Kinky Sex Link

All tied up

Cross posted from Packing Vocals

I’ve had a couple of really intense sexual dreams lately, dreams where I was fucking you, hard and smooth. There was no way to tell if my cock was bio or strap on, just that it was real, belonged to me, was owned and used by me. Flesh and silicone, leather and blood it felt the same because it was the same. I could feel it pulsing, stiff and avidly filling you. I knew it was good and simply right to have my cock buried inside you. Every nerve ending in my entire body was shouting its joy, howling it loud and fucking clear. And I knew that you felt it too.

On top of you, I had you pinned by my weight and excessive desires. You were immobile apart from the compulsory movements caused by my continued and necessary thrusting. But your eyes were alive and dynamic, telling me and yelling out for more. With diminished vocabulary and a vocal range drastically reduced to a few grunts and guttural moans you declared how much I was fulfilling your needs.

Your body betrayed you, gave you away and to me at every stroke. I can play its games and win, read its wants and wet, wet, needs with ease. It thrills me to see you like that, given up, given in, surrendering entirely to my care and strict demands. Giving to my cock everything I want to take and more than I can dream.

The stream of profanity running constantly through my head goaded me, incited and drove me on yet most of it didn’t breathe fresh air. It really was pure filth in its finest impure form and what slipped through was tame and limp in comparison. Eventually, as time glides by you’ll hear it all I’m sure and the most disgusting lewdness will be music in your ears.

I know that I still bury it, the need, the longing, that I’m very good at digging great deep holes and throwing parts of myself inside. And for all my written swagger and cocksure words there are times when the real desire is swamped. When the terrified baby boy butch cowers inside and ceases to be able to connect the power and control to meaningful forward motion. When that happens, when I become inarticulate and powerless and submerged under the weight of forty fake years then maybe. Maybe those dreams are simply my way of fighting back.

And for all we’ve done and dreamed and talked about you still have no idea how much and how many ways I want to take you.

Locking Stainless Steel/Leather Locking Collar, Small

Product #: CNVSR-J287

This basic stainless steel and leather collar has a 1″ wide strip of shiny steel mounted on a 1.25″ wide strip of leather. D-ring, plus lockable hasp. (Lock not included.) Small Master Locks sold separately. Extra Small fits 10 1/4- 13 1/2″ neck Small 11 3/4- 15″ neck

The way things have been going lately, the threat of diapers has been figuring into private playtime more than actual diapers! A heavier focus on discipline has left diapers in the background so they’re still in play, just not the main focus and I’m actually really enjoying it, although I certainly hope things don’t stay this way forever.

After the week in diapers, I sat down wtih E and we went through all of my panties and threw out the ones he couldn’t stand, then divided what was left into two categories: tolerable and desirable. I keep my panties in my top bureau drawer, folded in two little nylon box things I got from Ikea, so we put the tolerable panties on the left side of my panty drawer and the desirable ones on the right, so that now I really have to think about which panties I’m going for in the morning. Do I want to be a tolerable little girl or a desirable little girl? More often than not I only want to be tolerable and here’s why:

If I’m wearing cute panties, I’m going to stay in those panties. E will be pleased with me and won’t bother changing me and, while he may slide his hand up my skirt (I rarely wear pants) every now and then to cop a feel of my cute panties, it rarely leads to anything. However, if I’m only wearing tolerable panties and E checks me–especially if I’ve done something wrong–I get hauled off to the bedroom for some punishment which usually involves some erotic embarrassment, spanking, and diapering. So, really, wearing my gross granny panties is more of a come on than wearing my frilly, lacy little ruffled panties. Sometimes, if E is really pissed that I’ve worn something less than appealing, he’ll even cut the panties off of me (there are scissors by the bed). Last time he hung them around my neck and made me wear them like that for almost an hour! And of course the whole time, he’s telling me that if I continue being a bad girl he’s going to throw away all my panties and it will be nothing but diapers. Sometimes he pushes my face into one and tells me to smell it. (What do they do to the plastic to make it smell so good? Nothing else quite smells like that. I love it!)

Granny panties

After being dressed down for wearing the wrong panties, I usually get a spanking, having to waddle across the room wearing my panties around my knees to fetch a hairbrush if E isn’t wearing his belt. I like doing this because there’s a mirror on the closet, so I not only get to see myself walking across the room like that, but I can see E behind me either checking out my ass, stroking his cock, or just thinking about what he’s going to do to me next. It’s super hot! And the spanking isn’t too bad either. It doesn’t happen every time, but I’ve had orgasms from just being spanked before, especially if its an OTK spanking. I think that the position is just better and it feels more intimate, though I also like being told to put my palms on a mattress and stick my butt out. It’s wonderful

By the time the spanking is over, E is usually unable to keep his head in the game any longer and will just push me off of his lap and just push his cock right in, since by this time, I’m usually soaking wet. And if I’m in the palms-on-the-mattress position, he doesn’t even have to do that. He just grabs my hips. Sometimes he’ll make me crawl across the room again to get a diaper to fuck me on, but that’s rare. I prefer sex on a freshly wet diaper to a dry one anyway.

I usually am only put into a diaper after sex. E likes to know that I’m wearing a diaper filled with his cum. I’m not sure why since, as a guy, he’s not horny after we’ve been together, but I enjoy wearing a cummy diaper on my freshly spanked bottom, so I don’t fight it. But even if he’s feeling lazy or disinterested afterward, it’s almost more the threat of diapers that really excites me.

The Olympics are over in Vancouver, unfortunately. Living in Vancouver, BC made it such more special. Decking out in red and white everyday, cheering on the Canadian athletes with fellow Canadians, the street parties, free events,  random hugs, slaps and seeing Canada win gold after gold was incredible. I’m sure there will be a massive hangover after this. Canadians all over came together and we were loud, proud and had one hell of a party.

I loved the Olympics and with hockey being my favourite sport (golds for both the men and women!!!!) I was into it before the games started. However, PG isn’t such a sports fan. He accepted my invitation to Canada game and let me watched the Russian vs Canada game but that is about as far as it expended. I really appreciated him being open to it, happy for me, going to a game and putting up with me and my craziness during the last two weeks.

I made a couple of proposals such as playing the Canadian anthem before we played which was rejected but I thought of a fun game that we both can play and enjoy. I would start singing Oh Canada and he would try to stop me by inflicting pain. I won the first round but I’m sure the next time he will be more prepared.

I have an idea for the next MVK and as much as I would love to share it, it will have to stay a secret because I have to run it by PG first. I was wondering, did anyone combine kink and the Olympics? I would love to hear some fun things that you did with an Olympic theme or basis.

When Robert knocked on Val’s door, she was ready to have a heart to heart conversation with him regarding where the relationship was headed. She opened the door to see him holding a dozen roses. Robert kissed her, and then said, “I’m glad you invited me over to your place. I just couldn’t resist buying you some flowers.” Val wasn’t sure, but she thought his hands were shaking slightly until she took the roses from him.

“Thanks.” She turned and walked into the house. Robert followed behind her. Finding a vase, Val filled it with water and arranged the flowers. They would make a nice centerpiece on the kitchen table. “Can we talk? I mean really talk?” she said.

“Sure.” He folded his hands over his lap and listened. Robert seemed relaxed even though he was shaking only moments earlier.

Val sat across from him at the table. With a quivering voice she said, “Is there something going on with you? I mean, you acted cold toward me the other morning, as if getting away from me as fast as you could was the most important thing on earth. What’s going on?” Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, but Val blinked them back as she waited for Robert’s response.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Robert stood and then walked to the sink and helped himself to a glass of tap water before returning to sit across from her at the table. His face was blank; he honestly didn’t seem to think anything was amiss.

“There’s got to be something going on. What’s wrong?” she asked again.

“Nothing. I just was embarrassed the other morning because I couldn’t get hard.” He held his head low while focusing his eyes on the place where the two leaves of her table met. “Everything was great that night, and I thought you’d be disappointed that I couldn’t perform the following morning. That’s all.”

“Then why’d you split so quickly after waking up with me? You didn’t mention any other engagement you had to attend. You just left when I was in the shower.” She choked down the beginnings of a sob. It was caught in her throat, but she continued. “I understand you being embarrassed. What I don’t understand is why you left so suddenly without even saying goodbye.”

“Val, I told you; nothing was or is wrong. I love you. I was embarrassed. That’s all. Nothing else is wrong.” He slowed down the words to the last sentence as he reached across the table and opened his hand.

Val reached across the table to hold his hand. “If something was bothering you, you’d tell me, right?”

“I’d never lie to you, Val. Honest. If something was bothering me, even if it was something trivial, I’d tell you about it. Like I said before, I love you.” He squeezed Val’s hand and sustained eye contact with her until she left the room to answer the phone.

Cross posted from Packing Vocals

Several months ago I wrote about starting to use rope in our BDSM adventures and how I was enjoying it very much. Well I thought it was time for an update.

After an initial spurt of enthusiasm where I learnt several knots which I put into practice frequently I didn’t learn anything more. I was using the knots I knew and finding them very useful as well as loving tying them but life sort of took over and I didn’t push myself to learn anything more. The quest of the rope slipped to the back of my mind, unheeded but not forgotten.

However recently my wife and I had a couple of days away on our own and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to expand my rope knowledge in a quiet and uninterruptable place. I had a good idea of what I wanted to practice and two brand new long pieces of rope to use as well as several existing pieces. I was also armed with the Two Knotty Boys book and their fabulous videos.

But I always have the persistent feeling that I should be able to do it perfectly without practice or more accurately that I should not practice on my wife. All along what I’ve really wanted to do is come to my wife rope perfect and impress her with my skill and expertise. While that’s possible with some knots what I wanted to learn to tie were more involved pieces that required another body to practice on. So I knew I had to bite the bullet and appear before my wife not rope perfect but prepared to learn while maintaining an air of control. (I think I managed but only my wife can confirm that!)

I knew that I would enjoy the experience but was also prepared to face the frustration of making mistakes and that cast a slight shadow over my anticipation. When the time came I started off slowly and nervously. Faced with what seemed to be a never ending length of rope I took a deep breath and began wrapping the first of several “loops” around my wife’s torso. The rope corset was simple enough; involving repetitive actions which allowed me time to relax into the process. As the afternoon wore on I became more confident and at ease with the rope even managing to be a little bit inventive towards the end.

I felt that the session was a success, that we both enjoyed it and were ultimately satisfied but I think more importantly several things, that maybe I’d known all along, were brought into sharper focus.

Firstly there’s the sense of ritual involved from untying the rope from its plait at the start to the repetition of certain movements all the way through to retying the rope at the end. It feels wrapped in ceremony and maybe even service although I couldn’t define who was serving who.  While working with the long pieces of rope I could see short cuts, ways to tie faster but I didn’t want them. Similarly there were times when my wife offered to move to accommodate “easier” tying but again that felt wrong.  I needed to feel the full length of the rope through each individual movement because that was/is part of the ritual and the depth of that surprised me

There’s the patience involved for both of us, taking care over the process means spending time over it. With practice I will get faster, or maybe not faster just more proficient and confident. There is also trust as with any of our BDSM scenes and our relationship as a whole.  And the trust is very deep. The patience and trust combined with the ritual of the rope produced almost a meditative effect, I personally felt serene and exceptionally relaxed both during and after. I was filled with the sense that we’d spent some real quality time together doing nothing but “playing” with the rope and trusting.

My own affinity with the rope grows whenever I use it, I would love to spend more time practicing and will, now I realise that I can practice on my wife and it still be a very special experience. There are times when the rope becomes an extension of my limbs and making it part of hands and body is something to aspire to. The touch of the rope on my skin is almost as divine as it looks against my wife’s skin. Another reason for not taking short cuts with the tying is that I don’t want to miss any opportunity to savour the rope.

Amongst all of that there is of course the deep satisfaction I get from “topping” and being in control which is only enhanced by the rope. But there is an extreme caring aspect, I feel like I’m wrapping love around my wife as I tie. That every millimetre of rope is a tiny metaphor for my adoration of her;  that the more time, patience and ritual I can put into it the more cherished she will feel ; that the more in tune and attuned to the rope I become the more it will link and tie us together.