Soft words

I am at times struck by how just a few softly spoken words can influence me. It happens all the time in my world. From the gentle (but rare) acknowledgment of a job well done at the office to a thank you for my volunteer efforts to the more personal words of my Mistress.

She will utter words that can easily sway where I am and what I’m thinking. Tonight it was just a few words which thrilled me to no end.

I was disrobing her by the closet, kneeling before her, helping her remove shirt, pajamas, panties, socks and she was faced away from me at the end – in the moment she became naked. I kissed her cheeks and tried to nuzzle my way in between her cheeks, but with her standing, I had a difficult time getting in to find her tiny tender spot between her cheeks. “Find it” she whispered hoarsely. “Find it pup!”

I am not sure if she realizes it, but when I was in the world of ski areas, the rescue dogs were trained to the words of “Find ’em!” when they were out looking for lost skiers – or drilling for the same. So her, my Mistress and owner, telling her pup to “Find it!” hit home to an older part of my timeline. I don’t think she knows that part.

She leaned forward slightly, opening herself up to my tongue, which soon found it’s mark and make shallow attempts at touching and cleaning their mark. “Deeper” she exhorted. “Get it in there deeper” My cock swelled quickly. Her hand reached behind her, grabbed my hair, pulled me into her ass and I did, indeed, get my tongue deeper. She did, indeed, need a cleaning before bed, and I think she knew that. She brought me to the place where she knows I enjoy things, left my cock to pulse and throb, all on its own, completely untouched.

Eventually, my cock subsided while I rubbed her back in bed. I’m not even sure she knew I was so erect, as she was simply too tired to be concerned about anything related to my pleasure or discomfort. I pet her to sleep, I withdrew from the room, I felt the wet spot left behind from my earlier arousal. And now, I’m wrapping gifts and getting us all ready for Christmas.

Busy times, but we make the time to have some joy.

Ruff Days!!

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My dog crawling around on his hands and knees, seeking a treasure from the sea

I couldn’t resist choosing this as the title. I giggle at it, smiling at the memories that are revealed in the photos for this post, and those memories make me happy.

It’s been a challenging couple of weeks for my pup. I empathize with the curve balls life has thrown him. Nothing insurmountable, nothing that time and patience won’t heal, but still – pain in the ass stuff. Mostly around his car. And travel plans.  And work. And logistics. All first world problems, we know. But still, we can feel it. It squeezes him much differently than I squeeze him. I dare say he likes My pressure much more than life pressure right now.

I’ve worked with care to keep him on a short leash during this time. My dog can have his day, but his upset is only allowed to go so far. He is not permitted to bring cranky into the bed. Like dust on a dog, he must shake it off before getting naked and jumping beneath the covers with me.

The other day we went to a small, local beach that is not widely known. It’s our secret gem right outside of the biggest city in the state. Being Maine, that isn’t too big of a thing, but still… it’s so wonderful to have it. It is really only accessible during low tide, and when the waters retreat, a beautiful little stretch of beach reveals itself to whose who know of its carefully hidden location. If there are 15 people on the beach, it’s crowded. It’s a place where almost anything goes. Small groups of adults will gather with a bottle of wine and a plate of nosh and watch the sail boats go by. Kids can strip down to their underpants and take a quick swim before heading home, and no one cares. And dogs are allowed off leash, at all times.

Nosh at secret beach

Nosh at secret beach

I took my boy there the other day. It was during the height of his crankiness. He probably would have rather stayed home, but I insisted that he come with me. We packed up and off we went. The tide was perfect, the day was stunning. And because dogs are permitted off leash, my boy was under strict orders to be under voice control at all times.

I got him up off his chair and ordered him to find a way to crawl around the beach area on his hands and knees. “But there are people here, all around us” my boy mildly protested. “I don’t care” was my reply. “Find a way to do it, and do it now” was my final answer.

And so he did.

Feigning a make believe interested in exploring up close the tiny sea critters that climb among the rocks when the tide is right, my boy crawled on his hands and knees. I was walking next to him, and to the average onlooker, it appeared as though my man was intently exploring some type of marine biology with intellectual passion, but really, he wasn’t. He was following my softly spoken commands.

Crawl for Me, boy. That’s it… crawl forward on your hands and knees”.

And he did.

Dig in the sand, boy. Find Me a gift. Dig for me. Fetch me a sea present“.

And he did.

Sniff something, pet. Put your face down low, and sniff something for Me“.

He did.

Dig for me, pet. Use that paw, and dig me a hole“.

Of course, he did.

If you’ve been a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know that we aren’t really into puppy play. It is somewhat rare that we actually do this sort of thing. We will use little, endearing dog references, but otherwise, puppy play is not our thing. But on this day, it was. I was enamored at the opportunity to play in public like this. It is one of my favorite things to do. Right out in the open, in public, for anyone to see, my boy was crawling around on his hands and knees, following the softly spoken orders that I gave him. No one seemed to notice. No one seemed to care. People walked by him, engaged in their own conversations, and occasionally someone would smile at the man on his hands and knees, exploring the rocks and seaweed, accompanied by a woman who was taking pictures. The only thing that could have made this better would have been to have him naked, with toy troy next to him. In my mind, and in my imagination, he was very naked. And collared. And leashed. Because even in a playground with few rules such as this one, it’s nice to have order.

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Gift from the sea. The sand dollar that my boy found while digging, placed on his back, next to the brand I had placed on his skin a year ago.

 

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My feet, and his hand, as he crawls near the rocks, digging and sniffing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Not the best of days

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It has not been a good week. The past 4 weeks have been challenging, but this past week has been especially hard. All vanilla stuff. My wonderful, loving, family oriented dad got his legs kicked out from beneath him, and at age 76, he is dealing with a life altering sense of sorrow I have never seen him deal with before. A first world problem perhaps, but it’s a problem for him none-the-less and I am deeply saddened and distracted by it.

I spend my days at my job (thank god I really enjoy my work!) and I come home to my dad. I am with him  until he sleeps. Then I sleep. And then I get up and do it all over again. That’s pretty much how it’s been. I have not spent this much time with him in decades. I’m happy to do it, but it’s not without adjusting to it.

I have been amazingly fortunate. I have not had overly needy children or  parents. Nothing out of the ordinary. I come from self-sufficient stock, apparently.  I am well aware at what a wonderful thing this is. But now that has changed, and will stay changed for the immediate future. Not forever, or even for a long time. Hopefully, next week will bring a lot of resolution. But for now, this is how it is.

I have put mostly everyone on hold. It is all about him right now, as it should be. No nights out, no writing of the blog, no scheming or planning….fucking or beating.

I have had small moments where I feel seized with worry about my boys….my john and troy.  I don’t like feeling like I am not caring for them. It sounds and feels odd for me to say that. I am the Dominant, after all. But I see them as possessions. My cherished possessions. And out of necessity, I have had to put them on a shelf for a bit, and let them be.

But I also have bigger moments where I feel deeply confident in them. They know me, they know my family and they understand what I am dealing with. They are respectful, loving, loyal, caring, kind. Exactly what I want and need them to be. I think this is the first time that my vanilla life has so fully interjected itself into my kinky world for a prolonged period of time, and I sense that troy is not sure what to do. My guess is that he is giving me space and privacy, and I appreciate that. I am, however, disappointed that I didn’t get my flowers this week.  My table has been bare for days. Each week he is to bring me one small bouquet. I’ll admit that I feel disappointed. This is one of those rare and perhaps awkward times when no one is quiet sure what to do or how to act and so therefore we are just simply being good and kind to one another. And this is a good thing. I am not knocking it at all.

But I miss their attention. I miss time with them. I miss john. He pets my back and body every single night before I fall asleep, and I miss it. I miss the comfort of his quiet confidence. I miss how he knows me so very well and how he kneels before me as I undress for bed. I miss the homage he pays to my ass each night. I miss a thousand things about him. I miss troy cooking for me. I miss parading him around. He is tired too. It’s the craziest part of his year work wise. I don’t want to berate him for being as human as we all are. But dammit, boy…where are my flowers??

Sigh.

So….my point, exactly?? My point is this: I am just as awkward as any other human being right now. I am the boss of this domain, and yet I feel a bit powerless. I am the dominant, and yet I am wishing someone else would decide what’s for dinner, or what we’re going to do with the early evening hours. I don’t like these long leashed that are currently attached to my boys, and yet I appreciate very much that they aren’t tugging upon me, adding strain. I want things from them that feel selfish. And I feel guilty about feeling selfish. Yet… I have never apologized for wanting what I want. Right now, I want to demand things of them without having to spend the mental energy thinking about how I demonstrate that appreciation. I have moments in my day where I feel really damn demanding of them, but I have mostly been quiet. Add it all up, and it feels awkward. My kink feels awkward right now because I am not sure if I should let it all go and be pushy with them this week, or if I should not. Do I get louder, or quieter…..that’s the question.

I really miss kink. Good to know that it is right there waiting, but wow….I really miss it. Those boys had better watch out. There’s a lot of lost time to make up for.

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Best first stop along the kinky camp road

Happily naked before he is ordered to swim.

Happily naked before he is ordered to swim.

It was 2 weeks ago today…..this morning….that we were loading up the very last of what would fit in the car. Troy toy had come by to see us off. He would be flying down a 6 days later to join us for his ‘first-ever’ kinky adventure.

We left a few days ahead of time in order to make a social stop. We took the ferry from Connecticut and landed in Orient Point, Long Island, NY. It is the remote part of Long Island, a lot of Vineyards, windy roads, farm lands. Beautiful. Within 6 minutes of being there, my boy found a public access trail that lead to the cliffs of the north shore. Crystal clear blue skies, tall grasses blowing in the breeze, wild flowers everywhere. All looking out over sparkling waters and rugged islands. Spectacular.

We walked down that public path, realizing quickly that we were the only ones on it. We got to the end, looked up and down the beach, and saw a few people about 1/4 mile away. Perfect. Within moments, my boy was told to strip naked, and he did. It was wonderful to talk photos of him like that. Million dollar homes in the distant background, far off boaters in the distant foreground, and in the middle of it all, my naked slave.

It is moments like this that I love so very much, the calculated risks we take to get and keep our kink on. We go to significant lengths to not be discovered by others. That would be non-consent. But we certainly press our faces up against that particular glass time and time again. We have fucked in public more times that I can count or recall. We’ve fucked, made love, we ripped into one another, and we have lingered. All while the busy world continues to hum all around us.

Up next: the road to kinky camp continues!

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Waving and welcoming

 

 

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I like the two chains; one for each boy.

Well, my pup has hit the road late last night. South he goes, headed to the winter kink event that packs thousands of people in one big hotel for a long weekend. He is driving about 10 hours south of Maine and yet the weather is supposed to be frigid. He works the weekend (ok, volunteers is a more accurate word). I don’t envy him when it is this cold. I know what it is like. For many years, we have done and worked this event together, but not this time. My job gets in the way this year, so he goes as our representative. I will miss him and miss all the kinky delights that I know will take place. But, I am working on my delights, so there is definitely that to look forward to.

John will play as both top and bottom, and I like that he will get to do both. The lovely southern area ‘Lady” will help look after him for Me, and he will spend part of the weekend in perfect service to Her. I like hearing the stories when he serves her. I think she holds him to a very high standard, which I like. And she can be a bit of a sadist. Which I love.

My boy is going with a bit of a new look. Normally, I would consider him a very well manicured man. Right now, he is still that way, with a bit of “Sons of Anarchy” thrown in. I will be curious to learn if his looks influence his play in any way. I grin thinking about it.

I was a little verklempt  seeing him packing up all the toys, though. I would have loved to have gone with him, bringing with us my toy troy (yes, he officially has a name). I think it would have blown troy’s mind to be there, in a good way. I had fantasies about that. I am hoping that troy can accompany us for the summer event we will be going to.

Speaking of troy, I am spending our first significant chunk of time with him this coming week. He opted not to go away on a guys weekend this weekend, so I get V-day with one of the two boys, and that is very nice.  I am not a big Hallmark holiday kind of person, but still, it will nice to not spend it alone. At least the ‘breakfast in bed’ part. :-)

I am really, really looking forward to this time with him. It will include training, yes. I want him to know what I like, how I like it, etc. But I also want hang out time with him. Exploring time with him. I want to continue to learn about his body and his mind. I want to groom him in this service that I love. And I really like the idea of being at his place. I know he will be most comfortable there, and I want that for him. I think he will feel more confident this way, and that will work nicely as I perhaps put him through a few paces that make him nervous. In the best of ways, of course.

Saturday has me going to the Fetish Flea with a vanilla girlfriend who knows all about our lives, all about what we enjoy. I am most excited for this! She is an absolute treasure of a friend, and I know she will love the experience, if not for the shoes and shopping alone! Troy is providing a lovely service for us. I asked him to create a road trip cooler for us, as the last time I went to his event, it took nearly 3 hours at the hotel bar to get a simple burger. This year, I am being smarter and from what troy tells me, he is doing a fabulous job of creating something simple and elegant for us….just the way I like it.

So, that’s the update for now. Lots going on despite the cold and dark that keeps most indoors. Time for me to go pack up a few things I will need for the days I am with troy. I’ll start with all things leather and steel first……

 

A new wrinkle in things

It was an interesting weekend. We drove off to visit friends Saturday and then returned back to our home. I left there and did a few hours of work there and came back. I quickly found my collar and lost all my clothes and crawled up on the bed with my lovely Mistress where we chatted and talk for a bit, then she started playing around with me. A quick hard cock and a hungry Mistress soon led us to a new wrinkle in our relationship.

Her mouth found my cock, making it wet and then she quickly straddled me. It was delightful. It really was wonderful feeling her wetness surrounding my cock and I was really very lost in lust.

“I’m hungry”

“I can see that….. ” moan, moan, moan.

“No, I’m hungry” she smiled.

“Is this the time to be talking about this?”

“I want to go to the new place and eat wings.”

“Okay, well” moan moan “Why are we talking about this right now?”

“Because you’re going to buy me wings tonight.”

“I don’t know about that” I replied.

And then there she was climbing OFF of the cock. “wait wait!” I pulled her back down. I found myself in her again. I smiled and groaned in pleasure.

“No, you’re going to take me for wings.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are, or I’m going to stop this right now” and she pulled up again, letting my cock fall out.

“But baby, this feels so good for both of us… let’s just stay in and enjoy each other.” Her hand now stroked my cock.

“No, I want wings and you’re going to buy them.” I laughed. She stopped stroking my cock. I tried to grab her hips and pull her back to me.


She still left me denied any orgasm (this is not unusual), but the buffalo wings were better than the jerk wings and it was $1.50 Bud Light on special. So there’s that to see positive things in.

Once upon a rain storm

Another episode in the continuing series of flashback posts that Chloe has been doing. This time, John makes a contribution.

Chloe wanted me to contribute to the “Once upon a… ” posting set and I will go back to one particular scene she engineered at a camp we attended.

It was our first time at “camp”, having been lured there by two friends in kink who were beautiful and wonderful people. And were great at helping to engineer an good abduction and torture scene.

Chloe had rigged up a nice spot down on the lawn near the pool and dining hall. A high traffic area. We had this kind of spanking bench we had brought with us. I brought it down to the area she designated, she posted a sign or two, as she is famous for her signs. To this day, I don’t know what the signs said. But I do know that they invited people to do things to me. There was some measure of cock sucking involved, there were people who beat me, there were people who fingered my ass and people just wanted to touch. And that was all okay and it was what people did for a good hour or more.

It was a very hot summer at camp. Temperatures in this section of the mid-atlantic were well into the 90’s and people lived in the pool. And with such temperatures and summer heat, it was inevitable that summer storms rolled through. There I was, bound hand, foot and neck on the spanking bench, having had people doing terrible* things to me. Chloe was sitting nearby in the shade while I, out in the sun, was used and abused.** There was a veritable parade of people who stopped in, some of which we play with to this day. But more to the point, the weather turned. I was in the sun, she in the shade. Lube had dripped down my ass and down my thighs. My cock, tortured and teased also dripped. The sky darkened. The high traffic area became low traffic. We were on a downward slope and little risk of lightning where we were, but the storm blew in quickly. Chloe sat in the shade while the rain started. I remained bound to the bench, rained on. The rain became hard, even painful as it struck my body. It was almost at the point where you stick your arm out of the car while driving down the highway in the rain. All the heat and anxiousness of being laid out in public to be used was washed away. All the concern, all the worry, it all simply was washed away as the rain pelted on my back and ass and legs and feet.

Having already been in a head space where I was floating and heated, the rain washed through me, a cleansing bath, one of the more public instances of my being abused out in front of others. And the rain baptized me in the society of kink where my sins were… well… part of the life I was in. My sins had no forgiveness in this baptism, as there was nothing to forgive. But perhaps it was any misgivings I might have had, any doubt I might have had, any worries about accepting my kinky self were washed away in that rain. I was born anew, baptized in the waters of the camp and welcomed into the church of the inherently kinky and accepted into a tribe.

Man in rain

Man in rain

I was unclipped from the bench. I was so spacey, so drifty, so much head space… and she escorted me up the hill, the rain still pouring down over both of us. I naked, her not nearly so. We returned to our cabin space wherein our roommates had already taken refuge from the storm relishing in the relief of the temperature drop from the rain. And here she was, walking her dog up the hill, in the rain naked. His body chilled from the outlay of energy into others, washed off from rain, dripping with wetness… and she lay me down on the dog pillow beside our bed, a towel roughly drying me, then a blanket covering me. And all through my laying down and coming down I heard the soundtrack to Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, by Bob Dylan.

To this day, the soundtrack of Pat Garrett exists between Chloe and I as a beautiful soundtrack to our life together. And it all comes back to this scene at a beautiful camp when she was able to craft a wonderful and perfect scene, one that began innocently enough, with me, her and a couple signs. And it rose and roared in the heavens, rained down upon us to wash so much away, but left us together in our space to come back to each other again later… recovered, rejuvenated and so deeply attached to each other.

Even as I write this, I’ve called up the soundtrack on my computer to listen to, just so I can hearken back to some of the wonderful feelings I shared with her on that day.

Since then, we’ve been back to this camp countless times, joined the staff, met many people, had so many scenes together there. We know this camp far more intimately than many of its participants and we are continuously drawn to it. And we share these memories with each other across so many miles and years and can only smile at the thoughts of them.

 


 

*By terrible I mean delightful wonderful and deliciously tortuous things… ;)

**Ibid

The “Looking Back” Series

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For the next week, starting tomorrow, I will be posting entries that take a look back over the past decade. This week marks the 10 year anniversary of when I placed my very first Craigslist ad, seeking to talk with someone who knew something about kink.

I didn’t know much about kink, except that I really, really wanted it, but I had no idea where to begin.

I found John when I cast that line, and I have never looked back.

I have more favorite moments than I can fit in a few days, so I picked stories that speak to me for a variety of reasons.

I started as a submissive, as most of my fantasies as a young person had to do with being powerless in a sexual situation. That is what I initially thought being submissive was all about. Little did I know, but that was why I was here…..to find out.  John was my first dominant, my first experience, my first kinky partner.  Soon after our play began, he asked me to try switching, to see how we both liked it.

I liked it. A lot.

He liked it. A lot.

And that “liking” took us through miles of trial and error to the place we are now….in a Female lead relationship that has as much full time status as we can muster. Which is pretty much 23.7 hours a day.

We still switch. I love the versatility of switching. John and I are…..at a minimum…..4 people in one relationship. We each have our top and bottom side. That makes four. And truly, things stay very interesting with four people in one bed.

But overall, I am the boss. I run the show. I call the shots. John is my partner, and what he thinks and feels matters to me completely. For us, it is real, our FLR status. But in that realness, we have a lot of fun. Some hard moments too, but overall, a ton of fun.

Me being a dominant is a natural fit for me. My personality is Dominant. And for john, his fits him perfectly, too. Switching into a bottom roll for me (and note that I did not say submissive roll) is akin to getting an itch scratched. “Scratch, scratch, scratch, stop!”.

I love to bottom sometimes because I think it’s fun. I like it. And….it has therapeutic value for me, too. I sometimes want to put myself through the paces I am going to put someone else through. For me, it is important to keep connected to that empathetic thread that helps connect me. I am a sadist, and this continues to grow in me. So, yes….bottoming is fun, but it helps me too.

So….this week…..five different stories about five very different things, involving 4 different people who are really 2 people in total. Got that??

I hope you read. I hope you enjoy. I hope you have favorite moments of your own that you take joy in, or that you are on your way to creating a cache of your own beloved kink.

Power exchange for us is a beautiful, wonderful, sexy, productive, twisted, exhilarating, versatile, expressive thing. Simply put, we don’t leave home without it.

Thank you for reading. Please come back again soon!

 

:-)

Battling it out…

Today is going to be a quiet day in terms of posting.

john and I are battling.

John and i are battling.

It is a beautiful Sunday, and we are home for a large part of it. A lazy Sunday of sorts, as our plan is to drift through cooking and some cleaning….perhaps digging out holiday decorations. Perhaps not.

Except we are not getting as much done as I’d like.

Because we keep going at it with one another.

We are fighting.

With each other.

All four of us, swatting, pulling, grabbing, hammering, pawing, clawing, grasping at one another.

One house, and it’s me, Me, john and John.

Top vs bottom, Dominance vs submission.

John keeps pushing me into the bedroom, thrusting himself deep inside me, knowing I can’t talk when he does that. He is big. I’ll just say that. And when he really hammers it inside of me, I can’t get past it that easily.

And that is exactly what he is doing. Smiling the entire time he hammers into me. I don’t know how I know he is smiling, because my eyes are closed, because I can’t open them, because the hammering can be that hard.

I love it. I hate it. I love it.

I love it.

Hate it.

Love it.

Love it.

It can be uncomfortable, which is why he is smiling, I think. That, and the fact that he knows I love it far more than I hate it.

He stops either when he has had enough for the round he is in, or, because I have managed to push him off of me with my foot. Or, something like that.

And then it’s my turn. As soon as the fucking is done, the caning begins.

Boots and a santa hat

Boots and santa hat, is anything more needed?

Because, if he’s gonna play, he’s gonna pay.

Because despite everything, I am the boss, the leader of this household, and that trumps everything, all the time, for every reason.

It’s not even noon, and I think I have caned him 100 times. And the bastard keeps coming back for more.

We can’t stop laughing today. We are both wearing hats in the house. His is a Santa hat, mine is an Elf hat. He is naked and collared and he’s wearing a Santa hat. I am still in my pajamas, in my hat.

If we get too close to one another, either one of a few things is going to happen; a fucking or a caning.

Or a deep, lingering kiss. That leads to the bedroom. That leads to a fucking. That results in a caning.

It’s a beautiful fucking day. Literally.

What’s a picture worth?

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As full and wonderful as our kinky world so often is, I still find myself seeking opportunities that I can bring home in order to fold them  into our world.

To begin with, I am a “squirreler”. I tend to squirrel certain things, for certain reasons. This is a delicate thing for me, because I am also one who does not like clutter and mess. I like things organized and airy whenever possible. But I do know that I squirrel things at times. It would not be unusual to open one of my drawers and find 6 additional chap sticks, and a little zip lock of rubber bands than one could possibly use, because those things are not easily replaced or duplicated when needed.

Much like the harboring of things, I like to seek opportunities. I will often keep my eye on events, or people, or cruise through Craigslist in search of something that might catch my eye and imagination. I typically don’t have anything specific in mind when I do this, and in general, I am inherently a  cautious person. If possible, I watch unobserved. I will perve a profile on Fetlife that gets my attention, and many times, I will reach out when it seems right to do so.

Sometimes I am ignored, and sometimes I am not. It all depends.

And, there have been few times when I have placed an ad on Craigslist. I think I have done this around five times in ten years. The act of placing an ad is one of those things where I feel I need to roll up my sleeves and brace myself for the onslaught.

If you are a woman seeking something that has to do with anything remotely sounding like sex, you’re gonna get hammered, and that is just the way it is.

Throw a little dominance in there, and it’s practically a concert in your inbox.

I do not place pictures of myself in those ads, I do not make things sound sexy or vulgar or promising. If anything, I write an ad that says too little. I have learned that the more you write, the greater the chance of getting flagged.

Initially, it is easy to sort through the stuff I don’t want. I make it a point to reply to everyone who responds. I think that is only courteous, even if their reply says, “I’d luv to cum on your face with my manstick. Hit me up”. Those replies are the kind I like to fuck around with. I try and make myself sound like the Queen of England when I respond, damn near killing them with proper politeness. I usually never hear from them again, which is the entire point.

Next, I find out if they are long distance or married. If the answer to those questions is “yes”, then they get a polite wave goodbye too.

If they cannot spell and have such mistakes in their responses to my ad that it is obvious they did not proof read what they were writing to me, they do not make the cut.

If they are uninteresting, I am uninterested. It is that simple.

If I get a cock shot, I send back a “Thanks for writing, good luck with your search” and attach a picture of a flamingo and hit delete button.

And then, there is the rest. Some are perfectly fine, but don’t provide any crumbs that lead me along their path. I end up wandering away pretty quickly.

This leaves the last two percent. And in this, persistence can pay off.

If I get one or two emails in that two percent, and they can write, and they capture my attention, and they are interesting, polite and genuine?? Oh wow…..you’d better watch out. I’m interested.

If you can paint pictures with your words, you are an artist worth knowing.

This is what gets me, in a good way. I cannot describe it any more than that, other than to say it is a mix of being confident and humble; curious and stoic. Humorous and genuine.

If someone writes with me, and they get into my head, I like them. It is really that simple. An attraction and interest grows for me, and it takes perennial root. Get my mind hooked, and I am going to want to know you.

What often will kill the buzz for me is when someone ends up including a picture of themselves. Oh, I dislike when they do that. Please don’t send a picture unless I ask. If you have my attention, I don’t really care what you look like. I will determine if there is physical chemistry when we meet. And you will do the same about me. A picture ends up demystifying all that I have in my mind and imagination, and I like keeping those things exclusive.

Poor john….my john. He sent me a picture after we emailed for over a month, and I was disappointed when he did. And he is a very handsome man. I didn’t like the photo, and I didn’t like how he denied me part of the mystery. It all turned out fine in the end, of course, but I still tease him about that. And for gods sake…he was wearing a baseball hat in his photo….not a good luck for him! I smile.

I am going through that now. Trying to squirrel away a few opportunities for future use for john. And t. And maybe p. I am building on ideas. I am toying with possibilities. I am building cunning plans.

I like cunning plans. The pictures running through my head are half the fun.