Ball gag

“If we have sex tonight can I use the ball thing?”  His voice seemed to echo through the garage as I stood there in my orange pajama pants and navy blue tank top.  Shawna made eye contact with me briefly, curiouse to hear my anwer. My lips never being fond of hesitation I answer quick and true. “Sure, I have already told you that you can do anything with me.” The three of us had been playing darts in the garage for an hour or two, my game was off and now that my mind was wrapped around that little pink ball gag in my duffel bag I was sure to lose.

Thad won and then it was just Shawna and I. She has a trend of making a come back late in the game and I have difficulty hitting the bullseye and both of these facts result in me losing. The anticipation of Thads hands behind my neck tighening the leather straps of the gag was wnough to keep me from being a sore loser though. Darting into the bathroom I freshen up. Running a wash cloth under hot water and lathering it with Shawnas fragrant apple soap I admire my naked body in the mirror. Standing on my toes I move my thighs apart and press the hot soapy rag over my sex. The sensation is delightfull but almost too much. I fight the urge to play with myself and try to was up hurridly. The quickend rubbing only makes me begin to throb so I rinse the rag and then wipe down once more.

 

 

to be continued…

So you had a bad day. . .

 Writers block + An emotional build up causes me to write like this . . .

Not being able to fight off the tears she takes a deep breath and lets the first of many fall. Over her cheeks and off, obsorbing into her heather grey night shirt. Her children are tucked soundly in their beds and her husband is at work, but she’ not home. She hasn’t been home for 2 weeks now. Even though she keeps it together during the day, she still cries at night. “What have I done?” Even though she knows she is doing what needs to be done she constantly questions herself. Her inner voice rings louder than the t.v.’s volume. Continuing to let it hurt, the tears still fall.

 

Talking to Thad she tells him she isn’t sure she can make it out to his video shoot the next day. “I want to be there for you, I just… I dunno I don’t think I should be part of your work life.” She can tell he is dissapointed in her but she can’t back down from the gut feeling she has that she shouldn’t be there.

 

She had an especially trying day with the children. One potty training, one teething. And between the three dogs barking and whining on odd intervals and her mother calling to talk about nothing, she just wanted to lock herself in the closet. Stepping outside a couple of times she tried to get some fresh air and relax, only to walk right back into the insanity. And it being too cold to take the boys to the park really she just tried to grin and bare it the best she could.

 

Sleep is hard to come by which isn’t helping her daily stamina or patience. She is prescribed to Ambien and tries not to take it but does so when she knows she won’t be able to sleep. Last night though her pill got stuck in her throat and after a full thermos of water she noticed it was 2 am and gave up, laying there in a half dazed state of mind. Chasing her thoughts down rabbit trail after rabbit trail.

 

Not usually being the self pittying kind she can’t shake the feeling of being ultimately meaningless in this vast universe. After the kids went down she went through the motions, dinner, t.v., shower, laundry, and even though that took a good hour, it happened in the blink of an eye just as the rest of her day had.

 

“Where does it all go so quickly?” Finally whiping her tears off of her cheeks she looks down to notice another bug bite on her leg and sighs. She looked her dog over earlier today and couldn’t find any fleas. She even put a few pieces of white paper down on the carpet of her room and waited for a black speck to hop onto one, but it never happened. She just hopes it’s not a spider that has decided to turn her into an all you can eat buffette as she slumbers.

 

Counting this day as a loss she decides to call it quits before her emotions get any worse. She knows it is a full moon and is expecting her time of the month any day now, which gives her hope that maybe all of this is the result of hormones holding her logic and ransom for a large sum of chocolate.

 

Turning off the lamp she closes her eyes and whispers. “Good night moon.”

 

 

(These days will pass right? There will be more things to write about again? Right? Fuck I wish I could see into the future!)

Bah humbug !

 

I had hoped that this X mas would have been the best in a long long time for me.  But other than the 1930’s Woodstock typewriter I got from Thad and Shawna, this X mas will go down in history as the worst yet. Laying  in bed at 2 am I realise I had forgotten batteries for the main gift for my 3 year old so I text my husband to pick them up on his way home. He calls and confirms my text and then I go to bed. Waking up, I ask if he picked up batteries and he says “No.” I want to cry. How could he have not gotten batteries. So then he tells me that he drove to Wal Mart and they were closed.  No excuse. He knows damn well the only things open on X mas are gas stations and bad resturaunts. And one of those has batteries.

So getting out of bed and having to tell him to get Aiden some benadryl since he has been coughing all morning, and to get the boys diapers changed. I get dressed and head up to the gas station.  I find the batteries I need, way over priced, and then head back. Only to realise that I didn’t get enough of the C batteries for one part of the toy. E tells me to forget it that we can get it tomorrow, but all I hear is that he is not at all interested in setting this toy up and playing with it with his son. Again my heart hurts.

So after the kids open their gifts, and by the way just as I assumed, I recieved nothing from my husband. And on top of it I didn’t even recieve an apology for him not getting me anything, I began to pack. This almost happened last year. With him not getting me anything for x mas, but I told him 2 days before x mas that I didnt want to have to tell his family members that he had forgotten, or just didnt care to get his wife anything, and make him look bad. This year I let it happen. I am not even sure he realises he did it. I gave him his gft early. Same thing I have gotten him for three years now. A pocket knife. Comes in handy with his job from time to time. Not sure how safe it is for me to be giving some one that has admitted to suicidal thoughts, a knife. But I figure if he ever truly comes to making a suicide attempt, (God forbid.) he will find a way, knife or not.

So I begin packing up the kids clothes. I try to limit it to one box each. All the while E just hovers and makes notes in his journal. Every time I see him writing he looks very upset. He also hides what he is writing and tells me he does not want me to get mad before I leave by reading it. And of course I find a way to take a glimpse inside when he oes upstairs for something. I read things like “You will desire me. You will flirt with me. You will not ever give yourself emotionally of physically to another man again. Regular church attendance. You will cut communications with any one in the lifestyle and we will never speak of it again. No holding eachothers sins over eachothers heads ever again…” And the list goes on. I see this as what he is going to demand, if and when the time comes for us to make a try at our marriage again. And right now I can tell you those things are not an option.

I do not have any desire for him right now. He has made me feel akward in my own house. As far as flirting, that is a mused action. And right there he is not a sufficient muse for my flirtatious nature to be brought out by him. Telling me I can never give emotional attention to any one other than him again? That’s just obserd. That boils down to me never being able to have male friends. All of my closest freinds have been male. Since I was like 5 yrs. old.  I already told him no matter what happens that Thad and Shawna will be a part of my life as long as they want to be. I do not hold “sins” over his head. I only bring up things he has done in reference to whatever he is making reference to that I have done. I am never the one to point fingers, I merely hold up a mirror. And church is not an option. I do not need an organised religion to “make me see the light.” If and when I ever do find faith, it won’t be at a church.

I truly hope he does show some one, perhaps a counselor, that journal. I want to see what his reaction is when some one other than me looks at him and asks “How on Earth could you even begin to expect these things from her right now? Or ever for that matter?” If he gives the full back story to our relationship before hand, I truly see that any one would tell him he has no right expecting those things from me.

So he has told his sister a bit, just a heads up really that everything is not going well. I am sure as soon as I move out, he will throw me under the bus and the phone calls from his family members will begin. But I can handle it. I have no intentions of bad mouthing him or his character. I can only hope out of respect for me being his childrens mother he will do the same for me.

So it is in my head that he is expecting me to change as I am away. That I am to be this devoted loyal, church going woman if we get back together. The thought of that is almost laughable. And I know he feels that since I am making a request for change that he can do so as well. But I do not ( as far as I know) have a mental illness that truly does require him to change if he is going to live a meaning full life, or hell just be able to function in society.

I am not all too concerned about it but I wonder if his family will turn on me. I hope not, for the boys sake. I would like them to still have their aunts.  Hopefully the choices I make, will not burn their bridges before they need them. They could come at me if E tells all, including the nitty gritty truth that yes I am living with a couple that yes I am going to likely continue the same relationship I have had with them from the begining. It may be looked on as me trying to become a paligamist, or trying to replace E as a father to my kids. But I truly don’t see it happening that way. I truly am holding out for a grain of respect from E to only say that I am staying with friends until he begins to manage this illness on his own.  Becasue that is the root .We shall see…

Handeling it all too well.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Sitting here in an all but quiet house. The rythmatic ticking of my wall clock the only audible sound, other than the clicking of my keys as I type this out, I begin to understand the magnitude of the decision I have made.

I am seperating from my husband. I am not strong enough to go through his journey to health. He is bi polar, and has been for our intire relationship. 10 years. My eyes are open more now than ever, and I am faced with the fact that I have been living with a mental illness, not a person.

When you can look back on every bad time, every fight that you could not wrap your brain around, every hurtful word. And finally know that it wasn’t you, wasn’t your fault, nothing you could have done or said could have fixed anything, and nothing you did or said caused any of it. It is mind shattering.

After my husband hit a manic swing last night and called me in a fit of rage while I was out. It was the last straw. The things he said hurt beyond repair. And I am not strong enough to step back and say “No, that’s not you talking it’s the illness so it doesn’t really hurt.” Because it does. He has always had the ability to rip me apart. Where other people have tried and failed.

Driving home while continuing to listen to him rage and lash out at me verbally, I let go. Thad and Shawna had made the offer of letting me and my two boys stay with them, and I knew beyond a shadown of a doubt it was the right thing to do. If it were just me having to deal with this, sure. But, I have two children under the age of 5. And I can’t and will not allow them to be made to feel the way I have been made to feel.

Alot of different resources tell me that me staying may push him over the edge with his suicidal thoughts. Because I cant just let him rant and vent on me with out reacting, and my reactions (defending myself) just inrage him further.So I am going to break the chain reaction now.

It is bitter sweet that I am having to say good bye to my house, on Christmas. It’s for the best though. If I asked my husband to leave, he has no where to stay really. Other than with his sister, that just had a baby this month.

So now Thad and Shawna are busy childproofing their house. And I can’t seem to figure out where to begin. Thad brought over boxes and sat and talked with me. The whole time I am thinking what I need to pack, should I start in the bathroom, the closet, the bedroom? We will have to move the crib and the bed, toys clothes and daily things. I am going to have to keep track of the finances through online checking that I set up today and I am going to have to deal with my husband via phone for an undertermined ammount of time.

I will also be having to move my dog. Hellga. She is a Lab pit mix. Sweet as can be, but she is a brick house that moves like a freight train. Thad and Shawna have two beagles that were not brought up around kids, and are fairly small dogs in comparison to Hellga. This is going to be a week of experimenting to see if we can get the recipe just right.

“I’m worried. You are handeling this too well.” Thad tells me this, and it is not something that I haven’t heard before. But just as the first time I heard that, after I miscarried, I have known this was coming for a long time. I accepted the possibility of my husband and I not being together a long time ago. I had always played it out in my head that it would have been because of something he did directly though, not something that has built up little by little over the years. Emotionally I have shut down. I can’t care, I can’t grieve this loss, because if I do it hurts me too much. I am on damage control now. I do not look forward to hearing my son ask “Where’s Daddy?” or for him to tell me “I want to go home.” When I think of that it makes it so hard to know I am about to take my kids away from the home they are comfortable in. But I have to keep telling myself to see the forest through the trees, and see the good that could come of this.

If an when my husband does get help, and truly begins to work on himself. And can maintain that want and desire to always work on himself in knowing he lives with an illness that will not ever go away. That is when I can consider returning and giving my marriage another try. But I will be very cautious this time. Yes, I have left once before. Before we had children. And I can see now that I came back too soon. He had began medications and had started to want things again, and I begame a crutch.

The three main points for him to hold onto are that I do NOT want a divorce, I do NOT want to lose my house, and I do NOT want to lose him as a father to my kids. Now, are all three of those possibilities? Yes. But I do not WANT to see it happen. I want to have a happy marriage with 2.5 kids(yes, my dog counts as .5) and a white picket fence just like every other wife out there.

Cheers to change for the better in the New Year. . .

. . .and to all, a good night.

Rude Awakening

Yesterday I take the kids to the Dallas Aquarium with Thad and Shawna. We all have a pretty good time. I get back home and try to clean up the house a little. While doing dishes I feel overwhelmed. Primarily for the fact that I have been taking care of two sick kids for a bout a week now, and have had little sleep, and not a moments peace.

I tell E that if he wants me to continue making large portioned meals, that I would appreciate it if he made sure the pots and pans were cleaned after meals. If not then he could just accept ramen noodles or soups for dinner.  I feel that if I cook the least I can expect in return are clean pots and pans to be ready for me the next tiem I go to cook. He acts fine, or just ignores me and then goes to work.

I have Thad over and we have a great night of watching Lost and having sex. After Thad leaves I call E and let him know how the night went. He is in the office at work around other people so he cant speak freely. He tells me to get some good sleep and that he was glad that the boys got out to the Aquarium. So I drift off into a deep sleep at around 2:30 am.

At 5:45 I feel the covers pulled off the top of my face and I panic, opening my eyes to see E standing there looking pissed off. I ask “What?!” And he launches into “How dare you ask me to wash pots and pans after all I do for you! You don’t respect me. It’s great to know you go out “partying” all day, and then get to make demands of me.” He storms off back down stairs and I sit there in bed completely frightened and at a loss.

After laying there and letting my brain wrap around what had just happened I go down stairs and get into an hour long fight with E. Telling him that I am not strong enough to do this any more. That he is breaking me. That he makes me feel like shit everytime I do anything for myself.  I point out that is after 10 years he has to continualy question my love and commitment than he can file for divorce. And no, it’s not a threat. I will NOT be in a marriage with some one that I have to reasure on a daily basis. 

His version of it all is that I am on a power trip and nothing he ever does is good enough. I asked him how is the correct way to ask for help and the bottom line is he thinks I have no right asking him to do anything, ANYTHING…after he has worked a 12 hour shift. Funny because when I worked I still found a way to balance my home life and sex life and I didn’t make any one around me feel like shit for it.

So after only getting 2.5 hours of sleep, and getting into a yelling match over fucking dishes… I am sitting here on the couch wondering what the fuck just happened. I am at a loss for words that my own husband would startle me out of my sleep to yell at me over dishes, when he knows I have to get up and handle two sick kids. And once I’m awake, I’m awake. There is no “napping.” And he knows how hard it is for me to sleep because I am on Ambien for it.

Now usually I defend him, and make up excuses for his actions. But there is no excuse this time. He was outright inconsiderate and disrespectful to me.  What an ass hole.  I was naive to think there was going to be much change after he got on the medication. His actions have not changed, just the excuse he uses for them. It has gone from “I am going to get on medication, can’t you just be patient with me, you know I am bi polar”  to..  “I’m on medication and haven’t gotten good sleep cant you understand that?”

And no, I’m not heartless, but when I go out x mas shopping with the boys for an entire day and you choose not to take advantage of a quiet house and get some sleep, instead of watching t.v.  then there is no excuse for your lack of sleep.  

 

Spell check be damned….

Deck the halls

So Thad and my husband go out bowling the other night and in the spirit of male bonding they make a wager on the game. Thad bets something he has wanted for a while now. A night with me in a hotel room. And My husband bets something that will benefit him, a deck…built by Thad. It comes down to the last frame and Thad wins. “I just won you in a bet.” I just laugh at the text and shake my head. Because I know now that my husband has lost he will likely rethink his agreance to the wager.

“Is it wrong that I just agreed to that?” This question is a trick. Because if I say no, then it put me in poor light that I feel I am just something to be won in a bowling bet. And if I say yes, then it makes my husband feel as though he did something wrong. So I don’t answer him. My true answer though? Is no. I don’t feel it was wrong. Why? Because Thad doesn’t have to “win” me. He is, for lack of better terms, my boyfriend.

Now Thad had shown me a few hotels online that he really liked way before this little wager was even a thought. A couple were too modern for my tastes. Cold, not welcoming. But in the line up was one called the Bellmont, of Dallas. WHy am I telling you this, well be patient and you will see.

Thad and I attended a Polyphonic Spree Christmas Show and it went something like this. . .

Like a childs toys scattered about, there were several people dressed as x-mas characters walking about the parkin lot before we entered. Frosty, Rudolph and Santa were all in attendance.

There was a very welcoming warm feeling as I walked into the confetti floored Granada. The scent of butterscotched cocktails brought the spirit of the holidays to life. Making our way into the theater we stand and watch center stage. One flute, one piano, a violin and one cello. Taking the shape of a waltz a tango and a few other standards before a cello solo snared my heart. Luckily for me it was a short solo.

After the classics it was time for the Christmas set. Tim, former Tripping Daisies member and now lead of the Polyphonic Spree, invited children up on stage and had them join in singing with him and the band. The set even included the Town Hall song from Nightmare Before Christmas.

Watching Tim was like wathing an infant cry. Fierce and intense, full of energy, every breath full hearted, as if his life depended on every note, every word. Tim has an infectious smile. When he smiles you can’t help but return the favor, and you could feel the entire theater of people smile along with him.

After the Christmas set I figure the show would become a bit more “Adult” ish. Having never seen the Poly before I just figured the kid set was all for show. But no, I was wrong. Tim nor the band ever broke character. Because they weren’t playing characters, they weren’t there to pretend infront of the kids, and then be real infront of the adults.They were  Completely genuine from start to finish.

As a show start, Tim stood in top hat and fragile army attire, behind a red fabric with a spot light shown brightly in dead center. A movement of the cloth revealed a shimmer, the shimmer came from a pair of scissors, and from the scissors came a heart shaped hole that Tim cut and looked through to welcome the crowed.

One heart stopping, energetic song after another played. I found it hard to pay attention to just one area of the stage. Tim of course being the ring leader of this wonderful holidy toybox, and then there was the flute player that had charisma enough to make her innocent flute seem like a rock and roll guitar.The back up singers/choir never stood still. They were in sync doing go go dancer like moves, looking side to side and tossing their hair. And of course there was the celloist, who was barely as tall as her cello. The only way I can describe her form was the way I picture Bach pounding out his masterpieces. So much passion and intensity it is border line maddening. She pulled that bow thicker than honey and moved the cello with her as she swayed.

I walked out feeling as though there was good in the world again. That passion is not just something of fairy tales.

 

 

 

Now during that said show there were raffles for various prizes. None of which Thad or I entered. But as Thad walked back outside to me with my butter rum drink, he did in fact have a prize in his hand. “Some guy won a raffle inside and din’t want. He was asking if anyone wanted it and I said sure I’ll take it.”  Now it may seem unbelievable, but I kid you not. The prize is a gift package for the Bellmont hotel. Thad and I both just grinned. I laughed because I couldn’t believe it. The chances of being in the right place at the right time seem to be high for Thad. Unlike for me.  For example I go to purchase a tee shirt and as soon as my card is swiped, the credit card system malfunctions.

 

 

To update things on a more personal level. My husband is finally on medication for his bi polar disorder. I told him I cant wait around and expect the changes that I have harped on for years any more. That I have to take the steps to know if this marriage doesnt work out, that I can do it on my own. I have to rid the chance that I am just trying to make this work because I am co dependant and have my children to think of. So after almost 5 years of being  jobless I am about to seek out employment.  I am not even sure what to look for. Office work? Retail? Waitressing? Guess you will just have to stay tuned.

 

Poligamate

 

Women have an internal need to always be able to define everything about themselves. Sexuality, religion, taste in music clothes food etc. So it isn’t suprising that both Shawna and I have stumble when trying to figure out just what in the hell to define what we have.

Swingers just doesn’t cut it any more… because we are’nt seeing any other couples. We have been exclusive for a few months now.  We have in fact been “dating” for 5 months now. Time has flown. But yes I tried to define it and all I could come up with was polyamory. And that just wasn’t perfect either. Shawna came up with polyfidelity, and I like that. I can handle it. And suprisingly all four of us seem to be pretty comfortable with the term.  So now we kind of joke that we are eachothers poligimates. Has a ring to it dontchya think?

My husband is still trying to get in to a doctor that can elp him determine if he has bi polar disorder or if it something else altogether. Either way he is still trying to get help. Shawna has also taken a huge step and is scheduled to start therapy this week. I got talked out of getting on anti anxiety meds…and it was for the best. Because me opting to take meds just to be able to deal with my husband is not healthy. So instead I continue to try and find patience and inner peace along with self induced happiness.

I have been a little less edgy this year, it being Christmas and all. I am usually at my most cynical through the holidays. Just so many easy chances to hate hate hate everything. The music, the over marketed products, the rediculously randomly put together christmas light displays in peoples yards. . .I mean the list goes on and on.  I am trying to focus on the good. The important things when it comes to holidays. Friends and family.  And maybe that’s why my holidays of past have never truly been merry and gay. Because I was missing those two things.

Well not this year. This year I am lucky to have found two great people as genuine friends and I have my husband and 2 wonderful sons. In addition to all of that I was just recently turned into an Aunt. Yes, I have a nephew now. Surely this Christmas may very well be the best in a very very long time.

Bone tossing…

How as a woman are we to offer sex to our husband with out it seeming like you are just tossing out a bone.

There have been countless occasions that I have recognised my husbands need for sex. Yes, his “need”.  It’s a release for him. He is of the breed that has sex and falls asleep. So many times I will offer sex just to full fill that need, even when I am not truly in the mood for sex.  It is appreciated on his side, yet I do catch heat for it from time to time.

When I offer up a quickie and he decides he wants more.  I am not turned on at all, I have shit to do… and I usually say no. It’s a take it or leave it offer from me to him. And its not even for my satisfaction. It is more to know I have put my needs aside and provided something he needed. What is that age old term… “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” I mean I am sure I could take a poll and 99.9 % of men would be more than happy if their wife just tossed them a bone with no expectations of steak dinners and pillow talk. 

I remember an episode of Sex in the City where Samantha (the sexaholic) talks about how she fucks like a man. Meaning no emotional attachments, no expectations etc. Now I cant say I don’t need emotional attachment and I do have expectations, but that part of us seems to have dwindled in the bedroom. I have the emotional attachments from him I need and expectations are just over rated if you ask me.

Am I a cold heartless passionless wench? No. Try as I may to deny it, I am a female. And females for the most part are not light switches. I can’t go from frigid mommy mode to sex kitten with out a little…how do you say, four play? Something to set a mood. Anything! As little as a soft kiss to the back of my neck out of no where can work wonders. But it seems anything he tries to do he expects immediate results. I can’t just get a hug, it leads to him grinding all over me. I can’t  just get a snuggle in bed, it always comes complete with the morning wood nudge. *Poke poke poke nudge nudge nudge.* And I am not a morning person as it is, but damn if I want to wake up to some one poking me with their cock. And a chick cant show a guy what that’s like. What can we do? Slap our man awake with a tit?

(If you haven’t noticed this blog is going no where… I am desperately hoping an actual idea for a writing topic comes to me soon. And I would flog myself for waisting your time, but I figure if you are reading this then you got nothing better to do, just like me.)

I am just under the assumption that it is a lose lose for me right now. I can’t force my husband to be Mr. Rico Sueve. It’s just not in him. And that’s fine, but I shouldn’t be expected to react to him as if he were.  No, I have never faked it. And am not about to start.

It doesn’t help either when after sex your husband tells you he wants to be less selfish. But then you cant even get into the shower while the kids are down, with out him peeking around the corner with a raging hard on.

Yeah, sometimes it’s a little much.  And I feel guilty for not just giving in every time he approaches me because I know that he has an emotional dependency on sex. . .

                    . . .Where was I going with this again?

Bound and blinded. . .

 

 

The wave of pleasure subsides and my mind is in a numb almost fuzzy state. Every inch of my body painfully naked and aware to his every touch is getting to be too much. After what seems like an eternity of further kisses, to my calves, thighs and ass he tells me “Turn over.” 

I breathe a sigh of great relief and think “Finally the torment is over. That wasn’t so bad.” And perhaps this is mainly do to pleasure heightening my short term memory loss. Seeing the restraints in his hand jolt my memory and make me realise that he has just begun this game of his. Biting my lip and groaning I resist launching into his arms to kiss his lips. He kneels at my feet and kisses my toes and ankles before taking a foot to the corner and securing it with the black velcro restraint. I test, and he tightens. I test again and there is no doubt my foot, my leg and thigh are no longer in my control.  I whimper as he takes my other foot hostage just the same as the first. Again I test, and again he tightens.

Now seeing him come to the side of the bed and kneel was devine. The candle light and the scent of him still toying with my senses. I touch any part of him I can with my finger tips as he secures my wrist firmly. One hand left free, but not for long. I could have reached and undone the first wrist in the blink of an eye and kissed him, but why misbehave now? I had been a good girl this long, surely I could manage to perform flawlessly through the entire night, right?

There was one more piece to this little black wardrobe of choice. A thin satin blindfold. Looking at him with pleading eyes I lift my head and allow him to place the final piece over my eyes. Groaning out all I can think is “This is HELL!” But with the first touch of his fingers across my breast, over my stomach and to my inner thigh I was in heaven.

Kneeling in between my legs I feel him reach for something on the side of the bed. My mind sprints in seven different directions. “What was the arsenal of toys that he had sprawled on the bed before we left for the movie? It was all a blur in my head now. “Something purple…purple…purple what WAS it?” And then I heard the unmistakable sound of a vibrating, whirling PURPLE rabbit. The rabbit he had in fact bought while on a trip to New Orleans a few weeks back. This tumper of a vibrator had seen to it that I orgasmed once before. I grinned and whimpered as he teased me with just the tip, barely grazing my inner lips.  The over whelming feeling of being naked and in the open air was even more apparent now as the touch of the rabbit tip sent a shiver that shot up between my breasts to my neck and stopped directly under my ear. Why couldn’t that be his mouth? Why was I still finding pleasure in the air around me? I groan out in protest to there not being any hands on me. No warmth. A jolt hits me and my legs flinch but to no avail, the restraints hug to my ankle as if their life depended on it. The ears of the rabbit so tiny so delicate and yet have the ability electrify my body. He holds it there, no rhythm, nothing fancy, just barely letting the ears tickle and torture my swelling clit. I try to raise my hips, wanting to grind in against the purple toy, but it’s no use. Growing more frustrated I groan out again. “You tease!”

He pulls the toy away and admires the nectar it has mused out of me. “What do you want? He asks me as he presses the tip to me again. “You, I want you!” I squirm trying to show I did not want this cold rubber toy between my legs. But every time he nudged its head to my lips I moaned in torment tainted pleasure. “What do you want? Tell me. Do you want this toy or me?” Did he need to ask? This toy couldn’t feel me, coldn’t know what my body was saying with each muscle contraction my pussy made. It couldn’t hear the very core of me scream for more, from one little whimper. “You, I want you inside of me, on me and around me please. I want you!”

My plea must have been convincing, or so I thought. He turned off thumper and moved, but not to my deisred location. He straddled my right leg and looked at my bare body being kissed by flickers of the candle. Taking his hard dick in his hands he begins to massage and stroke. Slow at first then picking up speed. My mind comes to a screaching hault. “No, what are you doing don’t! Please.” I shake my head and try to peak out to gaina glimpse of his pretty dick slipping through his palm. But it’s useless. I bite my lip and squirm at the sound of what he is doing. I can feel the rythem his hand has taken, I groan out protest after protest but he has made up his mind.

Hearing his groan I know what will soon follow, and I whine out like a child wanting off of the time-out chair. And then it happened. One warm glossimer spurt after another of his cum. The first across my stomache, the second more powerful kisses my cheek and my hair over the pillow, the rest across my stomache. I  gasp out and whimper, half in protest still, and half in delight. It felt good to know he did exactly what he wanted to do. He didn’t stop to ask if it was okay with me first.

A few moments pass before he is crawling up between my thighs and kissing my breasts, my neck, my ears. Breathing hot and heavy into my ear. Laying down to me, cum still fresh to my skin. His thighs rub over mine, his dick slips over my blushed clit  as he kisses his way down a bit until he can reach my ankle. WIth one swift yank, the velcro comes undone and my ankle instantly moves to him. Holding against his thigh then moving up on his lower back. The next ankle is set free and clings to him just as fast as the first. He slides my blindfold off and I blink and let my eyes readjust. Laying over me again he kisses up my neck to my cheek and I tilt my face to snag his mouth with mine for what was a truly deeper than the ocean kiss. I can feel his heart rate scamper as the kiss is continued during him releasing my left wrist. That feeling, the feeling him letting me go send me into a fit of lust.

We kiss and continue having sex for an eternity that was over in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it we had both showered and smoked a cigarette while talking over the nights events. Agreed it was one of our best. Which is why we decided to post it here. So that any one skeptical on why we make the efforts to continue through the hard times can better grasp just how good the good times can be.

Thank you Shawna, sincerely,  for allowing this night, the ones before and the ones to come happen.

 

Not to readers: This is not some lame romance novel b/s blog. This post has a sole intent to describe the level of connection possible with in the walls of the swing lifestyle when efforts by all four parties are made. I am not planning on posting a recap of all of our sexual adventures that is not the point to be had here.  If there is a point to be made in the future that can be more easily done by writing about the adventure, then and only then will I subcome to do so. Cheers. xo

Not even the half of it. . .

(Continued from “I want you to want me.” I must give credit to Thad for helping recapture this evening for me. I will try my best to complete it as soon as possible.)

 

Laying there waiting in anticipation, my  imagination begins to take over. Naked and alone in the dark room, every sound sends chills down my back. Each sound makes my heart skip a beat and ask “Is it him?” Resisting the urge to touch myself to ease the unbearable need for release I begin to struggle to wait patiently. It takes every ounce of being to not go find him, to not wait for him at the door like a good little puppy, to not break his rules, but some how the will power from deep with-in my soul is found and I lay and wait like the good girl I want to be for him. 

My only comfort is his cologne. I can’t feel him or hear him, but I find solace in his scent. Just as I am about to loose control, the door opens. I resist the unimaginable temptation to turn around and look at him, by burrying my face down into the bed. He doesn’t come straight to me, but instead he stands there in awe of the beauty that is before him. The candle light just skims my bare back outlining my sensual curves. My perfectly formed ass, my smooth back, the hair on my neck, It’s almost too much. He can’t even look at me as he undresses. His mind is trying very hard to hold on to this game he chose to play, and to be patient, but his cock is hard and throbbing and ready to fuck me.

Quietly he wispers to himself “Thank you.” as he moves toward the bed. I still can’t see him but as he moves closer to the bed I am trying to control myself ”I can do this.” As much as I want to, I can’t turn over and just offer up my hot wet pussy to him. As he slowly slides over my back his dick brushes over my ass causing both of us to pause. That first touch was electrifying. It was a pleasure beyond just sex. If that first touch felt so intense I couldn’t even imagine what I was in for.

 As he softly sits on the back of my legs, the tip of his cock rests on top of my warm thighs, he drips cold drops of a massage oil on my back, using just his finger tips to spread the oil around, slightly digging his nails into my back. I whimper at the touch of his fingers. “Why is his going so slow?” I want more…I want his lips… I WANT HIS KISS! He then begins to run his strong large hands to from the small of my back to the nape of my neck, some how hitting all of my favorite spots all at once. I Try so hard to be quiet. If he is going to hold back, then I am going to hold back. I know that he wants me to react, but being capable of teasing him gives me a sense of power.

A small moan, deeper than a whimper, escapes my lips as he presses and pushes his palms up the center of my back. Nothing can stop it, I bite my lip but the moaning just keeps getting louder as he lowers his chest to my back. Arching up my ass like a cat in heat, I can just barely sense the heat of his cock so close to my sex and I loose control and release, lowering back down to the bed fully. It was as if I had been holding my breath and that first full sound of pleasure was the air I needed to survive. This “air” gave life to my throbbing pussy.

He stayed behind me, kissing the back of my neck using his fingers to press into spots on my back that made my toes curl, his cock pressing hard against the inside of my thighs, just so lightly teasing the base of my pussy, and I could feel it coming on. Could it be? Was I about to have an orgasm? If he only knew what this was doing to me as he held me tight and softly kissed the inside of my neck. As he kisses his way up my neck gently to nibble on my ear lobe, I ask myself if he could ever truly understand what he does to me.