Chasing Me Chasing You

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

Taking Orders

Take me in your mouth. Soft and slow. Let me feel your tongue all along me. I want you to relish the taste of me.

Lick my nuts. Are they salty? Put me in your mouth and keep me there as long as you can. I want you to crave me.

I want you worked up. So hot and bothered you can’t take it anymore. I want you so hungry for me. Craving just a taste.

Take me in your mouth again. In…out…in..out. I want drool running down your chin. Yeah, just like that. I want to know how good I taste.

Take me deep. Swirl your tongue around. Feel every ridge.

Now bite me. And do it all again.

-Apparently my diet has led me to create some rather vivid inner monologues for my occasional snickers bar.

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings

Afternoon Eye-Candy

So I had to sit through a meeting about insurance yesterday. Not much makes you feel older than sitting through a two hour meeting about insurance plans. Mostly because you pay attention to what is being said. A huge part of why I took this job was so that family insurance wouldn’t be an issue with Sir and I both having our own businesses. So looking at deductibles and dental coverage is a responsible parent thing that makes me want to sit around in pajamas and watch cartoons on Saturday morning.

Anyway, so I get there early (because OCD) and pick my seat around a set-up of tables in a square. Each seat has a binder of materials to flip through as other people slowly filter in. I, rather stupidly, left my phone back at the office, so I glanced at vision plans (because blind). With seats filling up and only a few minutes to spare he walked in.

My eye-candy for the morning has on his department logo shirt. It actually fit him and made his arms look possibly even more muscular than they were. Simple brown slacks were not overly dressy and his ass looked amazing. But (as previous posts on the topic will a test) he facial hair did me in. His beard was full, dark brown, and trim. He was probably a few years younger than me, but the beard game him a maturity that I found even sexier.

He sat down directly across from me, a perfect vantage point. He looked a little lost, to be honest. He began flipping through the binder, as if he wanted to make sure he was in the right place. He glanced up at me and I smiled. He smiled back, but still looked uncomfortable. After another few people wandered in and shared niceties, I glanced back over to see how eye-candy was doing. His discomfort face still hadn’t changed and I soon found out why.

As much as I had appreciated his pants, he did not. He reached down several times to adjust himself. It was like a series of small moves to see if they made a difference. Like moving his cock from side to side or shifting one ball and then the other. I kept randomly flipped pages as I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I was fascinated.

However, whatever he was doing wasn’t making enough of a difference. The poor guy kept moving things around without any relief. All I could think was how much I wanted to crawl across the room to him and lend a hand. See if I couldn’t help fix his little (or big, definitely big) problem. I’m sure his face of discomfort would turn to confusion at first. But I bet I could have gotten at least a few moans from him as I sorted out what ailed him.

When the presenter came in she put down a sign in sheet for all of us. Eye-candy took this opportunity to stand and ‘stretch’ as he walked over to it. When he came back to his seat his pained face had gone. Obviously, he had managed to sort himself, and his bits, out.

I stared at him for the next two hours thinking about how I could have done a much better job.

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings

TMI Warning

***I should probably title all my posts with some sort of warning. Just thought I should warn you of the pending ick factor that could be this post for some people. Mostly men. In fact, if you are a woman you will probably find it funny, or at the very least understand it. If you are a man and you find it funny, I want to have sex with you  🙂 ***

So my new job gave me a yeast infection. I shit you not! Not from a toilet seat or anything, but because I have to wear real clothes. I got so used to wearing long flowy dresses with no underwear at home. Some days I wouldn’t get dressed at all. And my pussy was happy. Aired out and cool; a picture of shaved perfection. Good times.

Now that I am working outside the house full-coverage is required. Pants, long-sleeves, and shoes (I know, it’s crazy!). And even though my body is trying to acclimate, my cunt can’t keep up. No matter how fast I strip when I walk in the door at night, the damage has already been done. Sitting in all those layers, even air conditioned, is leaving my pussy a sweaty mess. And apparently this week it was hot enough to throw off my PH balance completely.

So it looks like no sex for me this weekend as I walk around in as little as possible and let the medicine work it’s magic. Medically induced orgasm denial is the worst though. And after being in a pissy mood all week, I was really looking forward to as many poundings as I could beg for. I’m sure Sir won’t mind the extra oral attention though until all my holes are up and running again.

This was just a side effect of working outside the home that I wasn’t prepared for. Though I guess I should have been. My body rejects attempts to wear any more than is strictly necessary. I just hope that after this my cunt will fall in line and accept that during office hours it has to be happy with the pretty thongs that I wear under my business attire.

Next thing you know my tits will start giving me lip.

Reward Mind Games

Sir: So that reward system I’ve been working on…It’s a common pool of gold stars and red X’s. You can spend the stars on extra calories or pampering from me.

Interesting. :Rye

Sir: Oh there’s more. Red X’s cancel out stars until they are erased, so 2x’s plus 5 stars is 3 stars to spend. You will be able to earn stars from me for ‘spontaneous acts of slutiness’.

Challenge Accepted 🙂 :Rye

Sir: I hope you are as accepting of how you get rid of the red X’s.

🙁 :Rye

Sir: 🙂

Tipsy Shopping

I’m not a big drinker (unless you count coffee). I get quite ill (no TMI, I promise), so I haven’t really over-indulged since college. And, especially now that I am trying to diet and count calories, I have reduced my alcohol intake even more. My favorite ciders have too many calories to have very often, and drinking water is a lot cheaper anyway.

But every once in awhile I have enough calories left at the end of the day to have a drink with dinner or as a nice relaxing dessert. A shot or two of rum in a mixed drink can go a long way and not kill my diet. My tolerance has dropped significantly since college and one or two drinks gets me to a pretty comfortable state of tipsy. I get more handsy with Sir; I have to watch my language around the kids. I think I get more entertaining, though I’m not sure Sir would say that.

I have found something that he does enjoying doing while I’m tipsy heading toward drunk: shopping for sex toys. I found that I will agree to try just about any toy. I normally balk at the idea of the cost of some and how much they might hurt. But give me a cocktail and the idea of a cat of nine tails seems wonderful.

So…moral of the story is…give me a drink and I’ll think all forms of BDSM are a great idea. And, Sir and I will have to monitor the post over the next week so the kids don’t intercept any packages 🙂

To the Future!

4yo: Dad, I don’t want to go to daycare! I want to go to the future.

Sir: Okay, how much?

4yo: *holds hands shoulder width apart* This much.

Sir: Okay, close your eyes. *waits two seconds* Okay, open your eyes.

4yo: *looks confused*

Sir: We went into the future by two seconds.

4yo: But I want to go to the future.

Sir: We are always going into the future.

4yo: But this isn’t the future!?!

Sir: No, this is the present, but today’s present is yesterday’s future. We are always moving forward.


4yo: Dad, I love fruit loops.

Sleeping in clothes

Rye asleep in her camisole.

I was so tired. There is something about being tired that makes a duvet even more comfortable. And Sir’s arm wrapping around my waist helped me sink into the bed even more. He was understanding that I was tired from all our painting and house work; our scene wasn’t too long and he didn’t come. I felt bad about it, but he didn’t seem to mind.

I rolled over and he grabbed his phone. Sometimes he likes to jerk off while looking at Tumblr. Some of the pictures are beautifully sexy, but much more ‘hardcore’ than we currently do. I could feel him stroking himself as the bed moved slightly. I actually found it calming. When he does masturbate and I am home he will usually come in my mouth, so I feel a bit better at not servicing him more fully. So I curled into my pillow and waited for him to order my mouth into action.

His pace quickened and slowed. He is much better at edging himself and I am when I masturbate. I was a bad sub for a moment and hoped he would hurry up; I didn’t want to fall asleep and have to be awoken to catch his come. He rolled over to me and rubbed my back. I am still not used to sleeping in a camisole, but it’s worth it not to catch my piercings on something or have them get infected. I started to roll over as I took his caresses to mean that he was ready for me.

“Stay where you are.”

I started to ask why, but thought better of it. Maybe he wasn’t as close as I had hoped, or maybe he didn’t want to use my mouth tonight. That seemed unlikely, but I stayed on my side. He continued to rub my back and slipped his hand under my camisole. As comfortable as I already was, this relaxed me even more. His own pace quickened and I again considered rolling over, but his hand kept me in place, continuing to massage my lower back.

All at once his hand moved up my back and his cock brushed my skin. Warm cum shot onto my back as he held the camisole away from skin. It tickled as the hot liquid reached up to my shoulder blade. When he finished, he lay there for a moment with a gratified sigh. I started to turn over, but was stopped as he pulled his hand down along with my camisole. He rubbed my back to press the shirt into the liquid, now cooling quickly, and sticking to my skin. The feeling went from sexy to icky in an instant.

“Goodnight, Cunt.” He said will his sadistic grin as he rolled over and went to sleep.

Masturbation Monday logo


When he pulls me up off the couch by my collar, clips the leash to it and drags me upstairs. It’s all I can do to keep up when he gets like this. The leash comes off as we enter the bedroom; and I immediately see everything it will be replaced with.

I am covered in lovely red marks, sweat, and a mixture of sexual fluids. He tells me to get cleaned up and leaves the room. I stretch and enjoy my gooey filthiness for just a moment before I get up.


Ok…so…who knows what is wrong with this picture? There are two ‘hints’.

First, he takes me upstairs rather than beating me where he was or where I was sitting.

Second, he leaves the room right away. Rather than cuddling up for a quick nap, he runs out.


It’s children. We are owned by our children.

I suppose all parents are. Our sex lives are ruled by them. When. Where. How fast.

Fast is usually the keyword there. Hence the truncated scene where Sir skips out and leaves my beautiful gooey pussy all cold and alone. It’s all about speed as you never know when you will hear a, “MOM” from the other room. Which, not only means that you have to finish your sexy rendezvous, but you probably also have a mess waiting for you to clean up. Even in the evening when you think they’re asleep, you never know when the baby will cry or the toddler will demand a drink of water. Hearing that call from the other room when you have a cock half-way down your throat is pretty halting. And I’m sure Sir doesn’t enjoy that method of edging.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. They are adorable and find endless ways to make me smile. Sir got our 18 month-old head banging last night and I thought I was going to die. And our 4 year-old was asking for milk with lunch yesterday:

Sir: Ask nicely.

4yo: *mumbling* Can I have some milk please?

Sir: Ok, Now say it with confidence, and

4yo: With confidence!

Sir: And…you win.

It’s the balance of accepting the good with the difficult. And sometimes having quickies in the afternoon is worth it for the hilarious crap that comes out of their mouths.

Don’t drop the soap

That is a bold faced lie.

Drop the soap.

Drop it often.

Especially when your mother-in-law is visiting and has taken the kids downstairs so you can sleep in for once in your life. When you both decide that a shower together sounds like the perfect way to wake up.

Honestly, just throw the soap at that point (don’t hit him, he won’t like that). You won’t need the soap. Nothing cleans you off like a first thing in the morning shower fuck.

I’m practically squeaky.