Labor Day

She let me sleep in, but I woke up, made the bed, removed my collar and joined the rest of the house, made my own coffee, as there was no more prepped and joined the day.

She worked on dealing with some freecycle things.

I started the laundry.

She worked on some logistics for her father and his new place.

I mopped the kitchen floor.

She may have even ducked into the bedroom to jill off while I was working on cleaning the grill.

I took care of the dishes in the dishwasher, sink and drainboard.

I fixed her (and I) brunch.

She worked on her fantasy football team.

I shaved my cock and balls at her command, then showered, then put the shower curtain into the last load of laundry.

I remain at home, no car, she is out helping her father with some things. I am continuing to do laundry, cleaning up our room and then working on some organizing in the mudroom while she’s gone. As we have roommates around, I’m not naked, but I am wearing nothing but my slave pants.

She will come home, I will serve her a cocktail, I will remain in my slave pants and I will serve all the other folks who are coming over some drinks as well, while she socializes and works with her brother on fine tuning her fantasy football team

She gave me some cane strokes and a spanking.

She gave me some cane strokes and a spanking. Fresh spanking, fresh flowers, fresh veggies. All good!

Some might say I’m whipped – well, I wasn’t, but I was caned and spanked. And if some want to call me pussy whipped, I’m perfectly okay with that. I don’t mind. I am happy to serve my lovely Mistress and she keeps me happy by grabbing my cock once in a while and whispering into my ear as she jacks me off, bringing me to where I beg her to STOP and then let’s go, walks away with a smile and tells me the next task on my to-do list, all while the pre-cum drips from the head of my cock.

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.