Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

Something old, Something new

No wedding bells, just a strange evening with more than one twist.

Sir and I played yesterday via video and text chat while he was at work. It was a lot of fun, but I was craving more by the time he got home. I had gotten permission to have a few drinks, but after one I was already jittery. I climbed into bed with a mixture of exhaustion and excitement. After all our flirting and pinching throughout the evening we were both on edge.

Something Old

When we were in college we fucked like bunnies. During the day when we weren’t in class we were always all over each other. We would climb into bed and look at each other hungrily. And then we would talk. And talk. And talk. Those naked philosophy conversations were some of the happiest times of my life. We would talk for hours while we cuddled. These deep conversations about random topics. Then we would look at the clock and three hours would have gone by and we would go to sleep without sex. Or we would have sex despite the hour and be zombies the next day. Good times.

So last night was an interesting replay of this. We started talking about a girl I knew from high school and her putting her recent relationship issues all over Facebook. We talked about empathy and victims. At one point we had long discussion of a mock trial of some random guy who was given a LSD-laced cigarette and then raped a girl. Is it really his fault? Should that be a mitigating factor in his guilt and/or sentencing? It was great. The conversation was a great representation of how much we enjoy each other and push each other in our thinking.

And after a deep philosophical conversation we were still up for sex, so win/win.

Something New

Sir has this game that he loves to play. He lets me have a doxy ride while he plays with my nipples. I’ve never really thought my orgasm face was that wonderful, but he likes it. So last night he changes the game. I’m allowed to come, I don’t have to beg or even get permission. But I also cannot move the doxy after I come. I have to beg to turn it off. Sounds easy, right? Just have wave after wave of orgasms until I pass out. There is only one problem, my clit gets super sensitive after a doxy orgasm. Everything tenses up and my nerves get pokey rather than the good tingly that allows for multiple orgasms.

However, this time something completely different happened. My pussy got ticklish. Like, super ticklish. I could not stop laughing. I must have looked like a complete stoner. I have eleven boy cousins and I trained my body not to be ticklish because they were merciless when I was young. Obviously, they weren’t tickling my clit, but I still had not experienced anything like that since I was maybe ten. It overwhelmed me instantly.

I was holding the doxy with one hand and my stomach with the other as it was starting to cramp. I was laughing so hard I was crying. I kept trying to beg for Sir to let me turn the doxy off, but I couldn’t get more than one syllable out at a time. Finally, with tears running down my face, I was able to get out, “Please let me turn the doxy off Sir.” With a big sadistic grin on his face he let me stop. My stomach was cramping so bad. And I was still laughing.

Sir claims that laughing is something that some masochists do to help trick their brain into dealing with the pain a different way. I think he just wants me to admit that I am a masochist. Never, I say.

Doxy massager in box.

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