Here to Stay

car

Our time apart was brief. It was simply a time to breathe and account for where we are in our lives.  Who we are.

Where we are as a couple. And where we want to go.

The windshield is clean, our path is clear and laid out in front of us. He remains in the driver’s seat and I am his loyal passenger as we drive off into the sunset…into this next phase of us. No big life events planned. It’s just that we have now experienced what life would be like apart, and neither of us wants that.

When he arrived home, things were a little awkward. We were friendly and affectionate, but there was a formality. A hesitancy in the mood. I think we were both shell-shocked from the time apart and we felt weary and worn. Also, he didn’t arrive until 2:00 am, after an 8-hour drive. We were both exhausted. We talked for a bit and retired to bed.

I was drifting off to sleep when he leaned over and kissed me. I opened my eyes and found him watching me as I dosed. He kissed me again. His mouth tasted divine and my lips felt like a magnet, drawing towards his. We didn’t talk. We just kissed each other for a long time. Soft sweet kisses. Open passionate kisses. Slowly kissing. Taking it all in.

I found myself aroused by his mouth. I couldn’t get enough of his lips on mine. Feeling his tongue explore mine. The sweet taste. My mouth watered for more. My body salivated for his touch.

He pulled me to him and we began to make love. His touch felt so good on my skin and even better on my soul. His love penetrated me so deeply that I could feel my heart bleeding for him. For us. Each movement was affirmation that there is not another human being in this universe made for me, as he is. This connection. This depth is something that I was destined to have with my One.

My orgasms were swift and powerful and profoundly meaningful. I found myself, once again, shedding my layers for him. Revealing myself…more of myself. Giving all to him as it should be. I was so overwhelmed with pleasure and joy that I began to weep. Releasing everything as I laid my head on his chest. He breathed me in with each breath and exhaled himself, filling me with the air I need to thrive.

Afterwards, I reflected on our beautiful session, thinking about how amazing he is. How good we are together. And I realized the reason why we are so attuned to each other. I figured out how it is that every time, over a year into this, the sex is mind-blowing, existential and powerful. It our connection and it is our selfless love of each other. Each of us puts the other first…their needs and desires. There is no hidden agenda of me “getting mine” or him “getting his.” It is absolute selfless love and focus on the other person. We demonstrate this in how we make love. And we demonstrate this selflessness in our relationship. Always putting the other first.

This is what a real relationship looks like. A first for me. This is a healthy, happy place that I share with my M who makes it a reality. His love and adoration of me, gives me permission and acceptance to finally love myself. And this love allows me to give him all that I am. It’s a beautiful exchange.

Welcome home, M. Our love is here to stay.

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Our Story of “O”

Sometimes, life gets in the way.  The desire is there.  The passion is there.  But so are the kids.  The bills.  The housework.  The jobs.

And waiting in the corner…staring at me smugly is that ever-growing bastard…the laundry.

So what’s a couple to do with limited time on their hands?  This is an age-old question and I bet if you Google it, I am sure you will find several versions of the same Ladies Home Journal article, along with multiple Cosmopolitan articles about how to keep the fires hot.  There may be some valuable advice in there about making time…about connecting…about reverse-cowgirling your lover like Seabiscuit till you both win the race.

But let me ask this….what’s a kinky couple to do with limited time on their hands?  A couple who pushes limits.  A couple who teeters towards edge play.  A couple whose marathon scenes have been known to go on for days.  How do they find the time to-do-that-thing-they-do?

For M and I, we have always somehow found a way, and the only rule (which is more like an anti-rule) is “anytime, anywhere and any way we can get away with it.”

But a little while back, we were struggling to find a way.  It had been a couple of weeks since we’d engaged in anything sexual.  I’d been dealing with putting my father on hospice and we’d both been busy getting the kids settled in school.  There was little to no time for anything other than kids/parents, bills, meals and everything else that demanded our attention.

But one night lying in bed as I was about to fall into a deep coma from exhaustion, I felt his breath in my ear.

“Assume the position, my little slut.”  I could feel his hand clasp my throat and I quickly rose to my knees and faced him.  He stroked my hair and face.  I was immediately awake and at attention.  He pulled me to his lips and kissed me as if it were our first kiss.  Long and passionate and purposeful.  I could feel his hand between my thighs searching for his perfect spot.  Within minutes I was a puddle of a mess.  He kissed me again.

And then he said, “Go get a towel.” I am glad thought of that.  My M definitely knows best.

For hours we worshipped each other’s bodies.  It was a session of pure, uninhibited play.  I don’t know when, if ever, I’ve had orgasms like that.  They were so fast…one after another…after another…after another.  The towel was soaked from his handiwork. We barely came up for air…each of us pleasuring the other.  I loved that his hips came off the bed as he plunged himself deeply in my mouth, clutching my long hair in his hands as he unloaded himself down my throat. Neither of us could get enough.  It was as if we made up for lost time, many times over.

My journey to subspace was swift and beautiful.  I was able to find the peace I so badly needed.  I let go of all that was vying for a place in my thoughts, and realized that my only real need is to serve M.  If I do this.  If I give Him my everything, he will lighten my burden.  He will ease my mind.

And he will fuck the ever-living shit out of me at a moment’s notice.  DAMN…..

Oscar

When we finally passed out, sated and exhausted, it was almost 4:00 in the morning.   I was up early for work the next day.  Rejuvenated.  Refreshed.

And reminded…that I am His.

 

Rolling in the Deep…

This won’t be a sexy, metaphorically-laden clever post.  Folks, this is where the sh*t gets real.

We are approaching 4 months since M’s arrival.  For the number people (I happen to be one) That’s 120 days.  That’s 2880 hours.  That’s one third of a year.

And the veneer has worn off.

Yes, we have farted in front of each other.  He has seen me at my best and my worst.  He sees the in between.  He sees through my bullshit.  And occasionally, I feel a tinge of panic…because there’s nowhere for me to hide.  He will reveal me

. He has seen me swell with pride as my oldest graduated from high school, with honors.  He was there when my 7 year old had his art show.  And my 2 year old runs to him first when we both arrive at daycare to pick her up.  I am His.  He is mine.  And the kids are morphing into ours.  We are a family.  A happy family.

He is here when I fall apart…I lost my job of 6 years due to a major shift in budget.  He was here to help pick me up, reassuring me that all would work out.  Reminding me that we will be fine.

He is by my side as I watch my father’s health deteriorate.  We put him on hospice this week.  It was one of the hardest things I’ve had to face.   And I am not alone in the journey…he is here.  Leading me as my protector.

And in the midst of this chaos, he is my strength.  He helps me unpack the years of baggage I carry with me.  My burden is lighter because he works me through my issues.  (I sometimes feel like he needs to bill me for a copay)

beautiful

This is the beauty of a strong relationship.  This is the epitome of D/s.  It’s not the kink.  It’s not the scenes.  (Those are wonderful and have their purpose.) But this where we go deeper.  This is where I give all to my M and he gives me sanctuary.  This is where we grow. We have a long way to go, but I will say that we walk the road together.  And when I want to run and hide…when I want to forge ahead, or lag behind….he reminds me of who I am.

I am HIS… I belong to Him, and He’s got this.

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(Quotes from Pinterest) 

Grey…

Lately, I guess I have been in a bubble. With so much fun going on at home, I haven’t really kept up with current events, or even local news.

So I just missed this one…

While shopping at Target yesterday (honestly readers, you would think I live there) I noticed a large display of books near the check-out. It was the new E L James’ book, “Grey”. It was brazenly on display, right where they place the “impulse items”. I snickered to myself and thought, how appropriate.  Next to the guilty pleasures of candy bars, expensive Chapstick and individual Frappucino bottles, lurked the latest tome on the man himself, Christian Grey.

So this is a book written exclusively from Christian’s perspective.  In his words.  A work to further explore his sadistic mind.  His quirky ways.  His brooding intensity.  I pondered purchasing it.  But instead, I impulsively picked up the EOS Chapstick and a Frappucino, and made my way out of the store.

Driving away, I started thinking about the name “Grey”. I started thinking about the connotation behind it.  I began to reflect on other movies who had a brooding leading man with the same surname.  And it was distracting, so I pulled over, reapplied my Chapstick and finished up the Mocha.

One of my favorite independent films is 2002’s Secretary.  Maggie Gyllenhaal played the role perfectly and the movie jump-started her career.  And then there was James Spader….whew.   His character was none other than, Mr. E. Edward Grey, an OCD attorney who plowed through secretaries faster than a Kardashian changes shoes. To me, he is who I think of when I hear the title, “Mr. Grey”.   Since he was her boss, she always called him Mr. Grey, especially when he fashioned his angry red Sharpie to her work and bent her over his desk.  Love that movie. It was so quirky and bizarre, but nonetheless, brilliant.  And a happy ending.

spader

If you take it back a bit further, you will find the character of John Gray, from 1986’s Nine 1/2 weeks.  Back then, Mickey Rourke was the bad boy the good girls loved.  And boy was he bad in the movie.  Dark and mysteriously charming he seduced Kim Basinger and made her a wanton wreck of a woman in the end.  A not so happy ending…and a terrible sequel, too.

rourke

And of course, there is the now infamous, Christian Grey.  The ultra-successful billionaire who wears his jeans off his hips, likes his women submissive, his dungeons red and his ropes tight.

jeans

All of these similarly surnamed characters made me think…what is it about the name “Grey/Gray” that aligns with the aura of dominant mystique?  The word literally means, the “color intermediately between black and white” (no surprise there)  So is it because all of these characters embrace both the light and dark sides of their psyche?  Is it because they are the balance of both good and bad?  They have in some way mastered the place in the middle where those lines are skewed?  Possibly?  Thoughts?

But grey/gray also means “dull and nondescript without interest or character” and I wonder if that definition is a direct reference to the new book?  HA!  Just kidding!

Don’t fool yourself…I am sure I will pick it up on my next venture to Target…after all this pensive thought I need to go back, I am almost out of Chapstick.

greyd

Stretched

very stretched and far fetched his mind had become.. .

Each and every day brings new experiences for me as I fall deeper and deeper in love with M.  I never thought I could really get what I wanted.  I was always prepared to give something up to get something else.  I no longer have to do that.  He is a complete person, a man in every sense of the word…who fulfills what I need and want .  And each day that passes teaches me something more.  More about him.  More about our dynamic.  More about being a parent.  More about being HIS.  He tests me on every level, because he knows I am capable of handling it.

Every day I am stretched (sometimes literally) or metaphorically speaking.

And each day I am thankful to have found my One.

Learning to Fly…

Maestro and I have committed to seeing each other as often as possible.  When I found an excellent deal on train tickets, I decided to pay him a visit.  I had never traveled by train and I was eager to try something new.

The train station was literally stuck in time…I imagine it looked exactly as it did in 1967. At 2:35 am, I boarded the train and began my adventure to see my M.  I can’t say the ride itself was horrible.  It was okay.  I didn’t like the length of the trip (10 hours with all of the stops) but it made me more mindful of just how exhausting it is for Maestro to drive 7 hours, one way, to see me.  I’d always appreciated that he would devote such time for us to be together, but this made me have an even deeper appreciation for his dedication.  An even deeper appreciation for him.

He was literally pulling into the station as I walked outside.  We have this cosmic thing going…When he visits me, I will unlock my front door as he pulling up.  There’s no phone call.  There’s no peeking out of the window.  I just know.  And this was no different.  He pulled up as I stepped off of the elevator.  He didn’t even need to park.

He took one look at me and realized that I was exhausted.  Not just from the train ride…but from all I’ve dealt with over the last couple of months.  He shifted the agenda he’d planned (an agenda that included a visit to a local dungeon) and decided it was best for me to take it easy.  So we had lunch and checked into our room.  At that time, he gave me very specific instructions….

“You need to take a nap.”

I didn’t want to take a nap!  I wanted to spend time with him…in the throes of passion.  But I saw the look in his eye and I knew he wanted what was best for me.  So I did as I was told…and he joined me and whispered, “that’s my good girl.”

Those words….they switch me to the “On” position faster than a speeding bullet (no pun intended there)  So I can’t say that we went to sleep immediately…but we did nap eventually.  And as a reward for my obedience…Maestro took me shopping to one of my favorite stores the next day.  I love how he understands me.  How he knows how to engage me.  How he effortlessly controls me.

We had a very relaxing weekend…we had lunch with his dad.  Went to the movies.  Shopped.  Just spent time together.  And we eventually made our way back to the room.  This time, he did not request that I nap.  Instead, his request was that I pleasure him.  Which I eagerly did.  It one of my favorite directives to follow.  His next request…

“Get on the bed.  Lie across me.”

I quickly complied with his directive.  I was wondering what was coming next?  He had taunted me with spankings all throughout the weekend, so I had no idea of what to expect.  Our bag of tricks was across the room and I’d not seen him open it.  As I pondered with anticipation, I noticed a shift in his tone.  He meant business…

“I want you to lie here and remain still, do you understand? I will tell you when you can move.”

My heart began to beat faster…what was he about to do????

He began tracing my spine with the very tip of his finger.  Up and down.  Circling each part of my back.  It was an amazing sensation…almost a tickle…not enough to laugh.  It was almost an itch…but not enough to scratch.  It was very sensual.  And it was torture.

I wanted to squirm.  I wanted to arch my back for more.  But my instructions were clear.  I was not to move.  So I lied across his body as he tormented me.  And I realized as we continued, that this was another lesson.  Maestro was teaching me that pain/torture need not come from a bull whip or nipple clamps…that something as simple and sublime as his light touch could appeal to my masochistic tendencies.  He was demonstrating to me that torment comes in all forms.  And I loved every second of it.

He held me hostage like that for a long time.  I found myself so aroused by his focused touch and attention, that I could have exploded at any given moment.  But again, my instructions were to be still.  So I obeyed, even though it was almost unbearable.  When he could see that I’d had enough…he saw fit to take what was his.  Without hesitation.  And he showed me no mercy.  I found myself in subspace faster than I’d ever ventured before.

I was perplexed….I typically have an indication that I am approaching subspace.  I typically find myself there after some type of impact play or when there is some form of pain.  This was different.  I found myself there, faster than ever.  His session of “pleasured” torture had aroused me to a point that even I was not aware.  I was almost alarmed by my arrival…it happened so quickly.

He could sense that I was unsettled by my rapid ascent to subspace and he held me.  He whispered in my ear, stroked my hair, made me feel like the luckiest woman in the universe.  I melted into his form and relaxed into the moment, realizing that I was safe and protected.  Realizing that every time I venture to this perfect place of oblivion, I find myself bound but free.  Tethered and bound to him as the center of my world, but free to feel and experience all that I am,  because of him. Because of his love and devotion.

And ladies and gentlemen…this is the good stuff.

 

Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,
My grubby halo, a vapour trail in the empty air,
Across the clouds I see my shadow fly
Out of the corner of my watering eye
A dream unthreatened by the morning light
Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night