It started with Tupperware. (But then, all of my scenes start with Tupperware.)

I was helping clean up after a large and tasty dinner created by RP. Another guest was having trouble fitting a warped lid on a container. I was asked to perform my manly duty and force it into the proper position. I managed to prevail after some struggle. All the while, RP made some good-natured dom-ly comments to egg me on during my exertion. “Why haven’t you gotten it yet? Do you know what’s going to happen to you if you can’t.” That sort of thing.

I fitted it, and got it ready for storage. Then she told me: “ask my submissive for her keys, and put it in her car.”

There was no mistaking the tone in her voice. It was an order. And I bristled. I hate being given orders.

I knew RP, but not terribly well. And she didn’t know me, except for my typical get-things-done demeanour earlier in the day. It’d be easy to mistake me for submissive. Or, perhaps she was just seeing how much she could get away with.

Either way, I wasn’t going to play by those rules. But I wasn’t angry; it was a fun spark struck in my mind. I paused, and gave her a look.

She picked up on my disobedience immediately. I think she was hoping for that reaction.

“Ask my submissive for her keys, and put it in her car.” Same tone, more definition. No anger or frustration — just command.

Oh, but I heard you the first time. Stand up straighter. “Now you know I can’t do it when you ask like that.” Big grin.

She came in closer, dark eyes flashing, just below mine. “You are going to do as I say, because I tell you to. Ask my submissive for her keys, and put it in her car.”

“No.”

“Do you think that I can’t make you do what I want?”

She ran her hands to my biceps, grabbed two fingers full of flesh, and squeezed — hard. It hurt, but it was tolerable. Not backing down was worth the pain. I set the container down.

“I’m not going to do it when you talk like that. Ask nicely.”

She moved under my shirt and did the same to my nipple. Still more pain; still I took it. I made no attempt to stop her. Deep breaths.

“I don’t ask nicely.”

Then when she pincered my raw nipple between the tips of her fingernails. I had to pull away; It was too much. Fuuuuck. Stand up straight again, recompose.

“Ask my submissive for her keys, and put it in her car.”

“No.” Heart and mind racing.

She came at me, grabbed my upper arms with her hands, and began to force me around.

Here’s where the practical part of my mind reared its head. We were in very tight quarters with the things around us: tables, chairs, food, people; no place for a scuffle. But not far away there was an space against the door, out of the way of anything breakable. I locked arms with her and shuffled us off in that direction; she figured out what I was doing and followed along. Once in the right spot we slipped back into the scene.

She held my wrists against the door, above my head. I was in a submissive position to be sure. I had enough strength that I knew I could break out — but why would I want to do that?

She came in close, voice husky and menacing. “I used to bottom for [DW]. I can take any pain, and I know how to give it too. You’re not going to win.” Our noses brushed against each other briefly.

“Maybe not. But I’m not going to do it.”

Then she slapped me across the face.

For a lot of people, face-slapping is taboo, or at the very least edge-y play. It can be very humiliating and emotionally intense. It’s one of those things that you tread lightly around, negotiate, communicate, forewarn. None of that happened here. It came out of the blue.

But it didn’t phase me. Not at all. I recovered immediately, sensing pressure but no pain. Realizing that I could shrug it off made me feel even more empowered. So I let her do it again. I may have even mentally dared her. And she did, several times. Each one brought me an extra bit of pride as it deflected off my ego.

But she had upped the stakes. Now it was time to call.

The next slap I blocked; her arm bounced off mine. I grabbed her arms, forcing mine inside of hers. I squeezed; she didn’t stop. She tried to reverse my hold on her, but each time I pulled out of it. I grabbed her by the shoulders to try and force her back to me — a more submissive position, from which she couldn’t easily fight back. From there, I maneuvered my arm around her neck in the beginnings of a choke-hold (taking care not to actually put pressure on her windpipe; that’s a very dangerous move). I had it, but only briefly; she pulled out of it and renewed her attack.

RP is a buxom, powerful woman. For me, she’s the perfect partner for this sort of rough play. She’s not male, which is important for me; while I’ve improved my attitudes towards men when it comes to sex and BDSM, I’m still not completely at ease with the idea. Had a man tried this scene with me, I think I would have had a very different (and negative) reaction.

She is not dainty either. She’s strong, and knows it. She boasted about her pain tolerance. She threw the first (figurative) punch. That helped remove my trepidation about breaking a woman. She could take it — and so I could let myself go.

We sparred for a while. I grabbed her by the hair (one thing she couldn’t effectively do to me) and pulled her down and away. This didn’t phase her, and she escaped it too. At one point she dug her fingers into my neck, right where it meets my collarbone. This was… interesting. It wasn’t as painful as the attacks she inflicted to my arms and chest. It felt… bright. (It might have been some sort of synesthesia.) And it was somehow pleasant, in a novel way. I’m guessing she hit some sort of nerve bundle. When she did it a second time, I could feel myself letting it happen — and wanting it to happen. But only for the briefest of instants.

When we found ourselves matching evenly on physical jabs, she switched to mental ones.

“Do you think you have what it takes to beat me? I was a bottom for a long time. I can take more pain than you know.”

It was true too, as best as I could tell. She wasn’t flinching from anything I threw at her. I tried to hit one of her pressure points (I had been in a workshop for pressure point play not a week before). This failed miserably, and I earned a laugh from her for my attempt. (Mental note: study this more for next time.) Still, I wasn’t intimidated by this, so she changed tactics.

“My sub is over there, watching and enjoying this. What is yours doing? Are you going to let her watch this?”

This is what got to me. B had seen us start to play, and had given me a quick “Are you OK with this?” when it had begun turning into the scene that it did. I wasn’t at all sure how she was feeling about this scene, and I couldn’t see where she was at the time. I wanted to check in with her — that meant giving up. It caused a conflict in me, and I could manage it — but it was tougher than anything else I’d taken so far. It was the right button to push — albeit a bit of a dirty one. But all is fair in love and war — and here we were, playing at both.

We kept this up for a while, and it was fun, but it ended up in a bit of a stalemate. I wasn’t giving it all that I could, and I’m pretty certain she wasn’t either. (I kept expecting a knee to the groin that ultimately never came. Thanks for that, BTW.) There simply wasn’t room to go full out. And it was starting to get repetitive.

So, eventually, I acquiesced. I stood up, said “you win”, and gave her a hug to show her and everyone else that it was All Good. Then I went over to her submissive, and asked for her keys. End of scene.

She may have “won.” But I sure didn’t feel like I had “lost.” That’s one of the beauties of BDSM; it’s not a competition, but an infinite game where everyone can win.

It was an amazing scene from out of the blue. I was up for hours that night, replaying it in my head — and deciding how I’d write this post.

So, I may not be a masochist, but I’m definitely going to continue calling myself a switch. For a while I was beginning to wonder.

The past couple of weeks have been difficult ones for me. I felt very distressed and out of control of life. I was in need of some sort of release from my tension — something to break the emotional logjam that I found myself in.

Fortunately, B was more than willing to help me find what I was looking for. Not only is she an experienced bottom, but she also has a good deal of switch to her as well.

We negotiated a few days in advance. She asked for lots of feedback from me: harder, softer, different spot, new toy. I can completely understand that, but at the time I wanted one thing most of all: to be done to, without having to think about it (as much as could be done while still playing safe). I wanted to let go of everything — but B rightfully needed to know how I was handling things. We agreed to compromise as best as we could.

Playtime came. I was definitely in a different mental space than usual. I didn’t want to take any actions. I asked her to undress me first; this is a departure where usually she’s naked, either by my hand or my direction. She thought that this was a bit Dom-like at first, but really it was me just wanting to get into the submissive headspace. She stripped me down, turned me over, and tied my arms and legs to the bed.

It’s amazing how a bit of rope can mean so much. Wearing the rope cuffs feels secure; having them then tied down feels pleasantly restricting. I can describe the reinforcement of the submissive state that it brings me, but there’s something else I feel that’s more nebulous. I really want to explore that further, both as a top and a bottom.

After checking in with me, B started my spanking session. She started off with a slow warmup, knowing that I don’t have the pain tolerance that she does. She asked if I wanted to know what she was using, and I refused, but I recognized the riding crop, wooden spoon, lexan cane, and wooden shoe horn, as well as her bare hands. Each felt different against my skin, but ultimately they came down to one thing: pain.

I generally try to avoid pain. The first time I bottomed with B, I had the option of saying “stop” at any time. I used this as soon as I felt the burning. In my mind, at the time once it started to feel “unpleasant”, there was no point in continuing, so I would ask to stop.

This time was different. I wanted the intense experience. I went in with the intention of not stopping things until it was truly unbearable. I still didn’t know exactly where that was, or how I would react, but I was determined to last longer than before.

I still called out “stop”, but this time B knew to not listen. In addition to “red” as a safeword, we have a number system from one to ten. One means “I barely feel that”; ten means “stop now, scene over.” Nine means “time to stop… but maybe just one more.” (B actually called out a 0.5 after one of my flubbed hits; that immediately earned her a level-eight on the next attempt.)

When she beat me, I would call out “no” and “stop,” expecting and wanting it to continue. It felt good to do so, and I’m not really sure why. I knew full well that I was asking for the pain, and could really stop it at any time — but screaming unheeded negatives still satisfied some sort of inner calling I had.

She took me up the intensity levels one by one. Call out your numbers. When we get to six, then we’ll stop. Are you doing OK? Good, now let’s go to seven. Are you ready to try eight? Time for a break. Now, we’re going to nine. I answered “no” to most of her questions and commands, but we both knew what that meant. Five was pleasant, six was painful, seven hurt a lot, eight was excruciating, and at nine I couldn’t think about anything else.

Sometime around seven was when I started crying.

B talks about how receiving pain lets her be honest. Nobody judges someone who is being beaten that severely, so she can be free to do whatever she needs to in that moment; cry, laugh, scream, swear, beg. Who will criticize you when you’re going through that?

I know what that means now. In the middle of a scene like that you can let go of (almost) all the pretense, expectation, and facade that you carry. And that was something I needed to do.

It’s not an easy thing admitting it. Even past the masculine stereotypes, I don’t like crying or saying that I do. I debated writing about it here. But I want this to be an exploration, and that means peaking into certain places precisely because they are troubling. Once I decide to write, I’m forced to find out what and how, and that can lead me to new things. Like this paragraph, for instance.

When it was over, B asked whether I had enjoyed it, whether I had fun. The best answer I had was “It was what I wanted.” I didn’t like crying; the pain didn’t turn me on. It was not pleasant or happy or anything else normally positive. But I felt much better after than I did before it began. I was relieved. It did what I wanted it to do. And I was very happy for that.

B and I have been playing almost every weekend. It keeps getting better. I’m doing things I’d only dreamed of a few months go.

We had started our relationship focusing mostly on physical S&M play: lots of beating with various implements of impact. This was all well and good; she’s a masochist and has an insatiable craving for spanking. I’m developing my sadistic side so this was much fun for me as well.

But as our knowledge of each other deepened, we started branching out into Dominance & submission play. This is really what envisioned when I thought about living a kinky lifestyle.

As it happens, B is also very much into D/s. In fact, she said that she’d rather play D/s than with straight S&M. This really surprised me when she told me this, since she talks quite frequently, openly, and enthusiastically about receiving her beatings. Her response to submission are much more subdued.

But this is exactly why it’s so powerful: it’s a scary, intimate thing, and not something one can share with just anybody. That’s why it’s intense, and so desirable. Spanking will impact your skin; submission will impact your self.

And so will Dominance. It takes a great deal of control to play in that complex area above moderation and below abuse. I think that this is especially true for us Nice Guys; we’re trained to not be forceful. It takes skill to let that go.

But it’s worth it. It turns me on. And it turns a lot of women on too.

We negotiated a few nights before. We would be in Dominant and submissive mode whenever the collar was on. She’d call me “sir”, and she’d remember her manners. She’d do her part, but it was really up to me to get her into the submissive mindset — which I can understand. We talked about how to do that. I also got some ideas, and dropped some very vague hints about what I was going to do to her. This drove her insane with wonder — which I thoroughly enjoyed of course.

The weekend brought our playtime after much anticipation. I put the collar on her and her demeanor changed. It’s nothing but a piece of leather and metal, but it’s the key to unlocking a powerful force within her. She wants to be submissive, but has a hard time letting herself be; wearing the collar lets her throw off her own restrictions. When it goes on, her eyes go big and round and accepting as she looks up towards me, waiting for my action.

I started slowly, giving her simple instructions for undressing us both. But they were just a means to an end; as soon as she missed following one perfectly, I sized the opportunity to enforce upon her. I grabbed her by the hair and pushed her onto the bed, with as much power as I could summon. She gasped as she felt the intent, and I knew that I was having the effect we both wanted.

When I had her down, I started to play with her. Pinchings, spankings, penetrations of all sorts. Then she started saying “no.” We had talked about this before; “no” is not her safeword. So I kept going, harder and rougher. And then she started resisting — so I started fighting back. I mounted her and pinned her arms down, leaving my hands free to attack her face and breasts. I wrapped my legs around hers, spreading them open to expose her pussy. She tried hard (but not to hard) to cover up, but I had enough strength and position to overcome her. Then I managed to get into a position where I could reach her pussy without letting her hands and legs free. So I did.

She wasn’t panicking, but she was living the scene just enough to be actually trying to stop me from penetrating her. But she couldn’t. It was some distant cousin of rape that we could both allow. And it was incredibly hot. She had a different look in her eyes, a mix of frenzy, arousal, submission, and intimacy. It wasn’t repulsion, but it wasn’t complete enjoyment either. But it was what she wanted, and what I wanted too. I loved the feeling of overpowering her, of imposing myself on her despite herself. But I could still feel it hinge on knowing that she was enjoying our play as well. I need to know that whatever I’m doing is good for both of us. I can’t take pleasure at the expense of someone else.

And I like it that way.

P.S. I almost forgot: not long after this happened, I read an amazing story on this topic called Consensual Nonconsent. It’s like mine, but with the volume turned way up. I’m actually calling it the perfect nonconsent & mind fuck scene. Its very intense, so be careful — but if you’re reading this then you should be able to take it.

She has a new friend whom she really likes. They’ve been dating for a week now and started to play a little. And its his birthday coming up. You know what that means.

She’s been talking about this for days now. I can see the excitement bubbling within her. And it doesn’t bother me any more. I’m happy for her. And she’s happy for me and my Other.

She wants their first time to be really special. She’s bought some new sexy clothes for the occasion. And now she’s trying to decide what combination to wear. I’m helping her pick. Pick the clothes that she’ll wear to fuck another man. Unbelievable. Yet not a big deal.

“How is this?”

“Nicer than the last one. Add that necklace and you’re set.”

“And how about the garter and stockings?”

“Oh, he’ll definitely like those.”

She’s looking at herself in the mirror, smiling. She’s such a different person now; much more confident in how she looks. That came about before she started chatting with other men, and also as a result of their attention. It’s the sort of thing that feeds itself.

“So what are you going to do when you get there?”

“I don’t know.”

This is her being coy. A few days prior she sent him a steamy email story about the things she said she’d do to him. I helped her write it. She has a powerful imagination of her own, and knows how to use it. Eventually I drag some details out of her.

“I’m going to do this.” She hikes her skirt up a bit so I can see the tops of her stockings… and the bare skin where her legs meet her ass.

“And then what?”

She bends over and runs her hands down her legs to her ankles. Her skirt rises to expose her ass. I know that, beneath her panties, her pussy is getting wet. I’m getting harder watching her — knowing that she’ll be repeating this display for him tomorrow.

“And are you going to let him fuck you?”

“No, I’m going to sit across the room from him and make him watch me play with myself.”

“Show me.”

She sits in the chair across from the bed I’m in. She opens her legs and pulls her panties aside to expose her pussy to me. She already has her new toy in hand; she turns it on and starts running the vibrator over her clit. She’s bright pink with arousal.Her breath becomes heavier as she starts playing.

“I want you to come for me.”

She does, of course. She comes easily, especially these days. Her head tilts back and I can see her neck muscles strain. She moans and she spasms.

And I wonder if she’s thinking of me, or thinking of him. I can’t avoid the moment of doubt. But I can push past it. Even if she is, I can accept it. I have to. And I do.

When she is done her first, I walk over to her chair, and kneel down in front of her. I push my cock into her, grab the back of the chair, and thrust into her. She comes again; this time staring into my eyes.

Then I take her and bend her over the bed. I eat her out from behind. Her juices cover my face; I love having her on me. She’s so soft and hot. I penetrate her again. As I rock my hips I think about the other couples at Realm I saw doing the same — and think about them watching me.

We finish off laying opposite from each other, watching the other masturbate. She’s still in her garter and stockings, panties around her knees, and her legs in the air; she watches me stroke my cock through the legs of her underwear. I can see the pleasure in her face when she watches me jerk off, and watching me cum on myself pushes her over the edge again.

Even though she’s going to be fucking someone else tomorrow, I still feel our connection and know that she’s aroused by me. And that simple fact means that everything else that happens is OK. She can be with anyone else, get off on anyone else. Just as long as I still have her, I’m happy.

My second play date with B went as well as the first, this time with a bit of a different flavor.

Perhaps the biggest event of note was that B got to give me a spanking, implemented through wooden spoon, lexan cane, tiny flogger, and bare hands. As I has suspected earlier, during the more intense parts I tried very hard to fight it. Fortunately I insisted on being restrained; I was cuffed to the bed securely enough that I couldn’t move away or protect my tender parts. Instead, all I could do was breathe, strain, scream… and swear. Lots of that happened.

I think it’s telling that, after we were done, the most sore parts of me was not my ass, but my arm and leg muscles… a result of me pulling on the cuffs. I nearly pulled out of one of them (they’re cheap and not terribly secure). B said that she was giving it at about a 5 out of 10. That sounds about right. I do not claim any particularly high level of pain tolerance. One thing I noticed was that I called “stop” without hitting any particular sensation; it was mostly arbitrary past a certain amount of pain. I’m pretty sure I could hold off on safewording if I had a particular goal to achieve. Perhaps if I was less in control (gagged?) I might be able to take more too.

So, I have crossed “masochist” of my own personal kink list. The pain was painful, and not pleasurable. On the other hand, I liked the experience on a mental level, and I’ll definitely try it again sometime. Also, I now know the difference between “thuddy” and “stingy”, and I find the former quite pleasant; I could probably go for an extended session of that. (It’s just less of a turn on for a sadist like B. )

I’m going to cross “disciplinarian” off my list too. I gave B some punishment tasks in response to some of her purportedly-failed personal improvement goals. She ended up bursting into laughter, and I couldn’t help but join her. At first I tried to be all stern-Dom, but in the end I couldn’t take the act seriously. And when her punishment flipped her own switch from enjoyment to being pissed-off, it very much killed the gratification for me. I’d much rather concentrate on the “funishment” as B likes to call it.

But removing these activities from my menu isn’t a negative thing at all. I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing: trying, evaluating, and deciding. If you want a positive spin, I’m calling my tastes more refined and focused now.

On the other hand: clover clamps are now one of my favorite toys. They tighten the harder you pull on them, so they’re great for varying intensity of play. It doesn’t take much to go from ouch to gasping. The only problem is that they start off strong so they won’t suit just anybody. Fortunately, B has a high pain tolerance so she can (and will!) wear them. They’re also great for ensuring that a sub will follow along; really, the problem was that B followed too quickly.

Squirting! B treated me to my first female ejaculation experience. It was exactly what I had expected… a sudden gush of incredibly hot liquid (on my hand in this case) accompanied by a tremendous orgasm. It’s an incredibly sexy thing, and I really enjoy it when I can coax that reaction out of B.

Of course, no good deed goes unpunished, and B found out the hard way that I really like orgasm control denial. It’s one of my most favorite activities. I played a game with her (pretty much without her consent, though I didn’t hear her complain too much). I would rub her clit to make her come, but only while she was looking into my eyes. This is, of course, not as easy as it sounds, especially for B; she likes to close her eyes, turn her head, etc. She was so needing to come though that any interruption was immediately noticed… quite intensely. It looked like torture to her… which was exactly what I was going for.

And of course, there was much spanking, slapping, and beating. This time, it included bare-hands to her breasts. This is a bit of a scary thing for me, but B enjoyed it so much that I was able to keep up the fervor without any difficulty. B is so wonderfully responsive that it’s easy for me to stay encouraged.

We also talked a lot, and spent time just lying and cuddling. I definitely like the intimate connection; I don’t think I could really play with anyone without at least some amount of attachment. Though, as with everything, I do want to try. I might even be able to be more cruel that way, who knows.

It was another great play session, and we both enjoyed it tremendously. We’re planning on going to Realm of Fantasy (Calgary’s kink club) this Friday; neither of us can wait for the weekend to arrive. It will be my first time there and our first public event together. Expect another blog post in the very near future.

I had my first extramarital and kinky encounter yesterday with B, a friend from the Scene here in Calgary.

This isn’t quite a gory details post. We played for over ten hours, and there’s no way I can remember all the nitty gritty. But I will sexify it as much as possible.

B and I had met online just two weeks ago. Chat lead to dinner, and dinner lead to a promise to play on Canada Day, which we both had off. Buildup ensued…

Shopping came first. This being Cow Town, there’s a Lammles Western Wear and Tack Shop nearby. I went in to get the only item I could ever envision buying in a place like that: a riding crop. Next was Petsmart for a dog collar, and Home Depot for rope and chain. Protip: get your chain for a collar leash at Home Depot instead of Petsmart; it’s one third the price and you can customize it to your liking. Also, I discovered that it’s nigh impossible to find EMT / safety / get-me-the-fuck-out-of-these-ropes shears at any non-specialty-medical store in this city; none of the drug stores even know what they are. Fortunately I had an acceptable backup. Update: Crap, MEC sells them. Well, I’m making a trip today.

Thursday came and brought with it much housecleaning, primping, and nervousness. L was very kind enough to make herself scarce for the day, so B and I had the house to ourselves. When I picked her up, I gave her a big hug and a kiss; I had told her before that I was going to do this, but it still took her a bit by surprise.

B is a very shy and reserved person. However, she also knows what she wants and freely expresses it. The division in her manner is very stark and a bit surreal; she’ll boisterously talk about wanting to be spanked and otherwise abused, but change the subject even slightly to a different area (even one that is related) and she’ll become exceedingly bashful. I love this about her. She is so adorable when she’s embarrassed, and seeing her in that state really turns me on. (She also enjoys it too, so I don’t feel bad about pushing those particular buttons.)

She was also very nervous at our first encounter, which in turn helped me. To compensate and reassure her, I boost my outward confidence. Consequently, I increase my Domliness, which she very much enjoys. This positive feedback loop is exactly what I look for.

I kissed her, caressed her. I stripped her down, I led her around. I gave her orders and she (mostly) obeyed. I moved slowly and enjoyed every minute of it. This was what I’d been waiting for for so many years.

B is a pain slut, a true masochist. She needs the hurt. I was quite happy to give it to her too. I beat her with almost everything I could get my hands on (and my hands too). I made all sorts of marks and slappy noises. I twisted, pulled, bit, and clamped her nipples until she couldn’t stand even gentle touches. I pulled her hair, pulled on her chain, bit her ass, and dug my fingers into her welts. She in turn gave me amazing gasps, moans, screams, and cries. She couldn’t hold still, but that was fine, because it gave me an excuse to hold her down. If I didn’t know she wanted this, then I would have felt bad — but there was no hesitation on my part the entire night. I am very proud of that.

She asked me later what my favorite part was. I thought about that and gave her this answer. None of the particular activities turn me on per se. What gets me going is the reaction I get. Seeing her face light up in agony and knowing that she wants it is what drives me. Knowing that I can give her what she wants turns me on.

Playing with B for my first time was ideal. She has a high pain tolerance, so I don’t have to work about holding back too much. If anything, I was too gentle at times, but it’s easy to escalate. Conversely, I was able to give her too much pain too; at first I was concerned that this wouldn’t be the case. This means that I know I can bracket both ends of the intensity spectrum. I was also able to find the sweet spot relatively easily. B is also very communicative; she has no qualms about asking for more, less, or different. As a new Domlet I really couldn’t ask for anything more.

On the other hand, I need a lot more practice on my rope bondage skills.

Looking back, I’m very glad that we had negotiated & discussed as much as we did in advance. As well as the physical factors, there were a lot of emotional events that came up for us. But because I knew more or less what to expect, I was able to take them in stride and not overreact.

And, after all was said and done, we both had a really good time.

She had gone out on a date earlier in the afternoon. She liked the guy, as was usual. He was hot for her, as was also usual. They had kissed and groped a little.

She was telling me this while we were waiting for our Quiznos order. It was making me hard, and I pressed my cock into her ass. Nobody was watching. I was a bit disappointed.

Me: “I could fuck you right here.”

Her: “I want you once we get back home.”

Back at our bedroom things started heating up. She pulled down my pants and started sucking, eyes looking up into mine, mouth filled with my cock. She slid back and for for a bit until I held her head and started thrusting into her mouth… slowly. I was incredibly hard and long. She actually started gagging a bit even though she only got halfway. I pulled out of her mouth but was still getting more excited. Feeling the back of her mouth with the head of my cock really turns me on.

I stood her up and turned her around, her back to my front. I wrapped one arm around her chest, and the other around her head. I titled her head away from me so that I could kiss her neck. She started gasping. He had done the same earlier today.

I stripped her down and stood back to look at her. She stood there, naked and without a hint of self-consciousness. We wrapped our arms around each other and kissed deeply, my cock pressed into her belly.

I took her to the bed, pushed her down and lifted her hips up. I then kneeled down and started kissing her pussy lips. She didn’t need any time to respond; I hadn’t even opened her pussy but she was already breathing heavily. She put her feet on my shoulders as I gave her a few very light licks from her vagina up to her clit; she was so aroused that even this touch nearly made her cum. A few kisses to her clit and some soft tongue attention started her screaming.

I stood up and slowly pushed my cock into her. She was laying on her back at the edge of the bed; I was standing with her legs resting on my shoulders. This is our new favorite position; I can thrust into her deeply, quickly, and strongly. And I did, over and over, switching from long smooth strokes to deep pounds to rapid lunges. The sound of my hips slapping against her ass while she orgasmed filled the room and my mind.

After she came for several minutes, I pulled out of her (soaking wet with her juice) and climbed onto the bed. I grabbed her by the hips and rolled her onto her knees and elbows. I entered her and made her cum again. I could tell she was hitting her peak; her orgasm cries were becoming more strained. I had an idea; I leaned forward and rested my weight on my left hand. With my right, I reached around her hip and placed my hand on her pussy. She was completely shaved; there was nothing to feel but beautifully soft folds. I rubbed her lips a bit and then slowly spread her, feeling for her clit. She gasped; she was extremely sensitive to my touch and could barely take the stimulation. But I would not stop moving my fingers; slowly at first, then very gradually increasing my speed, pressure, and proximity to her button. At the same time I started stroking my cock inside her and kissing the back of her neck. She loves all of this; she came again once more, loudly and intensely.

We laid down together after that. She said that she wanted me to cum in her mouth, and started sucking me. She was still on fire, and aggressively ravaged my cock with her mouth. She purposefully started to gag herself with my cock. I don’t know why, but this horrible sound is incredibly erotic when it’s done during sex. She doesn’t particularly enjoy it herself, and I never ask her to do it; if it happens it’s usually an occasional accident. But today was different; she threw herself on my cock, throat-first, over and over. Hearing, seeing, and feeling her do this thing just for me drove me crazy with desire. Today she was a complete and fully committed whore, and enjoying every minute of it.

With some strokes of my cock I shot inside her mouth. I can never keep track of time when I cum but it seems to go on forever. I could feel her tongue sliding around on my head during each spurt; usually that means she’s trying to find a place to hold it all until after I’m complete. I let out a loud, guttural scream as I shot, and everything in my mind went bright. When I was done and had squeezed the last drop from my shaft, she sat up, swallowed her mouthful, and gave me a look of pure enjoyment. We kissed and giggled; there was only a barest taste of my cum in her mouth this time. My whole body and mind relaxed.

She looked at me and said “I want to go and see him tonight.”

Me: “You’re still horny?”. She nodded vigorously, with a look of excitement still in her eyes.

“Ok, you can.”

I couldn’t say no to her. I didn’t want to. I was fine with it. I wasn’t threatened or anxious. And I felt all of my love for her.

I gave her permission. I lectured her about safety, told her to check in and be back soon, set restrictions the most that she could do… but I let her go, without regret. I loved seeing her excited and wanting more, even after I had poured myself into her. I was fulfilled, and she was off to assert her new-found sexuality.

One of the things I want to do here is get down and dirty with the specifics of who/what/when/where/why/how I have sex.

Because I can.

It’s something that a lot of people — even open-minded people — won’t talk about. I certainly have never done so with anyone other than my wife (and even then it was sometimes uncomfortable). But writing it out in full feels good to me.

And hopefully someone will find it hot too. I know I like to hear about other people’s sex lives. It really gets me hard.

So, last night L was chatting online with a guy. Hearing her come without me really got me worked up… not really turned on per se, but fully adrenalized.

A bit later she opened the door, very coyly. I think she may have said something to call me over, but I don’t remember. I was already on my way when I heard the doornob turn.

I wrapped my arms around her head and shoulders and started kissing her deeply. It took almost no time for me to get hard. Then I started pushing her over to the bed. I shoved her down (it didn’t take much effort), grabbed her by her legs, and lifted her hips up so that she was fully on the bed. She was still soaking wet and gooey with sex juice. I stripped off my clothes and plunged my cock inside her.

She made her first-penetration moan as I filled her, but it was deeper and more intense than usual. She arched her back and neck in full arousal. Her skin was still glowing from her earlier sex, but she started getting flushed as soon as I entered her — way more than I’ve ever noticed before. I grabbed her by the legs and positioned her hips so that she was just on the edge of the bed; this meant that nothing was in my way from thrusting all the way into her pussy. The height of our bed is almost perfect for me to stand and fuck her while she’s lying on her back; all I have to do is lift her hips up a bit to get the right angle, and I can fill her completely.

I thrust into her with full force right from the beginning. She seemed to like that. This was hard, heavy sex. I was feeling very assertive and dominating, no doubt from the jealousy coursing through me because of her infidelity. I had to remind her who was primary. And she new.

Mostly I was fucking her at full steam, but at times I would slow down when I thought she was just about to come. I like doing this. Part of the reason is to let her arousal build so that her orgasm is more intense. But part of it (especially this time) is to show my control of both myself and her. She says it drives her crazy, and not always in a good way; she likes the constant cumming of full-volume sex. But today I was doing it for me. And I think I’m allowed that.

She came harder than she’s cum in a long time. It was like the old days, although it was probably more animal than ever before. She switched between looking at me and rolling her eyes into her head; her mouth was open and vocalizing the entire time. The only time we talked was when she asked me to grab her breasts; when I wasn’t doing so my hands were spreading her legs, lifting her hips, and grabbing her thighs. Her hands were mostly grabbing the side of the bed, helping her stay in position to take my cock all the way inside her. At one point I put her knees on my shoulders on either side of my neck; this let me grab her arms and help keep her closer to me.

I didn’t come inside her. I often don’t, especially in a position like this. The reason why is a whole other story that I’ll save for another time. But today it didn’t matter. I was satisfied; I had gotten exactly what I wanted. I think she did too. I always ask her how many times she came after we’ve had sex. Often she loses count; this time she said six. That was after three times with the other guy. It makes me very proud to be able to make her cum so much. She loves making me come inside her too, but she’s very understanding and supportive when I don’t. I don’t think it bothered her much at all this time.

After I pulled out of her, I laid down in bed and told her to suck her pussy juices off of my cock. It was more of an order than I usually do. She was happy to oblige. I brushed her hair back so I could see her face, and put my hand on the back of her head. I didn’t put any (physical) pressure on her; she made all the effort herself. But for sex like this I like having my hand there, to let her know who is in control. (This was a very power-oriented sex session; by far this is not our usual routine.) I told her to get every bit of her off of my cock. She took me down her throat as much as she could, which is pretty far. I’m about 7 inches long, and she managed to get her lips down to the last inch or so. I was fully hard and I could see her struggling to get me down into her throat; this was incredibly sexy. She even gagged a bit, which I like in a visceral way, but I wasn’t disappointed when she stopped after that.

After that we held each other and talked. She cried a bit; she was overcome with all the swirling emotions. She really loves what she’s doing with other guys, but she’s still learning how to release the guilt that she accumulates with it. She’s still unable to tell me everything that she did, but I reassure her that that’s absolutely OK for now. Being able to be her support is what makes me feel good about myself. For me it was a perfect end to an amazing experience.

I’m glad I could share this with you. If you liked it, please leave me a note to express that.