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.