Claiming (3/?): “Go pantiless after.”
I suppose I should finish what I started... wrote most of this a while ago.
These events occurred circa. October 2009. Read part 1 and part 2.
[via Maria's Photo]
Day #2, continued.
The first thing he wanted to do was make use of me being so turned on. We had moved back to email now, and I sat there, waiting eagerly for him to tell me what he wanted me to do.
I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped when I read his next message: he wanted me to find a restroom to masturbate in, and wanted me to go pantiless after I was done.
Just picture it, will you, for a moment? Me, unassuming in my grey puffball dress, walking through the library - which was silent except for the occasional rustle of pages, filled with students intent on their work. Me, filled with so much nervousness and excitement that I was practically sizzling with emotion...
I went down the stairs, floating in a dizzy haze, and found the restroom. I entered the biggest cubicle, took off my boots, took off my leggings, finally took off my panties. I folded them nicely and set them down, then set about getting myself off.
It didn't take me very long. I was already soaking wet and had mental fodder enough... but the thing that kept playing over and over in my head was the word used. How Sir wanted to use me, how he wanted me to feel sore and exhausted and worn out and used, used, used...
This library was one of the less "popular" ones, and so the restroom was completely empty, and also silent. Every breath, every slide of my fingers inside me and back out were clearly audible, and I hoped and hoped that nobody would walk in until I finished.
I was lucky. Just as I felt my orgasm begin to swell, somebody loudly pushed the door open.
I gave myself a few moments to calm down before I pulled my leggings and boots back on and tucked my panties into my jacket pocket. My leggings were made of silk, and I could feel the material against my damp pussy - cool and soft.
I walked slowly and self-consciously back to my spot. I sat down and immediately sent Sir a message, telling him I had done what he asked.
His next demand was that I take a picture of my panties with my phone and send it to him. I considered walking back to the restroom and taking the picture there, after a quick look around I realized that so few people were in the library that no one would notice if I took the picture right where I was. I quickly took my panties out of my pocket, crunched them in my hand, and shoved my hand under the desk. I opened my hand, clearly displaying the panties (unfortunately, white with bright pink stars and, for some reason, Superman logos on them) and snapping a picture.
He had a few more instructions for me for the rest of the day. He wanted me to find a collar or choker of some sort that I could wear when I was doing tasks that he set me. I had a cloth choker, which he told me to use. He asked me what the rest of my day looked like. I didn't have anything to do except go to dinner with a friend. He told me that I had to excuse myself during dinner and bring myself off again.
Shortly before dinner, I went back to my room to look for the choker, that I hadn't worn at all before this. I couldn't find it in my dresser or among my clothes. I took down the storage boxes from the top shelf of my closet, and rifled through them, then grumbled loudly in frustration.
The choker wasn't there.
I checked all the drawers and boxes over again. I was so frustrated. Sir wanted me to use that choker, and I wanted to use the choker, but the choker was not there. I wanted to try my hardest to do what he wanted me to do, but I couldn't, since I guessed that I must have left it back home, halfway across the globe. (An email to my sister asking her about it later confirmed my suspicion.)
I apologetically told him about what happened. He immediately reassured me, and asked if I had anything else. I was relieved. He knew I don't like being talked down to or humiliated, and I'm glad he remembered and didn't do either of those things. He ended up choosing a simple bracelet - silver with a plain amethyst clasp - for me to wear when I was submitting to him.
Soon I had to go to dinner, so I put on the bracelet and went over to my friend's place... It soon proved that excusing myself to get myself off would be difficult. My friend wanted some advice on a problem, so I felt bad about interrupting her. Eventually our conversation wound down, so I went to do what Sir had asked.
My friend didn't live in a dorm, she lived in an off-campus house. She directed me to the bathroom... it was right next to the kitchen, and the door didn't lock. Great. I had to hold the door shut with one hand, and I could hear everyone talking and hanging out in the kitchen. Using my fingers against my clit, there was no way I was going to come, I was too distracted.
I had come twice that day already, but Sir wanted me to have come three times. He'd be making me pay for that transgression later...
To be continued...
Claiming (2/?): “Assume the position.”
These events took place circa. October 2009. Read part 1 here.
Day #2
Two days later, on a typically doleful Monday, I was at work when Sir emailed me. He was at work, too, and was having a stressful day. He asked me if I was up to helping him "relieve himself." I agreed at once - both excited to see what was to come and glad to escape my own humdrum day, if just for a little while.
He asked if I had done anything to warrant a spanking, and I told him a few "bad" things I had done over the past few days. Slept through class. Behind on work. The usual transgressions. He said that I should take my academics more seriously, and then asked that I "assume the position": all fours, face down. He wanted me to feel vulnerable. I was familiar with how that position felt - it made me feel exposed - but tantalizingly so - imagining the gaze of my lover wandering down my body, taking in everything.
Sir started spanking me, again: harsh swats that stung and reddened up my skin. He built up a rhythm until he was happy with the hue of my behind, then soothed my burning skin with his hands.
At the library front desk, I bit my lip and shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in my seat. My eyes were fixed on the computer screen - utterly intent on it. I hoped that the head librarian wouldn't suddenly come by to fetch something, as she sometimes did, because I didn't want to interrupt our session by having to hurriedly minimize my email in order to hide it.
He resumed spanking me, letting his fingers land between my legs, moving on to heavier blows... I let him know how turned on I was, and imagined what I'd do if this was really happening - gasp, squeal, half-attempting to escape from his blows and half-arching towards his touch; wanting and detesting the mix of pleasure and pain at the same time.
By then, my work shift had come to an end and I had to leave to do some errands. I told Sir, and so we switched to text messages. It was so unbelievably hot to do something as mundane as stand in line to pick up some packages, but with my thumbs flying over the keypad of my cell-phone, attempting to settle my facial expression into a non-incriminating configuration that did not betray what I was doing, heat pooling at my clit...
Sir began probing me, pressing his fingers inside me as he continued landing slaps all over my behind. I was both embarrassed and intensely aroused, groaning, overwhelmed with sensations. He rocked his hand as I rocked back into him, then pulled his fingers out and rubbed my clit, using his other hand to pull my hair so my head snapped back uncomfortably.
And then he took his cock out, the cock that I had never seen but knew was thick and substantial, according to what he had told me, and that I knew would stretch and fill me wonderfully... He pulled my body towards him, sinking himself into me. I tried my muffle my moans until he asked me to stop... half-reluctantly I took my knuckles out of my mouth and let my moans and choking cries fill the room. He pounded into me until he was about to go over the edge... then pulled out just as he came, spurting his come all over my back, leaving me limp, shuddering, and sated...
The end of our tryst found me in the library again, this time getting ready to do some homework... but so wet, bothered and distracted that I could barely even focus on the readings in front of me; my mind filled with gorgeous, filthy images as a result of what had just happened between us.
But things did not end there - Sir had more in store for me: he wanted to stake a claim on me. It was early afternoon and the day still stretched on before us, and Sir gave me a list of things that he wanted me to accomplish before going to sleep.
To be continued...
A Story of You #4 His
Contest entry number four by Lola Batling...
4. His
This is the story of my first time with a Dom and a stranger. It is the story of my first non-parental spanking. It also marks my second time in a carʻs back seat for sexual purposes. Funny how that worked out, Iʻm just glad Iʻm adventurous.
I thought Topping while in a wheelchair was difficult, but I must be a masochist. Bottoming is harder, hands down. While itʻs not more difficult in terms of capability or ability, there are a fair number of difficulties.
The finding partners is always the hardest part. Finding people who can accept the “my bitch comes with wheels” is quite difficult. Adding that I’m a painslut makes it even weirder. People have a hard time hurting me. Even though I’m a big girl and I ask for it. I know what I can handle, and I will use my safe word.
You know what they say, that when you stop looking for something, you find it? It’s true. In fact, itʻs the only thing I believe in. I just have to remind myself of this a lot.
It was a cold night when I met him. I was with friends outside of Stilettos, a gay and lesbian bar in Detroit. He caught my eye. He was older and debonair, the type of guy I masturbate to. I love older men, but I had never really been with one. I was staring at him. He was staring right back.
My friends had to drag me inside. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go in. I simply wasn’t about to lose a test of wills. Once inside, I consoled myself with something alcoholic that tasted vaguely of blackberry and turned my attention to the stage.
“Hello.” A velvety voice whispered in my ear. Startled, I jumped and looked up. It was him.
“Hello.” I said, marveling at how close he was, yet he was not touching my chair. He put his hands on my shoulders. My breath caught, my heart pounded, he was touching me.
“My name is X, I’m interested in getting to know you. Come outside with me while I smoke,” he said before walking away. It was not a request, it was an order.
Before I could think, I was up and away from my party. I quickly caught up with up him. He held the door open for me. My nipples were hard and I couldnʻt tell if it was the cold or the excitement.
“Let me guess, early twenties, rebellious and a Daddyʻs girl,” he said from behind me.
“Hardly a Daddyʻs girl,” I said, giggling nervously.
“No...” I could hear the smooth suck on his cigarette. “I can fix that.” He spoke confidently, reaching down and tweaking a nipple. I was mortified, I was embarrassed, I was aroused.
I was his.
There are those moments when you can just feel your whole life change. This was mine. The moment I knew I could be submissive. As the realization set in, he turned and the next thing I knew, he was walking off, during my moment of epiphany! How dare he! I chased after him.
He stopped in front of a really nice, sleek black car.
“Ever done it in a BMW… I didnʻt quite catch your name?” He said. He was smirking.
“No, and my name is O.” I said. Oh shit, I used my real name. Oh fuck, I wanted him bad.
“Well, O . Let me enlighten you.” He said undoing my seatbelt with one hand and opening the BMWʻs back door. He tossed aside his cigarette stepping on it once, crushing the glowing ember beneath his heel.
He lifted me as if I weighed nothing and set me in the back seat. I lay there my heart beating while he moved int the car with me shutting the door behind him. I watched him wide eyed.
He immediately exposed my nipples, looking me over. Caressing the curve of my hip. “I want to hurt you, O.” He stated it the way most would say, “I like green.” He let his hand trail down the front of my thighs.
I whimpered.
He moved me so that I was on my belly pressed against the leather. He lifted my skirt. As usual, I wasnʻt wearing any panties. He brought his hand down on my bare ass. Sound of flesh on flesh filled the car. On and on he went until he finally got me to cry out.
It hurt a lot but I was taught never to cry. It felt different from the times my step-dad spanked me. My ass hurt the same, but the electricity was there and my pussy was wet and aching. He knew this, surely he had to. His fingers would dip into every time heʻd stop to rub my ass.
I raised my ass under his hand as he rubbed my ass smearing my wetness across my backside. He laughed and continued his assault on my ass. I was moaning and gasping, and then:
“Stop please.” I said, not my standard safe-word but, he stopped sitting back on his heels.
“70. You must have been an unruly child.” He said chuckling.
“Yeah.” I said gasping. His finger slid into me stopping me from talking. He pushed inside my tight pussy. I was surprised by my own wetness. He slid back and forth adding a second finger and third until my pussy was stuffed full and convulsing around him.
Before I knew it, I was orgasming at the speed of sound. The whole thing was sharp and brief. Even now I think about it, what I could have done differently if I had the toys on hand and the knowledge to use them.
Just as the thought sparked through my mind, my body recoiled, trying to place a definite end to the encounter. Abrupt as it was, the next thing that happened was him putting in me back in my chair and handing me his card.
“Call me.” He said. I quickly dashed back into the bar. My friends hadnʻt even noticed I was gone.
Of course I called.
A Story of You #3 A Few Moments in the Office
Contest entry number three by Raven Quince...
3. A Few Moments at the Office
It was a day filled with sexual tension. The sparks between us didn’t have far to arc in the tiny room we shared as an office. Swiveling my chair around, he leaned forward and kissed me hard. The heat between us exploded and soon we were on our feet, chairs rolling haphazardly out of the way, bodies tight against each other, his hand down the front of my pants, probing. “Get those off, “ he said as he shoved my keyboard and mouse out of the way. He extended the small sliding shelf extensions on either side of my desktop, the ones meant to give a little more room to lie out papers, or place a telephone. I’d had the desk for six years and had never noticed it’s great potential for sex before.
He patted the desktop and I hopped up. Placing each foot on the extensions, my knees were up and legs spread wide. Reaching behind me, he slid me forward so that my ass was teetering off the edge of the desk. Running two fingers up my slit, he slid them into my very wet pussy. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, our tongues entwined, our lust intense, the pace of our breathing quick.
Letting his pants drop to the floor, his cock bobbed with his pulse as he put on a condom. The height of the desk was perfect as he entered me. With long slow strokes the angle of my pelvis was perfect to receive him, and I could feel his cock filling me up over and over again. I moaned my pleasure loudly and dug my fingers into his shoulder blades, his speed increasing. I could feel my orgasm coming quickly, my muscles tightening around his cock. Reaching down, he rubbed my clit and buried himself deep within me as he came hard. I screamed out as his touch pushed me over the edge of an intense orgasm. My whole body tightened and clenched him, hands clawing at his back, my head tucked down, teeth bearing down on his shoulder. And, in that moment, there was an unmistakable sound. A splash hit the wooden floor below me.
We froze like that for some moments, locked in each other’s bodies. I could feel my pussy dripping, the space between our bodies unusually slick. He pulled back and checked the condom. “What the fuck was that?” I asked incredulously. “It appears you’ve squirted.” I looked down and on the floor below was a puddle. “What? But, I don’t do that!” He looked at me with a smile and replied, “Well, apparently you DO.”
Microfantasy Monday: Silence
I liked 2-weeks-ago's theme better so I'm going to be a deviant and go with that one - silence.
When his fingers enter you, he's rough and abrupt. You start to squeal because you didn't expect it - he'd barely even gotten your pants down - but his other hand clamps over your mouth. Hard.
"Mmmpff--"
He's shoved against your back, and you're face to face with a copy of Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises. You're in a particularly unused corner of the library stacks, but still. No noise here. No telling how many students are hidden against the walls, hunched over piles of research, just looking for a distraction. The air around you is tense; compressed.
You close your eyes and bite on his fingers slightly when a third, then fourth, finger enters your copiously dripping cunt, and his hand starts rocking into you...
Mary Anne, the beautiful somnambulist
Flash. You're on a ferry, and he's with you. You're travelling to an island. You're going behind his girlfriend's back. You cuddle close, close to each other on the seat, hands entwined like your bodies should be. The boat lurches forwards on the waves...
Flash. You're sharing a shower stall with her - your ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend. Why her? Someone knocks, and two female acquaintances join you. You're trying to wash your hair, but you can hardly move because the stall is too crowded with naked limbs. You're embarrassed. Your back is to them and they're giggling. Suddenly you feel wet hands on your hips turning you to face them, and you feel a warm mouth on your genitalia. You gasp and look at them. One of the girls is kneeling before you; the other two are giving you saccharine smiles, reaching for you...
Flash. The dark meeting room of Zeta Mu, and you hear your name. You turn and see the Emperor sitting in a corner. You rush over to him, overjoyed, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a kiss...
Flash. You're making out with the Atlantean and the two of you are inexorably horny. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, you're straddling his lap, you've stripped each other down to your underwear... But wait, what? all your other trip-mates come into the room and you break apart abruptly - red-faced and embarrassed. The others don't seem to notice and proceed to sit down in the room and chat. The Atlantean and you look at each other burningly and you want to leave the room, go somewhere else, but you can't...
Flash. It's your hot, butch Teaching Assistant from that class you took freshman year, and for some reason she's giving you a cheery, matter-of-fact demonstration of suspension bondage rigging, and you're nodding, listening, trying not to betray your huge crush on her...
Flash. The room is dark and the couple is curled up together - the Atlantean spooning his gf. You climb into bed with them and the Atlantean wakes up, turns towards you and she seems to melt away. He's sitting in front of you now, and you're tracing fingertips and tongue and teeth up his spine, then biting the soft back of his neck. He moans...
Flash. Bajan-Guy is leaving in five days but the two of you are sitting in his room, talking, and - you can have me, he says. Later, when you're walking with him on campus, you shyly and discreetly hold hands...
Flash. She is wearing a schoolgirl uniform and is bent over a desk. Her bare ass is white - rapidly turning red with welts from the bundle of birch rods. She shrieks. He is strong, built, and you can't see his face. He drops the rods carelessly aside, unbuckles his pants, and impales her on his cock. His hipbones drive against her hot flesh, and she gasps. Tears come to her eyes from the pain of his body against hers; from the pleasure of him inside her...
(You're pretty sure you wake up abruptly with your hand inside your boxers at this point, before falling back asleep...)
Flash. The Actor is walking with them in the forest under a bright full moon and you're trying to catch up with him...
---
I've spent the last few days in a soporific haze. Somehow, I got into the habit of going to sleep at 6am and waking up at 2pm. Even when I made myself go to bed a few hours earlier, and set my alarm earlier, I still snoozed it until 2pm, like clockwork.
I haven't felt like I've had much to get up for. My two exams are at the end of finals period; and both require not very much work, but enough work to make me feel guilty for blowing it off. And many of my friends have already left for home, or are busy with finals. As a result, I've been stuck in a strange interim place of trying to do work, not really doing it, and wanting to do fun things but not really doing those either. I've been stuck doing pretty much nothing for days at a time - not wanting to do that, at the same time feeling bored by the alternatives.
I have vivid dreams. Most of the time I don't want to get up because dreams are more interesting. Easier.
I do so many things not because they're what I really want to do, but because they're the easiest. The safest. They have the least chance of going wrong.
But then if I lived like that, I might as well spend my life asleep, right?
"...the peep-show proprietor had talked about a beautiful somnambulist. Yet, if she were asleep, she was dreaming of passion and afterwards I slept without dreaming for I had experienced a dream in actuality. When I woke in the commonplace morning, nothing was left of her in the bed but some dead leaves and there was no sign she had been in the room." - The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman
Microfantasy Monday: Heights
I've decided to give the Sweltering Celt's Microfantasy Monday a try! Not following the theme this time. Windows are still on the brain, it seems.
We're in an opulent hotel room that's high up. Very high up. The floor is smooth, cool marble. The window reaches from the ceiling to the floor, and you're pushing me up, naked, against it. My face and breasts are flush against the glass, and your body is flush against my back. I can't move. I almost can't breathe. When I look straight ahead, I see the sky and a cityscape of lights. And when I look down, I see a tiny, snaking network of roads. I don't want you to let go of me because I'm afraid of falling off the edge and plunging so many feet downwards.
I notice your hot breath on my neck, and you begin to run your hands slowly over me...
Got a sex fantasy? Microfantasy Monday rules can be found here.
Protected: “Will you suck it?”
Coming into Queerness – Toybox
Some updates: Recently, F (Phage) stumbled upon this blog, and I told Christopher about it, too. A bit relieved since now I don't have to worry about privacy issues, since he says writing about him is okay =) Edited Adventures in Digital 1 so it's slightly longer. Will also be internet-less until Sunday.
This post continued from here.
---
Being with K opened so many things up for me.
K helped me determine that I actually was pretty fucking queer. He helped me determine that I was - not bisexual, not heteroflexible - but pansexual. And he helped me realize just how attractive I found androgyny. (Not entirely a surprise, considering my high school celebrity crushes and fascination with pretty anime-boys...)
Being with K also lead to many 'firsts' as well. Walking back to the cabin at 3am for him to suddenly ask, "hey, do you want to swim in the river?", stripping down to nothing, and submerging my shivering body in the swirling water. Lounging and walking around his room naked, and being completely comfortable with my nakedness. Using sex toys.
Especially using sex toys.
Much like any other horny college-aged person, I masturbate. However - I pretty much only used my hands, the internets, and an active imagination. I didn't even do the grind-against-a-pillow thing until a couple months ago.
So one night, when K nonchalantly pulled out a box of dildos and strappy-looking things, I almost fell over.
He showed me how the wrist restraints worked; running belts through them and tying the belts in turn securely to other stationary items. Strap-on harness (I was extremely interested in the harness) and how the dildo fit; how there was a pocket at the back where a vibe could slide in. And then he grinned at me and said "For later... when we have more time."
"Later" came that weekend, when us and a couple of his other friends drove into the woods to spend the night at one of the college-owned cabins. The sun was setting by the time we got there. We (i.e. K, since the rest of us had no idea what we were doing) lit the oil-lamps, started a fire outside, and set some pasta down to cook on the stove inside the cabin.
The night is gorgeous and fun. The sky is full of stars, nothing is around us except the trees... and we sit around the fire and drink and talk and laugh for hours... K drums and we randomly sing Christian songs (for some reason me and K both know a ton. Yay for Christian families...).
The weed and the gin make me talkative and giggly and affectionate. If K's friends didn't know 'something was going on' between us, they definitely do now. I lean onto him, nuzzle him and kiss his cheek...
Eventually, I go inside for more booze or something, and K makes some excuse to come with me. We kiss, grope each other playfully and his hand ends up down the back of my jeans. "We'll have to find a way to sneak off later," he tells me.
Later. "Later" is when we're all about to go to sleep and K says that we want to go 'for a walk.' We walk with a flashlight. Everything looks (and feels) surreal. The flashlight gives everything a white glow and random details stand out to me in my hazy state - the bright white of a mushroom, the sensuous squish of mud on my now-bare feet. He leads me over rocks and tree roots and I hear the familiar rush of a river. I gingerly pick over the rocks on the bank and we find a smooth, flat surface. He has his messenger bag with him, pulls a towel out of it and lays it down. And then pulls out the strap-on.
I almost fall over again.
We mess around for a bit, and soon he asks if we can use the toy. I stall... nervous.
[K: *asking if I'd want it used on me or to use it on him*
[Me: Um... Probably on me, first, since I wouldn't know what to do... *secretly wants to use it on him but won't say*
[Him: What? You just have to do this a lot *makes humping motions*
I laugh at him and realize... he wants me to fuck him.
[Him: You might have to take your pants off for this...
He guides me through it, like he guided me over the rocks... He shows me how to pull it over my legs and adjust the straps so it fits. I decline the vibe. I don't want to be distracted. And then I'm on top of him, sliding a lubed hand into him. I want to get to it as soon as possible, before the nerves take over...
[Him: Whoa, hold on! You have to make love...
(Such a K thing to say ~ ) I guess I'm being too eager. I go back to kissing and rubbing him and soon I'm grasping the phallic object between my legs, this time, and lubing it up. The dildo is neon blue, and long, and thin, and zigzagged. It feels interesting sliding between my hands. Merely wearing the strap-on is an odd egostroke (and no, no penis envy, goddamnit!).
And then I'm easing into him; feeling the pressure give way as his lips part and let the dildo in; hearing him draw in a deep, satisfied breath. I find a purchase for my feet and knees and hands on the rock and start pumping. I move with my whole body - my legs, my pelvis. It's more complicated and difficult than I expected.
[Him: Listen, you can lay on top of me, you just need to move your hips...
I do that but the thrusts feel too shallow, so I move, move... trying to find the 'right' position. At some point he exclaims "oh, a shooting star!" and in my alcohol-addled mind, that's extremely funny, and I floomp on top of him and start laughing.
[Him: Hey... don't stop!
K's gasps and almost-joyful mantra of yes, yes, and the heady feeling of pumping into him are insane. They almost make me forget the soreness that's building up in my muscles. (Guys - I easily see how sex is such a workout for you, now. Whoa.) K can tell that I'm tired and he tells me to stop, and flips us so I'm laying down. Then he sinks down onto the dildo, and rides me.
I rest my hands on his hips and watch his body move in the scant starlight. Listen to him pant and gasp and murmer under his breath. Feel him come.
He lies on top of me. Asks if he's too heavy, but he isn't at all. His wiry body is slim and soft and he rests comfortably on top of me.
[Him: Did that turn you on?
[Me: ...Yes. Very. It's such a fucking... power trip!
[Him: *laughing* I know, right??
We talk more and he rolls off me. I take the harness off, and I fidget. Yes - I was extremely turned on by what we did. And I couldn't wait to do it again. But at the moment... I needed him to get me off. And I ask him. Hesitant and embarrassed.
[Him: Oh... you should have said something earlier!
(To me, the odd thing about K is that he's such a verbal and expressive person, but nonverbally seems to be a lot more restrained, and picks up on much less...)
He reaches into my underwear and has me coming in a matter of minutes, just by teasing my clit with his fingertips... didn't even have to pull my panties off. I gasp, and my body arches, and I clutch at him, digging my fingers into his shoulders.
We walk back to the cabin and share sleeping bags - using one as a 'sheet' and one as a 'blanket' and fall asleep coiled around each other.
The next day, after we get back to campus, I'm extremely happy and giddy... We spend the rest of the day together, as well. The day after, he leaves for his two-week long trip... and I'm left to process all that had happened. We had spent masses of time together throughout the short space of a week, and I had yet to determine what that meant.
He wouldn't use the dildo on me until he came back... or the wrist restraints. But more on that later, perhaps =)
This blog contains adult content.
Wilhelmina Wang. Queer, female college student with her mind lodged firmly in the gutter, seeking genderbenders, lessons in BDSM, a meaningful fuck, and a point in life.
Here's where her mind is spilled like the proverbial guts.
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| Heartbreak Nymphomania |
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