The envelope please

Life calls me away from my owner and home and into some full time parenting, so I’m away for a couple days. Since we’ve been experimenting with a new device for enforcing my chastity, I did not feel comfortable leaving without some way to escape the device should there be a problem. After all, some chastity devices take a good length of time before they reveal their problems. So, I left two of the keys with Madame and we sealed up one in the envelope which we beautifully decorated for me. I hope not to use it, but there will be no mistaking it if I do!

The envelope holding the key to her property

The envelope holding the key to her property

I like these types of rituals. My putting the key in an envelope, her signing it. It may seem like trivial housekeeping, but every time we do something like this it underscores her ownership of me. “Yes, put the key in an envelope… ” she orders. And yes, she puts pen to paper, she decorates it. She draws out the process. She could have just signed a name and been done, but she took the time to decorate, to get things the way she wanted while I stood there and watched. I know she did it deliberately and I love it. And yes, my cock swelled in the cage while she did it.

Sometimes these little things in our D/s life are very powerful and far beyond what anyone would think of them were they to look from the outside, but we know. She knows. And she makes sure I know.

 

My people

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As it must be true for nearly every single couple across all the lands, my boy and I experienced a brief but intense moment of struggle last night. We had just returned from a fun, easy, kid centered gathering where the family patriarch had rented a couple of adjoining hotel rooms for the night so that all of the little kids in the family could have a mini getaway….jumping on the big beds, swimming in the pool, pizza, cartoons. My boy and I had an opportunity to have a few private moments together in the big bathroom and what ensued was a brief, but hotly intense kinky moment between us. I love that we are good at this, finding those hidden moments where something really sexy goes down. That was last night, and I still have the image of him laying flat on his back on the cold and tiled floor, mouth open as I stood above him, my naked legs straddling his lovely, bearded face.

We got home, and unbeknowst to me, my boy had within him some unrelated tension that bottled up within him. I asked him a basic question, “Hey, did you hear what happened to my dad’s dog earlier?”, and his reply was very off-putting to me, and I took it personally. That is where I went wrong, as my boy doesn’t usually do this. Instead of stopping and thinking globally and recognizing that he was reacting to something different, I internalized it and gave him an icy stare, far colder than  that tile floor from only hours earlier.

The chill in the air lingered between us until we were alone in our bedroom. It all erupted and heated words were exchanged. I don’t always understand his internal ways of dealing with things. They simply are not a part of my overall life experience. I come from a family of talkers….we dig deep, we pry, we explore, we extract from one another. This is not the experience john has had in his life with his family and friends…..his people.  One is not better than the other. Just different. We as people are often what we know. My social circles are much like my everything circles where we are talkers and sharers. My social tribe consists of a modern day version of Merry Pranksters. If we could have done it, we would have happily boarded the infamous bus Further, joining Ken Kesey and all of his adventures. Surrounding me are the people and things I love….the musicians, the poets, the artists and freaks.

In that heated exchange we shared, I said something to john about the communication style I am used to, referring to that experience and the people who are a part of it as “My people”. I saw the flash across his face and rightfully so, he pounced.

“Your people?? What does that mean?? We’ve been together for almost 12 years, and I am not a part of ‘your’ people??”.

I knew exactly what he meant and I knew exactly how  he was taking it. The problem was….how he was taking it was not how I meant it. But it was too late. That emotional table was set and it was a struggle to undo the damage that had been done.

But we did it, I think. We undid that damage. Or enough so that we could go forward. We took all of the skills we have been working on for years, and put them to work for us. We took a deep breath, we gathered calm, we looked at one another, we talked and we listened. john further explained that he was carrying within him unrelated tension, and I apologized for not recognizing that, and for not asking better questions. I was reactive instead of proactive. Knowing the different between those two things is life changing.

Within 10 minutes, he was kneeling besides me as we talked and touched and softened. Within two more minutes, he was collared, leashed, in bed and we were entangled. What he doesn’t know is that I thought a lot about what I had said, “My people” and thought about how that must have felt very hurtful to him. I thought about how  strongly I love him as he lay next to me, and I thought about how he is all of my people. He is a little bit of everyone and everything I love. He is my rock and my glue. We are vastly different and yet a lot alike too.

He is my music because he makes my heart and body sing, and I really mean that when I say this. Like no other ever has, and no other ever will.

Part of the definition of the word poetry includes this: “special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm”. Oh yes….that is us. Absolutely. The power exchange we share is not a fraction less than a distinctive style and rhythm all the time. He is definitely my poet.

My artist….aka my boy….sees beauty in the most obscure of places. He has a gift for making dark, neglected, abandoned places feel and look alluring in a way that no one else could do. At least, no one I know. He describes a fine Scotch as beautiful and hand crafted sword as ‘gorgeous’. And he is right each and every time.

The freak part? Oh yeah…..he’s got that. I grin as I write this. Just ask the bathroom floor and the five minutes we stole. It had ‘freak’ written alllll over it.

He is my people. He is my person. He is my boy, friend, partner, lover, slave, my fantasy, my object, my confidant, my safe haven, my danger, my toy, my lust.  My slut, even. He might not have happily joined that bus ride with the rest of us and cuddled up to Mr. Kesey, but he would have been waiting for us on the other side of that ride, arms thrown open wide, huge smile on his beautiful face, a pot roast in the cast iron, a fire in the pit, awaiting us all.

He is My people.

He is my person.

He is my everything.

 

He took her out

The following is fiction started from IRL events…

It’s Friday. We both ended up coming home early for reasons, but around 6:30 he came by to take her out to a show. The decision was made to have a nibble here at the house before they went out to the show.

He showed up, greeted, I made him a drink. I made her a drink. Food on the table, they nibbled, I stayed in, they went off to the show.

(And hey, let’s put this out there, we are about the time where fact turns to fiction – this friend, there’s no way she’d do anything with, but it doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize… And hey Chloe, I know, even the thought of ‘going there’ with him is repugnant to us both)

I spent some time working on other things for the evening, but they headed out to the show.

Around midnight the text came in “Hotel tonight. See you tomorrow… ”

I met up again with her the next day in the afternoon, after they got back from the show and the stay over.

“It was just too late, pup. I couldn’t make it back” she explained. I nodded. “And he felt so good. His rubbing against me… the dancing… I felt him.”

With me locked up, he found an itch to scratch with her.


“He’s locked up again.” She told him.

“I’m sure he is.”

“I can make you happy tonight”

She knew he could. They checked into the hotel, a gentle buzz around their minds after the show. They came together, coupling in their gently buzzed brains and he pushed her down to the bed. She disrobed quickly, he pushed down his pants, she opened up and took him in deeply. It was quick, it was intense. He plunged deeply. She groaned, she writhed, she came hard, multiple times. She granted him allowance and he finished his work. They fell to sleep soon after.


 

The next morning, she returned late, tired, her hair a mess, her overnight bag a mess too. She went straight back to bed after a hug and insisted I come join her.

“Pup, clean me. I’m tired and dirty.”

I leaned in and smelled her, she was. “Both holes, pup.”

I leaned in and smelled her, she was well used. And she was dirty. I smelled him on her. And I knew I was cleaning him from her. My cock swelled in my cage as I licked. I dove in, cleaned her from stem to stern and she fell asleep for a late morning nap. My cock throbbed, she snored.

I went back to my morning chores while she snoozed. I realized as I poured my second cup of coffee that she had cuckolded me again last night, taking him to bed with her and letting him spill his seed into her. And here I was cleaning her filthy pussy with my tongue as my locked cock throbbed.

This was just another step in her dominance of me.

New chastity device from China – mini review

Our existing primary chastity device is a Steelworxx.de Steelheart 2. It’s custom fit and fits me very well, though some would contend that having it so large is antithetical to how they think a chastity device should fit. It’s pretty large for a tube device. I had originally ordered it based on measurements I had from an authentic CB-3000 I had used for well over a year. The Steelheart is also powder coated, as I have a metal allergy.

I also have dabbled in some plastic devices lately, purchasing two cheap Chinese knock offs this past summer, one of which I used for a road trip vacation with my kids. There were magnetometers expected (and almost met, but the St Louis arch museum was not worth the wait (and paled in comparison to a total solar eclipse)).

So, like many, I headed over to DHGate and perused the selection. I selected two metal “open cage” captive ball devices on New Year’s Day and received them last night. This is the model I grabbed first and took the a-ring out of the package. Madame had already seen both of the devices and was happy to see I was working on new, hopefully more useful, chastity solutions for us. I put the a-ring on and wore it through most of my sleeping but at some point in the night I removed the a-ring and set it on the nightstand. I’m not sure why or when, but I did take it off. This morning as I dressed for work I put it on and tried to use our existing lock – but it did not fit. Taking the China supplied lock into the hole on the a-ring post – it also would not fit through properly. I could lock it sideways, but that’s just plain stupid. So I worked at it and within 30 seconds I was able to convince the post that the lock was going to fit AND lay properly. Of course, that tells me the metal of the post is cheap. Really cheap. I don’t expect that the cheap lock is any hardened steel, but it was certainly harder than the post steel, so that raises a concern. I suspect that the post hole will wear out within a year of daily use, just given the movement that I know happens in such a device.

Will China rule our cocks? No, but women might get more control with help from China.

Will China rule our cocks? No, but women might get more control with help from China.

I locked myself up, lubed up the a-ring with some Gold Bond cream and also applied some to the underside of my cock to help let my cock slide down into the tube.

Some three hours after I locked up, Madame asked me how it was feeling, which led me here to write about it.

It feels good. The a-ring is a little bit tighter (45mm) than my Steelworxx device, so I am noticing that. (Having worn the a-ring through multiple erections and even some masturbation, I am not worried that it’s TOO small). The rest, I am not noticing. I can even head into the office bathroom and pee standing up, assuming I wrangle my cock to point forward in the cage before peeing. Fortunately, our offices have only single occupancy restrooms, so I have privacy on all potty breaks.

So far, 4 hours or so in, it feels good. Good fit, decent comfort, though the a-ring is questionable. So far, no signs of allergic reaction from either the a-ring or the cage portion.


Now, later in the day I come back for more reporting, because everybody wants to know about the state of my cock. Yes, MY COCK IS THAT IMPORTANT! (Heh…. ) Okay, I’ve had dinner and a couple drinks, so I’m feeling well, after a busy enough day.

I feel like I should have ordered the 50mm ring.

Spent multiple times in the bathroom, mostly okay, but I hit one point at work today where I went full on sprinkler. What is up with THAT? Jeezum.

The device is good. The difference for me is being able to touch my cock – to be able to see it – and yet it is caged. I can’t REALLY touch it well, but I can touch it, aim it for peeing, know it is there, but it’s caged. This will be different for me. My previous CBs have been disappearing cock CBs  – where I get to forget I even have a cock while it’s locked. This is fundamentally different.


Why another horizontal line? More hours have passed since I wrote. It’s now the next day and this morning I remain locked as Madame had no desire to unlock me and release her cock.

Last night went well. The CB was comfortable but nocturnal erections did awaken me several times. Madame was happy to see me kneeling at the side of the bed waiting for an erection to subside. She missed a couple other instances of that.

It was a comfortable night otherwise, much like the steelworxx CB. No allergic reaction is yet apparent. I may be in contact with the lock too much, however, which is made of shitty brass, so that could be an issue. The lock and the post hole also proves to be a terrible match and I had to wrench the lock in different directions to make the lock play nice this morning as I got dressed. I remain suspicious of the longevity of the post. I also have almost no faith in the lock. I may have to look for different locks.

But now, what about the difference of this CB and the other? What’s this great big mental change I’ve alluded to? The Steelheart 2 makes my cock disappear. That is a definitive function of the solid steel tube. I am emasculated by it in a different way than I am in this one.

In the new one, it’s a cage. There’s my cock. It’s there. I can see it. But I can’t stroke it. I can’t fuck. I can’t feel my hand wrap around it. I can’t feel a pussy slide onto it. I can’t feel my Mistress’ hand clutching it as we sleep.

I can feel fingers partly, but there’s no grabbing of the cock. I’m no less locked up, but this is different. My cock is caged. In the past – it’s just been gone. I didn’t expect this kind of feeling to be the most overwhelming part of the new device, but it is.

I hope that Madame will use this to her advantage. She always does talk beautifully dirty words to me that will make me head swim and cock swell. I hope she’ll use this change in my imprisonment to her advantage in that talk (and yes, I realize this is selfish of me, I know).

Let’s see how the rest of this lockup continues. I still have a concern for allergic reaction, so I’ll petition Madame to allow me a key nearby. I am about to spend a few days away from her, so I know I’ll have a lockup, but we’ll see which device I am in.

Overall, I like this device. And I like what it does to my mindset. And I like how Mistress enjoys seeing her cock locked up. It’s different for her as well.

Cum and go

 

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Dogs. Their behavior.

Unpredictable at times, it seems.

Nothing is wrong, nothing has happened other than life happening. But that said, I have noticed something of a shift today. Or maybe it was last night, and I didn’t notice. But something is different. I have my suspicions, I’ll write about them here, and maybe my dog will read this post and it will generate a conversation. Okay if it does, okay if it doesn’t. Either way, it won’t really change how I am feeling right now.

My dog had a big, beautiful cum Saturday night. He wasn’t supposed to do that, but he did. And really…..he didn’t even get in trouble for it because it was that big, and it was that beautiful.

We played Saturday night. At the event. The picture in this post is from that scene. I liked the web-like device I had him crawl into as I beat him. He liked that web-like device he  was made to crawl into. It is a simple piece, but I love the way it looks. I caned him good and hard while he lay entangled. It was pretty hot… so much so that he had an orgasm without ejaculation while being caned. I love when that happens… it’s truly an amazing thing.

From that room, with the web bed, we moved to another room. In this room were no fewer than 26 queen sized mattresses. They filled the entire space of that room…..wall to wall mattresses. Some were stacked 4 mattresses deep, others two deep. It was a Minecraft of mattresses, all covered in clean, white sheets. The point of this room is that couples can enter the space and occupy a stacked pile and have a sense of separateness from the other piles….the other coupled couples.

I chose our pile, and we started to slowly sink into one another. We didn’t fuck, we didn’t rape or beat. We made sweet, penetrating love. I think what turned us on was a myriad of things. The earlier beating. The naked time in a group setting. The collar. The kink that surrounded us. All of it, really. But I do know for me that I got pretty turned on by knowing we were in room with 3 other couples who were sharing their own versions of intimacy. I could hear the love making all around me, but because of the different heights of stacked mattresses, I could not really see what was going on around me. If I looked (and I did), I could see a stockinged leg or an arching foot, but that was really about all.

My boy and I were really into one another in that moment. It was sweet and tender and it was driven by our hunger for one another. I used my boy and had a big cum as he pushed deeply inside me. My cumming pushed him over the edge. As my orgasm intensified, it grab at him… squeezing, pulling, clutching. It was more than he could bear and he could hold on no longer. He spilled. He spilled a lot. He spilled the contents of 45 days of not spilling. His cum was like my cum… hard, hungry, happy. We lay gathered in one another and smiled. There would be no punishment for this, because it was perfect and I was happy and that was all that needed to matter.

I don’t know if it is biology or psychology but damn… I have come to my conclusion: Every time my boy has an ejaculation, things are different for at least a week. There seems to be something about his deep and gathering hunger when he is denied cumming for prolonged amounts of time that make him become more compliant. More submissive. More slave-like. More proper. More… I dunno… more everything. It is as though that once he has that biological release, he has a psychological one too. I can’t say that I like it all that much. It can be confusing. Unpredictable. I can’t say that I am a big fan of this. I like him to be consistent. I already cornered the market on inconsistency; that ship sailed some time ago. I should know – I am the Captain of it, after all.

So, here we are… in a quiet moment, in a quiet month. It was an excellent weekend, it really was. No complaints, but rather observations. Last night had me feeling withdrawn. He seemed a bit snippy. Short. As though he forgot his manners. I pull and prod at him all the time to keep his mind and mouth open because he has the propensity to get too quiet sometimes. We are living proof that opposites attract, and his quiet overall as a personality type is something I have become used to. So, when the quiet gets quieter, it pushes me beyond my comfort zone. Not too far from it, but enough so that I withdraw a bit and wait for his balls to start to fill again. Because when his balls become full, his mind steadies and his submission rises. That is what I am used to, that is what he aspires to. It’s just weird to be right next to someone and to feel like they are miles away.

I shrug. This too shall pass.

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.