Getting Dirty, Getting Clean

April showers bring May flowers, but pandemic showers should bring orgasms.

Everyone is home. All the time. They stay up late or get up early. Not to mentioned the dog. The dog who loves everyone being home. The dog who acts like you’ve kicked him when you shut a door.

So how do you quench your desires without upsetting the dog or scarring the kid(s)? If you’re lucky enough, you have an en suite bathroom. If you’re luckier still, the shower could technically fit 3, but gives 2 enough room to play.

Shower sex was never at the top of my list before. Let’s face it, someone gets cold or feels like their drowning. At first go you wonder why anyone even puts a scene like that in a movie. But necessity will always be the mother of creativity. We all seek out that which we desire and if we are lucky we will find it.

The first time I gave it a go was not because of my desire to orgasm, but my desire to please. While the floor of the shower is far more unforgiving than a carpeted floor, kneeling and being present at the tip of His cock makes everything else fade into the background. Having the water rain down on my face while giving one of the best blow jobs of my life made my mind drift to dirtier thoughts and yet remain completely focused on the task before me; His pleasure and relaxation.

Never one to leave me unrewarded, He’s strongly suggested I go take a shower or has called me to the shower at varying times of day. Thankfully our legs are strong and bodies flexible. Somehow He finds all the right spots no matter what position. Low growls are amplified by acoustics, as are the whimpers and cries of release. The sound of spanking is as intoxicating as it is physically electrifying. The heat builds, you know you’re a sweaty and used mess and then suddenly you find yourself getting dirty while getting clean.

There’s nothing to me more tender than being washed and dried when play is over. What was once the last place has now become the new first place.

Questions His spanking

Fingers slide between her cheeks

Her answer is wet

Pleasure is

A thought

A whisper

A breath

A touch

A sensation

I find you very pleasurable.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Sinful Sunday

In the face of being independent and extremely assertive, one truth remains; I am half of a whole.

He doesn’t like terms like D/s, I will never be His “slave” and He refuses to use the word submissive. He considers me His partner, His equal.

Whatever term He likes to use (I call Him Mister and and not Master), the dynamic is still very much the same. I need no words to know; I belong to Him.

Being openly who you are is not easy for anyone. Most of us won’t be our whole selves all the time, most of the time.

Writing is a great escape, a great way to explore, find yourself, share yourself, lift the veil so to speak. Yet some people find the casual familiarity to be an open invitation to assume, or worse yet, say things they wouldn’t otherwise say in polite company.

Yes, I am a submissive. A submissive specifically to ONE Dominant. Any other person? Well, to be honest, you’d likely be found wanting in all sorts of ways. Poor manners would find you wanting the fastest of all.

I love to joke. I love to make crass comments with friends. That said, I know my audience and vice versa. So asking me if I think about cutting my hair because my husband won’t hold it up while I give head is a bridge too far. The focus just got very small. On you. I’ve spent time picking you apart. Wondering why you’d consider such a comment okay.

At the end of the day it comes down to lack of respect. Don’t worry, it’s not just you, you’re one of several. Many people forget to engage their brains before speaking. As an adult, one who respects herself and her relationship, I no longer entertain interaction from people who don’t respect common decency boundaries.

For the record? A gentleman always holds her hand and her hair

Liz has been having a work week from hell. The commute home was not long enough to decompress. She had the windows down as she screeched loudly to favorite songs trying to unwind before getting to the driveway. All in hopes of having a positive evening.

The garage door opened and she pulled in slowly and parked. Gathering her things and her thoughts, she opened the door without even noticing her Sir was already standing next to the car. Liz smiled as she prepared to step out.

Sir pushed her back into her seat sternly, “Sit down and open your mouth.” Her eyes opened wide and inquisitively. “I said to open your mouth. NOW.”

Doing as she was told, her Sir quickly pulled out his thick cock and slid it forcefully past her lips. Liz’s thoughts began to race, as they often do given her anxiety. The door was open, the neighbors, the neighborhood kids… She felt one hand grab a fistful of hair tightly as the other slid down the front of her dress and pinched and twisted her nipple. In that instance her cunt tightened and became wet with desire, her mind released and she was under her Sir’s direct supervision.

After a few minutes Sir pulled Liz out of the car, shut the door and spun her around. Lifting her dress and the bending her over, she felt several strong stings on her ass, punishment for not asking to go without panties today. While intended to be a deterrent, she found herself nearly dripping with want. “Please,” she heard herself whisper before she could help herself.

Sir grabbed her by the throat, just under her jaw and stood her up, nearly standing on her tip toes. He growled in her ear, “Please, WHAT, you disobedient little slut?”

Liz could feel His hot and hard cock pressing against her and He knew it made her near frenzied. She squirmed, He held tighter, pressing harder, knowing the thoughts of an open garage door was still at the back of her mind, but her lust for Him would overwhelm her. “BEG for it.

Liz could feel the tears of frustration burning her eyes. She was like a wild animal caught in a well laid trap. “Please, Sir, please use me. Please fuck me hard. Please. Please let me suck you off to finish. Please, oh god, please. I’ll do anything, Sir, anything for your cock. PLEASE!” She meant every word.

In a flash Sir bent her over again and she came almost immediately as the anticipation had been too much. Just as she came a second time He turned her around and guided her to her knees.

She didn’t notice the small pieces of dirt and gravel on her knees and shins from the garage floor. Liz was in full worship mode. She was at her Sir’s feet, sucking herself off of His cock and staring into His eyes as was the rule that had been laid out between them.

Sir slid his cock farther into her throat as Liz was completely relaxed. With a guttural moan he released his load and watched as she never took her eyes away. He stroked her hair with incredible tenderness and helped her to her feet.

Manifesting a garage door remote out of nowhere He pulled her close as the door closed slowly. He kissed her forehead and carefully asked “How was your day, baby?”

Tears streaming from her eyes, Liz responded, “My day was perfect.”

Masturbation Monday

Wouldn’t it be nice if every day was filled with such amazing scenes and orgasms or denials it would be used for future masturbation material?

Some days I login to Twitter or read up on blogs of those I follow and feel this incredible twinge of jealousy. I know, in my heart of hearts, that none of us are living dialed to 10 every day. We think about it, we talk about it, we may write about it, but it just isn’t feasible. Yet it shakes me a little.

Insecure would not be in the top 10 words that those closest to me would likely use to describe me. Still, I get somewhat uneasy from time to time. Much the same way as I would if I didn’t feel my parenting was up to standard. The stress of life can compound and it’s easy to feel in a fog.

Thanks to Marie Rebel and the post she shared on Twitter, she unknowingly helped me slow down. https://rebelsnotes.com/2019/04/failing-bodies/ It isn’t just me/us. It’s life. You see, my Mister has Multiple Sclerosis as well as injuries sustained from service in the military.

When life becomes too much, it becomes more problematic for him, which becomes more problematic for us. It isn’t more than I signed on for. Yet sometimes, as a driven individual, I need a reminder. One I think his pride would rather not give. This time I received it by way of a bright and wonderful blogger I admire.

Life has been a bit overwhelming and I’ve been leaping over obstacles more than dealing with them. That includes avoiding interaction, ignoring my writing, and not being sensitive to my partner’s needs. Unacceptable behavior.

My education continues. 💜

“You are my sun, my moon, and all of my stars.”

~E.E. Cummings

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

During a recent conversation a friend and I were discussing kinks and all the things that come with that when it is personal to you. It always feels quite specific and, in the beginning, you wonder if you might be the only person with such a desire. I no longer think in terms of social norms in the bedroom, and I never consider others’ behaviors to any reasonable degree unless we are having open discussion. However, there was a time in the not so distant past that I was constantly preoccupied.

I was nearly 21 by the time I had intercourse and oral sex for the first time. On the same night even. It wasn’t the worst in history, but I wasn’t planning a ticker tape parade either. It didn’t live up to my own expectations. It was, well, vanilla. It never got much better. I married him. He watched porn, I didn’t, he really loved himself, I didn’t think that highly of him by the end.

I quite nearly thought I was asexual. Sure I could orgasm, but it was usually to the thoughts of something far more aggressive. I would never tell, none of my fantasies seemed normal.

My friend shared something about their kink and then asked what it was about Hentai that I enjoyed and why I don’t talk about it much. Ahh.

First, most adults aren’t really into “cartoon” porn. Which is fine, but fantasy characters can do many things we aren’t physically capable of and they can cross all barriers. ALL OF THEM. Secondly, and maybe more importantly, a repetitive theme is consensual non-consent (CNC) which happens to be my dirty little kink. Until now, not one I’ve shared publicly. It was a box my Mister checked off and it made me his wanton slut forever.

Which brought on their next question; “Do you resent that you haven’t recreated your first night together?” To answer that I need to put that night into a little more perspective.

My Mister and I had not been dating. We had, in fact, gone on one date. A lunch date and a matinee movie. We’d talked quite a bit online and by phone. None of it had been remotely BDSM, but there had been sexting/phone sex. I didn’t personally have any expectations as my life was going sideways at that time.

Our first night together was a result of a perfect shit storm and my rabid refusal to let someone have the upper hand. It was simply a detour. One that was strongly, and in retrospect knowingly, encouraged by mutual friends whom I would meet with the next day. He was opposed. I pressed and wouldn’t take anything less than a yes. “I’ll be in your driveway by 10pm,” I said. I thought I was being cute and in charge. Ha!

It has taken 8 years, but he recently told me that he was incredibly angry with me. I didn’t respect his boundaries or his space and I was being intrusive! He said that he intended to teach me a lesson that night and he didn’t think he would see me again. He didn’t think I would stay. Boy did that backfire!

Now, let me pause here to say that I am quite lucky in the fact that I have a quality man who is a Dominant man who respects limits. I had no idea of discussing limits prior to and thankfully I was in the best of hands.

I had never(!) been handled in such a way in my life. The harder he pushed, the more I responded. The more I responded the harder he pushed and the more I submitted willingly. The only thing I knew in those very long hours was that for the first time I felt more alive than I ever had. I also felt safer and more cared for than I ever had.

Please let that last part sink in. I was in the process of leaving an 11 year marriage.

We talked, we shared, I was used for his pleasure and I was on a cloud for 3 days after. It was my sexual awakening. I was 36. I celebrate that anniversary every year.

So to revisit the question, do I resent that we’ve never recreated that night? How could we possibly? It would never come close. But I often masturbate to the memory of it. It’s vivid and it is mine like I am his.

We have had many memorable moments that shine above others and we will continue to have more. I am all in for him. He is all in for me and I may or may not try to make him angry on purpose.

Is there anything we love more than the stories we share of the depths of our submission or the strengths found in our Dominants? We dream about them, write about them, read about them, perhaps watch them.

Somewhere between looking for our partner(s) and where living out our fantasies lays real life. The places we buy groceries, pay bills, make budgets and stumble in our relationships. Seldom do we share the mundane, never do we share the scary. But I need to lay naked the truth of my submission.

Three years ago I had some kind of crisis. Part old demons ripping open old scars, part not being as committed to commitment as I thought I was. Whatever the percentages, it added up to a shit storm. My Mister drew all of my resentment. He became the thing I needed to avoid the most.

I began drinking regularly. I avoided family meals and anything that involved togetherness. We slept in separate places. We were not intimate. I was destroying everything and I only found joy in making the fire as big as possible.

The art of Dominance is not for me. I have little to no patience, I can often be singularly focused. My Mister exudes Dominant traits. Some days I believe he could guide the wind.

In the depths of my mess, He remained steady. Apparently recognizing in me what I could not recognize in myself; that it was a crisis and call for help and not a time for us to go our separate ways.

Every morning, without fail, he would wake up early and bring me coffee. Every day he made dinner. He didn’t worry if I ate with him or not, thought it’s clear I hurt him tremendously.

This went on for months until one day an online friend said something about his spouse that struck me as familiar. I told him he reminded me of my Mister. I felt compelled to share what was happening. He asked if I thought that there was anyone who could love me as much or in the same way as my Mister did? The answer was simple: no. No one would bring me coffee day after day. A simple act of love that meant more than diamonds or roses.

After thinking on it for a few days, I found myself giving him a kiss and saying thank you when he brought my coffee one morning. But that didn’t undo what I’d done. We had a long road ahead. That road led to a moment together that rivaled our first night.

Certainly he could have physically made me submit. My mind would have easily followed. His body and voice do that to me. He didn’t want that for himself and he didn’t want that for me. He wants me to be present. He wants ME, all of me. His love and kindness assured that he’d always have it.