Archive for the ‘boys’ Category

Three Scenes in Three Days: Scene 2

Thursday, March 25th, 2010

The first scene of the weekend had been partially spontaneous. This one was completely spontaneous.

Anon has a small alcove in his room, where his bed fits perfectly, with just enough room on each side for lube, my hitachi, a book, all that good stuff.  And at the bottom corners of the alcove, as well as the top, he has installed strategically placed eye bolts. I fucking love eye bolts.  As I have said in the past, a boy without tie points is like a day with out sunshine.

Before I arrived, he had taken the 25 ft chain we have and threaded it through the top most eye bolts, and then down through the bottom two – it looked like the chain was the start of a canopy over the bed.  You can sort of get an idea from this photo:

As you can see, I made good use of the chain that weekend – along with a few other lovely toys. The blind fold is a great piece we picked up at Winter Fire, from the same lovely people who sold me the whips I bought – OB Whips. I must find their name and pimp them, because they’re awesome. The cuffs are from Leather By Danny, and the gag is from Aslan Leather.

Isn’t he adorable? Its amazing what you can do with a couple of whips and your hands.  Once I had him up there, he had just enough room to scamper away and try to hide behind the pillows! There was good reason to run – I’m getting quite good with the short single tail I picked up, and it seems that the better I get, the more it hurts! Poor baby.

After a while of being mean, I decided to stop hurting him so much, and break out the Tenga Egg again.

That didn’t go so well.

He fucked a hole through it! An amazingly, I had the camera right there to catch the moment, lucky me. :)

Since I was pretty hot and bothered myself, I decided, once again, to make use of this egg-breaking erection, so while the boy was busy whimpering from the lack of contact with the egg, I got naked had had him fuck me while he was all tied up and gagged and blind-folded.

I was amazingly intense – Anon absolutely lost control of himself at that point. I have to say, it may have been the hottest sex of my life up to that point. I’m pretty sure he came in my brains, it was that kind of sex.

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Three Scenes in Three Days: Scene 1

Monday, March 15th, 2010

And amazingly, it was not the weekend of Winter Fire!

Despite being at a kink event and floating in and out of  D/s head space, the boy and I were more boyfriend/girlfriend during WF, rather than Mistress/boy. This is not a bad thing, of course. Head spaces change. But the next weekend, in Philly, we played with some heavy headspace, and had three bitchen’ scenes in three days.

They were a wonderful combination of outside inspiration, opportunity, and, if I may say so, my own innate brilliance.

Our first scene started as a punishment.

Anon has a variety of tasks he’s supposed to perform at different times, and one of them is to have a blog post up on our private blog every day before midnight. Currently, we’re playing a game of alphabetical fetishes – basically, we’re going though the FetLife kink list and talking about each one one by one to see what we’d like to explore. Other times, he has assignments I give him, or free writing to do – but either way, he has a post a day to write.

At some point before I came down, he was late getting one of the posts up, with no good reason. I decided on five minutes with the hated rubber bands as a punishment.  Anon despises the rubber bands, and I adore them, so using them for punishment is a happy medium.

I started by slipping the large rubber bands I have around his thighs and torso, and small ones on his upper arms. I blind folded him, and zip tied him to a chair, ankles to the legs, arms behind him and to the chair, and around his chest.

He’s always so pretty like that -  its a lovely combination of grumpy, fear, anticipation, and arousal. Poor Anon hadn’t come for at least a week, since Winter Fire. I kissed and petted him, straddling his lap across the chair.

Then I set the timer, and started snapping the bands.

It quickly dawned on me that 1) he was still quite demandingly erect and that 2) dude, I could totally fuck him in this position, and HOLY SHIT I bet that would suck for him!

I slid off, dropped my pants, and straddled him again, sliding his cock against me.

He whimpered and twitched adorably, trying to find enough room to move himself into me.

Once things got going, they really got going! I had never really caused someone that much pain while fucking them, nor fucked them in such a vulnerable position. And I can only assume that for him, having hot, hot sex while having the awful rubber bands used must have really been a mind fuck.

For five minutes, I rode him, snapped rubber bands wherever I could reach, all while he whimpered and begged forgiveness. After about a minute, he couldn’t even move because of all the sweat on the chair.

Before I really hit my stride, and before he could come, the timer went off, and punishment was over.

So, I dragged the chair around to the bed, grabbed the Tenga Egg that Vera of FYN had given to him for his help in packing up at WF, and decided to finish him with that. I thought it would be a delightfully humiliating way to end this scene  – and oh god, it was, and was so hot.

The egg is delightfully easy to use, and I had it lubed on on his cock in no time. Fun, easy to use, reusable – I am so getting more of these!

To me, the best part is that they’re clear – I could see his cock through the egg when it was pulled tight between strokes. You see, much like Margaret Cho, I love dicks. I love touching them, fucking them, playing with them, and most of all, seeing them ejaculate. I don’t know why, but if a cock isn’t inside me, I want to SEE it. It is a rival for my love of the look on Anon’s face when he comes – if only cocks and faces were closer…

When he came, which was rather quickly after I started, it was amazing to see his come hitting the inside of the egg – very hot. So, so very hot.

I clipped the zip-ties and bands off, and he collapsed on the bed. We cuddled up, and all was well in the world.

Except for the egg full of come. :)

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Fun with Flagging

Thursday, February 25th, 2010

As many of you know, when I wear jeans, I often flag. I’ve got my red hanky all nicely folded and ready to slide into my left back pocket.

Just in case. Because you never know when or where you might meet someone who knows what it means.

From what I understand, the hanky code used in flagging developed out of gay bar/leather culture back in the day. Whenever that day was.

From what I’ve seen, it seems most prevalent now in gay/queer leather/kink/bdsm culture. Mr. S Leather carries a variety of different coloured hankies, as well as leather hankies, for the discriminating pervert. They also have striped wrist and arm bands that can be used for flagging, but the colour selection tends to lean towards three biggies – red, blue and yellow (fisting, fucking and pissplay).

I see flagging occasionally at sex events I go to, and I know individuals who flag, but on the whole, its not as common as it was (that is, if it was ever as popular as we like to think) . Usually people don’t  notice my hanky (I flag red on my left, for fisting top) and assume its just a fashion thing. Its fun when people know what its for, even if they don’t like getting fisted.

Last summer, I was at XES in Chelsea, having drinks with school friends when this adorable little Chelsea boy bounced over to me and said

“Oh my god, my friends over there say that the hanky in your pocket totally means something! *bounce* Does it?!” (he was quite exhuberent!)

“Well, yeah! A red hanky means I like fisting, and in the left pocket, it means I’m a top.”

“OMG! NO WAY!” *bounce bounce* (like I said, a very exuberant young man!)

“Way! I totally analy fist boys.”

“OMG, NO WAY….really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Oooooh! I have to go tell my friends!”

He ran back across the bar to his waiting friends, and they huddled. I can only assume he told them, because a few minutes later there were a bunch of wide eyed little boys staring at me across the bar. It was so cute. I think I scared them a little.

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Of Sleeping and Quarters.

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010

I have realized that through out my life, none of my thoughts or ideas about living with a partner actually involved sharing a bedroom.

I thought this was weird at first, but really, I just like my space. *My* space. I like having my bedroom set up just so. I like my books organized in my special OCD it makes sense to me order. I like to make my bed every day, and I HATE when people mess up my sheets.

I also like to have a space that is *mine* for me to retreat to. Sometimes, I need to curl up under the covers and hide.

I am also full of OCD. I clean my room lots. I re arrange shit. I dust my books. I know this drives people crazy.

I keep weird hours. I like to putter.

I want to share an apartment with a lover – as long as I get my own room. And my own closet. Definitely my own closet.

This isn’t to say I don’t want to sleep with them in the same bed at all. I love that! I just want to be able to have my own space.

And sometimes, I *do* want to sleep alone. When one of us is sick (I actually sat up one night actually wondering if I could murder Franklin and get away with it. He was sick, and I had to be up in four hours.), or when someone has to wake up super early, or sleep late. The last thing I want if I get to sleep in is someone waking up and making noise when I’m trying to sleep. Sometimes, I just want to sleep alone curled up with my stuffed kitty. (Or Snoopy. I have both.)

For a while, my ex, who was also my roommate (we dated, broke up, found new partners and moved in with each other) were sleeping with each other. It was great. We’d hang out in his room, have some hot sex, cuddle, and then I’d go back to my room. “Thanks for the orgasms! See you at breakfast!”

It was pretty sweet. Not what I want from a live in lover, but having the option of going back to my bed, in my room with my stuff is nice.

I like sharing space with people – I love having flatmates. I love having other people around, to talk to, eat with, play games with, all that good stuff. But when I’m done, I can always go to my room. I figure, there’s nothing wrong with wanting the same thing from a lover.

One of the things I adore about Anon is that he also agrees with me about the separate bedroom idea. People who live together need a place to retreat now and then.  I anticipate us spending 99/100 nights in the same bed. Maybe more. But having space that is *mine* and *his* is very appealing to me.

Practically, it makes a nice place to keep guests, and also serves as offices for each of us – he works from home, and sometimes I need to be on my own to write…when I get around to it, which is harder these days.

In the past, my friends used to think this was so super weird of me. Now, I find a good chunk of my friends agree, or even have set ups in their own home similar to this. It just makes more sense. This idea that two people who live together MUST share the same room is so…weird.

And I don’t actually see it in practice, either. 85% of my dad’s clothing is in his office. My mother actually uses 90% of the closet (which is an entire 12 foot wall), and my dad has two suits hanging up in there, and one pair of dress shoes. At least one of my aunts now sleeps in one of their spare bedrooms because of her husband’s snoring.

I can see and understand the idea of having separate space (my mother’s craft room in the basement and my dad’s office) and coming together to sleep, but why not be up front about it?

It gives me the chance to not foist my OCD off on another person, as well. While I stay at Anon’s place, and an fine with it, there are things that would drive me *nuts* if that were my room too. I still look at it as his space, which I share, not ours. And if it were ours, I might get twitchy. This is nothing on him, of course, but my OCD raring its ugly head.  (Separate book cases might come in to play as well…I actually ‘edge’ my books to the edge of the shelf. And have them in a weird order that only makes sense to me. Though I’m tempted to catalog them on the computer, and use either Dewey or Library of Congress code. IDK which is more efficient yet.)

It also plays into my fantasy of having my consort have his own suite, so I can summon him when I wish. I’d *love* a set of bedrooms connected by a bathroom, but with separate entrances. I could have him draw nummy baths for me, and chain him to the radiator to serve me wine and cheese while I take a bubble bath!

Yeah. Bubble bath. I like that idea.

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Things I’ve Done To Anon’s Balls

Friday, December 11th, 2009
  1. Hit them
  2. Kicked them
  3. Slapped them
  4. Squeezed them
  5. Pinched them
  6. Twisted them
  7. Put them in my mouth
  8. Attached weights to them
  9. Tied them up
  10. Poked them
  11. Kneed them
  12. Used them as a pillow (Yes. I have. They’re that big)
  13. Buttered them
  14. Dipped them in coffee
  15. Thoroughly washed them
  16. Dipped them in sour cream
  17. Held them while sleeping/watching TV/Driving in the car
  18. Watched him accidentally flash half of 7th ave/24th St with them
  19. Dragged him around by them
  20. Rubbed them during a hand job with lovely lovely lube.

I’m in an ‘Anon’s balls’ kind of mood lately, if ya’ll can’t tell.

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