Things are starting to fall into place. My last day at my old job is this weekend, and then, of a sudden, I’ll be my own boss. This is a wonderful experience–I’m nervous, a bit, but heady with excitement. I’ll still be working my *other* part-time job, but I just realized that in a year or two? I might land another contract and not need to do that anymore.
I *super* love where I work. I love the hours, I love the people, I love the building. I love the soft and simple routine I have there, just enough contact with others to check in–and just enough alone time to end my day in a really good, introverted and happy way. I’ve gotten a small promotion there, and I’m really really happy.
I’m not the sort to look my happy in the mouth and inspect its teeth–I’ll gladly accept it. I won’t look for trouble–it will find me well enough on its own. (ain’t that the truth, right?)
After this weekend, life slows down a lot. And my family gathering is a fun time, a celebration of a bunch of life events for all of us. At the end of the month, an extended Labor Day weekend vacation for yours truly. I’d almost opted out, but yanno? I’ve worked super hard this month and I damn well have earned 5 days off.
Did you picture me, arms crossed, bottom lip stuck out petulantly as I said that?
Yeah. Kinda like that. Except I’m smiling. I’m happy with the choice. I’ll sit under the pines in Maine, reading the paper and catching up on my kindle reading. I won’t worry or fret about anything while I am away, either. And….
I might not take my computer.
I’m so on the fence. It can be hard to get connectivity there, but I’m just not sure if I want to be connected or if I just want to take a full break (of course I’ll set my HNT to auto publish!! Can’t piss off the Master!)
But what if all the relaxing gets my brain cooking up something devilishly wonderful? And I want to write it? Longhand? uh…I don’t think so. But where to hide it in my tent, right? If I’m out hiking for the day? Do I then worry that someone will pilfer my little lappy? I’d be so devastated.
I’ll have to work that all out in my brain.
I’ve had a few great idea’s pop into my head–at the MOST inconvenient times, too. If my phone is handy, I can text myself a reminder. Technology is great for that!
So there I am, sitting on the fence of whether to capitalize on a ton of quiet time while the wife n kids go to the beach without me and write my little hiney off…or whether 5 days of sea-scented pine air, napping, reading and knitting will be just what I needed to kick-start me into the fall season.
I have 2 weeks to think about it.
You know, for a sex blog, there’s been precious little sex around here. Master has me to one orgasm a week just now, not sure why, not that *I* need to know…but I’ve not even had time to beg for an O.
Yeah, I’ve been *that* overwhelmed with life.
Soon, though, I’ll be calling and mewling at Him…won’t He just love that? I’ve been so quiet, that I think at times He must forget He even owns a slut. The last 3 days? Just two or three texts. A super brief phone call, and that was about Tom Brady’s potential knee injury. We’re both pretty rabid Pat’s fans (that’s football, for you non-sports pervies). Yeah…my sex life is pretty much a snooze-a-palooza these days.
Cross your fingers that we can hook up for a brief time, maybe lunch or dinner next weekend. Playtime a few weeks after that, if He’s here. Fall means some trips for His work, so who knows. This has been the most frenetic summer I remember having in a coon’s age! Funny how one of the *most* important life events just gets pushed to the bottom of the ‘to do’ pile, right? Sex is an integral part of who I am these days…and I write these tales and feel a fraud for not having any juicy bits for you.
There was this fantasy Tuesday night during my orgasm, but you don’t want to hear that, do you?
See? I know you all well enough to know you do want to know. Or else why would you all have read the past 777 words to get to this part, right?
I had a crazy weekend, and Monday and Tuesday followed suit. I was NOT feeling at all sexual. Then I talked to the Man. It was only about 25 minutes, and not all of it was sexual, though that is a thread that winds through things. When we hung up, He admonished me to grab my O, as time was passing quickly…it was after 11 p.m. He knows I’m a bit of a padiddler, never hopping right into bed. I have to pee, and brush my hair, and braid it for the night…and then fix my pillows, and get my toys out, and check my alarm clock. And since it was the height of the Perseid meteor showers, I stopped and looked out my window, even seeing an extraordinarily bright meteor!
I was wet when I finally touched. Wet, just from talking to Him. His voice is like liquid honey. Hot honey. Sometimes it is a soothing sound, and sometimes it simply burns through me, leaving me “on” and wanton and so horny.
I wasn’t SUPER turned on, Tuesday night. More of a low simmer, I suppose. There wasn’t a particular fantasy, just playing with two vibes, one inside, on low, one against my clit, on medium. I just lay there, enjoying the buzz.
And trying to not think of the ticking time bomb of the clock bounding towards my midnight cut-off.
I came close.
But not quite enough “oomph” to make it up over the hill. Orgasm fail is something that so rarely happens to me, that I refuse to accept it.
So I go back to pounding the pussy, as Master calls it. Slow, then fast. Vibe on High, vibe on low.
I could have fallen prey to exasperation. But somehow, my little twisted brain just turned it into a story. Right then and there. A voice fills my head.
“I know, that was so mean of me, wasn’t it little girl? So fucking close and I won’t let you cum. Not yet. You will love–and hate–when you do.”
A clip and sharp pain on my tit.
“There, a bit of pain will keep you right there on the edge.”
“When you cum, girl, and you *will* cum, your asshole will become mine. You signed and agreed. You never cum, you said? You’ve never met me before, but I promised I would fucking squeeze an orgasm or twenty from your stubborn cunt. And when that happens, as your hole seeps fuckjuice, I’ll sauce up my cock with it, and pierce your ass in one hard thrust. I’ll ram my meat deep into your shit hole, making you scream, even as more orgasms rock your fucking pussy. I’ll plow my shaft deep, my balls slapping on your backside as I pump in and out, your tight little butt ring trying–and failing–to keep me out.”
He laughs, the sound dark and deep, and oddly erotic. The vibe goes up again and I shiver. So intense. The throb on my nipple fades as the painful vrrrooom on my clit steals my attention. My pussy clenches, stutters, then accepts the big tool steadily fucking in and out, rumbling up against my sensitive bits with every thrust.
I’m panting now, the feelings in my lower regions suddenly molten. I’m hot, so hot. My nipple aches, my clit pulses, and I feel as if *something* momentous lies just ahead of me. His dark, dirty words do something to me, to my cunt, to my head.
“When I’m done cumming in you, I’ll grab a beer, swallow a little blue pill, and be back inside your butt before you finish draining my last cum dump.”
Suddenly the world tightens to a single, black dot, then expands. I’m at once in subspace, and deep within my body…as I explode. I feel the convulsions deep in my center, I feel my body hurtled outward. I haven’t moved except to arch up, my lower back up off the bed, suspended by my shoulders and heels.
I’m cumming so fucking hard to the sound of his deep laughter.
And yeah. I did. That little fantasy sent me right over the edge, just in the nick of time, too! 11:54 p.m. And don’t ASK me why–but I had this urge to photograph the evidence of the intensely wild ejaculation orgasm. The proof is in the pudding…or in this case, the puddle. 🙂