Date

I asked Miss Chris today, ‘What is the difference between the waiting game and patience?’. The answer was not concise, but it never is. Mostly she lets me ramble to her and when I hit it right on, she lets me know. I told her that I’m in a place where I feel like I’m playing the waiting game. Just waiting for him to give word one way or another. Either we’ll be together or we won’t. There’s not a lot of middle ground. Either he chooses me or he doesn’t. Dom or sub. Owned or not. Kinky or vanilla. Forever or whatever. My lesson this year has been to love. Love with my heart wide open, no matter the consequences. Patience. Be patient and allow people the time they need to learn the lessons they need to learn to be right for me. Sometimes it’s so hard though, especially when my heart is already tied up in someone.

The waiting game implied that I was sitting by idly, just waiting for him to give word. I didn’t do it the first time around and I won’t do it this time around either. The conversation has been about experiences. Do I prefer learning or experiencing? I told him I would always value the experiences over learning. Miss Chris told me today that she hoped I wasn’t missing out on any experiences while I was busy waiting. That’s when I decided I wasn’t waiting — I was being patient. I’m giving him the time he needs to sort his stuff out. In the meanwhile though, there was this date.

When I met him there was no intention of flirting. I knew that he was dating someone from our group. Cute, good energy, kind of silly. He’s an older Dom, so we wouldn’t have much in common anyhow, but he was nice to have around. Then he was at a social. Our table at Applebee’s. Puppy play, where I hopped over and asked if maybe he was a puppy and he told me to not get too excited.

Later on I’d ask if he liked to bottom and he told me to not get too excited.

I’d ask if he liked strap-on play and he told me to not get too excited.

We’re ahead of ourselves.

I told him I was happy to see him there and I was. It’s always good to see familiar faces and I like when people can be open-minded about puppy play especially, because I think it’s just about the sweetest thing in the world. I wish I were a puppy. The most puppy I’m going to get is jumping on someone and growling as I tug the strap of their hood in my mouth. But I’ll pet pups all day long. I’ll give them treats. I’ll praise them. I’ll train them. I want to be around them because they are so giving, so affectionate, so silly. The things I like best about my boys, about my subs.

Turns out he seemed pretty happy that Junk and I were happy to see him. We didn’t think much of it. Everyone was happy to see him, we were sure of it.

Then we saw him at a social. We sat down to talk and I discovered his relationship was coming to an end. He had set an arbitrary date for when things would be terminated if she didn’t come to her good senses — the day before Valentine’s Day. I usually do the same thing. Right now, I’m doing the same thing. If things aren’t resolved by some arbitrary date I’ve set in my head, then it wasn’t mean to be. I can let go and not feel like I’ve failed. There may have been some jager in my system. When she showed up, I asked him if things were about to get awkward. I touched his wrist. He looked down at my hand and then to me and said, ‘Now they are’ and I couldn’t help but laugh, which meant I drew attention.

He disappeared for a while. Kissing in the dark. I grabbed Junk and we found ourselves in a similar position.

There were a few letters exchanged. He had said he needed to talk to someone and I gave him my number and we just didn’t stop texting. We didn’t stop swapping stories. We didn’t stop asking questions.

Valentine’s Day is right around the corner. I can’t be with the man I love. I’ll have my girl with me. I didn’t want him to be lonely though, especially if his relationship was going to end. So I arranged for the three of us to spend it together. We could geek out. Celebrate not having a traditional Valentine’s Day. I’d already warned Junk that I don’t really celebrate it. I’m awful about doing things because I ‘have to’. He seemed to think it was a stellar idea.

The party on Saturday night was good and bad. I got to talk about Devin with a close friend. There were stories exchanged, some advice given, consolation. I felt okay though. This is out of my control. There’s nothing I can do differently. It’s all on him. So now, I can just sit back and enjoy what comes my way. The anguish that he’s suffering isn’t at my hand. I have no responsibility for it. I’d like to guide him through it, but it’s not something that I’m inflicting, not something I can take away.

Then he was by me. I couldn’t help but to pet him — it’s what I do. We parted ways, wound up together again. We’d chat, he’d watch something, I’d work, and then we’d end up together again. At the end of the night, his head was in my lap and I was stroking his hair as we were all talking about chastity, about power exchange, about energy. I asked him if he liked having his hair pulled and I pulled it. I got a warning.

Someone walked by and glanced at the two of us, an odd couple for sure. I hugged him and asked her if she liked my new pet Dom. I got a warning.

As he relaxed and I was petting him again, I pulled his hair again. Harder. I got a warning.

Instead of a silent warning though, his hand went to my neck. He looked up at me and he told me, ‘When we fuck, furniture will be broken.’

Our egos are on the line. It’s kind of exciting. It’s a beat-down to see who gets to be on top.

The following days, there are emotions involved. His relationship ended. We’re talking about the balance of life, of nature. How much you can give in a relationship. When you have to call it quits. I’m not thinking about my own situation. There’s nothing I can do over there. It’s much easier to focus on someone else’s situation.

I ask him a question I’ve asked Devin before: What makes you feel taken care of?

Unlike Devin, he has no idea.

All of the doors are open with this one. I can’t help but to want to push them open wide and go searching. Every question is answered. There is no resistance. He wants to be known. I like getting to explore, so I keep probing, keep asking. I like his ideas on spirituality. I like his emotions. I like what a geek he is. I like being inside, left to wander about.

‘Tell me about your relationships,’ I tell him, and he invites me out for coffee. It’s going to take a while. The night is cold and Junk is home sleeping and he’s got a coffee, a cigarette, and a pad of paper. We start in on the relationships he’s been in. The timeline looks like how I’d imagined it. I don’t know how he got there. I’m curious. I want to know what decisions he’s made that put him where he is today.

Finally, she’s awake. She joins us and we all sit around chatting. We grab dinner and come back. He and Junk make small chat until he has to get up to use the restroom. I tell her it’s like when we went out with Devin, only without Devin. She seems to be sad. She doesn’t like me talking about how we’re not with Devin anymore. I didn’t even know that she liked him so much. I know she misses him being around because it wears on me. Because I feel like my world isn’t right without my boy and my girl.

It’s too cold to sit outside anymore so we go back to his place. His roommate stares as the three of us walk inside. He stares as he sees us cuddled up on the couch together. He stares as we all sit on the floor together.

There’s some talk, some touching, not a lot at first. Eventually we get playful. I find out he’s ticklish. He’s stronger, faster than I am, but there are two of us. We push him down, pin him down, tickle him until he can’t breathe. We take off his shirt. I pet him, touch his skin, cause goosebumps. Junk sprawls out across the both of us. I have my arm around him and he’s petting her hair. If I were open to being touched, I’m sure he’d touch me too. For now, this is the balance that I like.

Our teasing turns to taunting turns to innuendo. Something about bacon. Something about blow jobs. She remarks that we don’t make very good lesbians and it’s the truth. He has to excuse himself for a moment and I steal kisses from her before he comes back. We wander around, looking at his things, scoping out the kitchen. Only in my nightmares have I considered what a house would look like with three men and no women living in it.

He finally comes back, either talking himself down from the idea of having two girls talking about blowing him or ready to go — he didn’t get a chance to say either way. At quarter past midnight, there’s not a whole lot of time for anything. I tell him that we have to leave. I hug him good-bye and as I do I whisper in his ear that I’m going to kiss him. I’d wanted to for a while. Not days long. Not really. Not even from the beginning of that night. But from the beginning of when we all started cuddling. I’d thought about it a time or two. There have been enough instances in my life where I thought ‘What if’ and I wasn’t about to let this be one of them.

He kissed unlike most people I’ve kissed before. Active. Participatory. Not overpowering. There was no test of ego, of will, of dominance. He wasn’t passive, he answered to me, and I could feel that tug-of-war that could have gone on for much longer. I wished it had started earlier in the evening. I had to look at him, think about it for a moment. He turned to look at Junk and suddenly the best thing in the world was about to happen right in front of me. I watched him lean in and kiss her and she didn’t shy away. He kissed her and for a split second it was the most arousing thing I’d seen in ages. And then she squealed! And then she ran out of the house. I couldn’t stop laughing.

This was an experience I thought I’d never have. It opened up a conversation with Junk this morning that gave us a positive review of poly. I had to thank him for that as well. This was the kind of triangle that I thought would be ideal. Where everyone could love and share and be affectionate. I really enjoyed it. I liked the experiences, the lessons, the sharing.  I liked the time spent, the stories told, the kiss. I like where we might go, what we might explore, what might come of it all. (Like new furniture.)

Perfectly Vanilla

The last time I tried to go on a perfectly vanilla date I almost succeeded. It actually came out close enough that I had a friend congratulate me on my first vanilla date in over ten years. I didn’t specifically ask him out though — he asked me — and only after I told him I was trying to sucker some fool into going to a baseball game with me before the season was over. The wounds were still fresh from the last spat, the one in which I was told that he could never have a D/s relationship with me. The best we could get would be friends. At the time, I was more than ready to accept that, especially considering the alternative was not at all.

I spent the afternoon wondering if he would actually make it to my house. Would he call me that afternoon and tell me that he’d decided it wasn’t a good idea after all? We had no earthly business being together in any capacity. We’d just ended an Ownership arrangement between the two of us that could have gone better in about a million different ways. I had a hard time thinking of him as anything other than my submissive, because for nearly a month our entire interaction with one another was based on the fact that I owned him. Every time we talked about the future, it was certain that he was owned by me. There was no room for question. Oh sure, he questioned how he ended up owned from time to time, but it was never a question of how our relationship was shaped. Now, when he appeared at my door, I was looking at a man I knew and cared about, but who was essentially a stranger to me all over again.

This was exactly what he’d wanted though. A vanilla setting, vanilla expectations, a vanilla friendship in which there was no protocol, no rules, no rituals. I was more than willing to buy the drinks since he was providing the ride. It was the first time I’d seen him in his work clothes and he had to have seen the way that I stalled for a second, losing all track of time and manners when I first opened the door. I never thought he’d be in my home again. I don’t think the dog thought he was ever going to see him again either, because he sure made a scene.

The ride to the ballpark wasn’t at all awkward. We talked and laughed, just the same as it had been for me before, but likely better for him. A cloud of agony and worry had been lifted from him. I was happy that he had found his happiness, that he had found his relief, but there was sorrow on my end. Still, it was better than nothing. How sad it would have been to meet someone else that showed me so much about myself, so much of what I wanted in another person, and then for them to disappear without another word, like the last one. I wouldn’t have been able to blame him either because this time it would have been entirely my fault.

In the few times that we had seen one another before, there had been plenty of touching, plenty of physical affection. Tonight, that’s where the awkwardness came in. I didn’t know if I was allowed to touch him. I don’t know that he knew if he was allowed to touch me. Nothing felt the same but it all seemed so familiar. While he had been relieved his imagined expectations, I felt as though a million of them had been placed upon me. Things that would normally roll off my tongue had to be kept in check, the way that I touched him couldn’t be done, anything that would signify dominance in any shape or form had to be withheld. That’s not what this was any longer. Instead, I had to resign to being his friend. I had to accept him for what he wanted to be. He made jokes — I laughed. He sang — I laughed (at him). He rattled off baseball stats about players that flashed up on the screen — I was impressed. We cheered together. We clapped together. We celebrated together when our team won.

At dinner we finally brought up the topic of chastity, of how the relationship had gone so wrong. We got out a few things here and there. The mood went from light and awkward down to the nitty-gritty of what had gone wrong and whether anything could be salvaged. At the moment, nothing could be salvaged. For the time being, this was how things had to be. I was looking at him, sitting across from me in this booth, sharing dinner with me, sharing a drink, sharing a common interest in baseball, knowing that there was so much more to him that I wanted to know, feeling grateful that I had met him at all.

After dinner, we found ourselves back at my place, sitting on the couch talking. One of his greatest concerns with the chastity had been that I wanted to forever deny him his sexuality — that I didn’t need physical intimacy at all, so I could very easily lock him up and throw away the key and never need to share that with him. That was, I believe, what led to the downfall of the arrangement. So when he mentioned to me that he had his toy bag in the trunk of his car, I told him to get it. Now, this may not have been the most brilliant move ever, but it allowed us to form a connection that we hadn’t had before, despite believing that a relationship based on chastity was in fact a sexual relationship. I touched his toys, pulled them out and showed them to him, gauged his reaction. It was the hood that I settled on, that I slipped over his head, and it was that hood that let me into a whole different world of his, one that I really wanted to play around in. So play I did. Just for a bit. I took it off earlier than he would have liked, I suspect, but it told me enough.

In the end, I think he felt that he was more from a vanilla world and that I was from a kink world and we were both trying to figure out how we were going to manage to get on with one another. Baseball was the bridge that brought us together but I was hoping that in time, if he gave us time, we could find a few other interests that would strengthen that bond.

I never regretted rooting around in his toy bag. I never regretted playing with him. In fact, I think playing with him really helped us out in one way or another. The only thing I regretted was that I couldn’t say that I’d been on a perfectly vanilla date — not until vanilla people start considering wearing hoods during sex vanilla. However, there was no need to despair. I got a redo this past weekend.

It started that game night, where I withdrew my tickets for the fall festival from my pocket and asked him to hold them in his wallet so I wouldn’t accidentally throw them away. I told him ‘If we can’t go for some reason, just go ahead and take someone else, so that my money doesn’t go to waste.’ He gave me a skeptical look, possibly as though wondering if I was trying to crack some joke (again) about how we were unable to stay together for longer than a week. (We did have a bad habit of fighting on Fridays, but he’d been good about it lately and we’d worked through a lot of the communication breakdowns we were having.) He asked me why we wouldn’t go and I just shrugged. Just a feeling I had! As he put them in his wallet, he reassured me that we would be going. Sure Dev, whatever you say! Come Wednesday, I got work that we wouldn’t be going because something had come up for him that he needed to attend to and I just laughed it off and we rescheduled for two weeks out. But, so we didn’t lose a day that weekend to hang out, would I be interested in going to the zoo?

In my head, I was going ‘OH MY GOD THE ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’ but of course, to him, I was perfectly cool and composed. ‘Sure!’He told me he’d be at my house at 7:30am. On a Sunday. This was the face I made: >.O; It reminded me a bit of his birthday story, in which his character had told the other that they’d be getting up at 4 and she had to question if he honestly meant ‘in the morning’. (Turns out getting up wasn’t hard. I was just busy lamenting the loss of sleeping in on the last day of the weekend before work. Worth it!)

Now, I know Devin well enough to know that being invited to the zoo did not mean that we were going to take a leisurely stroll through the zoo in effort to see the wildlife and talk about their stripes/spots/habitats. No. Going to the zoo meant that he was going to have his camera and that we were going to be sticking around at each animal until they were done making cute faces at him. Then, when there was nothing more to photograph, we would move on. This was abundantly clear to me as I’d seen his photos before! Also, I would have been horrifically and inconsolably upset if he had invited me to the zoo to not take pictures. Seriously. No one wants to date a photographer that doesn’t take pictures. I swear! So naturally, since his attention wasn’t going to be on me anyhow ( :( ) I packed my camera (in my imaginary camera case — I really need to buy one) and hoped that I could get some of my own decent shots of zoo life. Typically I was the person in the group with the camera going ‘JUST WAIT ONE MORE SECOND HE’S ABOUT TO DO SOMETHING –’ and my friends were gone, so this was exciting for me.

We started at the Tiger. The Tiger knew what was up. He was hanging out, taunting Devin who still needed to set his camera up, and if I hadn’t been so shy at that moment (yeah, I’ll let you reread that, I get shy sometimes) I probably could have got a lot of awesome shots. Unfortunately I was busy watching Devin and watching how he put everything together and hot he got set up and that’s the excuse I’ve got. Next time I will be better prepared. Next time won’t be the first time I actually got to see him work, so it might not be as incredibly novel to me. Next time I’ll be out to get the shot he missed (yeah right).

Big cats first, then it was down to the monkeys, and then we happened to pass by some flamingos. Do you have any idea how hard it is to make a flamingo look interesting? Unless it’s got its feathers all ruffled up, they really don’t do a whole lot. And eye contact? Forget about it. That said, I do have one shot that I find interesting. However, you can’t see any of their legs in it which makes them look like they’re pink blobs just hanging out in the water. Not so flattering. Still interesting to me though. Then came the Zebra, who was right down by the fence, and I watched Devin hop around as patiently as he could for the kid in front of him to get done staring so he could jam his camera in there and get a few pictures. I got nothing, except the memories of watching him geek out over being so close to the zebra. Priceless. Then it was off to the tortoise with blue eyes, the macaw, and the komodo dragon. When we went back through the pictures, he wondered why he had so few of that one in particular. Oh right, we got caught up in talking about chastity right about then. Sometimes we get carried away talking about just anything and if you get us on the subject of chastity, we can talk forever. Groundhogs (prairie dogs?), Roadrunner, and a burrowing owl that I think was a pirate in a past life because he just kept squinting at me. I can almost hear him go ‘Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh matey’ in my pictures of him. We finally got to see the otters at play and I almost got a good picture of one and then it was off to the giraffes. Oh man do I love those giraffes. Unfortunately they don’t love me. I know that we had a go at the African Dogs (beautiful) and the Cheetahs too, but they didn’t make it onto my camera due to the need to conserve batteries, because some of us are not as prepared as real photographers. (Also because their dogs hide the charger from them so they can’t charge their cameras to full battery power before heading to the zoo.)

After an afternoon of exercising food restriction…I know, my sense of humor is amazing. Honestly, we just lost track of the time and before we knew it, six hours since breakfast had passed and someone needed to eat again. Something about schedules and how real people need food to fuel their bodies or something. He was craving Italian food and I was craving more conversation and a cool, quiet place to sit down for a while. I definitely got the cool part towards the end of the meal, as I sat shivering in the booth, wondering why on earth it was so cold in the middle of summer. The meal was fantastic. I made some remark that he reacted to in a priceless fashion. Something about how ‘when I got my key back’ to his chastity device, not ‘if’ I got my key back…. Then, someone behind him ordered some pumpkin cheesecake and somehow, magically, that same delicious dessert appeared in front of me! Yay! Anything pumpkin is delicious in my mouth and I think he’s caught onto this!

Not long after I declared I was freezing, we found our way out of the restaurant and back at my place. The couch is really where everything goes down. There’s time to cuddle, time to talk, time to just be together. There’s also some time to look through pictures and to tease him through his pants. Every now and again there’s even time to lose some clothing. Pumpkin thirty was quick approaching though, so it didn’t get too far. (What? I said it was a vanilla date, not a prude date.) That was fine though, because I had a wonderful day and hey, now I have to get up early too, so I can’t even tease him too bad about his old man bedtime.

After he headed home, I grabbed my new friend Reggie and went through the ‘This is mine’ ritual with the dog enough that he finally realized rhinos don’t belong in his mouth, no matter how soft they are. We dragged ourselves up the stairs, tucked into bed, and fell asleep before Dev even made it home. If anyone had ever told me that vanilla dating could be that good, I may have actually made a go at it earlier on. But if you can have vanilla dates combined with kinky sex afterwards….well, you know, I think I might just stick to that formula for now.

Fluid

One of the requirements that I had on my profile when I was listed with CollarMe.com was that anyone that wanted to be mine would have to be fluid, they’d have to be able to move between pet and boy, submissive and servant, friend and slave. They’d have to know when to slip into each of these roles and be comfortable with having so many roles and I acknowledged that it could be difficult to do, but it was necessary.

My family (for the most part) knows about me. They know about my relationships. My friends of the family do not. To them, j is a friend that comes to have dinner with us once a week. They’re all very nice to him and I’m sure to keep my physical affection for him very low when we’re in that particular place, simply because everyone there knows my family. When the three of us are going out together somewhere new though, I can hold hands with either of them, walk alongside either of them, put j behind us or in front of us, and receive kisses from either of them. It might seem weird to anyone else, but to us, we know what’s going on and that’s just how this relationship works for us.

Last night, the three of us went to dinner together usually reserved for couples. Having an odd number of people probably stuck quite a few people as strange, but it was very natural for us. After that, j drove us to our house and he asked if he could stay for just a bit. I took him into the bedroom and curled up around him, snugging him as has become some kind of ritual before he leaves for the evening. My husband came in and joined us, putting me in the middle. Towards the end of that, he put his arm over me and over j as well, and j turned into the cute little wigglebum that I know him to be, where if he had a tail, he’d surely be wagging it.

I didn’t want to end the weekend there though. My boy has reached some new heights emotionally, finally being able to cry in front of me, which seems to have brought us closer together. He’s been very close to me, physically and emotionally, and just absolutely gushy since we first got together Thursday night. Since I still have two days of vacation, I figured I might as well spend them with him, and so decided to go back home with him last night.

Already exhausted from a three hour dinner with my favorite people in the whole wide world and a very cozy hour of snuggling at home, I wasn’t expecting for much to happen when we got to his place. I just wanted to curl up in bed, curl up around him, and doze off.

Except. Except that for some reason I couldn’t keep my hands off him. He needed to make the bed so I could get in it and just about every time he rounded the corner, I was either touching him or pushing him over the foot of the bed, mimicking the very pose I use when I want to fuck him in the ass. It went so far as to push him onto the bed, climb on top of him, and kiss down his neck, knowing it would melt him.

Once in bed, I was far too tired for sex. I was probably too tired for orgasm, or so I thought. I wasn’t too tired to watch him entertain himself though. I had him strip down to his tight orange panties and rainbow socks and then had him climb in next to me and masturbate. Just a few moments later, I invited him to sit up on my lap so I had a better view of his cock, the way he was teasing himself.

For the most part, I was good. I didn’t touch, which allowed him to masturbate for longer. I didn’t talk either, because I know the things I say arouse him. I did let the word ‘slut’ slip and I was afraid he might orgasm so I decided to remain quiet. The only thing I couldn’t stop myself from doing was pushing up against his ass. I could rub my clit against him and I didn’t want to give up the meager stimulation I was getting. I wished I’d put something on before we started playing because he was so dangerously close to orgasm that I couldn’t hardly even touch his cock.

I asked him what kept pushing him so close to the edge when he wasn’t even stroking and he admitted it was the feel of me pushing up against his ass, and he said how badly he wanted to feel my cock inside of him. I told him that probably wouldn’t happen tonight, but he could go fetch my cock for me anyhow.

The Feel-Doe is really not a bad toy at all. I really cannot stand penetration of any kind (because I find it painful) and so it doesn’t get used very often. When I do use it though, I love it. I love the weight of the thick cock resting against my clit when I’m on my back, which is the position I’m most often in when I’m wearing it. If I’m really, really aroused I don’t have any trouble sliding it in and holding it there, but I hadn’t reached that point of arousal physically. I had him wait with his nose against the wall and his wrists crossed at the small of his back as I situated myself, and then I had him climb on top of me again.

He was already so aroused that he didn’t even need to stroke. Instead, he just rubbed his ass against the bulge I’d created in my pants and the lust in his eyes was evident. I was thoroughly enjoying myself as well. Tonight, learning from past mistakes, I told him to put on a condom. About fifteen seconds later, with my permission of course, the two of us were enjoying some fantastic orgasm, his second for the weekend and my fourth for the day.

While it didn’t go as flawlessly as I would have hoped, it went well enough. I need to figure out how to slip that sucker into me without needing five minutes to adjust. I could have used the harness to ensure it didn’t slip out, but it feels so unnatural to me that I didn’t want to bother. As a result, when he first sat on me, he pushed it out a bit because he immediately pushed back against it. Closing my legs tight and having him sit further down on the shaft made that much easier to handle. The best part was that when I was finished, I could just pop the sticky part into his mouth for clean up and roll over for sleep.

Eventually I’m hoping to get to a point where I can just slide my cock into place and engage in anal play the way I want to. Right now, I don’t think he can handle the sheer girth of my cock, but it won’t be much longer before he can. I want to see if I can ever use it without the harness in the way that I want to. I like the idea of me being on top, fucking him like my pretty little girl, my little princess. That’s what I fantasize about. When I fantasize about just fucking his ass as hard as I can, I can use the harness. It works in that fantasy. Right now though, it would seem I’m trying to fulfill some of the gender confusion that we both suffer from, that we suffer from happily. I’m sure this will have a great ending. It’s all about the journey anyhow.