Paving the Way

Every now and again someone at work gets brave enough to ask me about my personal life. I’ve worked there for almost ten years, but only one of the people there has been with me all that time. The rest are new; three years or fewer in my particular center. At first I tried to keep quiet about my life but, working with all women, relationships come up.

The first time anyone new really noticed anything off was when I first moved and I didn’t have my own car. j drove me to work in the mornings and picked me up against in the afternoons. I’d just gotten a new boss who was very friendly and trying to get to know everyone. I had some things I had to do in the back so I asked her if she’d just hand j the note I had for him when he came in and she agreed. The mistake she made was trying to have a conversation with him.

You see, at the time, we were practicing speech restrictions. As in I didn’t want him talking to anyone but me. He would smile and be friendly, and the objective of it was to simply come off as shy and not rude when he didn’t reply to someone. So he gave her a smile and excused himself graciously to fetch the drink that I’d written down for him to get me. When he came back I was ready to go and my boss made some crack about how my ‘boyfriend’ didn’t know how to speak. I couldn’t help but to smile at him. A quiet boy is a good boy!

The next time something like that happened, I’d just asked her to pass on the message that I was going to want a drink and he’d barely made in the door before she all too enthusiastically informed him of this and he went to turn around to get it. She suggested that he didn’t and he hesitated and laughed awkwardly (was what she told me). Then she told him that he should just tell me no! And he laughed and said that wouldn’t be a good idea.

Eventually, my friend who worked with me at the time, Miss C, informed our dear, wonderful, perfectly vanilla boss about the finer points of my relationship: j did what I told him to, without question, and he would never say no to me. That was pretty accurate. My boss was a little surprised, because where she came from, the husbands always expected the same service from their wives. As it turned out, her husband and I grew up in the same state, so we had a lot of the same ‘general relationship’ ideas, except that I’d always pictured myself fitting in with the men better than the women so I was never found in the kitchen washing dishes — my boyfriend at the time was in there on my behalf.

Fast forward a few years and a lot of questions later and we get to a real gem of a question today, when she asked me what I was up to. See, she knows about dil (and thinks he’s adorable, which he is!) and was asking what I had planned for when he would eventually move away. I told her that I was planning on joining up with some of the local clubs and if I was lucky, another boy I’d met named Blake would be joining me. He already belongs to the clubs, he knows some of the people, he’s got his foot in the door, and we’re at about the same place in that we both really need some hands-on real life experience to help round out the research and ideas we’ve already formed for ourselves.

So she told me she was surprised I wasn’t already a member. I told her that I was kind of shy, actually. Not that I have a hard time talking to people, but that sometimes when I meet people who are doing exactly what I want to be doing (ala Destiny and chance, Mistress160 and sol, and a handful of others that I know about or read about here and there) I’m kind of shy. I don’t want to say anything that would sound as though I take my life, or theirs, as a joke. I don’t want to be the n00b who went to the party with the wrong gear on (oh WoW references…). In that respect, I’ve always held myself back, and never bothered to join up. Oh, also, I don’t have any Dominant friends so Dom circles? I’m chillaxing by myself there whether I want to be or not.

So then my sweet, perfectly vanilla boss in her innocent curiosity looks at me and goes: Do you think there are people out there who prefer to have the male as the Dominant and the female as the slave? I just couldn’t stop laughing. Yes, yes, yes, yes a million times yes. That’s most of what I see, in fact! That’s the “norm”. If you put in a search for Master/slave, that’s pretty much the result that’s going to flood your computer.

Then she kind of tilts her head and continues to look at me with that gaze of innocence and goes: Do you think any of those guys would say you don’t belong because you’re a girl then? Oh, possibly! I mean, in the online communities where I used to hang out, there was always someone who told me I only wanted to be Dominant because I had penis envy. My exact reaction to that was lolwut? Okay maybe not. But I did ask why he’d think that when I was perfectly capable of strapping on any size cock, in any color, of any material, and being able to fuck anything I wanted. Oh, and when I was done? I could just take it off and throw it in the washing machine. Bet he couldn’t do that with his.

I mean, that response was really just to make a point. Sometimes I do have penis envy. Sometimes I wish that I could do some of the fascinating things that men can do with their real life blood and come cocks. But I don’t usually have that problem.

After the fifteen minutes that I was trying to kill were up, and our conversation died down a little bit and wound down to asking if I’d bought anything new for dil lately (c’mon, I said I worked with all girls) I walked away and smiled a little. I mean, if this perfectly vanilla sweet innocent woman thought that the normal D/s lifestyle was a Female Led Relationship, then hey, I have done some good in this world.

Naked

One of my favorite rules that I’ve put in place for j is that when we’re home alone together (and when he’s home alone anytime) he’s to be naked. Oh, years ago I could talk to all my girlfriends about how I appreciate the female form so much more than the male form, how there’s not so much attractive about them, and while I’ll still admit that I find women absolutely beautiful, I’ve come to discover that men can be beautiful as well.

But then there’s something else as well, a conversation my husband and I have had time and again over the decade we’ve been together. We both suscribe to the idea that the more you love someone, the more attractive they are to you. I’m certainly no supermodel, but I have no doubts that my husband finds me attractive. The same goes for my husband, except that a lot of people find him attractive (he just doesn’t realize it) and the same goes for j.

We’ve talked a little about his physical appearance. He has one or two things he’d like to change about himself, but I’m so used to his body and appreciate it as it is that it wouldn’t matter much if he changed it at all. One of the things that we’ve talked about is how he’s not symmetrical, but how it’s hardly noticeable at this point, just because I see him without clothes so much of the time.

The one really fantastically great thing about boys being naked is that their arousal is so evident. I can lose minutes and hours just watching the different forms that the cock can take, from being relaxed to being erect to when it’s suffering from pain or slowing creeping away after an orgasm. It’s almost like cock lust except for not. I don’t necessarily want to be doing anything to it, I just want to watch it.

The other day he was kneeling in front of me and he pushed himself right into my lap and wrapped his arms around me for a hug. I hugged him back for a second but then went to tickle him. I wrapped my legs around his and held him in place so that he could squirm all he wanted but it wouldn’t really stop me. When I let him go and he moved over to grab something, it was obvious to see that he was aroused. I asked if it was the tickling, trying ever so hard to remember if that had been something he’d had on his like list on the profile that I stared at obsessively the first months that I knew him and he just shook his head. Then I remembered his fascination with bondage and asked if it was that I had been holding him, and he nodded.

Later in the night, after we’d gone to bed, we often lay awake (or not so awake) talking and should the urge hit me to have an orgasm before I drift off completely, I’ll typically find some way to use him, either by having him service me orally or by pulling him on top of me and directing him to rub himself against my clit so I can get off. Pretty much anything that doesn’t take too much effort on my part so that I can orgasm and then drift off right away. He’s really good at just curling up at my side and not demanding a thing of me afterwards, so it works out nicely.

Another option though, if I’m in the mood for it, is to just use him. Typically, because I don’t bother to undress for anything like this since it’s just rubbing our bodies together, I roll him over and then I can rub up against his ass. It’s kind of nice to imagine penetrating him and making him squeal, but we’re not far enough along yet that I could slip something up in there without hurting him beyond what either of us would find pleasurable. Plus, it’s a lot of work for pre-sleep orgasm. So I just rub away until I orgasm, he gets to feel something rubbing against his ass, and we call it a night.

The final alternative is for me to actually pin him and rub against his cock, which I’d say happens the least of all these things. It takes some fantastic positioning and again, work. But the position usually requires his arms above his head so that he’s not touching me and I’m always keen on that. This time, I clipped his wrist restraints to the headboard and clipped his ankles together as well, and then just wrapped myself around him as much as I could before I set out for my orgasm. When I was done, he commented that that was the tightest I’d ever held him. I had to agree.

Ever since then, I’ve put more and more thought into bondage. I don’t like the ropes so much, except to just admire the sight of them on his naked body. I like chains but he doesn’t, but his dislike for them isn’t enough to sway me from doing something I’d really enjoy. I just don’t know that I’d enjoy it that much. What usually comes to mind is saran wrap. I like the idea of just wrapping up his whole body, except his cock and his mouth.

Today I went a little further with it. I toyed with the idea of tape. I like it because hey, it hurts coming off too. I also like that it’ll hurt even more if he hasn’t shaved like he’s supposed to. I like that he could struggle against it even more and probably break less of it. I like the way it looks in my head, especially paired with his leather restraints and collar. I like the idea of tape and saran wrap. I worry ridiculously about the ill side effects of saran wrap trapping moisture between it and his skin and making his skin problem worse. I don’t think it’d be a measurable difference in just one session anyhow.

But what really tripped it from idea to arousing for me was pairing it with a hood.

I’ve read that a lot of people find it easier to do objectification if their slave is wearing a hood because then the humanity issue is gone. They’re an object and not a person so much. For me I think it’d help because I put so much stock in his facial expressions. They might not even accurately portray what he’s feeling but for whatever reason, they seem to trump the energy that I’m feeling from him and the sounds that he’s making. I know a ‘I need to breathe now’ sound from a whimper that he has to let out because he’s enduring something for me and enjoying (and also not enjoying) himself while doing it.

Then there’s also just the fact that hoods are hot. I want to play with one just to see what kind of transformation can be made and if it goes well (I don’t know how it wouldn’t) I’d love to upgrade to a leather hood. I know exactly the one I want for him too because I’ve been lusting after it for years.

Finally, since I seemed to leave off on such a sour note in my last entry, and while I certainly don’t take back anything of what I’ve said so far, it needs to be noted that there are plenty of areas in live where I can absolutely regard him as a slave and not just a submissive.

Amusingly enough, as opposite as it may be, he’s a great deal better at doing life tasks for me than the sexual ones that I’d mentioned previously. I cherish those above anything else, being that a slave’s priority in life is to make my life easier. Today he was able to send out a payment that I could not have possibly done in my schedule to ensure and those sorts of things are by far more important than a lot of other things I’ve talked about.

For right now, I’m rather happy where I am. We have a lot of changes coming up in the next two weeks and a lot of excitement. After things settle again, then it’ll be a great time to put into practice these ideas of higher protocols we both seem to enjoy the idea of.

Until then….

Slavery

This was the first full weekend j and I have had together in a while. When my house was first broken into, my husband insisted that I stay at j’s place because it made him feel safer. Additionally it gave me something to do, since at the time I’d lost my computer which was what I spend most of my time on. Eventually I think he got over the paranoia of someone coming while I was home and he himself got a bit lonely, so I was spending more and more time at home, which unfortunately allowed me to drift away from j ever so slightly. Not in intimacy so much, but in protocol.

This weekend we talked a little about that. He’s a very high strung little kitten and he has a tendency to stress about anything. He doesn’t know how to relax so well either, not like he used to be able to. We both admitted that we liked higher protocols and that it helped us both out. With him, it helps him to relax a little and with me, it makes me feel like I’m actually helping him. I do what I can otherwise, but there’s just not a whole lot I can do other than to be there and tell him things will be alright. He says it helps, but I know that honestly it has to come from within.

I don’t think that we’ve quite figured out how to manage the higher protocol throughout the day though. I know what I want to see, and most of it starts with just the way he speaks to me.  I want to see ‘Miss’ in just about every one of his replies. I think it’s an easy way for us to be reminded of the kind of relationship we’re in. We’re not just friends or lovers, but are in fact Mistress and slave and having to write out just that every time he communicates with me will bring it to mind more often. In fact, it might even prompt a better way of speaking between the two of us. I know that when he’s in a very submissive place, I speak a little sterner, a little firmer, and with more authority. I have a tendency to coddle him when he’s feeling down, stemming from insecurities that were brought about the first couple of times I tried to do this sort of relationship (and it didn’t do me any good then either so I don’t know why I keep falling into that trap). Right now, as it is, I feel like anyone that might see our conversations might think we were just friends which is definitely not what I want.

Something else that we talked about was that I don’t feel like I know enough of what’s going on in his life. I know exactly what he’s doing every minute of the day when I’m with him, but other than that I pretty much only know if he’s at home or at work. I don’t know the inbetweens. I don’t know when he’s visiting with friends. He is very good at asking if he can have a friend over on the weekends or if he can go out on the weekends. If we’re both online in the evenings, he always asks if he can go get/eat dinner, if he can step away to use the bathroom, if he can go watch television, or if he can go to bed. But then the weekend will come around and he’ll tell me he went out with a friend or a friend came over and I’d much prefer to know closer to when it’s actually happening than at the end of the week. I’m a very controlling person who’s not getting a whole lot of control.

Additionally I’ve found that I don’t like taking it. I don’t know what kind of stigma I have for laying down very strict rules, except that I’m afraid that they’re too fantasy-based and won’t work out reality. What I should do is be strict and then lessen them if needed, rather than the other way around. Regardless, it’s my feeling that when the slave trusts the Owner, they’ll offer up more and more of their service and of their submission. So for whatever reason, in my head, if he truly trusted me, he’d take that first step towards telling me anytime someone came over, asking if he can go out with friends during the week rather than just on weekends, etc. I guess in a way it feels like he’s not exerting that much effort and I don’t want to, I don’t know, feel rejected? if I demand it and he fails. I don’t want to set him up to fail. I want to see him succeed but I want to see him succeed in so many more things than what we’re doing now.

We talked about stepping things up a little too, when we were discussing protocols. We talked about putting things in place such as not being allowed to talk at all, because he likes it. My problem with that is that I just don’t feel that we’re succeeding enough at the things I’m already trying to enforce. For instance, one of his rules is to shave every other day, and for him to shave his arms every day when he’s in the shower, so that he’s always smooth for me. When he gets stressed out (which is understandably going to happen, especially with these past weeks we’ve had) he puts them aside. I feel as though these rituals that I’ve tried to incorporate into his life ought to make things feel more normal, a way for him to unwind, and instead they’re not being utilized at all, and they leave me feeling as though they’re entirely unimportant to him.

In one of our latest conversations, we discussed him having a check-up, just to make sure everything’s in working order. There are a lot of things that run in his family that he’s susceptible to and if he’s going to end up with them, I’d like to catch them early. If there’s a way to prevent them, I’d like to take steps towards that. I intend to live a very long and fruitful life with this boy of mine and it’s not going to happen if we’re not taking care of ourselves. I mentioned going along with him for it and he told me he’d be more comfortable alone. At that point, I felt shut out. This person that I own lives an entirely separate life from me. To me, everything that is the slave’s is mine as well. So then, any health issue he might have is my concern and my problem too. At the root of it all, I’ve discovered I just don’t trust him to tell me if there’s anything wrong with him, not because he intentionally wants to hide it from me, but because he doesn’t want me to worry.

So with all of these things in front of me, with all of these things that I still have to work us through, I’ve found I don’t even feel comfortable calling him a slave. Whenever I’m speaking to someone else about him, I call him my submissive, or my pet. When I ask him what he identifies himself as, mostly, deep down in his heart, he tells me a slave. I just hope that we can either reconcile our definition of ‘slave’ to appease each of us or that I can guide him to be exactly what I want him to be, which coincidentally is exactly what he wants to be as well.

Suffering

For me, suffering is a very difficult concept. When I speak of being a Sadist, it’s the suffering that I enjoy the most. It’s not necessarily inflicting pain as I’ve come to find out. Over the years that I’ve been exploring and thinking about and trying to reason out what exactly makes me me, I’ve found that pain fit in there somewhere. But I don’t get a hard-on when I see someone else inflicting pain on someone. In fact, it’s not striking someone with the paddle that gets me wet. It’s the sounds they make and the suffering they endure for me that get me off.

The first night that I spent with j, I told him to strip. There was slight hesitation. He did though. And even though we’d never even kissed before then, he stood there naked before me. It wasn’t suffering, but it was arousing because it was close. It was something he didn’t appear to want to do, but did because I asked him to, because I told him to. I wasn’t afraid of him disobeying either, but that might not be relevant because he doesn’t disobey even when he knows that I intend to hurt him. The mindset didn’t make a difference in this case.

The first time that I spanked him, he squirmed and wriggled and made just god awful sounds. I think I was expecting him to like it. To really enjoy it. To honestly get off on it, the same as all the other boys that’d written to me, the ones that asked if I’d meet and play with him, just a spanking even. He honest-to-gods did not like what was going on once it started getting rougher. I didn’t start enjoying it either until I could tell he absolutely hated it, but then I couldn’t enjoy it later because I knew he hated it. I was in a very rough spot at the time.

But then we moved into chastity and this was when chastity sort of clicked for me. I’d experimented with it before. I love to watch a boy orgasm. I like the way their body responds. I like their faces. I like how they can’t talk. I like how they fight it. I love the expression seconds after they ejaculate. I love when they ejaculate! I love watching it being pushed out of their bodies. It’s beautiful to me, in a way. I lust after it. I don’t want to touch it or taste it but I like the smell and I like how they look after they orgasm. So naturally I like to ensure that they’re only having that kind of pleasure with me, around me, because of me. I want them to associate such pleasurable feelings with me, even if I’m not technically doing anything.

Every now and again I let him play in the shower if I’m not around, but no orgasm. He tells me it’s never as good as doing it in front of me. I like making him play and watching the way he bites his lip and pouts when he gets close to climax and knows he can’t. I love when he begs, begs, for me to stop touching him because he’s so close and he knows he’s not allowed to cum. I love when he’s pleading with me and I’m not stopping, not until I can hear the panic in his voice. I love that he’s begging with all his heart for something he doesn’t want, except he does, because if he orgasms without permission he gets in trouble and he doesn’t want to be in trouble — he wants to be a good boy. Good boys always follow the rules. I love that sort of suffering. I find it arousing and sexy and intimate.

I also enjoy having him go down on me. I like when he first startst he way he’s soft and sweet about it, being sure to warm me up, because sometimes I put him down there just for the sensation, not because I want to orgasm. Sometimes I just want to make him use his mouth — it’s been a while or I’m showing him that there are better uses for his mouth or whatever. I like that he’s soft and delicate and uses his beard and offers as many sensations as he can.

I also like when it changes, when he’s aroused me to the point that I then want an orgasm. I like the change because then what he’s doing and if he’s comfortable no longer matters. I like to make sure that he’s pressed between my thighs, so his world consists of me and only me. He’ll breathe me, smell me, taste me,  see me, and nothing else. If he can’t stay focused on me in that kind of situation, he’d never be able to focus on me any other time. Better than that though, I can pull his hair. I can clamp my legs around his neck. I can thrust myself into his mouth. I can make it hard for him to breathe. I can feel him gasp gratefully when I pull myself away from him and push him away at the same time, for that one split second, and I can hear him suck in a deep breath before he’s plunged back to where he belongs. I feel him struggle the longer it takes me, but he never stops. He doesn’t let up. I guide him and he does exactly what he’s supposed to until I orgasm and then he remains as still as he can until I tell him it’s okay. He eithers stays down there for a bit longer while I pet his hair or he crawls up and presses his back to me and I pet his shoulders, or curl around him.

I know that he suffers during that, because he’s getting nothing out of it. I’m restricting his air. I’m keeping him where I want him to be. I tell him what to do and when to do it and I tell him when he’s finished. But at the same time he loves it. He likes the suffering. It makes him feel good.

The pain is another way to make him suffer. If I want him to enjoy it to a certain point, to try to push him further than we’ve gone before, I go slow. I do what I know he likes. If I want to hurt him, I start with what I like best and I hit him hard from the get-go. Obviously he suffers with both, because each are painful. I know if I really want it to hurt though, if I really want to make it so he gets no physical pleasure from it whatsoever, I only need to talk about a transgression of his. Then his mind processes everything differently. I learned this accidentally once. He fails to process anything as pleasure and just about can’t be hit at all. While it’s still suffering, it’s not quite the sort that I thoroughly enjoy.

Finally, a suffering that really only stems from discomfort. He’s not allowed out of my sight without permission which means that he must ask to use the bathroom. Typically he doesn’t ask to use the restroom unless it’s already to a point where he’s uncomfortable, so I’ve typically just said yes. Every now and again though I say no. I obviously don’t say it often enough because I’ve seen him get up and take a step off in the direction of the bathroom before he’s realized I’ve said no.  This was this morning’s topic.

At night, when we’re in bed, if he’s sleeping in the bed, I like him to be attached to the leash, but only if he’s awake. There’s not much of a chance of him choking but still, I have a feeling he’s more fun alive than dead. Understanding why he didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to wake me, I woke when he left the bed and listened to him as he went to the bathroom and listened as he clipped the leash back onto his collar as he curled up behind me, which is always another good way to tell he’s awake, because otherwise we can only sleep facing away from one another.

When I fully woke this morning, I explained that I don’t mean to ask me to use the bathroom only when it’s convenient to ask me. If I’m asleep, obviously he’s going to have to weigh whether or not it’s necessary enough to have to wake me to ask if he can use the bathroom.

On the subject of convenience though, I only have him ask when we’re together, because otherwise the poor boy would end up going for entire days without using the restroom just because of the way our schedules align. Also because of the strange hours he works.

Making him ask to use the bathroom though, and being able to say no, that brings about a whole new way of suffering, one that I’ve found I really enjoy. And, because he’s my good boy, he suffers for me, in just about any way we could dream up.

Femme Friday

Thursday night we were supposed to get together. In the middle of the afternoon it turned out he was unable to get out of a conference call that would start at 7pm that evening and could go on for whoever knows how long. Dinner was canceled and subsequently all the rest of the plans I’d had for that night. Each of us had a little while to pout about it, because that seems to be how we each handle it, but after an hour or so we seemed to be doing a little better. In fact, we got to talk on messenger all night long while he took that phone call and another one an hour later. Our conversation was going all over the place, with me admitting a few things that I normally wouldn’t (for fear of looking crazy).

Friday morning and Friday afternoon I’d had just about enough with the world. What I wanted more than anything was to hit my boy and call it a night. I was reluctant to see him at all, because my husband and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary over the weekend (but today is the offical day) and I didn’t know how he’d feel about sharing any part of the weekend with j. He had planned on running some errands that morning though, so after a bit of situating, we decided I ought to spend the night with j and that he’d just come and pick me up the next day and we’d go on our date.

When I got dropped off at j’s door (with little notice that I was coming over at all, really) he answered it while hiding behind it, so I knew he was dressed ‘appropriately’, which to us means that he’s nude and wearing just cuffs around his ankles and wrists. This is entirely plausible for most of the year because of where we live, and the pretty consistent and warm temperature. Once I got inside though, I saw that he’d taken ‘appropriate’ a step further and was actually wearing all of the pretty stuff we bought for him a couple of weeks ago and did nothing with. So my boy was looking pretty fantastic in his pink silk robe and his dark stockings.

He knelt for me for a bit and we caught up on what’d happened during the week. I told him that I wanted to hurt him but to be honest, right this second, I don’t even think that happened. What I remember happening was taking him to bed straight away so I could have some fun with him. I remember holding him and pressing him into the bed and chaining him to the headboard so that I could use his body and so he couldn’t move. I remember slowly undressing him and using him. I also remember the fun of gender reversal.

Typically when I’m fantasizing, I’m fantasizing about taking him. In bed in the morning I usually roll him over and press myself up against his ass and I can rub myself to orgasm and he usually gets into it just as much as I do. So I decided that since we were already in this place and in this frame of mind, I might as well put to good use the FeelDoe and harness that I have stashed at his house for occasions just like this.

I totally understand why guys might balk at the idea of sex if they’re new to it. Really. I don’t think I did any part of that right. For a while, I wasn’t even certain I was poking him in the right way. We tried several different positions, pillows under the hips, me kneeling behind him, me standing behind him, I may as well have climbed up on something and then jumped on top of him at the rate we were going. Eventually we finally found a position that was going to work, which involved him being slung over the bed sideways and me standing between his legs behind him. We were positioned well and I was pretty certain I was going to get this right and that’s when he looked back over his shoulder and told me that my cock was just too big.

Sigh.

But it sure didn’t ruin anything. We just decided to have a good old time using our own genetalia in the way they’re typically used. Afterwards, he curled up against me. We ended up roaming all over the bed really. One of the best positions was when he had his head resting against my hip, looking up at me, so I could run my hands down his stocking-clad legs. Eventually he was rid of the stockings too, so I could just touch his skin. I rubbed his feet and he told me he’d never had that done before. Now though, now he can see why I like having it done so much.

It was another night where he told me that he thought I was the best boyfriend ever. I always feel a little shy when he says it, but happy, and a little bit proud. So it was only natural that when we went out together last night, I reassure him that I’d already planned Valentine’s Day for us and that he didn’t need to. I think he knew already though, because he told me he liked how I did it, that if it was left up to him, he’d stress out about making the perfect plans. I much prefer it this way. After all, if I’m going to be his boyfriend, he’s going to have to be my girlfriend, and I like to spoil my girls with romantic dates and pretty things. That’s just how I am.

Home Again

I dropped off the face of the earth for a while, for good reason: fun. After I got home from Disneyland with j and my husband, my husband and I packed up to head north to visit our friends and to play in the snow. It’d been a couple of months since I’d seen my pup and I missed him something awful. This trip went a whole heck of a lot better than the last one and I had more fun than anyone should have so early in the year.

Now that I’m home, j and I got to spend some time together. He was waiting at the house for me when I pulled up last night and he immediately whisked me away for dinner and a good night’s sleep. Today, we spent the day shopping, putting together a few things that I’m in desperate need of in order to get started on one of my 101 goals that I’ve set for the next 1,001 days. One of the hobbies that I’d like to pick up is scrapbooking.

We headed out and he helped me pick out a book to put my memories in. We found some paper for our scrapbook together, but not the book. The theme, fitting enough, is fairy tales. Dreams come true. All things wonderful, really. As we drove to the next store, or home, or wherever we were headed at that time, he asked me ever so sweetly if I’d be his prince on a white horse. Of course. So long as he always remains my sweet princess, which I know he will.

One of our stops for the day was Macy’s. One of the tasks he’d had from last week was to buy something pretty, make himself pretty, and take pictures. Life decided to get in the way though, so he had to wait to buy something pretty. We went shopping together and while we had in mind that he’d get some stockings, because he thought that those would be very pretty, he ended up with stockings and a silk robe. I’m almost jealous of it, being so pretty and all. I’ll be sure to get some pictures of it up soon. He looks absolutely adorable in it, especially combined with his cuffs and his service collar.

In other news regarding collars, the necklace that I gave him for Christmas didn’t seem to want to play with us any longer. As he was turning the necklace away from the charm, the charm, a snail, made a daring escape. Neither of us can figure out how it got off the chain, but there it was on the floor, clear as day. Hopefully that can be fixed, since it was a highly appropriate symbol for the two of us. (He said he knew he really liked me when I drew him a picture of a snail, after having a conversation about how he couldn’t draw spirals because they’d go on and on forever. I can draw spirals because I turn them into snail shells and make snails. This was one of our first AIM conversations.)

Now that I’m home and now that I’m getting settled in again, I should be able to write more often. Not for long though because very soon I have two weekends out of town again. So far this year is going wonderfully regarding travel and vacation and just plain fun. I really couldn’t ask for more.

One Step Forward and Two Steps Back

One of our favorite conversation pieces happens to be that it’s always the little things. Little things make the world go ’round. There’s nothing wrong with big and extravagent and that’ll usually be memorable, but the little details in the day is what makes like wonderful. We usually talk about the little things when they’re occuring, like letting him be himself, or the thoughtfulness that occurs between the two of us. There’s a lot of thoughtfulness between the three of us, actually, for one another. It’s really nice.

For me, the little things consist of making sure that I’m always well taken care of. Making sure my water glass is full. Making sure that the door is opened for me. Making sure to write or communicate every day. Smiles. Sweet sentiments. I like when the shows he’s thinking of me. With my husband, I always remember when he’ll stop by work and drop off a candy bar and a Rockstar to help make my day better. The little things like that.

Something that I really enjoy doing with my boy is handfeeding him. It started during puppy play one night. I was telling him to sit and rewarding him with a small bit of cheese for performing the action the way I wanted him to. He expressed an interest in receiving the food that way and so I continued it, though not often, outside of puppy play as well. The other night we went out for dinner, the three of us, and we got mint candies as an after dinner dessert. I opened one up, took a bite, and fed the other half to him. He ate it quickly and followed it up with ‘Yuck’. I laughed. It didn’t escape me that he ate it so eagerly despite knowing what it was and not liking it. In fact, he even offered that I feed him another one if I liked so much that he hated it. I told him I would, except my husband actually likes them, and he was set on devouring the rest of them. So he suggested that I feed him the cordial cherries I got as a gift earlier that day because they were even worse. I contemplated it. I liked the idea that I could feed him things he hated.

Today he brought me back to my house. We were doing the great partner swap. My husband needed to do some shopping for me and it turned out j needed to as well. With their powers combined, they’d be able to knock out everything needed in one fell swoop. When we got here, my husband was making himself some lunch and baking cookies. My husband! My husband was baking cookies! What a wonderful treat. I went ahead into the computer room to look up some more information about puppies, as I’m getting ready to purchase one, and my boy stayed in the kitchen with my husband. Not so much later, he came into my room and knelt down beside me with a plate in his hands. Two freshly baked, warm, delicious peanut butter and cookies so early in the morning? No, I wasn’t dreaming. I was happily eating one of them and he asked me if they were any good. I took the last bite I had and went to feed it to him and he leaned back and said ‘No thank you’.

Typically this wouldn’t be a big deal, I don’t think. Or maybe it wouldn’t have been a big deal if it hadn’t come immediately after a night of feeding him things he didn’t like and having him so eagerly accept it because it came from my fingers. I should have just pushed it at him again. I’m sure he would have taken it. I was so taken aback by his response though, so hurt that he’d leaned away from me, that I couldn’t even look at him. I was angry and upset and he knew immediately that he’d made a poor decision. He tried to apologize but honestly, I didn’t want to hear it right then. I told him to go away. I told him to go back to Matt and get ready to go.

After that, I went to bed. Both of them came in and I was swarmed with concern and affection from my husband. Because I didn’t want to embarass j, I just told him it was because my back hurt and I’d stayed up late the night before and so I needed a nap. He gave me a hug and said if I needed anything to give him a call. j stayed on the other side of the room and apologized quietly before the two of them took off shopping.

Hours later when they returned, we all gathered in the computer room again. j was kneeling on the floor next to me as I was browsing some of the blogs that I usually read. We were enjoying an unhealthy dose of lolcatz when he announced that he’d have to go soon because he was going to visit his mom that night. It’s been agreed upon that he will always have permission to visit his mom and to work, no matter when they might take him away from me. One of my first full weekends at his house he was gone for several hours because his mother wanted him to come over and do some chores for her around the house. No big deal. However, he typically asks. Even if he knows he’s going to get a yes he asks. Tonight, instead of asking, he told me, and that didn’t really fare well with me, especially after the cookie incident. I rationalized I was being sensitive and let him go without a word.

He got home not long after that and that was when I’d finally realized that rational or not, it still bothered me and so it had to be addressed. He had regretted moving away from me and said it was just a lapse. He’ll get used to it. He knows that it doesn’t matter if he likes something or not, if I want him to eat/have it, he’ll eat/have it. Since he has no food allergies, it’s always just a matter of preference. Typically I take that into account and I don’t forcefully shove something I know he absolutely hates, say shrimp, into his mouth. I might leave it near him where he has to smell it, but I’m not going to put it in his mouth. Not unless I’m feeling especially feisty. When I brought up the departure for his mom’s, he explained that since he knew he could go, he didn’t think he should ask, afraid that always asking me for things was going to get on my nerves. I told him if it bothered me, I’d let him know. (Not that I did so well in that department this evening.) I’d rather be asked than told. Always.

Those were our two steps back.

Since I always like to end on a more positive note, our one step forward occured last night. I was exhausted. I pulled a muscle in my back yesterday afternoon and so simply functioning was taking a toll on me throughout the day. He wasn’t tired and was feeling especially cuddly and affectionate. It might have had something to do with the short, improvised face slapping ‘scene’ that we’d had right before going to bed. I’m not sure. Regardless, he was touching me in all the right ways and I couldn’t quite fall asleep anyhow, so I put him down between my legs and let him use his mouth on me, which is usually a good idea anyhow. He’s turned into a regular slut these days — nothing I’m going to complain about. While he was down there, using his mouth and earning himself some soft moans from me, he told me that he had finally realized that he doesn’t have to give me an orgasm to give me pleasure.

I wish confetti could have fallen from the ceiling right then.

For some time, he always gauged his performance on my having an orgasm. That was my fault. He felt he was no good at oral and I loved his skills so much that I orgasmed every single time he gave it to me when we were first getting together. I told him he didn’t have to ask me if he pleased me when I’d orgasmed — orgasm meant I was pleased. There’ve been at least two times that I can think of since then that I’ve had him give me oral without the desire to actually have an orgasm. The first time was because I’d already orgasmed a few times, I think, and I didn’t have the energy to have another one. Last night I was exhausted and in pain and I couldn’t focus enough to orgasm (at first). Eventually he won me over though and I did get to orgasm. I’m just so pleased that he doesn’t equate my pleasure to orgasm anymore, that he’s come to realize that really, honestly, I’m just enjoying the feel of him between my legs, doing what he does best.

Smothered In Love

Due to having so much vacation time at work that they refused to pay out anymore until I took some, I’ve got plenty of time off in the month of December. Naturally I decided to spend it with my boy, j. He took off Thursday so he could clean up his house and get prepared for the weekend and also took off Friday with me so we could go out and have all kinds of fun. My husband saved his vacation time for January, when we’ll be heading up to Colorado to see our friends Kayn and Boshemia. This weekend started on Thursday night, when j packed up his bags and spent the night on our floor.

My husband doesn’t usually get home until about three hours after I’m home from work and j usually times it so he can be there right when I get off from work, so we had some time to play together that evening. My husband had bought a toy for me to play with because of my sensitivity in my nipples. We thought vibrating nipple clamps would be da bomb but sadly, we discovered that the vibrating part wasn’t anywhere near the clamp so I didn’t feel anything at all, unless it was lying down against my breast, which wasn’t stimulating at all. Rather than to let this go to waste, I decided I’d try them out on my boy. I clamped one to the shaft of his cock and the other underneath his balls and then set it to vibrate and watched him squirm all over the place. He appeared to like them just fine, so we’ll be adding the toy to his naughty cupboard rather than keeping them in my drawer. I have pictures that I had to take of the game, but I don’t have them with me this weekend.

After that enjoyable game of making him squirm, I decided I wanted an orgasm. I climbed on top of him and was rubbing myself against his hard cock. He’d asked earlier if he could use his mouth at some point over the weekend, so I offered him a nipple to play with. Before long, I was pressing myself down on his face, smothering him with my breast for a bit of the breath play that the both of us really enjoy. I could feel him gasping for breath, which was what eventually pushed me over the edge for orgasm. He still wasn’t allowed, but this was the weekend that I told him he could finally have an orgasm. Then, it was time for dinner.

Dinner is a usual thing for the three of us. It started the second week that j and I knew each other, originating because I wanted to take him out for dinner on his 29th birthday. He asked if we could invite my husband along so he could meet him as well and then every Saturday night after that, we’ve all three gotten together for dinner. It’s been a really great tradition for us, since we all absolutely love and adore food and also because j knows so many wonderful restaurants in the area. This week it was Red Lobster because I was craving seafood.

Friday morning, my husband got up to go to work and I got to sleep in. When I did finally get up, it was only to lounge about for a bit. I had things planned for the day but I didn’t have enough time to do anything really productive before we had to leave the house. After my shower and getting ready, j drove me to Phoenix, which is where my husband works (and coincidentally where my boy lives) and we stopped by Einstein’s to pick up lunch for my husband and his friend that works with him. We also got a bucket of bagels for everyone else in the office (and those that just pass through). We took that to them and stayed and visit for a long while. There was someone he works with that plays World of Warcraft so we all four talked about that just briefly before he had to head back to work.

After that excursion, we stopped by j’s apartment so he could shower and so we could watch a bit of television before heading home again. There, I got him set up to do some chores around the house. I bought him a leather collar with a bow tie on it so he could wear that whenever he was cleaning. He can put it on himself, or bring it to me to put on, but only I can take it off of him. When he’s wearing that collar, he has to be working in or around the house somehow. Also, he’s not allowed to speak, except to ask a question pertaining to his chores. This was a good way of implementing our rituals around my husband, so he had a clear idea of when j was available to talk to as a friend and when he was serving as my slave. The distinction is very important to us because my husband doesn’t participate in the D/s aspect of our lives. Tolerant and knowledgeable, but not a participant.

For dinner that night, we tried a new Chinese restaurant that turned out to be better than any of us were expecting, I think. It also made us realize we needed to try Mongolian BBQ at some point and only increased my cravings for sushi, so I’m expecting for that to be on the menu sometime soon. After dinner, j and I packed my things and we headed to his apartment to start our weekend together.

By the time we got there, I was already very, very tired, so we basically climbed into bed. When I first get in bed, he’s welcome to snuggle up with me and show me affection. When I roll onto my side, it’s time for me to sleep and he’s to stay near, but not interfere, not that he ever has. He was being so sweet and touching me so wonderfully that I couldn’t quite bring myself to roll over and actually go to sleep. He kept saying it would be fine if I did – I wasn’t feeling well and he wasn’t tired enough to sleep just yet.

What started out as perfectly innocent and wonderfully sweet ended up in the most pain we’ve ever exchanged. I wanted an orgasm but I can rarely get off to such sweet things like that. So while he was running his fingers over my skin, I was digging my nails into his. He’d whimper and nearly cry, but never really get to the point of tears. I tore up his sides and over one of his shoulders. Both of us thought I’d drawn blood at some point, but after examining him when we were done, it appeared I hadn’t. I came harder than I could ever remember with him clinging to me and whimpering through the pain. Typically after something like that, I’ll hold him close and he needs to snuggle up as well. However, his asthma decided to make a fuss, putting him on the other side of the bed sitting up so he could breathe. He was in a completely submissive frame of mind and I hated to leave him there without any after care, but he assured me he was fine and that he’d come over to me when he was able to breathe. He attempted to several times, in fact, but it was never lasting. At the very least, he was able to tell me how he was feeling before I drifted off to sleep, which was a fantastic compromise.

Saturday was our date day, to some degree. I woke up feeling incredible amounts of ill. I could hardly breathe and I had to have him stay away from me entirely because I was somewhere on the verge of either not breathing or vomiting and I didn’t especially want anyone around me for that. He offered to go and get coffee to help me out and some medicine, so I sent him out for that. After that, I was at least able to breathe fine. I lounged around for a bit, unsure of if I’d be well enough to go out, and then got dressed. I had to get my husband’s present for him this weekend, before it was entirely too late.

We looked around at a Circuit City since it was going out of business but as expected, they were pretty much cleaned out of absolutely everything. We went to the Apple store so we could both gush over iPhones. j mentioned that they had family plans, which we’ve briefly discussed before. Since his phone is through is employer, and because he won’t be employed with them for much longer, he was going to need cell service. My husband and I have our phone contract ending in a couple of weeks, so this would be the perfect time to put the three of us together on one plan.

After that, it was time to hit the mall. I was looking for a few new things, but I hate clothes shopping for myself so it was a bust deal. We did find a little store to play in, giggling over all the ridiculous merchandise, so we did have plenty of fun even though the point of the store was lost to us. We found a little mexican restaurant to have lunch in and had some delicious margaritas to help our shopping day even more. After lunch, it was back out for presents!

We had some silly fun together explaining to an associate that we were looking for a gift for my husband. It’s always fun to explain that to someone as they’re watching me and j holding hands and just being sweet to one another in general. We finally secured *the perfect gift* when we discovered that j didn’t have his cell phone on him. So we backtracked to the restaurant to find it and had no luck there. He wasn’t over concerned with it being gone (since it’d mean a new phone) but it would still be nice to find it. We were headed back to the apartment when I realized I didn’t want to go home yet. I hate to shop, but I didn’t want to be in yet either. He’d mentioned a furniture store where he got his furniture from and I wanted to look around that, so we did. But, he asked if we could stop at the apartment for just a moment before that and since we were on his street anyhow, I said it was fine.

Two minutes later he came out with his phone in hand. Seems he hadn’t taken it with at all, much to my amusement. The furniture store had all kinds of things that I loved in it. Some of it was disgustingly expensive and some of it was so reasonable I could picture buying it to decorate a house with. I told him that when the three of us were living together, this is where we’d go shopping and he got all quiet, asking if I’d thought of that as well. My husband and I know that someday j will live with us. Right now it wouldn’t work though, and that’s fine for all three of us. Someday though I’d love for the three of us to buy a house together and to live together like a real family.

After that, I still wasn’t ready to call it a night, so he asked if maybe I’d want to get a drink. There was a restaurant he’d taken me to before right next to the furniture store. We got some beer and sat on the patio where there was a wood burning fireplace and two lovely couples enjoying the evening near us. He looked handsome as the sun was setting, the way he was sitting and his demeanor. I sure wish I’d taken my camera with me. It was a good place to relax for the evening, especially considering that mere moments before we’d had the strangest thing ever happen: he absolutely completely forgot to open a door for me. It doesn’t seem like such a huge deal really, except that it’s one of his rules and he has never, ever forgotten to open a door for me. Once or twice my husband beats him to the door and holds it for everyone, but j has never forgotten like he did a moment ago in the parking lot. On top of that, when he was pouring our drinks, he told me to taste his. Again, it’s not the sort of thing that seems like such a big deal, except that he’s not allowed to tell me what to do, ever. He may make suggestions, but the act of telling me what to do is not conducive to the relationship we want to have. So, as we were sitting on that patio, him reeling from his mistakes and me needing to help him through it, he was put in time-out, unable to speak for a few minutes so he could clear his head and get him back into the place he needed to be. It worked wonders.

The rest of the evening was spent talking about our plans for Disneyland at the end of the month and talking a bit more about his last relationship, which he’s still working through I think. Eventually we gathered ourselves and headed home. By the time we were there though, I wanted to be out again, so I told him I wanted to see Milk. The theater was crowded, completely unlike the last movie we went to see. We hadn’t had dinner but I wasn’t too hungry, so we shared nachos. He was my jalepeno bitch for the night, putting one on every chip. We snickered a bit over that. The movie wasn’t amazing but it wasn’t bad and we had fun talking about it on the way home.

When we were finally home for good, we climbed into bed together and I had him climb on top of me so I could use his cock to have an orgasm. Then, I rolled him over and leaned over him and kissed him and finally let him come as well. This time he’d been restricted for three weeks so he was very relieved. He’d made a mess all over me though, which ensured he was doing a load of laundry in the morning.

Today the only thing we have on the agenda is dinner with my husband. We’re doing fondue for the first time (my husband and I anyhow; j’s done everything food-related before) and I’m expecting we’ll have a wonderful time. My boys go back to work tomorrow but I still have two more days off. I’ll be playing around the world of Azeroth I’m sure, completely content that everything in my life is just as wonderful as it is.

Weekend Blues

Actually, the only thing blue about this weekend was the fact that I didn’t get to see j at all, even though we’d planned for him to come over Sunday night.

While we normally spend every weekend together, this weekend was special. It was my 5 year anniversary with my husband and so we thought long and hard about how we wanted to spend it and came up with Christmas shopping. He doesn’t acknowledge the wedding anniversary so much because it’s half the time we’ve actually been together and it’s right before Christmas and he’d rather save the money for our presents. I’m something of a Christmas Nazi (so he says) and so he knows he earns more points with good Christmas presents than an anniversary gift.

We picked up presents for j, Kayn, and Ayngel. I think we did a pretty splendid job, actually. Even did a donation for Toys for Tots. I picked out one of my favorite kid books and donated that. We were supposed to have dinner together at a restaurant we used to go to back when we first started dating but I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t have the appetite necessary for such good food, so we just passed on it and went home to play together.

Sunday night, j was busy trying to get all his chores done. He joked about how he got negative work done on Saturday and somehow ended up with a ton of stuff to do Sunday evening and asked if it’d be alright if he came over Monday night instead. Matt and I figured that’d be fine since we were all three in WoW anyhow. So Monday afternoon he headed over to my place and we got to spend a little time together alone.

One of my favorite things to do right now is to give him bruises. I like the insides of his arms, personally. It hurts incredible amounts and the bruises usually last for a while. He’s had someone notice them, but typically they can be hidden underneath his shirt. The insides of his thighs are another favorite place, but not nearly as accessible as his arms. Right now we’re both still in some gushy phase, but pain has somehow worked itself into it as well. Sharp, lasting pain seems to be a fantastic way of showing my affection for him and he enjoys it. He even kind of enjoys it while it’s happening!

Once Matt got home, it was time for dinner. I wanted martinis and so we headed out to Friday’s. We were four steps from the door when we were reminiscing about the awesome Pixie Stick Martinis at Outback and we all decided that was a better choice for the night and headed across the street for some martinis and some fantastic steak and some wonderful conversation. Like always, Matt and j had great nerd conversation and I got to keep my kitten close to me throughout dinner. After dinner, my husband polished off all of our drinks and learned the very valuable lesson about how one never mixes their alcohol. He paid for it all night long, actually.

When we were home again, j and I stayed in the living room for a while. I asked him to tell me a story, which I kind of meant about him, but he told me a wonderful story about a platypus named Percy who was made King of all Playpi and the moral of the story was that it was good to be a platypus. It really was an adorable story. After that though, the next logical step was bed. He hadn’t brought his things over to stay the night, but I figured snuggling up in bed for a while wouldn’t be a bad idea. Two and a half hours later, I was scared half out of my mind by my husband waking me up to let me know that it was midnight, wondering if j was staying or not so we could either put his blanket down for him or be sure to say good-night. Unfortunately, I had to give my teddy bear up.

Today I find our conversation is riddled with gushing and promises of pain in the near future. He’s ordered restraints so that we can play with that, a fantasy we’ve both had. A way to keep him still for the sake of letting him thrash around more when I’m hurting him. I like to see him struggle and I think he enjoys being able to as well. We’re getting closer and closer to the day that we’ll sign our contract, making him my slave for a period of a year and a day. If it goes well, which I’m sure it will, we’ll end up talking about a longer commitment to one another. We’re both commitmentphobes in theory, not in practice. We spent a good while terrified of this and of the day but now I think we’re both just excited. He needs it. I guess in a lot of ways I need it too. If nothing else, it’s another new adventure that I’m really looking forward to sharing with him.

A Weekend At Home

But not without my kitten.

My husband and I were planning to do a little work around the house this weekend. This does not involve either of us actually doing the home repairs ourselves though because we’re really not that good at it. Instead, we hire a guy that my husband works with and he comes over to tackle some of the home repair projects that we’ve compiled. We’ve started with all the issues that were listed for the house when we bought it and then added our own projects along the way.

This weekend, I finally got the cold water in the bathroom fixed from the explosion that occured when we let our neighbor try to help pull out the swamp cooler. I haven’t been able to brush my teeth with cold water in about a year, so I was disgustingly happy with that.

Because he would be coming over, and because my husband was getting a television and a couch from co-workers (and wanting to hang out with his friend/co-worker) someone was going to need to be home for the repair guy to be there to fix everything up. I decided that we’d play at my house this weekend, and by ‘play’ I mean we’d pretty much just be there, but we’d be there together and that was all that mattered.

Our repair guy had his list of things to do, but he wasn’t the only one. My boy had a list of chores that my husband and I thought ought to get done over the weekend. He did a fantastic job cleaning up what needed to be cleaned up and then put together a list of things that we needed to get to help improve his job cleaning. Our mop, for example, died at the tail end of his mopping job, so it was time to get a new one. We got some new towels for the bathroom and a few other things that I wanted, such as scented candles to make it more festive around here. Christmas is just around the corner!

Our weekend actually began Friday night. The three of us went out for pizza and then my husband was playing WoW and jhusdhui and I decided to play in the bedroom for a while. Lately I’ve been fascinated with bruising him and I wanted to see my work from earlier in the week. He had some nice yellow’ish marks on the insides of his arms. I wanted to add a few more, and did, and scratched him up a bit as well. I love the way that he squirms and wiggles around when I’m hurting him.

This weekend also marked two weeks from his last orgasm, so I decided that he could have one. Friday night as we were curled up together, I was running the band of his panties over his cock and kissing around his mouth. He reacts so well to such simple touches, and such soft kisses. Kissing on his mouth doesn’t happen quite as often as anything else. I like to kiss around his face, lick over his cheek, even bite lightly. He’s said that kisses near the corner of his mouth are probably more arousing than being kissed on the mouth because it’s more where he ought to be kissed, in his mind. Or perhaps it’s other reasons now. Whatever the actual reasoning, kissing him around the corner of his mouth is what gets him most excited, so when I’m pushing him to the edge of an orgasm, that’s what I like to do.

Edging is quite a bit of fun for me too, because he’s not allowed to orgasm without explicit permission, and he never asks to orgasm. Instead, he tells me that he’s close. He tells me that he’s close with enough time for me to play for a bit longer. The information is necessary, of course, so he doesn’t cum prematurely. When he can hardly bear it anymore, he whispers soft as he can, ‘Please Miss, no more’. I like it mostly because he’s absolutely begging me to stop when we both know what he really wants is to orgasm. ‘Please? I don’t want to break the rules’ is what comes next. He’ll squirm and he pouts a little bit. Sometimes there’s a whimper that follows. ‘I want to be a good boy’ usually works its way in there as well. That’s when I stop. I watch him struggle with it for a moment, watch him roll around, feel him press up against me and then we start all over again.

Friday night though, I nearly pushed him too far. We were close — not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. We had a strong connection flowing between the two of us. I was holding him close and I’d been stroking his cock ever so lightly, teasing, and then I started kissing him. Not just around the corner of his mouth either. I had to stop stroking sooner than I wanted and heard ‘Oh no’ in just the faintest whisper. So I left his cock alone and went to just kissing him, but he was still whimpering. He wriggled and begged me to stop, to even stop kissing him, because he was afraid he was going to orgasm.

By that time, I was so aroused by the idea of him orgasming without any direct stimulation that I had to have my own orgasm. It was intense, very fulfilling, very deep even. I kept him for another day without his orgasm and not long after playing, it was time for bed.

Bedtime at my house means that my husband and I get into bed together and my boy gets on the floor next to my side of the bed. He has a pillow and a blanket and he curls himself up around the teddy bear that we got him a few weeks ago. He looks adorable, absolutely precious when he’s down there. He stays put until morning, until I’m awake, and usually then he’ll ask if he can go to the bathroom and then we start the showering cycle. One bathroom and three people is always really fun.

Saturday nights are usually family dinners, and this week jhusdhui wanted us to try Korean food. He knows that I like meat, and Korean food was literally a plate of meat. It was amazing. My husband liked it best of anything we’ve tried, I think. Dinner conversation usually revolves around WoW, which is always fun. Watching my husband and my boy talking geek is always pretty amusing to me. They both know a lot of the same game references too, so they just throw those back and forth all the time.

After my husband went to bed Saturday night, I tried to re-create Friday night with jhusdhui. I wanted to get him close to orgasm again, taunt him with very light touches and kisses. This time, I never really did take my touch away and it was with my kisses that he came.

Sundays are the days that we end up going to our own homes again. We’ve been working hard on making it less traumatic than it’s been in the past. The game plan for today was to go painting and then to pick up scrapbooking supplies for the angel we got on a tree, our holiday donation.

I gave him the option of either painting Thanksgiving plates for his friends, since that’s who he’s having Thanksgiving with this year, or painting doggy dishes for him, one for his house and one for mine. With averted eyes and the softest of voices, he asked if we could do doggy dishes for him. So that’s what we did! He did an amazing color combination of soft pink and light green. I did funfetti! White with rainbow specks in it. I couldn’t figure out how to get his name on there without it looking stupid, so I got creative and it turned out even better than I thought it would! Pictures for that will be here next week, after we pick our pottery up.

With the introduction of doggy dishes though came the question of whether or not I’d considered having him eat out of one. I had to laugh. Eating out of the dish had come to mind a long, long time ago, one of the first things I’d wanted to see from him. When we went shopping for puppy stuff at PetSmart I’d wanted to get a dish, but they just weren’t right for what I wanted. So hopefully there will be pictures of puppy play around here soon.

Having a weekend at home was really quite nice. It’s wonderful to see how well he fits in and how everyone gets along. It’s nice to know that it blends as well when he’s here for three days as it does when he’s here for three hours. I never had any doubt, but it’s just nice to be right sometimes.