Love, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Wonderboy

Radical Acceptance

It occurred to me today as I was making my way home from another part of the country. I sat on the bus, excited, my stomach fluttering with anxiety. I was looking forward to meeting Wonderboy again after just three days. And I was giddy as a school girl.

I don’t want to be tied down. I want to be tied together. 

That’s what I thought. It puts together what I’ve been feeling. How I’ve been feeling about this thing we do. It’s not so separate anymore. It’s not just sex or just anything. It’s a part of who I am. What is between us is love and a relationship that can fulfill us both in a way we need it to. I don’t really have any qualms with it anymore.

I expect to grow old with Wonderboy. I see it happening already, the receding hairline, the changes of skin, the aches and the problems we didn’t have even five years ago. With a sexual relationship like this, with a desire like this I see a way to the future as fulfilling, or even more, than now. There’s so much to explore and every step always takes a step or two back.

It’s never ready, there can never be perfect certainty. We change and the relationship must do so too. We have learned how to communicate, and this blog, all of the friends out there reading and commenting and writing experiences of your own have helped me learn to speak. But I’m not done learning and I doubt I ever will be. It’s exciting. I doubt that will ever change either.

I will always feel butterflies in my stomach when I make my way back home. Because it’s scary. Love. Not being ready. Having to learn everything all over again, every time. And that’s what makes all this worth it.

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BDSM, Love, Sex stories, Unanticipated Satisfaction, Volatile bodies

Tying People Not Parcels

We ordered the shibari bondage rope I was talking about. Besides Japanese jute rope Esinem also sells a great, professional and very enlightening double DVD called Japanese rope bondage I & II – Tying people not parcels. I can recommend it to anyone who is interested in rope bondage, no matter how far they are in learning it. This is some really amazing stuff.

When we first tried it Wonderboy tried to learn the most basic of basics – the column tie. The jute rope was hard and rough as we didn’t have time to boil and oil it and it hurt my wrists. They are very sensitive as I am all over.  After trying for a while my hands started to get weary, the skin was burning… and Wonderboy took this as a sign that I was bored and angry at him for not learning more quickly. We had a small chat about it and although we ended the tying then, we were left in a positive note.

When we tried again on Sunday I knew to say outright that I wasn’t bored at all, when Wonderboy wasn’t happy with his bondage. I offered my legs as easier to tie and easier to hold out for him to tie around. I also said that he could command me to not look at him, if it was making him uncomfortable. He did and after that everything went super well. He tied my legs, well my ankles exactly, and lifted them easily above my head by the rope. (Well, almost!) Then he came back to tying my wrists, just straight up in front of me, no funny business or anything.

And all the time I kept looking at him. (Except when he said I couldn’t. He did say when I could watch him again.) I took in his body, every inch, every twist of flesh and hair. I watched his expression, determined, wonderfully stoic in its concentration. It took me by surprise that I could fully surrender to that. It was perhaps the first time, ever, I felt comfortable to just take my female gaze and smear it all over him (thanks Perverse Cowgirl!). He was already tying me. I was free.

Free of what exactly? It’s hard to pinpoint. It was many things. I felt free to feel, to just concentrate on feeling the rope, the hands, the roughness, the light touches. For once I didn’t have to do anything. I didn’t even have to portray anything or be the object of his gaze. I felt free to look at Wonderboy. I… Maybe it was because I didn’t feel that he was vulnerable anymore? He was too, he was trying to tie me and he didn’t really know yet how to do it right. But he was tying me. And I was helpless. And it set me free.

So after a while… When he started tying my ankles together, I just… Transcended. I don’t feel it was even subspace anymore. I was enlightened with the feeling of total freedom. Freedom to feel everything down to its last breath. And it was like getting turned on from all over my body, all over my skin. I felt elevated. An altered state, but lucid.

And I was turned on. I started breathing deeper and then shallower. I think I trembled at his touch or the touch of the rope. He groped my breast and kissed me, his cock dangling flaccid in front of my face, because I was lying on the bed and he was on his knees. I noticed it. He wasn’t turned on by the tying. I noticed it, but for once I didn’t care. That doesn’t sound right. I did care, it just didn’t change my feelings, or the altered state. It didn’t take that away the way it usually does, because I really only want to see him turned on.

When he started groping me more, kissing me more, the cock started to get fuller, bounce towards me. He got turned on because I was turned on. A vicious cycle.

For me what came after wasn’t as important as this. Even though what came after was quite speactacular. It was what I’d always wanted, and still I could never have imagined the effect. How safe I felt. How taken care of. How cherished and special. How loved and how sexy and owned.

He said later that it looked beautiful. That the aesthetics were a surpisingly big deal for him. He liked the fact that he got to learn a new skill. He took the learning pretty seriously. That’s what made me trust him with it. That’s what made me feel free, in part because he wasn’t focused on me but he was still giving me what I wanted. For me it wasn’t foreplay, it wasn’t the point to get the bondage good and ready so we could fuck, when I was tied – as we did. For me the sensual exploration was the being tied for a time. Just being still. Not even waiting, just being.

I have a hard time stopping. I have a hard time just being. I always have a book or a blog, a tv show or a random passer-by to talk to. I had to stop there. He made me.

After being on this wild ride with him I was exhausted, I was bewildered, I couldn’t get my breathing in order. And Wonderboy… He was just like he is after any sexual act. Let’s hit the shower. That was great! I don’t know how I could get him to slow down for me. I’ve talked about it time and time again. I’ve said there’s even a name for it – aftercare. That I need him beside me. But… Since he doesn’t feel at all like I feel, especially when tying is not at all the same thing for him as it is for me. It isn’t as important, I think, or of it is, it’s truly different in significance.

He rambled on in the shower and while we were tumbling in the direction of the bathroom. He talked about what he liked about it, and he even had some amazingly accurate and even intellectual things to say about it. Bu the didn’t ask me. I tried to say how I have felt and he just rolled all over me.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m not hurt, not really. I’m just… He was so excited and that was good! I’ve waited for this. This is something I’ve wanted for years. But maybe I felt that he didn’t want to give it too much significance.

He did recognice that his dominance over me felt different, when he had tied me himself. There was the act of tying and that was part of his dominance but it was also something else. And he did say that we just got liberated today! Even the sex was different, so much different for me. My body totally surprised me in its reactions, my wanting to look at his face over me. Coming in a moment I wasn’t expecting nor feeling like it just because the dynamic suddenly got so real.

I think that this is something that saves us. It saves us when we are going through all the other shit that we’re going through right now, the stuff that keeps me awake now, that sometimes pulls us apart and sometimes together. The exhaustion, the despair, the sorrow. We have this… this diamond. It lends its light to everything around it. It takes away everything else. It makes me able to trascend when everything is about my body and how it is malfunctioning in its most fundamental job. It takes me to somewhere safe – with Wonderboy. That is some feat.

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BDSM, Coming out, Learning to negotiate, Top-Bottom Girl, What Women Really Want, Wonderboy

Learning To Say What I Want

I like it, when he almost gently tells me, how he’s going to use me. I love it, when he tells me, somewhat drugged by the pleasure, how good it feels when I deepthroat him. I love it when he treats me like a thing, a lovely cherished thing, but a thing of his.

There was the lovely cowgirl fuck with suffocating and trash talk on Friday. Double penetration and ass fucking with fingers and minds blown apart and away.

There was the second cowgirl fuck with hair pulling and suffocating on Saturday. It was followed by a cock and ball worship with him towering over me, and some face fucking to boost. After that the rampant doggie style sex feast that sent me to oblivion so many times I lost count – and my voice.

And then there was the forced deepthroating yesterday with trash talk finished up with a quick and hard fuck for him to just come. After he came he licked me and I coughed up the nerve to ask him, how would he punish me, if I came. He had spent the trash talking telling me, how I’m his and how he owns me and uses me as he wishes. The sentence that popped into my head over and over again was you own my orgasms. Even in the throas of passion I immediately thought but hey, that’s orgasm denial lingo! I’m not into that.

I couldn’t say it, but I danced around it asking what my punishment will be and why is that he controls my orgasms. When I started getting closer playing with my nipples, which also is a new thing I nowadays feel comfortable doing, he put his body weight on my thighs forcing them against my stomach and licking me with what seemed like a teasing manner.

It was wonderful. I couldn’t choose which time I loved the most, because after each I was totally spent, happy and fulfilled in a way I only am, when he truly dominates me.

After each act we somehow got more comfortable with each other. He spoke more, which  I always crave, but sometimes he just goes all mute, even when I ask him to speak to me. He told me how he owns me, called me a whore and a plaything and told me how he was going to use me. How I had no say. He’s so good at giving orders that I don’t even see them as such. I’m trying to model my behaviour after his and learn how to ask for things I desire. Like it’s self-evident that he will do it.

Seems that I usually do have these certain cravings but that I dismiss them as uncertain before I act on them. In these three instances I recognised my desires, tossed them around in my head ashamed and unwilling to voice them and then just made myself say some of them or even a part of them. I couldn’t say You own my orgasms, because it seemed so dramatic and pretentious, but I could say I’m not allowed to come, am I? How will you punish me, if I come? 

After I came, I told him which things I liked. I told him I loved when he held his hand on my neck when I was sucking him as he stood at the foot of the bed. The tension in his hand brought me arousal beyond belief. I didn’t know he could reach me like that.

I also told him that next time he can tease me even more, be more open about owning me and stop to ask, if I’m close and just emphasize how that is simply unacceptable.

Every day I pointed out to him, how happy we were after sex. I talked about the things he had done to me just to say them out loud. You strangled me… And I liked it. You fucked my ass with your fingers… And I liked it. And look, how happy we both are! I wanted to show him, how much has changed. He doesn’t have to be nervious about insulting me and me turning on him after the sex is done. I’m all there, communicating with him, choosing to start sucking his cock, choosing to pull my face from his and straddle him more upright than before.

I am so much more comfortable. I don’t feel scared at all. I know that whatever happens, I will have a wonderful time. That he will not let me down. I can be as happy with him licking me than with an orgasm from him pounding me with his cock and fingers back and front at the same time.

This makes me happy about the sex. Not expecting certain things, not accepting only certain things as sex. When I don’t let myself think what this means and does this make me a submissive and is this enough, but just say what I want and more importantly do what I want… Seems to be the key to being happy with my sex life. I used to be so strangled by my submissive role that I didn’t assert my desires and didn’t initiate almost anything. It’s not topping from the bottom, if I tell him what makes me crazy and what I desire. He will make the decisions about whether it’s something he can feel comfortable with. Just like the other way around.

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