Tight Ends

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Football fun! The kinky version of “Family Feud”, newly coined “Submissives Feud”.

 

Watching football while at a kinky event with kinky friends as well as kinky hotel roommates leads to….well….kinky goodness.

Yes, we were at an event this past weekend. Yes, it was a hotel stay. The where and what won’t be discussed here, but I will say it was an excellent event, one we have been to before, just not in a while. We met our good friends there, Ms. J and her boy, lucky. I’ve written about them before. We decided it would be most fun to share one room with two big beds since we have all played together. This is not to be confused with swinging, for that is not what we do and not what we did. But certainly, we shared playful naked, D/s laden, protocol filled weekend together.  So much I could write about, but for now, I will concentrate on football since we ARE in New England, and we DO root for the Patriots, and it WAS a playoff weekend.

So, instead of joining a big, kinky party Saturday night, we made our own party in the hotel room. Four quarters make for the game, and there were four of us. Perfect.

Ms. J and I decided that each of us would have a quarter, and for that quarter of the game, we could each individualize our own set of rules/games to be played. All of us chose something unique and fun. I’ll write about mine. Here was the game we played based on my rules:

I googled a trivia game. I actually searched for “football trivia for kids” and found a great trivia questionnaire. It was perfect for the range of football knowledge that had amassed in our room. I made john and lucky kneel in front of a bench. On that bench before each male contestant was large dildo. Larger than they could comfortably swallow.

The objective was this: I would read a trivia question, confirm the stakes and whomever knew the answer had to deep throat the cock to the best of their ability. Think ‘Family Feud’, only instead of buzzers to hit, there were cocks to swallow. If they both swallowed cock, then whomever swallowed deepest won. I would start by reading the ‘prize’, then read a trivia question, and then watch one or both heads slam into the cocks, mouths wide open, gagging sounds shortly thereafter. Here is an example:

“This question is good for 5 cane strokes. If you swallow first and win the round, you can either keep the cane strokes for yourself or give them to your opponent. Ready? Here is your question:

Which of these teams is NOT a team in the National Football League?
  • Detroit Lions
  • San Diego Chargers
  • Green Bay Packers
  • Chicago Bulls”

And so it went. Round and round.  Different questions each time. I am not entirely sure how many trivial questions I ended up asking, but I CAN tell you that a 15 minute quarter is not a 15 minute quarter.

Oh my god, the laughter!! The silliness! The playful arguing, cheating, bribing, whining, begging. It was all fun and games, and only a few got hurt. :-)

The quarter ended, and then someone else presented their game for the next round. I will say this: I got caned. I got spanked. No one was unscathed. No matter who’s turn it was, we laughed until we cried. We cried until we laughed. We spent 3 solid hours in that room, and all of agreed that we have never had a better time watching football, and never quite like this.

I can only imagine what a Superbowl would bring, if we make it that far (Go Pats!).

It certainly got me thinking about baseball. I love that game too. And to think….. 9 innings of tortured glory! Oh my….the possibilities!

 

 

Lucky….or not.

So, it’s the eve of our weekend departure. My boy is in the bedroom, packing and preparing things…..clothes, toys, accessories, hotel goodies. We are going to kinky hotel event this weekend and we are sharing a room with another lifestyle couple. She is the dominant and he is her husband and submissive.

We have traveled, played and shared before. We have our limits and rules, but other than that, we merge very well together. We understand each other, we have similar tastes and values, so we don’t have that “new couple thing” to deal with. We get to show up tomorrow and start playing. But really, the playing started long before that with the group texts. Last night they circulated in earnest. But before I tell LAST nights’ story, I need to backstory first.

The four of us got together in early November for a weekend. Lovely times, excellent service from the boys, lots of playful, kinky, service focused fun for all.

I am not sure how it started, but the end result was that john was to write Ms. J a series of 5 stories and email them to her prior to this January weekend event. Ms. J and john have many years of playing together, so this was a very natural and comfortable thing for j to do. I have known Ms. J’s boy  ‘lucky’ since they have been together, but not as well as Ms. J and john know one another. So, in the spirit of learning more, I too asked lucky to participate in an assignment. His was to find 5 different stories from Literotica. He could pick any 5 stories he wanted, but the catch was that he had to assess them for me. Specifically, he was to critique each story, listing 5 things about each story that he liked and 5 things he disliked. This would enable me to get a better  sense of what moves him, and what doesn’t.

Initially lucky did fairly well sending me stories. I got 2 within the first month. But then, it all came to a crawl, and I really haven’t heard much from him since then. Fast forward to the beginning of this week, and he is seriously behind schedule. To the very clear point of punishable.

He will face that punishment this weekend, for I will not forget his delay, but that will be another post for another day.

In the meantime, I wanted to do something….generate some activity…..that would put him the spirit of taking orders from me, of preparing himself to be of service to two different women. I am not even sure where the idea came from, but in our group text exchange, I ordered him to lay naked on his bathroom floor, and to have with him blank paper and a box of crayons. I told him I wanted him to draw me a picture. Something I could enjoy since I was unable to enjoy this stories (BECAUSE THEY WERE LATE!!!). I am definitely more a dog person than a cat person, but for some reason, I required a drawing of a cat sitting on a rock wall. The rock wall needed to have vines and flowers growing over and on it. And the cat needed to be overlooking a Caribbean sea, with a sailboat in the distance.  Maybe it’s because I just booked a trip to the Islands and have that on my mind, but regardless, it was the picture I ordered. Mostly, I wanted the  knowledge and image of  him laying naked on a cold bathroom floor, drawing a picture for me. And I requested that his owner send me a photo of him doing so, which she graciously did. Here he is…this picture is almost too cute for boy who is facing serious trouble.

naked dave

I really do love seeing this. It’s quite pleasurable to know you’ve ordered a man to do something and he is 200+ miles away and he does it.  Of course, his owner makes such things completely possible, but still, it’s delightful fun to have  him to obey as he has.

The finished product?? That picture arrived too, thanks to his owner. I am delighted by it. I had no idea he would be so talented. It inspires me to demand more creative energy from these boys.

Two owned and collared boys, two strong and demanding women. One hotel room. Oh, the fun we’re gonna have!

Dave drawing

Ouch – not the good kind

All this flurry of writing (some 17k words in 4 days) have taken a toll on my arms. Between the work I do at work and the writing I do at home, I had to leave work early today because my arm just would not reach up to the keyboard. Yeah, this is not a great thing. But, at the least, I know what it is from and how to make it better.

Most of a weekend off (work and writing) should help the situation, but we’ll see how I do on the longer term. I do know one issue was writing at home without “the magic pillow” which helps put my hands/wrists/arms at a proper position.

This may not be a sexy post, but the 17k words I’ve written certainly have their sexy moments! I’m hoping that I can find a competent editor in the near future who will look it over and see whether it’s worth any of its purported erotic salt.

Hope all is well in your world, folks. Setting up for a good weekend ahead! Woohoo!

Who are you working for?

I was given five writing assignments from a lovely woman and had a deadline looming. I’d written four, not always hitting each deadline accurately and had one more to finish. For that final assignment I turned to a story idea that has been rolling around in my head for years. Over the holidays I found some inspiration to further the story from my vanilla world. A roommate reminded me of a vanilla event in our world during the holidays years ago. Chloe and I had already taken that event into fantasy land, but it was very isolated. Then I combined that real life and fantasy combination with some current events and mashed those all in together with yet another storyline…  I wrote the first chapter of a work of fiction that would only be novel sized. The lovely woman who assigned me writing work loved it. Another person I shared it with loved it.

So I found myself attached to the story and my outline was fleshing out nicely, so I continued with the story into the second chapter. And that’s where we were last night.

Both of us in bed, she was tired, both from work, the cold and her early mornings. We watched an episode of one of her favorite shows but I lay in bed on my computer writing furiously.

“Who are you working for?” she asked.

I paused. “I don’t know.” I thought about it for a moment, “I think… me.”

And this was odd for me. I do a lot for others (not trying to toot my own horn, I hope it doesn’t sound like I am). And here I was not writing for an assignment, not writing for my Mistress, but perhaps, just writing for me. And I smiled inside, thinking that I was doing a good thing for myself.

I want to continue the story, I think it has some legs and could be a good novel, though it’s not entirely outlined. I am pretty sure I know where it ends, but I am not sure how it gets there. And that’s part of the fun. And even not knowing the end can be fun also (I’m looking at you George RR Martin!).

Self care is important. And this story coming to page is good self care. I’m enjoying seeing where this story goes. I hope, eventually, I’ll be able to share it here and you’ll get to see it go somewhere as well.

Anybody know a someone willing to edit FLR erotica?

Seeking: “Please use my boy”

naked men on grass

I am enjoying the experience of reaching out to an old and dear play partner of ours, of john’s really, as I know we will be seeing him this upcoming weekend. This other person is a lovely man with an awesome wife and family and the group of us see each other at least a couple of times a year in one setting or another. Sometimes kinky, sometimes vanilla.

John has always enjoyed playing with other dominant men. We don’t get a lot of opportunities for that, and truth be told, we are rather selective. Yes, there are the obvious criteria such as approximate age to ours, hygiene, experience. But what’s critically important is that we find a combination of emotional intelligence coupled with a balanced sense of humor. Not easy things to find all wrapped up in one sexy package.

But our friend “S” is all of those things, if not more. We found him close to ten years ago. Or, rather he found us, but that was the easy part. It’s not difficult to make a connection when a giant poster board spells out what you’re seeking.

And that’s how it happened. We were at a large, week long event and I had created a scene for my boy. I had him spread out on the grass, on his back, arms and legs wide open with wrists and ankles cuffed and pegged to the ground. I put a blind fold on him. I brought a beach chair and parked it nearby. I brought with me poster board and markers. I made signs.

We were pretty new to this event at the time, and of course I worried about biting off more than I could chew. But I am also very protective of my boy and guttural instinct to keep him safe gave me all the confidence I needed. And so, I sat and created while my boy lay naked, blind and restrained……waiting.

My posters were simple: “Please come and touch by boy”. “Gawk at him”. “Objectify him”. “Use him”.  Of course, the fine print required that people use our toys that I had spread out on a blanket , that it was safe sex only and that they discuss with me their intentions. I listed suggestions. I listed limits and restrictions, but that was not a big list. I reserved the right to stop any play at any time if I deemed it inappropriate or too over the top. But I never had to do that. I actually don’t think in the 10 years since that I have had to do that. But that’s another story for another day.

What I could see from my comfortable chair in the gentle shade was my naked boy, nervous and exposed in the mid day sun. I had picked a high traffic area where a couple of hundred people who would be walking past within an hours period. I could see my boys’ twitching fingers, his teeth occasionally pulling at his own lips. The occasional turning of his head in his attempts to hide.

There was no hiding. He was helpless, exposed and about to be used……and he knew it.

His large and stiff cock told me all was well. It certainly got the attention of the passersby’ers too.

These were all of the tings I could see from my vantage point. I watched the small  but frequent groups of people walking the path that took them within 10 feet of our scene. Nearly all stopped and read my posters and looked at my boy. Nearly all had a comment to make, which was awesome because I knew my boy could hear everything. Just their talking about what a helpless sex toy he was was all the objectification I could have hoped for.  John could not see the people smile at him, at me. He could not see them give me a silent thumbs up in approval. He could not see them come to me in whispered negotiations. And he could not see the line that was forming around him.

Another thing I could see that he could not- “S”. This tall, handsome man stood slightly back, watching. He had a smile on his face, and I think a stirring in his loins. He observed, he walked around my boy as though he were vehicle he was considering test driving. When the onlookers continued on their way to the cafe for lunch and the numbers were fewer, “S” approached me and chatted me a bit, getting to know our story, what might be okay to do, what the limits might be. He wanted to know if oral sex was permitted. My reply? With a condom, nearly anything was permitted.

Do I tell you the rest? Do I paint the picture how how “S” disrobed and stroked his own cock, all the while walking around my boy, talking to him with quiet, masculine words that made my own boy’s cock swell in response?

Do I share the image of how this man straddled my boy, naked and in full sun and slowly lowered himself on to my boys face, but only after he had grabbed a handful of my boy’s hair and whispered his intentions into this straining ear?

Do the details of how he rode my boys mouth matter?

Does it add to the story that he was just rough enough with my boy so that john felt like the sex toy that he was pegged to be, and yet not once did I feel it went to far or became too rough for a first encounter?

Do you like knowing that my boy was played with by a dozen amazing strangers but it was this beautiful stranger in particular who used him so thoroughly  and that it would be this stranger who would make use of john in all the years to come?

Yes, we like it when we find people who like the things we like. Of course we do. But I don’t know that I have met anyone who likes poster board and markers more than I. I have created more scenes and have gotten more things that I have wanted, all by asking and communicating. It’s a beautiful thing. I hope I have drawn a picture you can see. It’s quiet colorful. I promise.

 

 

The world of the boy

She has been doing a great job with posting and I’ve very much enjoyed. My writing has been mostly put toward assignments of writing for a friend of ours who was due five writing assignments. A combination of key ingredients presented themselves that allowed me to take $GREATIDEAFORFICTION from scribbles and brief tentative outlines into actual writing, so I wrote chapter one of FLOP, aka FDOP, but it’s writing! And the receiver of said writing loved it and wants me to continue, so it’s likely I will.

In the meantime, I’m working out details for our pending adventures this weekend with many like-minded folks. Putting together lists and bringing up the “special luggage” from the basement up to the bedroom, putting the piles of miscellany downstairs. Making all the like items find like storage locations.

We’ll be attending with J & D, a couple we’ve known for a little while now (well, since before they were a couple and it was just J, but we’ve loved watching them become the couple they are!). I’ll be in service to both the ladies and there will be play activities for all. And a pool. In winter. After all this fother-mucking insanely cold weather we have had.

But things should be in place for Madame to find the things she needs for our weekend, prepared in advance and ready to go. I’ll just need to know which night she wants the suitcase put up on the bed for her to fish through. Then we can get to real packing for the weekend – which we will no doubt overpack for. This is our schtick.

I try to keep my head down, do my work, serve her as best I can and improve both of us. It’s a time of cuddling and finding warmth. It’s a time of getting all that shit done that you don’t want to do in summer. So do it now…

Some time I’ll share the FLOP story, don’t worry, but that time isn’t now. It needs edits (desperately!) and more content. It’s just a very boring and, I thought, slow, setup chapter. My character list is short (under 10!) so that’s good, but it can go deep if I let it. So I’ll watch out for over complication.

Thanks all for the reading. More salacious content to come, I promise!

Whipped

I literally….4 minutes ago….departed from our bedroom where I left a naked, thrashing, screaming slave naked on the bed.

Well, screaming as best one can do when you’re not allowed to make noise. His pillow, I am certain, holds the echos of a thousand guttural sobs that he was not allowed to emit. The mattress bares the imprints of his fists as he pounded its quilted folds, in his desperate attempts to transfer his writhing to some place that he could deem appropriate.

While I appreciate those transferred attempts of anguish so that they are not directed at his abuser, I am feeling disapproval that he did not seem to recognize that this was punishment. Indeed, it was meant to be exactly that. No warm up, no slow rising from slumber to Sunday. Nothing of the sort. I entered the room silently, put on an acoustic playlist to camouflage the noise, picked up the thickest cane I could find, pulled the covers to the floor, and started beating him. No warm up, no gentle touches bringing him softly out of sleep. This was punishment. Punishment for once again breaking the same exact rule he got in trouble for only yesterday.

It displeases me more than I can express to have to punish him like this. If there is going to be such a level of correction, I want free reign, no limits on sound, all the space we need to afford ourselves for such an experience, such an encounter. I want him to know that he takes away pleasure from me when I am forced to met out something like this for a reason such as this.

Interestingly, we are going away next weekend with another couple, Ms. J and her boy lucky. Ms. J had assigned my boy the task of writing her 5 stories in a six week period. He has shared what he has written with me, and I have read his tales. The recent one I read was about punishment. Harsh punishment, where he was the subject of that punishment. I know it appeals to him on some levels. I know that when fantasy has no limits, and when he is free to create, he really enjoys it. And in his story, he has created the lovely illusion of his captors enjoying the punishing too. And this is good. I get the appeal, I see the sexiness when good, caring people engage with one another on such levels. After all, each and every one of us is consenting to a structured power exchange. I get it. I get ‘us’.

But I also hope that my boy understands that I do not particularly enjoy mornings like such as this. I like how I am the early riser an he is the sleeping in kind. I much prefer to rouse him softly, slowly, sexily. I love watching him yawn, stretch, smile. I love the stiff cock he presents me with each morning. Watching him punch and scream is not what I enjoy.

I am not finished punishing him. Not in the least. His punishment will continue until I feel certain he understands that a rule is a rule, and it is not created to be broken.

Some of my Sunday morning joy was taken from me. I am being punished too, and I dislike.

What I do like is how he came out of the bedroom, full of remorse and softness. He knelt by my side, kissed the top of my foot, pawed at my thigh, looked up at me and apologized. I accepted. I am not displeased with him as much as I am with his behavior. I expect better, because HE Is better. He has proven this 10,000 times in 10+ years.

canes on bed

 

Bad dog

My boy forgot about the rule last night. Simply forgot. We sat down to an easy, simple meal and he dove right in, completely forgetting the “first bite, last sip” rule that had been made into law only 5 days ago.

Sigh. Five days.man on plate

He knew it, too. All of the sudden, he put his fork down and looked at me with what can only be describes as remorseful guilt. As we were not alone, I simply nodded in his direction, saying without words that I was acknowledging his admission. And that he’d pay for it later.

Later came. He knew. He simply walked into our bedroom as we prepared to retire for the night, took the cane that lives next to my dresser, and placed it on the bed.

He was told to present. And of course, he did. Naked body, across the bed. Waiting.

He was given 10 hard strokes that had him silently writhing across the bed. Not allowed to yowl when roommates are present. This, I like.

After that, he was told to count backward from 100. He did. I started canning him rapidly. Not as hard, but no pause in between strokes. No time to process the separating seconds. But certainly time for me to grab a second cane and start drumming.

Quite honestly, I have never seen anyone count backwards from 100 so quickly and so accurately. Lucky for him that he  made no mistakes, for surely, I would have made him start from the top.

Cause I’m the top. I can do such things.

 

 

 

Bound in snow

IMG_6512My boy’s day yesterday was filled with manual labor. Lots of shoveling, car juggling, scraping, defrosting, arranging, rearranging, prepping, managing and maintaining. He did it all. Yes, he had help as we all chipped in to assist. But I could see the extra effort he was putting in to cover my share of the work load. He never grumbles about it, he just ‘does’.

I had fantasies about a long and lazy day of being at home, and snow of naked time, of ass play, of breaking out and dusting off toy bags and getting creative with the contents. But none of that happened. Maine pretty much shut down and everyone was home. The day flew by. And….truth be told….my roommate and I decided to throw it in 4 wheel drive and do a mini bar crawl. Three beers in 3 hours was a good pace, and it was a good venture out. It’s another example of that ‘worlds colliding’ I have talked about. Such good intentions, not enough time. Or, time I end up managing differently. So be it.

We survived the “bomb cyclone” as they’ve been calling it. In Maine, we are prepared to handle things like this. We kind of get excited about it, to be honest. It’s better having my boy by my side.  Or, really, slightly behind me. Don’t well behaved dogs make everything better??

Cheers, baby. You did good!

Planet Hopping

colorful-planets-3197It’s interesting to live in two different worlds. That is what we do….john and I have the special and unique pleasure of getting to live different ways at different times. For much of our time, we live as “that couple”. We are the pair of friends that probably everyone has. Or, at least, we come close enough. We have an impressive group of vanilla friends. Long term relations, close proximity, lots of fun to be had in all kinds of ways. Everyone knows about our kink. We don’t hide it. We don’t flaunt it, either, but we certainly do not hide it. Everyone knows we take kinky vacations. We go to clothing optional places. We pack more toys than underwear. We are the ones who get the kinky cards at Christmas time. We get the gag gifts. Literally. We even got a “Fifty Shades of Chicken” cookbook from a giggling friend. How can anyone resist a recipe called “Thighs Spread Wide”?? Might actually make that one today.

So, yes….we live a solid and grounded life among the vanillas. We are vanilla when we need or want to be, although john never gets to stop being attentive to me. That’s a rule for life.

We also have regular opportunities to shoot on over to a neighboring planet, where all kinds of people from every walk of life get to get their kink on and live it 24/7 for the days on end. And for most events, I’m not talking a small group. I’m talking hundreds. Like, sometimes twelve hundred. That’s a lot of non-vanilla’s in one place.

During the next six weeks, we will be taking two kinky trips. One of them is 10 days away, which is why I am thinking about all of this, turning my thoughts to words. Here’s the naked truth: I am not sure I am great at planet hopping. Jumping from one world to the next, then back again. I’ve learned over the past 10 years that we’ve been doing this that I am pretty much Me at all times, in all places. I am equipped with a volume button and I can dial myself up or down when I want.  Or need.

Here’s the upcoming scenario: Two dominant, demanding, bossy, assertive women sharing a big hotel room with two submissive, humble, attentive men. Two couples, sharing one room at one time.

It’s easy to think about the fun parts of all of this. I picture Ms J and I, sitting overstuffed chairs,  wearing white robes, sipping coffee in the morning, perhaps using one of those boys as a footstool. I can envision massages, toes being painted, clothes being ironed. I feel the sting in my hand from spankings. I can see the drool from gags. I can taste the whimpering. All better-than-good stuff. Volume at high.

But then there will be the social moments in the public areas of the hotel. We will bump into kinky friends, see old acquaintances, flirt with new people. And in all of that, I will be Me being me. Chatty. Outgoing. Social. Sometimes funny.  Occasionally awkward. I’ll want to talk about sports (Go Pats!). I’ll avoid politics because it’s a disgusting topic for me these days. I’ll ask about holidays and kids…..dogs and work. I’ll have my boy nearby. He’ll likely be plugged. Caged. Locked. Those sorts of things keep him in a mindset that is a hard place to escape. It’s in these social moments where my interplanetary travel can lead to complications. I will do terrible, wonderful things to him in the privacy of our hotel room. To both him and the other boy as well. Two women, yielding canes, unleashing erotic, electric chaos.

The lobby will bring a different kind of chaos.  Unorganized, jostling, public. I will adjust. Adapt. Enjoy, even. But I don’t want to lose sight of my boy. The boys. I want to stay deeply connected to my john. I want to talk with others and yet at the same time, I want him to feel and know that he is my source of gravity that keeps me within reach of my home planet.

I’ve often set standards for my own behavior that are too hard for me to obtain. I go into an event having high expectations of myself. I picture myself looking and behaving a certain, sexy way and I picture myself executing all of these things with a poised perfection that is unrealistic. Give me a happy hour setting with a glass of wine in one hand, and a paddle in the other, and it’s a pretty sure bet the wine glass will see more action than the paddle. Not to say that I am an advocate for drinking and playing at the same time, for I am not. That’s an example of worlds colliding. I can’t travel between worlds if they are crashing into one another.

Knowing is half the battle, as they say. I know this upcoming event will be many different things taking place in a variety of settings with vacillating degrees of intensity.  The bigger event 4 weeks later will be no different.

What I want is to be as good as I can be at all things. Communication is the key. If I need john to simply be my sexy dinner date for the evening, then he will still be providing a desired service. We know how to travel these galactic highways. Those back roads.

Bob Seger has just infiltrated my brain as I write this. Here is what he is singing to me:

And we’d steal away every chance we could
To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods
I used her, she used me
But neither one cared
We were gettin’ our share
Workin’ on our night moves.

 

Every planet I’ve ever visited has a backroom. An alley. A trusty woods. My boy makes any place feel like the home planet. Our planet. Because….as they say….home is where the heart is.