Chasing Me Chasing You

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

Soft Lips

They are both there to pick me up from the airport. We have been chatting for months, and they know my real name. But I enter the luggage claim I immediately see them holding a sign that just says, ‘Rye’. All the nervousness I felt on the plane just melted away. I want to run into his arms, but I contain my excitement as I wheel my suitcase over. Jack and Jill’s smiles match my own as I get close.

As soon as ‘hi’s and hugs are exchanged we all begin to feel the radiating sexual energy between us. There is a lot you can’t feel until you stand next to a person, and we were feeling it all at once. The three of us actually just stand in silence for a few moments as we acclimate to the rush. I think each of us were undressing the other and wondering if anyone in the baggage claim would notice if we jumped one another right there. Jill was the first to break as she rubbed her hand down Jack’s chest.

“As much as we are both eager to get you home, you must be starving. There is a great cafe near the house.” She grabs my arm and he takes my suitcase.

“Thanks, that sounds wonderful. I had a soda on the plane, but honestly, I was too nervous to eat.”

“We are just glad you could come visit for a few days. And even though Jack is planning a nice dinner, I have a feeling we will be distracting him for awhile before he starts cooking, so we can’t have you hungry.” She grinned at me as she gave me a quick peck on the cheek. After my nerves of the morning, I was surprised how calm the kiss made me. So calm that I stopped and grabbed her hand. The other caught her neck as I pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. Her lips are as soft as I imagined them. I want to sink into them and let them keep me warm for the entirety of my three day stay.

I let out a little moan as she pulls back and squeezes my hand. Her eyes practically twinkle as she gives me an adorable smirk.

Jack wraps his arms around both our waists. “Let’s get you some food and get you home. If you keep that up we won’t even make it to the car.”

Lunch is amazing. I have no clue what I ordered, but it’s yummy. We talk about kids and jobs. Living on near opposite sides of the country and how cold it is back home. We talk about Sir and how amazing he is for letting me do this. It’s a big step for us and having his blessing is essential. I know they respect that. We inhale our food as we talk. Trying not to rush too obviously, but I think the waitress is worried we will dine and dash. As she processes the checks we just stare at one another. Letting that sexual energy build again like it had in the airport. My body tingles the short drive to the house. And I feel like a school girl running up to your front door. Jill walks sultrily behind me, such grace in her obvious sexuality. Jack has my suitcase and laughs at the two of us. Completely different in many ways and exactly the same in others.

After the rush to get in the door, things calm as we grab a drink. I need to change out of my traveling clothes as they smell of airport. Jack shows me to their bedroom and their master bath. He sets my suitcase next to the bed; no question about where I’ll be sleeping then. I try to refresh my face with a splash of cool water, and I use the opportunity to change into something a lot sexier and slightly less comfortable. I reach into my suitcase to pull out a beautiful purple bra and thong set I bought especially for the trip. Next to the set is a message from Sir. He’s proud of me for being honest about my needs. He wants me to have great time and he loves me.

It is exactly what I needed to hear from him. I put on my sexy underthings with renewed confidence. Determined to enjoy this trip and whatever comes of it.

I walk into the kitchen in my new ‘outfit’. Jack and Jill are kissing up against the sink, apparently a break from getting the wine glasses out of the cupboard. I walk up behind them and kiss the back of Jill’s neck. Her surprise at this new set of lips is minimal. She reaches behind to rub my stomach and pull me into her. When she realizes that I don’t have a shirt on she stops to turn around and look at me. Both she and Jack smile when they see my change of clothes.

“That bra makes your tits look amazing”.

“I bought it just for you”.

“Love that color on you. Too bad it won’t stay on much longer”.

And then we are a mass. Just pure sexual energy. We quickly move to the den and a leather sectional. I am not the only one with gorgeous underwear as I remove Jill’s shirt to find a turquoise bra. I want to remove it to release her luscious breasts, but I also want to steal it as I want my boobs to look that good too. Our eyes connect as we help each other remove clothes and we continue to touch one another as we turn to Jack. His smile grows as we move toward him together. She begins to unbutton his pants and I kiss my way up his neck. He pulls me up to his face and holds my hair as I melt into him. His moans let me know that Jill has relieved him of his clothes. I kiss slowly down his chest to join her. Our tongues connect randomly as we both lick and suck his enormous cock. His hands rub our backs as he watches us. Soon, his legs stiffen and he has to move or have the first orgasm of the day. He chooses the former and moves behind Jill. She pulls me in front of her. We keep kissing as he slams into her. Our teeth click and we moan together. She kisses down my chest, stopping to suck on my nipples and move my legs so that I straddle her. I watch Jack’s face as fucks her and grabs her hair. Soon Jill makes her way down to my throbbing clit. Her tongue is soft and the ramming force from Jack’s thrusts quickly bring me to orgasm. She continues to softly lick and kiss my clit as she and Jack cum together. Their simultaneous moans make me smile.

As the only one who can walk, Jack quickly returns from the kitchen with the abandoned wine glasses. The couch becomes a puddle of cuddles and clinking glasses. We continue kissing and holding each other. I feel so comfortable with them; I had worried about being awkward or self-conscious. They are so loving and comfortable though, it all melts away. The afternoon continues with more cuddles and enough orgasms to satiate even me. After a lovely shower together Jack starts dinner while Jill and I curl up on the couch.

“What do you want to watch?”

“I’m not picky, and my plan is to make out with you, so I’m not sure my opinion should matter. I’m yours for the next few days.”

“And we do intend to take full advantage of that. How about some Doctor Who? You haven’t seen the most recent episode have you? If you have, don’t tell me what happens.”

“Ummm, I have a confession to make. I’ve never actually seen an episode of Doctor Who.”

“Wait, what? Ever? The most recent doctor, or any of them?”

“Any of them. Please don’t send me home.”

“JACK!” Jack ran in. He’s naked except for an apron around his waist and even that doesn’t hide his already recovering erection. “Hon, we have an emergency. She has never seen Doctor Who. We have three days to educate this tragically deprived woman.”

“Sex and Doctor Who marathon, got it.” He turns to walk back into the kitchen, showing off his bare ass as he goes.

Jill walks over and give me a slow deep kiss like I gave her at the airport. “We will take care of you, my lover. You will leave on Sunday a new woman in more ways than one.”

KOTW: Nipple Play

My nipples and I have a very strained relationship. I think they are still a little bitter with me over the whole breastfeeding thing. I was pumping so often they bled with my second child, so I think they hold a grudge. Nothing that can’t be overcome by threatening to pierce them, then they fall in line quickly. Though, to be honest, these days I’m not sure that would work anymore.

I’m weird about nipple play and sex. I love nipple play before sex. Or even during oral. I practically have to have it when I masturbate if I want to get anywhere. But during sex it’s just distracting. Almost to the point of painful. While having vaginal or anal sex my nipples are pretty much no fly zones. I think they just get too sensitive and stimulation can degrade quickly into laughter or outright thrashing; neither of which is good when Sir is trying to cum. But, while receiving clit attention, it’s almost a requirement.

Romance novels have taught me that most women’s nipples are hard-lined directly to their clit. I swear if I read comment one more time I’m to start researching it in medical journals. But, as laughable as it is to read sometimes, it’s accurate. At least for me. I mean, I can cum from oral alone, but if he is pinching and pulling at my nipples I can orgasm twice as hard. Which, most of the time, is the goal. Nipple play in the rubbing, sucking, lightly pinching variety is my kind of heaven.

But every sadist knows how to take a heaven and turn it into a hell. (I say that with all the love in the world…bastards). All that soft caressing and pulling made devilish by clothespins, vices, and chopsticks. And don’t get me wrong, the feeling of the clothespins isn’t so bad. All your nerves wake up and even breathing can shift them. It’s when everything comes off. After the orgasm, or even sometimes during, when you are already a ball of nerves. You’ve given all your energy to the moment, and when it passes you’ve forgotten about the ‘tear down’ process. Feeling returns when toy x, y, or z is removed and then it’s that lightening bolt of pain. Like when your leg wakes up after falling asleep and you get the pins and needles shooting up and down your muscles. Except in this case is all centered in one spot and it’s all at once. I think the first time we played with clothespins Sir had them on me for around fifteen minutes. When he took them off I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. I may have cried. I know what you’re thinking, and, looking back, I’m calling myself a pussy too. But how do you describe that feeling to someone who has never experienced it. It’s nothing something you can really prepare for. I guess that is true for all pain, not just BDSM pain.

Nipple play was the first overwhelming sensation I remember having connected to D/s. I think when we were first talking about what we both could get from the lifestyle I remember Sir coming home with a large pack of clothespins from the hardware store. Now we have all sorts of  things for him to torture my nipples with. And over time they have gotten more accustomed to the rougher play. As much as I was put off by the idea of piercing my nipples a year ago, it’s something I’m looking forward to now. I’m actually only put off of the idea by the fact that you have to be nice to them for a year (or so I’ve read). That and my body doesn’t generally do well with piercings (why I’ve joined the tattoo club). But even then I’m still looking for someone good in our area. Maybe then my abused nipples will forget that whole breastfeeding trauma and focus on the metal being shoved through it instead.

Pussy: Live to Eat! Eat to Live!

*This Kink of the Week is guest written by Sir.*

I remember being in middle school and being completely confused by my peers’ obsession with boobs. They would sit and talk about Pamela Anderson’s tits or Cindy Crawford’s tits or Anna Nicole Smith’s tits. These tits, it was said, were the key to the beauty of a woman. The better the tits, the better the woman. And bigger always meant better.

Which, as a young man, was a truism of such staggering stupidity that for a couple of years I thought I was gay. Because Roseanne Barre had MASSIVE tits, and I didn’t find her in the least bit attractive.

I never really thought I was completely gay because there was something that I was pulled to, but never saw. That gentle slit between the legs that hid a magnificent bounty of hormonal attraction. Pussy.

When I finally got an internet connection worth using for porn, I drowned myself in downloaded pussy (after disabling the laughably poor parental controls on the computer). I was quickly pulled (as were many young men I believe) toward “lesbian” porn. Not real lesbian porn, obviously, but porn starring two women and directed by two men. I liked the scissoring and the fingering, but I was absolutely, electrically pulled towards the girls eatting pussy. The camera would pull in close (pay no heed to where that woman’s camera-side leg is – it’s gone now, that’s all that matters) and you would get the powerful combination of gentle, precise tongue strokes and loud, low moans. I knew I HAD to eat pussy!

I didn’t actually get my first chance until college. Honestly, it was Rye.

Okay, truth is I’ve only ever eaten Rye’s pussy. I’ve never been nose to groin with any other woman’s pelvis, though there were a couple of unfortunately close calls in high school involving poorly timed parental footsteps on the stairs.

I have a vivid memory of the first time I ate Rye’s pussy. I had no idea what I was doing, but a vague enough sense of where everything was. I didn’t know what to expect as I pulled myself down her torso, fingertips pressing and pulling on her stomach. Would I hate the smell like everyone said? Would I fuck it up? Who cares! Eat Pussy!

After she was done moaning and writhing on the bed (told you, too much on the clit; if I had done it right she would have been completely unable to move at all) she said, “I don’t know who taught you to do that, but I hate her.”

I had to ask for clarification, but she was jealous of whatever wonder-woman had forced me to spend so much time between their thighs to become such a master tongue master. I smiled a prideful smile there in the dark. “That’s the first pussy I’ve ever eaten,” I said. Even in the dark I could see her confused and concerned look.

I still love to eat pussy, but I don’t do it as much as I used to. Not because it’s lost its appeal, but because I want to make sure that when I do go down on her, she really appreciates it. I don’t think she ever really stopped appreciating my tongue for what it could do to her brain. Maybe I just wanted to pull in the reins to exercise control.

Dominant pussy eating is harder, but much more rewarding. I still need to be able to follow the lure of her body – read her signals, anticipate her direction – so I cannot simply do whatever I like. But I can slow… or stop… orgowaytoofast just as a way to keep her on the edge. I do that. A lot.
Don’t get me wrong: I do like a nice pair of tits (and Rye has a very nice pair) but there’s nothing as good as wet pussy on a woman willing to open her knees.

Hitting the Rim

I have tried things since entering the world of BDSM that I didn’t even know existed two years ago. Looking back, my vanilla life was so innocent as it pertains to my sexual knowledge. Who knew the massive education that D/s would provide?

One of the largest areas of new territory (no pun intended) has been toys and activities pertaining to asses. I use the plural in this sense, because this also includes Sir’s ass. One of the first BDSM things we tried was during our switch phase where I would top him. I had a harness and would peg him. He loved it. It was quite the experience for me too. You know, having a penis and all. But that was how I really entered the world of using one’s ass in a sexual way.

As our roles changed and firmly cemented me into the submissive role, our pegging play fell by the wayside. Then it was my turn. This is the first plug that Sir bought for me. To prepare for it and subsequently anal sex, I had to start putting fingers in my ass while in the shower. Something I never in my life thought I would do. But this process has been all about pushing myself. So I eventually upgraded to my pretty glass plug; which recently passed away, and has already been replaced. And after the first awkward experience, we now have anal sex often. My comfort level has grown immensely in the last year.

Recently, Sir has decided to try something new. Over the last month we have been incorporating me giving him rim jobs into our play. Talk about things I never thought I would do.  But it was a lot easier than I thought. And his reaction is always a good motivator. Hearing him moan and appreciate my service is wonderful. It’s not my favorite thing in the world to do. I’d be lying if I tried to go that far. But as far as things that make him happy, it’s a lot easier than taking a beating from the angry red bastard. But it has been an interesting addition. We have been incorporating it slowly, as both of us are getting comfortable with our limits. Just like playing with new sexual positions, we are working through what our bodies with allow us to do. Nothing makes me feel older than trying to get into a position for some sexual play (sex, oral, anal, etc.) and finding that I cannot manage it. But it’s all about experimenting.

There are so many nerves in the ass (just in case you didn’t know). Even just the simple pressure of my tongue can turn him on. I like to think that my tongue has special powers, but nothing proved this like a rim job. I honestly think he enjoys it almost as much as a blow job. Admittedly, I like giving blow jobs more, but I have thing for cock.

As difficult as this process has been as a whole, adding new things has been easy. It’s these little steps forward that keep me realizing that I can do this. I mean, if I can make him moan by licking his ass then I must be doing something right.

Kink of the Week


I heard the leash snap onto my collar over all the music in the entryway as we entered the party. I stared at the new physical connection between Master and I. It was so comforting in the crowded space to know that he wanted to keep me close. It was easy to follow him through the dancing and playing groups with my eyes down. He stopped a few times to say hi to friends. A few subs squeezed my hand to say hello. I recognized them and squeezed back. Hopefully Master will let me catch up with them later this evening. But if he wants me close all night I will happily stare at my leash.

Master stopped and gave a slight tug. I dropped to the floor. I felt him sit on the ottoman behind me and strike up a conversation with a Domme that had just moved to our area. He ran his hands through my hair as he talked to her about good butchers and playgrounds where we like to take the kids. His fingers and voice were so calming that I felt myself relax into the floor; another few minutes and I would fall asleep. He leaned down and bit my shoulder. He always knows.

He stood as the Domme sent her sub to fetch another drink. I waited for the instructional tug to tell me to stand up, but it never came. So when he started back toward another Dom calling his name, I crawled as fast as I could to keep up. The leash pulled as I slowed to avoid legs and bodies in front of me, but Master didn’t change pace or course. I was so focused on keeping up with him I almost ran into his legs when he did eventually stop. My cues are all physical, so I was trying not to listen to his conversation with a Dom whose voice I didn’t recognize. He was asking Master questions about training. He wanted Master to watch him and his sub and give critique. I was soon crawling frantically again as they walked through the party to a back room. When we stopped he bent down in front of me.

“I am going into this room. You will wait out here until I return. I am going to attach your leash to the door and you are not to move. You will not speak to anyone. If you have a medical emergency you may knock on the door for assistance. Do you understand pet?”

“Yes Master”

“Good girl.” He handed me a bottle of water and stood up. I felt a pat on my head and watched as he attached the leash to the door knob. As he disappeared into the room I settled back on my heels to find a comfortable position. Not knowing how long I would be there, I wanted to make sure my legs didn’t tighten up so I could crawl or walk at a moments notice. But I wanted to use this quiet time that Master had given me to remember his ownership.

I chose to watch the leash swing from my neck to the door. Tied to him always, even when he’s not there. Ready and waiting for his eventual return.

Kink of the Week

Write what you know

I really wanted to write a steamy flash fiction about anonymous sex. I thought about this couple that meet in a bar and end up having sex in the bathroom. Each going home with nothing more than the memory of a great night. I even started to write it.

But here’s the thing. I have never had anonymous sex. Never really had the chance to do so, nor the inclination. In fact, once I got the couple into the bathroom in my piece I had to stop writing and go clean my own from top to bottom. So maybe it is one of those write what you know kind of things. I don’t know, so forcing the writing wasn’t going to work.

Long before I found my kink I was a hard core romantic. Like, raised on Disney, someday a prince will give me a library just like Belle romantic. The idea of having sex with someone that I wasn’t in a romantic relationship with was unthinkable. I wasn’t a ‘wait until we’re married’ girl, but an emotional connection was necessary.

College helped me get over that hump. I still dream of my own two-story library (thanks a lot Disney), but spending the rest of my life with you isn’t required for me to fuck you anymore.

And yet, the idea of someone entering a scene that I don’t know is actually very unnerving. Any conversation that Sir and I have had regarding a third has always included us both knowing them first. I know of some Doms that vet a play partner themselves, without their sub being involved. Until we get our own dynamic solidified I don’t see a third (or more) becoming an issue though. Sir has shared fantasies of putting me in stocks and letting multiple people use and abuse me. He would be there the entire time, but I wouldn’t know any of them. I would just be a hole. There is a sense of excitement in the possibility, but also fear.

However, this isn’t how most people have anonymous sex. Letting some hot guy buy me a few drinks and going with him to a hotel or back alley. A one night stand with only grunts and moans for conversation. Something more like my failed attempt at fiction. But, as I have not been alone in a bar for a long time, it’s not something that I have much experience with.
I have been hit on by a stranger once in my life. I was in eighth grade at a track meet. And, rather than wearing a sexy outfit and make-up, I had on my running shorts and tank top. I was sweaty and gross. I’m not at all sure what he saw that he found so attractive. But he asked me for my number anyway. We dated for several months. I eventually broke it off when he wouldn’t stop pressuring me to have sex. That is the extent of my ‘hit on’ experience.
But, generally, the idea of anonymous sex has a lot of appeal. Obviously, in a world without Sir or with his express permission. But the thought of having such an animalistic draw to another person when you see them across the room is amazingly hot. Letting that pull take you into a back alley to let your sexual attraction lose on one another sounds like a memorable experience. And one, that if successful, could be quite addictive. Having that rush of a sexual connection, letting it take over, and then just going back to your evening like nothing happened. Or they come back to your apartment, have a great fuck or three, a shower, and they leave. The epitome of ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’.
It’s certainly not for everyone; probably not for me, if I’m honest. But I do see and appreciate the draw. An experience I wouldn’t immediately turn down, if for no other reason than to say that I done it. Increase my sexual partners list a bit. Maybe then I could expand my writing ability as well. I’m not sure Sir would consider that a worthwhile reasoning though. Maybe I will get enough experience to write about stocks instead.

Kink of the Week

Never Say Never Again

Last month I wrote a post for Kink of the Week entitled Never Say Never. It was a piece about how I never really thought that Sir and I would get into water sports, but that I was always open to new experiences. About how my current situation with small boys has me dealing with too much urine as it is and I didn’t really think I would get anything from the experience for quite some time. I mean, I have been peed on before and didn’t get anything from it at all; it was by a two year old, but I figured urine is urine.

The world constantly proves to me that I am silly cunt, you would think I would know by now.

*                                   *                                     *                                     *

As I was walking out to mow the lawn Sir shook his water bottle at me.

‘It’s my third one.’ And the grin appeared.

Earlier in the day he asked me to consider and specify my limits with water sports. I explained that I wasn’t entirely comfortable, but I was willing to try someday. I don’t think he gave a flying flip if I was comfortable. But I also thought it was just a passing conversation. I had talked to him when I had written the post last month and he wasn’t into it. He wasn’t into trying it. He was happy for me to write about how we were taking it off the table for the foreseeable future, if not ever.

So after the lawn was mowed and I was a sweaty mess I headed up stairs to shower. Our mower is self-propelled, but it doesn’t work all the time; and by all time, I mean it stops whenever I hit a small incline. I had taken my grass covered shoes off on the back step, but my clothes were gross, as was I. As I walked into our room I aw Sir standing next to the bed, naked from the waist down. The grin returned. How he manages to find my exact most vulnerable moment I will never know. Sweaty, dirty, and sore; maybe he is just drawn to me like that and it turns him on.

Take off your clothes and come to the bathroom.

Stripping actually took a little longer than normal as everything was stuck to me, but I was finally able to remove the grass covered garments. I took my hair down walked into bathroom. He pushed me to my knees. He had removed my collar so my neck tattoo touch-ups could heal (a horrifically emotional 24-hours, let me tell you). But he decided I could have it back as a show of his ownership of me and a reward for my good behavior. I think he knew how much it messed with my head to have it off. He had me lean forward so he could lock in place again. I took the tip of his cock in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it. After he stood back up I continued to suck on him for awhile. He grabbed my hair to pull me back off of him.

Get in the shower. Present.

I crawled over to the shower, turned around so I could face him, and got into position. He stood over me in this territorial, animalistic way that I have never seen from him before. Maybe it’s the way he stands when he takes me from behind, but for obvious reasons I wouldn’t know.

I’m not sure what I was feeling. I think just a weird mix of apprehension and fear. I wasn’t afraid that he would push me, or that I would safeword. I think I was afraid I would like it. I sat there in this state of anxiety.

And I sat there, and I sat there.

‘I guess I shave a shy bladder.’

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Eventually, he relaxed enough from my teasing. It was hot. Temperature wise and just plain erotic. I felt marked and owned and amazing. I practically arched my back into it. I was so in the moment of being a slave that when he finished I immediately took him in mouth. I wanted to express this feeling of complete ownership and joy I had. I must have gotten my point across as he quickly told me to get up and turn around. My definition of sex in the shower has been forever changed.

‘You are my piss-covered cumslut fuck puppet.’

He left me to get cleaned up. By now I really needed it. But I as stood in the shower I started to come down from whole scene and think about its various events. It wasn’t horrible. Not only that, it was kind of nice. I am not sure that the actual pee really turned me on, but the act certainly did. The territorial nature of it was exceptionally erotic. Being marked in that way had a possessive overtone that I have never experienced before. I washed off the external marking, but still felt this overarching sense of calm.

All afternoon I smiled with it. He seemed to enjoy himself too. He kept screaming from the other room.

Dang it, I have to pee.

Almost depressed that he couldn’t use it to lay his claim on me again. He wasn’t the only one. I really like my new name too.

Suits Me

I have a conflicted relationship with suits. I love them. They are sexy and powerful and I love the way Sir looks when wears them. Most couple’s walk-in closet is full of women’s clothes and shoes. I think I have three dresses in ours. The rest is full of Sir’s suits and dress clothes. I wash his dress shirts once a week. He even lets me wash my bras with them (it’s odd that I get a warm fuzzy from that).

He looks so confident in a suit. I mean, he can command a room with a beer t-shirt and plaid shorts on. But it’s like he stands even taller in his three-piece. He buttons that jacket and I just want to drop to my knees. I will always crawl for him, but it is a lot easier when I can look at suit pants and dress shoes. He doesn’t take on a different personality, per se, but he does have an air about him. His dominant side is even easier to see. I usually don’t joke with him when he is in a suit. That doesn’t mean I don’t drool when I see one hanging on the door though.

However, a suit can usually only mean one thing. It means that Sir has court. He always looks professional and smart for work, but the full suit is for court dates and important meetings. He’s earning a living for our family and I will always appreciate that. But suit days are stressful for him. The suit brings with it a lot of weight. A lot of responsibility for his clients and his reputation. As much as I want him to do well, I don’t like the idea of all that pressure. But that’s his job.

Because the suit means court, it also usually means a long day. He is rarely home for dinner on suit days, and we rarely ever play. He comes home, has a drink, and usually crashes. I don’t judge him for that, I’m sure I would do the same.

So I never know how I will respond when I see a suit sitting out for the next day. I want to jump and smile and kneel. I want to crawl toward him in his suit and deliver his whiskey. I want to unbutton those pants and service him as he relaxes after a long day. In a way, his suits give me confidence too. The suit represents his work for our family, and I want to show him my appreciation of that work.

Maybe I need to buy him a Dom suit. A suit that he doesn’t wear to court. One that is just for me and our time together. It’s selfish, and it would be expensive, but it would also be really hot. And I wouldn’t have to worry if it got a bit dirty. Though I would clean it as soon as I could; so he could wear it again as soon as possible.

Kink of the Week

Never Say Never

I really struggled with this topic of water sports and pee play. I even gave a little sigh (if I’m honest) when it came up. I wanted to sound knowledgable and enlightened, but I couldn’t get passed the desire to shower (obviously not the golden kind).

I have learned never to say never, and for good reason. But certainly not right now seems like a safe bet. I think it has something to do with the kids. I know, it’s like the reverse of a therapist always blaming your mother. My kids are at the fault of everything. However, in this case, it makes sense, I swear.

You know the idea that a male gynecologist can lose his sex drive because he looks at woo-haas all day. Well, currently, I have got more urine than I care to handle. You would think with all the penises I look at I would struggle with other things, but I am good there. But changing diapers constantly and trying to potty train the toddler has me and urine on non-speaking terms.

Maybe in a few years the subject could be broached again, if Sir was interested. I understand there is an enormous humiliation factor as part of it. I struggle with humiliation most of the time. I can take it in small doses, I love to be called names and made to crawl. But I fear that being urinated on, in any capacity, could tap into some extreme emotional responses that Sir doesn’t want to awaken just yet.

Also, the general idea of drinking urine specifically makes me thing of some sort of survivalist set up. Like we’re trapped on a deserted island somewhere and this is the only way to survive. I just can’t make that sexy. Maybe it is one of those ‘in the moment’ things. You get swept up and just run away with the need to serve that during a quick bathroom break in the scene you follow him in. You kneel and offer yourself, he considers, his cock twitches at the thought, and the next moment you have embarked on something you never considered.
Kink of the Week

Piercings – KOTW

Sir’s birthday is at the end of the month. I will get him a ‘real’ gift and a kinky gift, as per usual. But he also has decided that the time has come for my nipples to be pierced. He is taking care of all of it. He found a place he really likes and is going to make the appointment himself. I am hoping for some choice in the ring vs. barbell debate, but other than that I am going with the flow.

I’ll be honest, I’m not really a piercing fan. I’m more a tattoo girl. I got my ears pierced when I was thirteen and I’m not sure I ever wore earrings regularly. I got my upper cartiledge pierced when I was a senior in college. I’m not sure why, but it never healed right. Whenever I would get sick it would get infected, like reallocating my white blood cells to fight an infection elsewhere reopened the wound or something. Then, when I had my gallbladder removed, I remember a conversation with one of the nurses as I was being prepped for surgery. She said I would have to remove it, but I had had the ring in since I got it and hadn’t been able to get it out. Out of nowhere, Sir pipes up and says, “cut it out, it’s always infected, just get rid of it”. He was pretty freaked out about me having surgery, and I certainly wasn’t going to argue with him (this was before we started D/s, but when he gets really concerned or upset, it’s always better to pick your battles). So, right before they moved me into surgery they cut it off, and that’s been it for me and piercings.

So I was a little surprised, three years later, that Sir has now begun championing the idea of new metal. He mentioned it when I was still breastfeeding Baby 2.0, but that, obviously, wasn’t going to happen. So after the new year it came up again as a birthday gift. Not that I really mind. I’m a little concerned about sensitivity, but we’ll see what happens.

I just hope they heal quickly. Nipple play is really big for me. I’ve been surprised how much it has changed my orgasms, especially during oral. I’m know it will take time. But a strong mixture of excitement and horror will be staying with me until Sir’s birthday.

Kink of the Week