deepest fears of my unconscious mind. We are a part of each other, for I have given my heart to him freely and knowingly, aware of the consequences and gladly accepting them in return for his love. I have never experienced a love of this magnitude before; I had hardly even imagined it possible! Surely we must be meant to be together for all of time. This perfect man of mine, this perfect love, how can we just end it, just say goodbye?

While my attention is still focused on our hands, I feel him take a step closer to me. I want to look up at him again, to take comfort in the way he looks at me, but find that I can’t. I’m plagued by despair, lacking the strength to look again into his bright, familiar eyes which I must soon leave behind and try to forget. Our bodies are so close now, almost touching. My breath catches in my chest. His presence has such a grip on me I feel I can hardly think or move, as though I no longer have control over myself. While I still firmly grasp his left hand – almost as though it was a lifeline, an unwavering connection to him – he lifts his right to my face, brushing it lightly against my cheek. This intimate gesture nearly makes my heart burst as I feel his soft touch against my skin. As though I have gained strength simply from this slight contact, I look once again into his beautiful face. He smiles down at me and I want nothing more than to freeze us in this perfect moment for the rest of time, to be with him forever. He moves his hand up and brushes the hair out of my face, gently placing it behind my ear. The tenderness in his eyes is breathtaking, and I can see that he cares every bit as much as I do. He lifts his hands and puts them lightly in my hair. While still gazing at me as though he can see into my very soul, he moves closer, finally kissing me. My eyes close as I feel his soft lips on mine. I snake my arms around him, holding him tight. Time begins to slip away and I could spend eternity in this single perfect moment.

We separate, and as I look at him I realize that he is more beautiful to me in this moment than ever before. He is looking at me as though I am everything he has ever sought in his life, as though he has found the world in my eyes as I have in his. Looking at him, I can see that he loves me, and I realize that no other man will ever look at me the way he is at this very moment. He breaks this placid silence and I hear his low, confident voice quietly tell me, “You are beautiful.” My heart melts at his gentle words. My knees lose the last of their strength, and I feel such an incredible need for him. Just when I feel that surely I am about to fall, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me in tight and holding me in his strong arms.

He begins to gently stroke my back while still holding me close. I feel him breathing, slowly and softly, his chest rising and falling against me. As he continues to hold me tight, I gradually become aware of his heartbeat. Quiet but strong, I am lulled by its gentle rhythm. I could almost fall asleep in his arms, all the tension and anxiety have faded completely. At last I feel at peace, comfortable and relaxed, and above all, happy. The pain of losing him is momentarily pushed from my mind, and I am at ease in his gentle embrace.

Holding hands, we turn our backs on the beauty that has surrounded us and depart. I momentarily allow him to fall into the back of my mind while I admire this perfect day. As the sun shines warmly on us and a soft breeze whispers in our ears, we walk across a carpet of green. The birds serenade us from their perches and the squirrels play in the trees. This place is flawless, surreal almost. It personifies our feelings and perfectly expresses the splendor and intensity of our affection.

This beautiful scenery is not enough to distract me from him for long, and my mind begins to stumble down the winding road that holds the memories of our relationship. Perfectly imperfect, together against all odds; star-crossed lovers, as Shakespeare would say. Every moment we had together was cherished. We reveled in the sheer wonder of each other and our love. Perhaps we weren’t meant to be together; unquestionably the world was against us. But we stole away together every chance we got, and are now closer than anyone could ever know. We shared a secret world, and wouldn’t have wished it any other way.

He promises me that one day we will be together again, even if we have to run away from the world. But for now, it’s goodbye. We walk silently away, hand in hand. I had so hoped not to cry, but the hot tears well up and, one by one, begin to trickle down my cheeks. The cruel world has finally won, and our time together is over. What the future holds, neither of us can know. But we can hope, and think of each other with all the love and tenderness that has marked our time together. Just because we are separated does not mean that we will ever stop caring. I take some comfort in this thought as we depart.

While watching him drive away, my heart finally breaks. I cry harder than I can ever remember crying, standing rooted to the spot for what feels like an eternity. I can no longer hold myself up, finally collapsing on the ground, crying alone. My love, the man of my dreams, is to be mine no more.

 

Playing With Fire

 

Everyone knows that if you play with fire, eventually you get burned. No matter how hard you may try to evade it, it is inevitable. And the longer you hazard the chance, the more severe the burn. I have spent the majority of this year playing with fire, all because I fell in love with the wrong guy. When all of your instincts tell you that something is wrong, and everyone around you knows that you are in way over your head, how can you just say, “Well, shit, I guess this is over”? Love sucks you in and once it has you in its clutches, there is no escape. When I look into his eyes there is nothing else in the world that matters, and all my doubts and guilt dissolve. I can never seem to walk away, no matter how hard I try. So I keep dancing his delicate dance with the fire that can so easily destroy my life.

It all started innocently enough, just one person adding another to her friend’s list on the notorious MySpace. Now I understand why it has such a bad reputation. What began as an innocent flirtation, a small flame teasing its way into existence, quickly swelled into a consuming wildfire spreading out of control and dominating every aspect of both our lives. Seventeen-year-old girls don’t get to fall in love with twenty-four-year-old men who are husbands and fathers. And even more importantly, adult men who are married and have a child don’t fall in love with seventeen-year-old girls.

There is a reason passion is described as a flame. It burns and grows inside people haphazardly and swiftly becomes beyond control. It is unpredictable like the flame, and once it begins it develops a life of its own. Unfortunately we cannot choose whom we fall in love with or how hard we fall; I never had any chance of turning away from my feelings for him. I knew that I was doomed when I got the e-mail saying simply, “I like you too.”

I made him tell me three more times before I believe that he was saying what I was hearing. I was terrified that he would say it was a mistake and he only meant that he liked me as a friend, but at the same time part of me was praying that he would do so, quickly, so that I could forget about what this meant lie ahead.

People often assume that teenagers are sneaky and can get away with a lot, but that certainly isn’t the case in my life. My parents know exactly where I am and what I’m doing at all times. No doubt you can imagine the difficulties I encountered in trying to have a relationship my parents know nothing about. Not to mention one that was illegal.

We were intoxicated by each other. And what you learn in health class about your judgment being the first thing to go, well it’s true. We were both fully aware of how wrong it was, we just didn’t care. All that mattered was that we got to see each other, got to feel that high one more time. When we were together we lost our minds, went completely crazy. When I looked into his eyes, I could see the fire. I never saw that look except for during our secret rendezvous.

The problem with this type of relationship is how to end it. We were not only lovers, we were close friends who depended on each other for support. I believe we have ended our relationship three times to date, and at the moment are still close friends. But that keeps leading us back to that burning desire to be together, and our will wears thin over time. We fall so easily back into our old habits, weak and fallible as we are. Are we in love, or are we just intoxicated? I try to answer that question every day. And if we are in love, does it matter? I don’t know.

But for now, we are friends. He is one of the most important people in the world to me, and his friendship is my anchor during the worst of times. We depend on each other for so much that drawing the line is nearly impossible. It is only made more difficult by the fact that neither of us wants to draw the line. So we continue to talk and be the most intimate of friends as our relationship lurches from one extreme to the other – or, at least, it feels extreme to us.

Ladies Get Ready To Suck Some Cock

thekinkyworldofvile

Wow I have had the topic of sucking cock come up twice in two days. The first from a submissive I am mentoring , no she did not bring it up directly she shared an article with me, because she thought I would like it. Then I just hit up phoenixasubbie blog and low and behold she is talking about her cock sucking skills.

While it is true there are really not very many women who truly know how to give good head. My ex-wife bless her heart gave it her all, but it was the worst head I had ever had in my life.  She did not like sucking cock and it showed.

I have told men before you know how we all talk when we are together. I have told men before if your girl can suck a good dick, and really loves it, and ends the show…

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Mark Me

The pictures don’t do them justice, but I have some serious bruises on my thighs from this past weekend.

image-2

Problem is, I got them completely innocently. H had no part in causing them; rather a drunken, enthusiastic romp with a mechanical bull is the perpetrator. Not quite the ride of my life, but a good time was had. H doesn’t have the faintest idea how badly I need him to bruise me. I want the pain, I want the proof. I want to submit. All day today, every time I moved, I felt my bruises. It burned knowing that not only did I not get them from another person, but also knowing that H wouldn’t touch me anywhere I’m bruised. He won’t shove my legs apart, won’t pin me down by my bruises and use me. As these bruises fade, there won’t be new ones to replace them.

 

This isn’t my first post about marking (http://wp.me/p4jKhN-98), and I’m sure it won’t be my last. But carrying around bruises covering more than half my thighs is so much worse than I could’ve imagined. I had no idea how rejected it would make me feel to have a small part of what I crave, without all the most important parts. I don’t know how I’m going to get through waiting out the healing time, knowing there won’t be more bruises, knowing H won’t get near the ones I did manage to get. Every time I move and feel the pain, its a stinging reminder of what H has no desire to give me.

Calling All Bisexual Doms

As my blog discusses, I’m hoping that my husband H may eventually become my Dom. I don’t have super high hopes of success for a variety of reasons, but one in particular bears further exploration I think. H and I are both bisexual, and while I am fine with all varieties of pairings (and moresomes), H has never topped with another guy, only bottomed. H had never even experimented with guys prior to meeting me, but it seemed a rather short move from pegging to involving a real bi guy in a threesome.

Again, I don’t have a problem with this. M/M doesn’t bother me, and I don’t disrespect H for bottoming. But he’s never expressed a desire to top either. I’m not sure if he is uncomfortable with that since if he wants anal he can get it from me, and thinks he shouldn’t express interest in topping a guy, if H simply isn’t interested in topping a guy, or if there’s something else going on. The other thing is when we’ve had threesomes and H has bottomed, he’s always lost his erection. He seems to enjoy it, moaning and so on, but he doesn’t get or stay hard. This is true when I peg him too. He also hasn’t ever cum from being penetrated that I’m aware of.

Typically we have very open communication about what we like, don’t like, what we want and fantasize about, etc. But in this case I don’t know how to bring it up and I don’t know what I would say. I also know that H rarely identifies as bisexual. What I don’t know is why. In the lifestyle, M/F and F/F play is accepted but M/M play is all but prohibited. I’m not sure if H just doesn’t want to drive away potential playmates, or if there’s more to the story? So, I’m probably about to the point where I need to admit I understand everyone’s sexuality is their own and I can only get the answers to my questions about H’s sexuality by taking to him. Agreed. But, here’s my question and the reason for my discussion in this forum: are there any bisexual Doms out there who like to bottom when playing with another guy? If so, is it “vanilla” bottoming or deeper levels of submission? Also, not personally knowing much about M/M sex, do you ever lose your erection while bottoming? Does that affect your enjoyment of that particular sex act?

Basically, I’m trying to figure out (from a variety of angles) if H may become a Dom or if it truly isn’t for him. I love H and I don’t want to push him for something he doesn’t want or won’t be happy with, but I am finally realizing that my need to submit is a part of me, and not something I can ignore or wish away. Any comments/thoughts/experiences/ideas on any of these subjects are more than welcome. Thank you in advance for any insight you may be able to provide!

SUB DROP AND DOM DROP

A white picket fence and a dungeon in the basement.

Okay kiddies. It’s been a while since I’ve done an article but I think it’s time for me to get my voice out on this blog again!

Sub drop is something many people in the lifestyle know about but many of us learned it the hard way, whether you are a sub or dom. So hopefully this article will spare some of you the embarrassment and fear that comes with experiencing sub drop or dom drop.

Sub drop is much more commonly known than dom drop. Sub drop is essentially an overwhelming negative feeling subs get right after a scene or even days after. Sub drop is something that is so variable that it’s hard to tell exactly what might happen. In general, as a sub you might feel anything from a little bit of depression all the way down to complete hysterics. It’s really just knowing how you react…

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At what point do you become a masochist?

All things Erotica

I’ve been pondering this question a lot lately and I’m struggling to find an answer.  There have been elements of sexual submission that have appealed to me from my first sexual relationship and naturally that has developed as I’ve tried new things.  I’ve never felt as if there were particular acts that I had to include in order to have a fulfilling sexual relationship but recently I find my sexual response to be far more intense if an element of pain is included.  It doesn’t have to be much, spanking, flogging, the use of nipple clamps is something I particularly enjoy right now but will this evolve further and at some point will I feel these things have to be included in order to feel fulfilled sexually.  Am I becoming more masochistic as I get older? and what does that even mean?

masochist
Web definitions
  1. someone who obtains pleasure from…

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Safe, Sane, Consensual. The Rules of BDSM

Candice E Hart

I hear you, “what there are rules?!” Yep quite a few.

Many people seem to think all you need is a whip and some rope and you can practice the art of BDSM. Mainstream beliefs fuel this. The fact is, that belief couldn’t be further from the truth.

To understand the rules, you have to understand what BDSM is. I don’t mean what the letters stand for, anyone can Google that and see for themselves. I mean what the actual lifestyle is about. A Dom is not a screwed up bloke (or woman) with mummy issues, girlfriend issues or just plain fucked in the head. He (or she) is someone who wants to bring pleasure to his partner. Who wants to experience the gratification of having someone place their security in their hands. A sub is not a weak woman (or man), who cant think for themselves, cant make decisions…

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Answer/Opinion to a post on TUMBLER

april's blog

A person stated the following: I understand dom and sub, what I don’t understand is way the sub is being HARMed, These pics of stripes and beatings is not pleasurable, that harm and pain lasts for weeks. I’m beginning to think that this is in fact deviant behavior allowed to run amok under the guise of Dominant. Please explain for me how the dom treats the sub after the obedience lesson that has left her scarred for a week at a time? How often do these dom’s inflict this type of harm? once a quarter? once a month? Thanks

My Response was: It took me a bit but I had to find your post again (still very new to site and how it all works) but I was unable to just ignore it. I really tried to ignore it but was unable to do so. As a submissive with a…

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