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.