~erotica~
He sat at the bar, an empty glass in front of him, another in his hand. He sipped his bourbon slowly, slowly for him at least, and tried not to think of her.
He knew this was a mistake. Drinking was for remembering, not forgetting. Trying to drown his sorrow would only in fact make them worse.
But it was Sunday. It was their day. So he sat at his same place at the bar, sipping his bourbon and remembering.
They'd met a few years ago. Her eyes caught him. Her body enticed him. He was hooked. She looked on him with carnal eyes, like a predator stalking its prey. Now, as he thought back on this, it seemed ironic. His long time submissive had hunted him down and captured his heart.
Sunday was their special day. Each had busy lives, too busy to do all they wanted, but they always had Sunday.
She'd clean, primp herself especially the way he liked it, smelling of sweetness and looking even more sugary. Her short skirt, her two pony tails secured high up in her head, her little ankle socks with lacy frills, and her black and white saddle shoes. Just the thought had his manhood strain against his jeans.
He'd prepared himself especially for her, too. His leather boots, shined to a brilliant luster. His leather chaps, smooth and supple to the touch. His leather jacket, embroidered with a screeching devil on the back, dark red and hellacious. His pressed white dress shirt and tie. She loved ties, especially when he'd take it off, wrap it around her neck, and cinch it down tight, too tight.
He longingly remembered the beatings, the begging. Oh, how he loved the begging, hearing her plead, "Sir, sir. Please sir. Please oh please may I cum. Oh please may I come." The silky sweetness of her voice tempted him to always say yes, but he never broke. He chose when she came; her begging would make no difference to the time, only give more fury to his thrusts as he fucked her.
He especially loved fucking her when she floated in the air, strung up by his aromatic raw hemp which scratched against her skin. No limbs were free. All she could do was hang, a floating fuck toy for his pleasure. After he'd beaten her red, and spanked her silly, he'd fuck her til he was exhausted.
Both were sweaty messes by the end of their time on Sundays. Both yearned to do more the next week. But once, it was only he that readied one Sunday. Only he that waited at his door for hours. Only he who worried where she was, what was wrong. And then only he who happened to open the door, see the letter on his porch, read it, and descend into a depth of hatred and heartache.
He carried the letter in his back pocket. It was worn with time, constant folds and unfolds. He pulled it out now and read it once more. Read the flippant dismal. Read the relaxed way she threw him out like garbage. Read the words from the person he thought loved him.
He craned his head back, downed the rest of his bourbon, and signaled to the bartender for his check.
And then he turned to his left, saw a woman walk in, and knew he was done. She looked so much like his love, so much like the woman he drank for, yearned for. It wasn't her, and yet it was her. Her face, when it was innocent and wanting. Her manner, when she was submissive and pleasing. And her eyes, when all she desired was him.
And in that moment, he fell in love with a woman he just saw, a woman he had not yet met, and pitied himself still more.
She gave a small smile, sat down beside him, and asked the bartender for a bourbon. The man told the bartender to put it on his tab.
Walking into the tavern, she saw him almost instantly. His tall and brood frame stood out often, especially among groups. He looked relaxed, at ease, possibly tipsy. He drank and spoke animatedly to their friends. She walked over to the bar and ordered a drink.
He saw her as soon as she entered. To him she seemed to breeze in, glide across the sticky wooden floor, and lightly land at the bar. If there were cares in her world, they were far far away. He envied her ease in the aspects of her life that he glimpsed on their weekly encounters at the tavern.
She peaked over and saw him leaning against the wall, a pretty girl so close to his frame. The girl was young and smiling, seemingly happy for the attention of this big strong man, this handsome individual that decided to talk to her. She saw the girl bat her eyes, toss her hair, and sip her drink slowly. She saw what she could and would never do, never be. She returned to her conversation.
His eyes found her across the bar, sitting on a couch, talking to a group of their friends. Her face was animated, possibly telling a story, maybe recounting one of her many adventures. She had so many to tell. She wasn't like the vapid young girl who captured his current attention, if you can call practicing flirting on an easy mark attention. He admired her gumption, her constant efforts to push herself, to take risks. She had seen more, done more in her two years since breaking free of social constraints than he had even dared in his ten years free of his old repressive beliefs. She was everything he dreamed he could be, but never dared try. How he envied and loved her for this.
As she paid her tab, she saw him sitting, alone at a table, fiddling on his phone. It was late; most of the regular crowd was gone. This was fairly normal; both she and he tended to be one of the last to leave. As she tipped the bartender, she weighed whether she should approach him, whether she should try to strike up a conversation so late in the night. He was surely tired; she was exhausted from her long day. But the idea of spending just ten minutes with him made her heart sing. However her decision was made for her when she saw the young girl return from the ladies' room, sit next to him, and drape her leg over his lap. She gripped her purse a little tighter and briskly walked out the door.
He loved the arch of her back when she leaned against the bar and stood slightly on her tippy toes to get the bartender's attention. It was late, so she must have been cashing out. In his mind, he ran through the things he might say to her. What new and kinky things had she gotten into? Did she have any plans for the upcoming hotel event? Would she be interested in playing with him? The thought of her naked flesh offered up to his powerful hands more than excited both his mind and body. As she finished, he mentally prepared himself to approach. But just as he would get up, the vapid girl returned. He hadn't even realized she was still there. She sat next to him, asking what he had in mind for the rest of his evening, and draped her leg over his lap. He calmly, sweetly began turning the girl down, trying to explain he had just met her and he did not take the leap to the bedroom so quickly. He wanted her gone, but meant her no harm. When he felt she got the picture, when the girl understood she would not have him that night, the one he wanted was almost out the door. He saw the final few strands of her hair trial behind as she left.
I woke up to an alarm today, a day which will not be full of fun.
Unlike previous years, I have come to a point in my career (wow, I can call it that now) that I get work during our slow season. Not a huge amount; I won't be swamped like I will be March through June, but enough to get by. I'm experimenting this month with not tapping into my savings and seeing if I can, miracle of all miracles, pay all my bills without touching the little bit I stashed away when times were good.
But, unfortunately, that brings me to today, this morning, at 7:25am right now. I'm writing, I'm tired, and all I want to do is go back to sleep.
I cannot stand the first day back; I never have. My body got into a rhythm of waking up by my roommate's knock on my door. I'd drop her off at work, read a book in my car for an hour (I'm quirky; just accept it), exercise, eat lunch, write, chat with the other roomie who gets home early, and then pick up my first roomie from work or meet her at a Happy Hour.
This pattern would be all well and good if I made any money during the day. But, since I don't have a five figure book deal that includes a share of the profits from units sold... Nope, I'm not Stephen King yet, so this routine, though lovely, was fleeting.
There are somethings I feel now that I felt back when I had to go back to school after Winter Break: a stiffness in my neck from stress, the intoxicating allure of my bed, my emotional temper tantrum after I hit the snooze button for the fifth time.
However I endure. I guess the shitty part of all this is I'm not making much money today, about $80 before taxes. It's simple menial work, but it's work. And it's $80 more than I had yesterday. And I'll make another $80 tomorrow, and another $80 on Thursday. And, after having lived through five years of this business and having years where I did not get any work during the slow season, I really can't say no to it now, as low paying as it may be. At least I'll finish before midnight, which I will not be able to say in a month.
Recently I acted like a well adjusted emotionally aware adult.
I received a request from a friend, to which I immediately and gladly said yes. But, as soon as I gave my agreement, there was a nag in the back of my throat, a little pop in my brain. I felt something, I wasn't quite sure what, but I knew I needed to talk to them about it.
So, being the highly evolved person that I am, I actually spoke up. I quite inarticulately expressed my feelings, my reservations. In stumbling language, I described my nag. Together, we worked through my issue. We are now good.
I feel the need to write about this moment for one very big reason.
In a previous post I spoke about the three words that I would like to color my year (bravery, forgiveness, and endurance). In this instance, I could have reacted differently. I could have swallowed my feelings. I could have seen this as me being petty or envious or "over emotional." I could have ignored that nag and tried to move on. But I didn't.
Instead, I forgave myself for having the feeling, because I was feeling quite guilty over my emotions. I was brave and spoke to my friend almost immediately about it. I stopped myself from accepting the hurt and found a way to move beyond the moment. I thought about and spoke about my feelings. I talked it out and came to multiple acceptable conclusions. I helped make myself feel better without sacrificing myself as a person.
So far, almost two weeks into my three words year, I'm liking the results. Let's see if I can keep this up.
~erotica~
- Send me a picture.
* Of what?
- Send me a picture.
* Of... what? :D
- You know what.
* And yet I keep asking.
- Be creative.
* Ok.
* [image]
* Guess the body part.
- Mmm, a game. I will say... hand.
* Good. Now, your turn.
- [image]
* I don't have to guess what that is.
- Really? But it's covered by clothing.
* Its form is distinct.
- Yeah, I like to think so.
* [image]
- Ah, that's my head rest.
* Correct, and it's cold without your lips warming it.
- I bet I know somewhere on your body that is very warm.
* And wet.
- I'm sure.
* When do you get home tonight?
- Late.
* Boo. And here I was going to show you my new night shirt.
* [image]
- O.o
- :D
* Sure you can't, um, catch a cold?
- I am feeling awfully feverish right now.
* Flushed?
- Positively sweltering.
* Perspiring?
- Buckets.
* Shivers?
- Yes, but for some reason only near my abdomen.
* What an odd symptom.
- Absolutely baffling.
* You should have that looked at. And I, being a doctor and all, would be more than happy to...fit you in.
- Your bedside care?
* Very attentive, hands on healing.
- I will need all your skill to work out the, um, kinks.
* All your kinks will get worked out, as soon as you get your cute ass home.
- Speaking of, can I get one more piece of motivation to get through my day?
*[image]
* Like?
- Oh yes. Spank you very much.
* You better.
From my experience at Dirty Things...
I sat on the floor, naked, my chest covered in ash. The Girl sat next to me, naked save for garters and stockings. Her Daddy sat in a chair beside us. The Empath barely stood, as far away as she could be in the small ten-by-ten room.
I relished being in their presence, smoke sticking to my skin and in my hair. I relished the sight of the body of the Girl, so beautiful, so close to me. But, most of all, I relished the power her Daddy held over her.
"Cum." With one word, the Girl's body moved, flexed, bent to his will. Her breathing increased. Her hands struggled to find a hold. The reaction was definite and magical.
"Cum harder." The Girl's breathing grew heavier. Her frame shuddered. Her Daddy held a hand against her back for support, lest she fall over.
"Now, direct it."
"NO!" The Empath protested fervently. The effect the Daddy's manipulation of his Girl on the Empath was more than magical; it was wondrous. The Empath felt the Girl's orgasm. The swell rolled through her body as well. The Empath was caught in a trap, unable to be released. She could just barely keep herself up against the wall.
The Girl was new to her control, new to this sensation. The Girl did not know, yet, how to guide her energy. The Empath only found small relief in this. She still felt uneven passion ebbing across the room to her; she still could not get away.
As I sat and watched, something else happened in that room, something I would not reveal to those around me. As the Girl tried to direct her shudders and starts to the Empath, tried to grow and release her ball of energy, I began to feel it. A soft pulse of lust emitted from her body. I was so close to her, a breath away.
It wasn't obvious at first, just a slight warmth in my abdomen. But it grew. And grew, as the Girl sought to manipulate the Empath.
I kept quiet. I continued to smile. I now relished in the growing warmth inside me. I let the delicious sensation roll around. However, I did not allow myself to get lost in it. I slowly let it melt in, instead of letting it takeover.
Later that night, long after the Daddy was finished having his fun with the Empath, after my multiple rope moments, when everyone gathered their things to go, I sought out the Girl. I would not leave without saying goodnight.
I floated on a rope high through the room. I saw her, as bubbly and beautiful as I'd always seen her. I breezed over, smiling; she always made me smile. She saw the change in me, the delicate balance as I hung in the air.
We hugged our bodies into each other. She lightly kissed the nape of my neck. I nuzzled into hers. Our cheeks found each others, brushing softly. Our noses lightly grazed. Our lips, so soft, met. We kissed. And kissed. And kissed.
I massaged her back. She ran her nails down mine. I gasped. She bent over. She sucked one nipple while pinching the other. I moaned. She switched. I moaned more.
She took to one knee. Her hand ran down my thigh, against my mons, and finally, after I slightly parted my legs, a single finger found and stroked just above my clit. My breathing rocked with my body. I softly brushed my hands against her hair.
I felt it building. And building. And building.
"Please may I come." I said it low, a whisper, the lightest of pleas.
"Please, please may I come." Louder. Begging. A need.
"Yes."
"Thank you." My abdomen contracted. I struggled to breathe. My hands flexed. It ripped through me.
"Cum." Her Daddy had been watching. Her Daddy gave the command. She obeyed. Her body and her breathing shuddered. We leaned on and into each other.
Our breathing returned, we found ourselves hugging again. It was time to go.
"You are intoxicating," I told her before I had to drift, high and happy, on my way home.
From my experience at Dirty Things...
He told me to go tie myself up. I scurried off, happy to have the practice, and wanting to try something new.
I used my gifted red rope, along with a length of swapped black rope, for my chest harness. I used my gifted raw hemp for the hip harness (which included a crotch line for extra fun). I cinched to the hip piece and looped around my legs as I had done before. I added all the lifting lines before I began my ascent, just as I had practiced.
But next was where things changed. I added a fourth lifting line to a new point, the one he had suggested some time ago. I lifted myself, lowered my chest, and floated above the world, my body weight resting solely on my hips. My arms could almost graze the floor.
I lifted my chest back up, re-secured the line, and lowered a leg. I discarded the long chest rope and switched it out with a shorter from the leg on the ground. I moved the new chest rope to the side, lifted myself once more, and floated sideways. I drifted, sunk into this new feeling.
I again resettled my leg and moved the chest line. Securing the rope to the back of the harness, I floated half sideways, half face down. I absorbed this new position, and its different set of strains.
Feeling the time had come to stop, I lowered myself down, sat, and coiled my ropes. I wondered if I could, somehow, perform the transitions without lowering my leg. I promised myself I would practice this new sequence again, soon.
My things packed away, and the night nearing at its end, I found him unraveling his tie. He asked if I was ready. I informed him we had no time, that the night had left us. That was, unless he wanted to do something "fast and furious". He smiled at the comment. He went to the organizers to ask a question.
I sat and lounged and talked, letting myself wind down. He came back and spoke to another. He stood behind me. And then his rope was around me.
With one quick cinch, and my instant inhale of breath, I understood what was about to happen. I quickly flung my glasses away, caught by another who held them til the end. He cinched my chest again, and again, and again. He pressed into my body with his boot, first at my back, then on my chest. He forced my torso down onto my crossed legs. He then pushed my chest down to the ground. He grabbed my leg and wrapped the rope around it thrice. He pulled tight and cinch my leg to my chest.
All the while, whenever his body came close to mine, I leaned into him. I rubbed my cheek, my shoulder, my hand onto any part of him that was near me. And he caressed me with his hand, his hair, and his rope.
With my body secured, he held me, brushed my face, and said, "We don't have time for me to ease this in, so I'm going to push it." He counted 1, 2, 3. He struck my sternum, a warm glow now living in my chest. "Hold on to that for a while." And he held me.
After a moment, he began unwinding the ropes. Even with the strands flowing off my body, I felt the glow still in my chest. Even as we sat, cuddling, happy to be with one another, if only for a moment, I felt it. On the drive home. As I slipped into bed. As I write this, I still feel it.
It is caring, affection, friendship, connection. I hold on to who I am, who we are, all that has happened before, and all that is yet to be.
