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.

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Finding those moments

I am alone these days. More alone than I have been in a while. “Life interuptis” has created this somewhat solitary path, and I walk down it not feeling necessary alone, but very much feeling the absence of my boys. All of us are busy, and all of us are spread out in different and various directions. We accept this. We understand it. We nod to one another, knowing that we will come together again. But in the meantime, each of us are doing what we need to be doing. And part of what we need to be doing is finding those little moments that connect us all.

I left last Wednesday for a trip south to meet up with college friends. I could not have asked for a better set of sun-filled days with outstanding vanilla friends. We stayed at a humble, cozy beach house in Fenwick Island, gathered under clear skies as we lounged in front of big, warm ocean waves.

John, in the meantime, was gone upon my return. He is off on a two week camping/exploring adventure with his boys. I won’t see him for at least 11 more days. That feels like a really big number right now.

And Troy… Troy is busy with work and life. This is the peak of his busy season at work, so I have not wanted to demand too much of him right now, knowing that his plate is as full as it could be.

All of this leaves me without the boys. I am still very involved with family matters, and those matters are pretty much taking up all of my time. I am okay with that. More than okay, really. I am doing the right thing by standing by my family, doing what needs to be done. But what pokes at me is the balance of it all. I feel this urge not to lose my kinky parts in all of this vanilla. It can be so easy to do… to literally watch from my office chair all of the kinky thoughts and ideas slowly drift away because I don’t have the time or inclination to to flirt with them. I have felt this consistent prodding from deep within me to keep the balance. To be all things to all people, but in a good way. It would be easy to fall completely into kink, and it would be natural to focus exclusively on family. I am doing neither.  I am challenged in an inspiring way to do a good job with both.

I loved my time at the beach. My girlfriend Sasha has an amazing husband named Rory. He is a strong willed man with a deeply satisfying submissive streak that runs through him. He would call it being a good host, but I see it a bit differently. I loved the way he brought us tall, sweating glasses of gin and tonics at 6pm as we sat lingering on the near empty beach, not wanting to end the day. I stood back and smiled as he scurried to set up our chairs and umbrellas at the start of each day. At the house, he would postpone his own shower until all of the women had taken theirs. Our glasses were never empty, our bodies sat in the most comfortable chairs, he fretted over the ambience, he played the best music. In his presence, the candles never died out and air was always slightly perfumed. Add to this the fact that this man is no pushover… he is the quiet one in quiet charge of a lot of things, and yet when this gaggle of women and friends gets together, our every comfort is his singular focus.

I usually visit Sasha and Rory with John. For years, we have made our pilgrimage to the south a joint venture. But this year, scheduling did not allow it and I had to go without my boy. I felt the empty place where John should have been… where he wanted to be. I missed John being with me. John and Rory are an amazing team of men catering to women.  I tried to honor his empty place at the table by being who and how I am… Me. Dominant, mischievous, playful, assured. I am other things too, and not all of those other things are the best of Me, but I did make a conscious effort to receive the service that was bestowed upon me, knowing that John would be most happy this way. It felt a little odd to be viewing the vanilla Rory in this private light, but not too much so. I rather enjoyed it once I found my comfort zone. Rory played cabana boy when John and Troy could not. And I rather enjoyed letting him.

Oh Cabana Boy

Oh Cabana Boy

I sat for many quiet hours on that stunning beach, people watching and wave watching. I looked up and down the beach and let a thousand kinky thoughts run through my mind. I created micro fantasies in nearly everyone I watched. Simple moments became kinky scenes. No one was safe from my growling imagination, and in all of this, I kept my boys close to my side.

John sends me beautiful pornography many times a day…..dozens of images of sexy torture. I don’t often have the time to properly reply, and I certainly don’t have the drive or even internet knowledge to return the gesture. But what I do do is to take those images and run with them… down the long stretch of beautiful beach, being careful not to spill the icy drink that I hold in my hand.

I love these boys. Even in absence, I adore them. My bed is empty without John in it next to me. My week feels void if I don’t get to spend time with Troy, who nurtures and serves Me in the most loving of ways. When I cannot have them beneath me, I try harder to keep them with me. Some days are better than others, but I do find those moments. I hope they know that.

Vegas…

So, I’m in Vegas at a work event, and once I landed at JFK, I made for the bathroom where I self locked and sent Madame a picture. She didn’t ask for this, or order it, but was pleased I did so. Since then, I’ve been locked at the Hoover Dam, on a naked swim in Lake Mead and a longer than expected hike through more of Lake Mead Recreation Area. Too too long a hike. The lock on the Steelheart wore a nice mark on the tube as it swung back and forth the whole trip. As I was in my kilt, I ripped it off once I was clear of the road view. Then hiked back until I thought I could see the road again. Except for the backpack, the shoes, and the steelheart, I estimate it was 5 miles naked, another 2 with clothes on.

It’s been a busy conference so far, though there are some occasional times when the content is not suited to me, like now, when I can catch a break and step away.

So, I’ve stepped away.

Overall, Las Vegas is… artificial. Completely. Nothing here is natural. If you’re not a gambler, I’m unsure of the entertainment value without spending more money. The fountain was nice, but I’m just not really entertained in this concrete city. Off the strip is filthy. Poverty is everywhere off the strip. Vegas is a great symbol of massive excess. The street preachers may have a point. ;) Also, in Vegas, a block is not a block. It’s a half mile. And those blocks add up. It’s madness how far everything is. My feet are very tired.

There are some good things. Museums and shops and all. I ALMOST stopped into a hat shop last night, but decided against it. I need Madame’s opinion to buy a hat for myself. There are surrounding sites that are excellent. And yet, most of those sites are simply the source of all the excess – the Dam and the lake behind it. Massive demonstrations of man v. nature and even the audacity of man and what we think we can do. (Cadillac Desert anyone?)

Okay, I’m getting on a tangent. Sorry.

I miss my lover and Mistress, though it’s comforting to have her steel grasp clutching her cock and balls. That’s always nice. Except at 2 am. Owwww…

 

Here’s a picture of Lake Mead with a naked man in it to end the post.

Lake mead naked

The dog went for a swim in a big lake within a dessert.

Comfortable touch

Some people who don’t play in chastity won’t understand it, but there’s a definite comfort in being in chastity. I felt very close to Mistress last night and this morning had a very hard time letting her leave for work. It was sad to see her leave. And I’m not some kind of really needy submissive (well, unless you’ve been beating me for a long time, I might get a little needy for some aftercare, but I digress).

Locked up cock

So, I was missing her and really wanted to just lie in bed with her all day and have her hand on my cock and balls, like we do when we sleep together at times. So, after the shower, after my wrist collar was put on, I put on the chastity device. My cock and balls sliding into the a-ring, a little hand cream in the tube helped it slide onto my hardening cock. I found a lock and key pair in her jewelry space and “click” went the lock by itself, without her there, but nonetheless, left me feeling with the comfort of her hand around me, clutching me, all… day… long. Of course, it’s only two hours into my day, but I do feel better and more comforted in chastity when we’re apart.

She sometimes likes it when I self-lock, as the chastity is often something she does for me (my opinion, perhaps I’m wrong!) because I like it. But she loves seeing my cock swell and harden and pulse under her touch. And I enjoy that too, very much. But this day, I just needed her near.. and this is the closest I can get before one of us hits the lottery of becomes independently wealthy in some other manner.