Awake!

She nearly always gets up first in the morning. It’s due to work schedules, mostly, but she is a morning person as well, where I am not. But then, she’s not going to be staying up to midnight or 1 am hacking on a server, so we have each our strengths.

This morning I was awakened with her hand in my hair, pulling it, pulling me. The edge of the bed is where I ended up, my head hanging over it and before I could even start my eyes focusing they were covered with pussy.

My tongue stuck out dutifully, she used my mouth to wipe off her pussy. I’m guessing she came to me directly from the bathroom. Soon I was tapping her thighs to let her know I needed air. She ignored me. I tapped again, she pulled harder, closing off my breathing. I tried to get in just one gasp, but she had too tight a hold, her thighs pressed around my head so I couldn’t turn and could go up any further, so I suffered without air. She allowed me a quick gasp, so I did, but then she pulled my face back into her. I tapped her thigh again, with great urgency. TAP TAP TAP! She held me tight to her pussy. I struggled then, resigned, I loosened and prepared myself to pass out. She let go. I breathed deeply.

After I caught my breath, she presented her ass to me (meaning, she sat down on my tongue), which I dutifully cleaned. My cock thickened as I did so, exactly what she wanted.

She climbed up on the bed and quickly sank down on my cock. She moaned and groaned triumphantly, claiming her toy for her own. “Good boy… good fucktoy” she whispered in that voice of hers. “What a responsive fucktoy this morning… good boy” Soon I was at the edge and telling her I was close, but she didn’t care, she continued to ride until I blurted out “STOP!” and she did. She played this way for some time, riding, stopping, listening to me whimper. She told me how much she enjoyed hearing my suffering. “Suffer for me, pup. Suffer. I love those whimpers… ” and suffer I did, if you can call experiencing such great pleasure suffering, but while being kept on the edge of orgasm for half a year, it does become suffering.

Eventually she took me to the edge just the right amount and the bucket (remember the bucket analogy?) started to spill. She slipped off of me and my cock just as she felt my cock pulse. It will do that, it turns a little pre-cum into a little more than pre-cum, wherein the cock will leak actual cum. She had enough time to dismount and turn before she saw the cum drip right out of her cock and onto my belly.

Scooping it up, she also milked my cock with her fist, gathered up that cum and planted it directly on my lips, then some on my tongue, then smeared the rest on my face.

“It’s quarter to eight, you need to get up now.”

I lay on the bed for a minute or so before I got up and started making the bed.

Damn it this woman is hot. And cruel. And beautiful. And sexy. And I love all of her torture. Day 183 is Tuesday. I’m wondering if there will be fireworks or not.

It’s the thought…

Not that counts, but it’s the thought that carries us through the day.

I know that I was rude or disobedient to fuck her this morning, but she always says that she likes when I follow through with my threats.

“If you don’t get up now, you’re going to get fucked”

She snoozed in bed. “Last warning… ”

She barely flipped her hair at me.

So, I proceeded to get up off my own drowsy butt, climb over her body and start positioning her body. She, laying on her left side. Her left leg straight, right leg bent, leaving herself open to me. “You’re not even hard!” she tried to combat my advances with this minor taunt.

“But I will be.” And I was. And then I made my hand wet, her pussy wet, my cock wet and slid in. She groaned.

She knew it was inevitable and even if her left hand tried to scratch at me, she wanted it and she could have easily either gotten away or told me to heel.

So I fucked her. I got to a point of where I was really pounding her. And then I started getting too close to cumming, so I slowed down. The bucket, being so jostled, spilled a little over the top of itself, like any bucket does, she felt it, I felt it, neither of us cared. I grabbed her phone and took a couple pictures that she could see how I see things from up there, and I pressed deep into her.

And somewhere, hours from now, when she’s busy at work or dealing with something else in her very hectic life, she’ll think back to this morning. She’ll grin at her own self for lying there and thinking “He’s not going to fuck me.” and then “Oh God, he’s going to fuck me!” and then “Oh good, he’s fucking me!”. She’ll smile. Maybe she’ll look at her phone and see me fucking her. But she’ll smile at the thought of the awesome love we share, our playfulness, our sexiness, the beauty we share between us morning, noon and night. Oh that smile.

If I’m lucky, she’ll send me a text to let me know that she is thinking about it.


(The admin of the site apologizes for the lack of a picture to accompany this post, but finding just the right image to show our position is not possible this morning. Be assured that the admin will be summarily punished later)

Post from Troy (part II)

It’s late fall 2015 and as we continue getting to know each other, the holidays creep into our lives.  This can be tricky for anyone in a triad as life seems to involve more time with vanilla family and friends, making a triad sometimes awkward and difficult to explain to some people.  I find we have to leave one of us out in situations where our lifestyle is simply not appropriate for public knowledge.  Think company Christmas parties for example….”Hi this is my girlfriend Chloe and my boyfriend John” WOW that would have the water cooler gossip folks talking! We made do, however.  We gave each other significant space for our individual family and work obligations and included one another when appropriate.  We certainly enjoyed some quality Fmm CFNM frolicking times in private together (Grins)!

One holiday gathering that was particularly memorable was a ladies only gift wrapping party at their house (Remember, I live less than 2 miles away but we do not cohabitate).  john and I were in complete service mode – although very discreetly.  We wore our collars on our ankles, covered by our pants…john in slave (Thai fishing) pants, me in jeans (because at this time I had yet been provided with slave pants from Ms. Chloe). There was no obvious outward display of our submissive roles outside of the very attentive service we provided to her and her guests. I was introduced to many of Ms. Chloe’s girlfriends that evening and even some family members.  I didn’t learn till after the party was over that several attendees knew of our exact situation and my role in our newly formed relationship. This was quite exciting actually and made me giggle a bit.  You see, I can be a bit bratty sometimes and often giggle in uncomfortable yet exciting scenarios like this… this bratty behavior has resulted in a deserved spanking or two by Ms. Chloe; this was  a giggle moment, but I digress.  john and I set up wrapping tables, handed out tape, paper and ribbons, kept wine glasses topped off, served snacks and made ourselves useful to the very lovely ladies in attendance (6 total as I recall).  This was one of the first times that John and I worked as a service team together to please Ms. Chloe.  Sure, there were stumbles on my part.  This is a new space, someone else’s kitchen, lots of Ms. Chloe’s preferences to still learn about and all new people to figure out.  But it was very fun and we continued to learn more about each other. I continued being mentored by john on how Ms. Chloe likes things done… from the way her cocktails are made to the way her towels are to be folded.  She likes things done VERY PROPERLY and has very high standards and I needed to learn exactly how to meet these service related expectations if I was to last.  That evening I was also told by Ms. Chloe that I was to have a full STD screening if I was to ever to play sexually with them (or their friends) as not only knowing one’s STD status is irresponsible and remaining disease free is very important to our triad… Pressure!

It was also around this time that I was made aware of “Kinky Camp”  and asked by Ms. Chloe if I would be available to attend it with them in June.  What, you ask, is this place?  It was described to me as a clothing optional, lifestyle tolerant summer camp experience filled with old friends, fellow kinksters, and the opportunity to explore many new sexual experiences.  Ms. Chloe and john have attended this event for years as a couple and are well known there.  If I was to attend as their toy, I would have to be on my best behavior as not to in any way embarrass Ms. Chloe. We would share a cabin with many others and share one king size bed with john and I sleeping naked on each side of Ms. Chloe for three spectacular nights. Perfect!  I eagerly agreed to attend.  This event being 6 months away and our unique relationship being brand new, although we were all certainly optimistic that this trip together would come to fruition, we all had realistic reservations that me joining them may never actually materialize.  Also, the secret location of this camp is a 10 hour drive from home in Portland, Maine so there would be those logistics to overcome. Lots of fun continued through the cold Maine winter which I will write about in future posts, but fast forward 6 months… It was camp time and i was going!  Ms. Chloe and john took the week off from work and drove to the event where they actually helped set it up.  I was only able to wrangle a Friday-Monday escape, so I flew in and ubered there joining them 4 days into their kinky adventure.  I arrived at Camp in full swing (pun intended), I was wide eyed, open minded and collared as owned, but had no idea what to actually expect.   Let’s just say that the next four days was full of thrills, titillation and unforgettable new experiences.

Back home

Despite a small flotilla of first world problems pushing against me, I’ve made it back to Madame and even made it for last night’s party. T put out a beautiful spread of nosh-able food and we had lots of white wine and some other drinks as well. It was an excellent time – a good welcoming back home. There was even a kilt check from a vanilla friend involved – which caused some significant chuckling at my expense, but no embarrassment to me. (After all, I’d serve naked if I could!)

Chloe and I retreated to the bedroom soon after returning home where we cuddled, talked, groped, made out, fooled around and then she got ready for bed, leaving me to undress her while she put herself onto her side of the bed. I ended up kneeling between the wall and the bed with my tongue strategically located to lap at her beautiful pussy. She loved feeling the long broad strokes of my tongue and I think her favorite part of that was while she was beating me with my own collar by flipping it down and whipping my back, I would cry out into her pussy, muffling my near screams between her legs. It was more intense than I expected, but we soon found ourselves together in bed again, my face now awash in the scent of her.

I rubbed her body, worked a knot out of her upper back and massaged her gently from my side of the bed. Soon she let me know it was time for my evening devotional and my tongue was between her cheeks, my hands on her bottom and thighs and I was doing those lovely things that good dogs do for their Mistresses. We soon tumbled into some lovely fucking with which I could not keep up with, so I deployed our favorite fake cock to finish up and let her grab tightly at it while she had a big beautiful orgasm, grasping at the copper colored cock while my cock, hard and frustrated, pretended it was in her as I thrust my hips uselessly toward her. Soon the copper colored cock was out of her, in my mouth and my cock was inside her again, such a lovely lovely place to be. So tight now after her cumming and without having been fucked in weeks, it grasped at me wonderfully and I gently and easily moved in and out of her… a lovely little enjoyable fucking from which I knew there would be no relief for me. We are now 173 days into my denial and there are signs she may be ready to write another chapter in this story, but until then, she enjoys watching me struggle with resisting cumming.

We slept well and in the late night potty break that often happens after a wine and nosh party, we fucked again, then fell back to sleep together. I awoke, my leash wrapped around my neck but still attached to my collar. I got up, made the bed still collared and leashed, then removed my collar, tucked it under the pillow where it belong, coiled her leash, put on my glasses and greeted the rest of our little home as I reached for the cup of coffee.

Vacations are nice, but it’s very good to be home and back in the place where I belong.

An open letter to My boys

My dearest john, My lovely troy-

Lovely ladies from under the tableI am deeply aware of how chaotic our summer has been. Normal, I suppose, as it seems that the short summer season of New England tends to have many things packed into a few lovely months. We are used to this, I know, and we accept it. But it still can be hard to feel September nipping at our heels, knowing that we have not had enough opportunity to play naked in the woods, to swim in the moonlight, to tangle in the middle of hot summer nights.

I think we agree that we do the best we can. I feel great confidence and pride in us! I am fully aware of how many people are out there in the world seeking meaningful, kinky partnerships, and I feel lucky to have the dynamics that we do. We may not get to play as often as we’d like, but every week, and every day, we have some connection to our kink, and this makes Me happy.

I continue to find little opportunities to let you shine in your service to me. Sometimes there are big ones and sometimes there are the small ones. John wrote about that yesterday… the small and overt ways he demonstrates his service to his world. Troy has been demonstrating this daily with his checking in with me while John is away, with his little displays of affection and devotion. None of it is missed by Me.

But it’s the more public displays of service that make us all especially happy. When I can show you off and watch you shine.

Another opportunity has arisen, boys, and despite how busy we are, I am going to ask you to do what you can in the name and spirit of that service. Service to Me, and the events I hold dear.

You’ve done this before, the two of you. You have answered the call when I have asked you to perform, and you have done it wonderfully.

You are being called upon again. Will you be available? Are you able to serve me and a tribe of sexy women as we gather to sip wine and socialize? Will you be able to bestow upon us your culinary delights, and leave with us a sampling of your labors??

2016 - 0919

The stunning nosh that troy provided during our last sexy ladies gathering. Unfortunately not photographed….the amazing cocktails by john.

Our lovely lady friend Miss C is again hosting a gathering this Friday night at 5pm. There will be several women in attendance. Men will be permitted after 6:30pm.

Not knowing if either of you were available, I asked Miss C that if one or both of you were able to contribute either specialty cocktails or gourmet nosh, would she want what of you? Her sexy voice got sexier as she gushed, “Oh my gosh, YESSSS, of course”.  She proceeded to add that it was not expected, that there was no pressure, but that of course she would love it if you wanted to give such offerings.

I thought about that.., the part where she said ‘if they want to’. My mind flashed (while my mouth remained quiet) that it was not so much a matter of if they ‘wanted to’, but rather if they are able to. It truly does not matter to Me that on occasion I ask your service because I selfishly want your service. Most times, I try to create opportunities that I know you’ll enjoy. But sometimes, I don’t. This is one of those times.

I would love it dearly if you were able to make a contribution to the evening with the gift of your skills. I would delight in knowing that you were able to give to us in this way. If you are able to join us around 6:30pm, your presence is greatly desired by all. I don’t know what scheduling conflicts might interfere with this, but I am putting it in front of you so that you have time to decide. Will you be able to toil in some way for us?

It is not the quantity of things you provide, but rather the quality. You both are wonderful at detail – it is one of your greatest gifts. I smile at the thought of the efforts you have shown in the past. It makes me proud.

So, there you have it. An opportunity to be in service while in the company of many. You know……and I know….that many women who are invited know of our dynamic. I love this as well. They look at you, wondering where the collar is hidden, wondering how you’ll be rewarded or punished, wondering if your asses are plugged as you serve. Not every woman in attendance will have this inside information, but many will. And that is very much a part of the thrill for Me.

Do let me know. The party will go on without you, of course, but the pleasure of your company and attention is greatly desired. I have not been able to walk the two of you on a leash at the same time in quite a while. It matters not to me that it is a virtual leash in the vanilla company of others. It’s a leash none-the-less. I’m hoping you can be on the end of it.

Do let me know.

Mme.

 

 

 

Save

Left a hole

It seems that, in my absence from my house and my world, I’ve left a hole. Madame wrote an email this morning that told me how I am missed, how there is a hole where I should be. My subtle ways of serving my vanilla friends, the things I do, they are missed by our large family of friends that is around us.

As we are polite kinky friends, I don’t go around serving my roommates on my hands and knees while collared. But I do wear my shackle 24/7, which is my common collar. I am always the first to rise from the table and start clearing and I usually wrangle most of the dishes, even if I cook I’ll try to clean up until my roommates push me (literally) out of the kitchen. I’m the head bartender in the house, despite one roommate having opened a restaurant/bar and another being a lead bartender with a catering company. And I try to do my part in service to the house to straighten, clean, organize and keep my things to as low a footprint as I can.

I do the things that Madame asks me to, in vanilla ways, in and out of the house. I also am in service to my community with my volunteering. One of those former colleagues of my early service life recently posted a picture of a fortune he received in his cookie to Facebook. It read “If a true sense of value is to be yours, it must come through service”. I didn’t reply to that directly, but I did think of it as very befitting. The only more befitting fortune I have ever received was “You will attend a party where strange customs prevail” shortly before my first kinky party. But the service fortune really lays it out for me. Service is where I am comfortable. I enjoy service. I enjoy serving my friends, family, community and Mistress in so many different ways. I do hope that my community service will pick up a bit this year – that I’ll see some of the fruit of my labors. And even my professional life is found in non-profit companies. When I’ve not been working in non-profit, I worked in higher education and in “Internet Service Providers” back when the internet was newer. Service was our middle name! There have been some brief stints in corporate world, where I tracked my time down to the minute, but that did not suit me. It may have suited my employers, but not me. And I left that world not even looking over my shoulder.

Even in kink, I serve. Sure, I get a comp when I work at setting up and tearing down our camp event, so I’m not entirely volunteering, but I do love the service I do there, especially since I get to do that service sparsely clothed or even in some cases naked!

Service is within me. It’s part of who I am and what makes me whole. It’s good for me to realize that, even if I’m in my mid-forties by now and it’s taken that long for me to realize such a thing. (Okay, I knew it a while ago, but ignored it in pursuit of money)

And knowing that my service and my presence is missed is flattering. It really is. I’m happy in some ways for it, to feel missed. I’m happy Madame wrote me about it, more than just so I can write another post here, but so that I can know that I’m valuable to more than just my Mistress. It’s heartening to know that there are others who desire my presence, because sometimes it really doesn’t feel that way.

Madame, I’ll be home soon. You’ll see me soon. Promise! I miss you and our entire family.

We have the tools and we have the talent…

I have a few more years than Chloe actively in the kink scene.  I’ve been going to events since somewhere around 1998. It started with munches, then parties, then the Fetish Fair Flea. Chloe and I have been together some 10 years now, which is almost, but not totally, the sum of her experience in kink. I’m not trying to brag, not trying to say “I’ve been doing this longer” – because I’ve long been a proponent of the concept of “I don’t give a damn how many years you have in the scene, what are you DOING and HOW are you doing it?” I consider the use of one’s time a greater benchmark than their total time being involved.

But the time I’ve spent in D/s in particular and BDSM in general is greater. And my reading about it has been more extensive as well. I have a job where I can get away with reading articles and information about our lifestyle. That reading, along with classes I’ve taken over the decades, have provided me with a wider base of education on BDSM.

I’m very happy when I can be reading and come across a story or article that I think would help the both of us in our relationship. I think Madame sometimes misses having tools that make it easier to be her domme-ly self. I know that being on top takes energy. And with Chloe being pulled in different directions these days, I act as a bit of a filter for her, finding good stories and articles and passing them on for her to read later.

Every person needs the proper tools for the job

Every person needs the proper tools for the job

Earlier this week I was reading an entry from Mrs. Lion, of Male Chastity Journal, wherein she was making a list of assignments, attributing points and giving Mr. Lion a goal to reach. Chloe has read it and likes this idea, kind of a way of scheduling the things she wants done but giving me enough rope to either hang myself or save myself. I have a feeling we’ll start using this kind of tool in the future. And it’s a good way for her to be able to introduce some fun into our regular household with a kinky touch. She might even post this list for the roommates to see, with the points listed. The roommates know we’re kinky but we never do anything overt in front of them. This would be the most overt thing we’ve done before them. It’s good to find such tools and I’m happy to share them with Chloe. I look forward to seeing if we’re going to use this and what kind of progress it can put forth into our FLR.

Bonus points to those who get the movie reference post title WITHOUT the use of google…

Writing frustrations

I was working on a great post about my wrist collar, my shackle, but an analogy of mine fell completely apart when I started talking about shoe care. And that took down my big analogy. Damn it. So, instead of being able to save it, I just deleted it all because I realized the point I was making wasn’t clear. It was not such a great post after all.

It’s frustrating when this happens, but being able to say goodbye to a post is certainly a step forward in writing. And a step forward in learning that sometimes what I write isn’t right. So back to the drawing board.

Apart

I am away for almost two weeks. The last time I was apart from Chloe, it was only one week and was a conference in Vegas. So far I’ve been gone one out of the two weeks.

This time I am not alone but have my kids with me. Kids that I don’t see as often as I used to and I try to make up for that with giving them good experiences, which make me focus on them while I’m with them and not other things. It’s not possible to forget about Chloe, but it is possible to be focusing on other things that make me not want or need sex so much. At the beginning of this trip, I was taking advantage of time alone and stroking the long denied cock, because I could and because I wanted to feel that pleasure. That’s gradually trailed off to this morning where I didn’t even bother to touch it at all, outside of the normal guy scratching his nuts when he wakes up.

So, while I’ve been away, my sex drive has dropped, which is okay, because I don’t have a Chloe nearby – to tease me, to deny me or for me to please. So, given that any jacking off will be incomplete, there’s little point in doing so for myself. It’s so much better when I’m able to bring her pleasure and she gets to decide whether I’m going to get any direct pleasure myself.

But I was just commenting to Madame this morning via text that it’s good to miss each other. If we were not apart, we wouldn’t know what we are missing. And that’s a good thing. If I were indifferent about my being apart from her, that would tell a much different tale. A sad tale, to be honest. It would be like my oldest son who has a “girlfriend” with whom he does very little, but doesn’t, as far as I have heard, reach out to her when they’re apart. But that’s young love, they have a different idea of things and that’s okay. They need to learn more aspects of what love is and is not.

But with Madame and I, well, she wrote last night how incredibly horny she was for me. And I too have written similar things back over the past week. We both go to bed at night clutching something that is not our partner. Clutching a pillow does not make a suitable substitute. There is no substitute at all for her being able to clutch her cock and balls while I pet her to sleep. We fit so well together at night that it’s something neither of us can replicate on our own or with any other partner. Even when she has visited other men, she doesn’t sleep in bed with them like she does with me. They don’t spoon like she and I do. And they don’t pet her back and backside like I do.

We simply cannot find substitute nor do we want to find substitute for each other. And the fact that we miss each other is an excellent thing to show us that we are, in fact, the right people for each other. Missing each other hurts, but without it, we wouldn’t have beautiful reunions and beautiful moments of pressing our bodies together again when we reunite.

Missing each other hurts, but the alternative – not caring that we are apart – would be a far worse fate for not just the two of us, but our relationship. So, I miss you Madame, very much. I know we have another week before I return, but “Always toward absent lovers, love’s tide stronger flows.”

The List

I wake nearly each morning entangled in my boy’s leash. That is because I sleep each night with one end  wrapped around my wrist, and the other end attached to my boy’s collar. I miss waking and quietly extracting myself from that entanglement. Being an early riser allows me to look down upon his sleeping, naked, collared form and I miss starting my day that way.

I miss setting aside coffee for him. I miss whispering in his ear before I leave for work the small chores I expect him to accomplish before he leaves for the day.

I miss telling him what he can expect for the evening. I like telling him what he might be cooking for dinner, whom he might be serving for supper, what cocktails I am in the mood for, if any at all.

When others are around, I can give him a look from across the room, and he knows that I am calling him to my side. And when we are alone, I miss uttering the single word ‘Come’, knowing that he will get up from whatever he is doing and come to me. And if I snap and point, he’ll crawl to me.

I miss looking over at him in the kitchen. I drink in his sexy, muscular male form, and I delight at watching his body move beneath a fitted shirt.

I miss his eyes upon me as they follow me when I head to bed for the night. He silently gets up and follows, closing the door softly behind me.

I miss the kneeling he does as I stand before him at night.

I strip naked, and he folds the clothes as they fall off my body. He will bend from that position and kiss the tops of my feet. My toes. My ankles. And when I choose to turn, his lips will kiss my thighs, the cheeks of my ass, the small of my back.

This may be an image of Delilah and Samson, though it's unclear. It was found through femdomartists.com but no artist was attributed.

This may be an image of Delilah and Samson, though it’s unclear. It was found through femdomartists.com but no artist was attributed.

I do nothing at night but strip naked, and get into bed. I lay there in pillows, watching him pick up after me. Occasionally he’ll pull my panties to his face and breathe in deeply and smile. Often times I will have him wear those same soiled panties to work the next day. I miss that too.

I miss what happens or doesn’t happen in the nighttime hours. Sometimes there is sexy, torrid torture, and sometimes I simply grab and squeeze his balls while his whimpers lull me to sleep.

Most nights there are back rubs and petting. He gives and I receive. He works while I sleep.

And every night, there is the worshipful cleaning. The homage. The pleading look that cuts through the dark, where he feels my nod more than he sees it. I will feel his beard upon the skin of my back as he kisses his way downward beneath the covers. Many night he will lay inverted… his face against My ass, his arms wrapped around My legs, his body pressed against mine.

It’s like a thousand warm hands touching me. I am missing each and every one of those hand.

Come back to me soon, my pup. Life is not nearly the same without you.

Save