For those of you who may not know, edging is bringing someone up to the
point they're ready to cum but not letting them orgasm. If you've been
reading my blog a while, you know it's one of my favorite ways to exert control. You may also remember my post about my FMT trying to edge me. Yep, he tried to edge a Domme. Such a funny guy, my FMT.
Well, I've started seeing my FMT again. Long time blog followers will remember him as the funny, sexy vanilla guy I had an open relationship with four years ago. Now he's back in my life and in my bed and if Friday night was any indication of things to come, things in both areas are about to get interesting thanks to his return.
"What did you think about THAT stamina?" my FMT asked as we lay in his bed, catching our breaths after a lengthy romp.
"Pretty impressive!" I was indeed impressed. He's 37 and hadn't slept with me in more than two years. I hadn't expected him to last anywhere close to as long as he'd lasted.
"Don't you want to know how I did it? Don't you want to know my secret?" he asked with the glee of a child bursting to enlighten me.
"You were thinking about baseball stats, right?" I figured he'd forgotten that he'd told me his secret more than four years ago when we first began dating. Thoughts of baseball stats and bills always helped him last longer.
"No, that USED to be what I'd do. Now I do something else and it's something I learned from you actually."
"From me?" I hadn't slept with my FMT in more than two years. I hadn't even seen him in 18 months. I couldn't imagine what he meant.
"Edging," he announced with a grin.
I laughed, "Oh really!"
"Yes. When I masturbate, a lot of times I edge myself. I'll watch porn until right before I'm ready to cum then stop, wait a few minutes, start another porno and do it again. That's really improved my stamina."
Of course I laughed at this and thought about our history with edging. How he'd enjoyed me edging him when we were together before and how frustratingly funny it was when he edged me.
I've always enjoyed edging because of the kind of control I can exert over a guy. The sadist in me finds it amusing in the hottest way. I guess I just never thought I'd experience a second benefit from edging, particularly from edging I'm not a participant in, but I'm SO going to enjoy it now!
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Normal - by the writer
My former long distance sub and close friend, the writer, wrote this recently for me. It so beautifully captures the loving D/s dynamic between a Domme and her sub that I wanted to share it.
If you took any moment of our Sunday together and posted it on tumblr, it would look like vanilla sex. And not necessarily hot vanilla sex at that. If you put it all together as a video, someone would need to be very perceptive to realize that the couple isn't as straight as they come. I would be there, adoring you. Anyone could see that in my eyes. You would be luxuriating in my attentions, lovingly enjoying our time together. We look normal.
I cherish afternoons like this. Afternoons where you are stretched on your bed, and I arrive and do nothing more than hold and caress you, play with your hair. I love its color and its smell. How it falls through my fingers. How careful and gentle I must be.
I know you could go on like this for hours, and, because I am not normal, I am pleased if that is all you wish. It is not just my devotion and submission; it is our time to connect as friendly lovers after the intensity of a more aggressive scene.
It is a reminder to us both that I submit because of my love for you. I don't need outfits or toys or others to fuel my submissive desire. I need only your presence.
On Sunday, you simply relaxed, fell in and out of half-sleep. Then, while I was still patiently and lovingly running my hand across your scalp, you slipped your hand down to your pussy. I did not try to watch you pleasure yourself. I just felt your body change its rhythm and did my part in your pleasure.
Then you offered me your breasts.
I trembled as I guided my hand towards them. It had been so long since you had bestowed this gift that I literally shook with anticipation. I love their heft and their softness, the pale glow of your aureole. I stroked you gently before beginning to approach your nipple; as it began to stiffen into its perfect round engorged state, my cock nearly exploded.
I was in the first weeks of my long period of absolute abstinence, so I carefully positioned my member so it would not brush against you. Yes, even when we look normal, the kink resides in my cock and (most importantly) my brain.
You gently placed your hand on my head, and I moved forward, taking the nipple in my mouth. I wonder, now that I recall it, if someone watching would see that every move was done in response to you. That I have become so accustomed to you that the slightest signal tells me how to behave.
I ran my tongue over your nipple, licking and teasing. As your breath quickened, I sucked gently, increasing my rhythm but never letting pleasure be tainted by pain. I could feel you cumming. Then you amazed me and let me know that I could bury myself between your boobs. Oh, this was luxury. This was perfect.
My cock was in torment the entire time.
A touch to the top of my head, and I began to make my way down your chest, your belly, the tuft of hair above the pussy I would soon adore. I took my time and relished the sweet, salty taste of your skin.
I rushed nothing. I first attended your inner thighs, then the outer part of your labia. Not until you were wet and ready did my tongue even begin to part your lips. How I love that first taste of you. How hard it is to restrain myself and not simply dive in.
It is times like these that I miss vanilla sex, miss it badly. When I am feeling pain, the intensity replaces my desire for penetration. When playing with others, the rush of excitement and humiliation, of being controlled, tempers my instinct to thrust.
But making love like other people do while having my cock denied – it’s then that I can't help wishing I could be like your other lovers. For most of my life, eating pussy was prelude to entrance. To the warm wetness of cock inside pussy. To feeling my cum rise as a woman would climax; to feeling the rush of a powerful orgasm and sniffing the scent of a woman on my cock in the afterglow.
I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.
You came three times, then gently pushed me away.
I resumed my position, played once more with your hair as you drifted into a nap.
I was filled with pride and frustration and desire. Your hair sifted through my fingers. You slept.
I was filled with subtradiction: I wanted to fuck you and I wanted the state I was in.
You smiled in your sleep.
I adored you. My cock ached and dripped and pulsed. It did not even brush your skin. I thought of what fucking felt like. Then you shifted slightly, so content, and I thought: serving you, knowing you, submitting to you is the best sex I have ever had.
I played with your hair.
If you took any moment of our Sunday together and posted it on tumblr, it would look like vanilla sex. And not necessarily hot vanilla sex at that. If you put it all together as a video, someone would need to be very perceptive to realize that the couple isn't as straight as they come. I would be there, adoring you. Anyone could see that in my eyes. You would be luxuriating in my attentions, lovingly enjoying our time together. We look normal.
I cherish afternoons like this. Afternoons where you are stretched on your bed, and I arrive and do nothing more than hold and caress you, play with your hair. I love its color and its smell. How it falls through my fingers. How careful and gentle I must be.
I know you could go on like this for hours, and, because I am not normal, I am pleased if that is all you wish. It is not just my devotion and submission; it is our time to connect as friendly lovers after the intensity of a more aggressive scene.
It is a reminder to us both that I submit because of my love for you. I don't need outfits or toys or others to fuel my submissive desire. I need only your presence.
On Sunday, you simply relaxed, fell in and out of half-sleep. Then, while I was still patiently and lovingly running my hand across your scalp, you slipped your hand down to your pussy. I did not try to watch you pleasure yourself. I just felt your body change its rhythm and did my part in your pleasure.
Then you offered me your breasts.
I trembled as I guided my hand towards them. It had been so long since you had bestowed this gift that I literally shook with anticipation. I love their heft and their softness, the pale glow of your aureole. I stroked you gently before beginning to approach your nipple; as it began to stiffen into its perfect round engorged state, my cock nearly exploded.
I was in the first weeks of my long period of absolute abstinence, so I carefully positioned my member so it would not brush against you. Yes, even when we look normal, the kink resides in my cock and (most importantly) my brain.
You gently placed your hand on my head, and I moved forward, taking the nipple in my mouth. I wonder, now that I recall it, if someone watching would see that every move was done in response to you. That I have become so accustomed to you that the slightest signal tells me how to behave.
I ran my tongue over your nipple, licking and teasing. As your breath quickened, I sucked gently, increasing my rhythm but never letting pleasure be tainted by pain. I could feel you cumming. Then you amazed me and let me know that I could bury myself between your boobs. Oh, this was luxury. This was perfect.
My cock was in torment the entire time.
A touch to the top of my head, and I began to make my way down your chest, your belly, the tuft of hair above the pussy I would soon adore. I took my time and relished the sweet, salty taste of your skin.
I rushed nothing. I first attended your inner thighs, then the outer part of your labia. Not until you were wet and ready did my tongue even begin to part your lips. How I love that first taste of you. How hard it is to restrain myself and not simply dive in.
It is times like these that I miss vanilla sex, miss it badly. When I am feeling pain, the intensity replaces my desire for penetration. When playing with others, the rush of excitement and humiliation, of being controlled, tempers my instinct to thrust.
But making love like other people do while having my cock denied – it’s then that I can't help wishing I could be like your other lovers. For most of my life, eating pussy was prelude to entrance. To the warm wetness of cock inside pussy. To feeling my cum rise as a woman would climax; to feeling the rush of a powerful orgasm and sniffing the scent of a woman on my cock in the afterglow.
I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.
You came three times, then gently pushed me away.
I resumed my position, played once more with your hair as you drifted into a nap.
I was filled with pride and frustration and desire. Your hair sifted through my fingers. You slept.
I was filled with subtradiction: I wanted to fuck you and I wanted the state I was in.
You smiled in your sleep.
I adored you. My cock ached and dripped and pulsed. It did not even brush your skin. I thought of what fucking felt like. Then you shifted slightly, so content, and I thought: serving you, knowing you, submitting to you is the best sex I have ever had.
I played with your hair.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
On relationships and not knowing what the fuck I want
Over the past several months, I've been trying some different approaches to dating and none have really yielded what I'm looking for. The truth is, I'm not exactly sure what I'm looking for. I want a primary partner, someone I can share my life with, but I have no set idea in my mind what that relationship dynamic will be.
You might assume I need a primary partner that will be sexually submissive to me. You'd be wrong. While I know I need that type of relationship in my life, it's not a requirement of my primary partner. I can very much envision building a life with someone that isn't submissive to me but that is open minded and understands that being dominant is part of who I am. Someone who can grow to become secure enough in our relationship that I can explore a D/s relationship with someone else without damaging our own relationship.
A Dom would be perfect for this because he'd already understand D/s relationship dynamics and certainly the need I feel to continue domming. And when I've dated Doms in the past, I've experienced an undeniable chemistry I'd love to have with my primary partner. However, most Doms want to date someone that will be submissive to them. I run across Doms periodically and while they find me intriguing because we have so much in common, they've typically never even considered dating another dominant. I've also found it takes an exceptionally confident and secure Dom to date a Domme. These things make it difficult to find (or be found by) the right Dom to date.
Periodically I'll make an attempt at dating a vanilla guy. Of course he's got to be open minded and lifestyle friendly. I don't need him to engage in BDSM with me but he's got to understand that's part of who I am. I've had varying degrees of success and failure with this lately.
I have a profile on two vanilla dating websites. My profile on OKcupid occasionally yields a potential gem because the site does a decent job of matching me with sexually open minded people. I've been periodically dating a bisexual guy that found me through OKcupid. Nothing remotely serious but it's been successful enough that I haven't given up all hope of the site yielding anyone worthwhile.
I have two PlentyofFish profiles - one that is kinky and one that is vanilla. My kinky profile has yielded a lot of interested wannabe subs lately but of all that interest, the best candidate so far has been a vanilla guy with zero subby aspirations. I enjoy him a lot and our chemistry is awesome. In fact, after spending time with him, I've wondered if maybe I could live without BDSM. That I could maybe walk away from the lifestyle if I could feel the way I do with him.
Crazy right? Eh, don't worry. The feeling doesn't last long.
Still, it's enough to ensure I can confirm that I really have no fucking clue what I want from a relationship.