Pulling out My Hair…

…one strand at a time.

My life is so frikking CRAZY. Or maybe it’s just my kids MAKING me crazy.

*sigh*

(that should be a calming yoga breath. In. Out. In. Out. But right now? It more closely resembles  hyperventilation. Just sayin’….)

Today, (Tuesday as I write this and 11 pm…hey, didn’t I say I wasn’t gonna do this anymore???) I had two things on my agenda. Okay, three. Four tops.

1. finish putting together the renovated room (hanging pictures, primarily)

check. That’s done.

2. write.

um. no.

3. ironing

it was a COLD day here in New England..it’s 55 just now, and my fans are off and next week is the 4th of July and last week it was almost 100 in my room (and outside) CRAZY!!!

but no, the ironing didn’t happen, either.

4. laundry.

nope. pleasant surprise here…with number 2 son away at camp this week, the laundry hasn’t needed to be done every damned day (He is such a Beau Brummell!)

What did happen was a LOT…and I mean a LOT of squabbling with the two youngers. The house is back together, basically…but things are in different places, the room looks totally different from before and I’m getting ready to jump into the next room…

There was poking.

Then punching.

Then screaming.

Then tantrums.

And that was just me.

heh. Just kidding.

Seriously, they were off the frikking wall today. Some days are like that…but when they happen, I really can’t do much of anything but supervise them closely.

Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, with a trek into Beantown in the late afternoon (oh joy) (NOT).  And errands, and and and…

boring vanilla shit.

If this isn’t the saddest excuse for a sex blog post, I don’t know what is.

hmmm…sexy stuff?

I had a delightful conversation with Master Monday night, and we played a guessing game, and I wheedled an extra guess out of him…and won an Orgasm!

Of course He had to put his own sadistic stamp on it, with my clamps (which haven’t seen much action of late) and the chain in my mouth, and the vibe on high on my clit and all that good stuff…

All lead to a ginormous orgasm…

And I slept so wonderfully hard…it was wonderful.

And now, if I don’t get my ass in bed, I’m going to screw up my Tuesday orgasm…and that would suck giant turkey vulture balls.

(isn’t that a pretty picture? ewww. )

 

Okay, that’s gross. How about this picture instead?

Yeah…now *that’s* a sex blog post!

Hanging by a Thread

Her eyes were closed. It wouldn’t have mattered if they had been open; the blindfold was snug against her face. In her head she was in a dark, warm place.

Currents of air brushed past her nude body.

She felt intimately connected with every pore of her skin, with every pulse pounding through her veins, with every smooth intake of breath.

The rope around her wrists was tight, but not painfully so. The wood under her hands was smooth, almost velvety to the touch.  She caressed the cross with her forefinger, grounding herself in the sensations.

A quick hiss escaped her lips as she felt the tug of her nipple, then the bite of the clamp. He tugged, drawing another hiss from her, then applied its mate. The gasp became a groan as she adjusted to the weight, the clench of the rubber grips.

He pushed her back into the arms of the cross, and she winced as her clamped nipples were pressed against the unyielding timber.  She took an unsteady breath, held it, then released it, and her discomfort, out to the room.

She allowed herself a moment to wallow with the fullness of the feelings, to inspect them, to feel them. Oh, to feel the glory of the pain, the richness of blood pumping through her heart, the essence of life filling her, pulsing through her.

She felt the press of the ropes around her ankles, holding her tight. She felt the movement of Him around her. His scent carried to her, that unique smell of her Master. It quickened her breath, made her want.

There was no warning before the sharp rat-a-tat-tat of the cane began slapping down her shoulders. He moved leisurely down her body. Barely could she absorb one blow before the next one landed.  He popped her out of comfort and straight into the hell of not being in control.

She’d told Him that yoga had helped her to learn to cope with His play. He’d raised His brow at her in that superior way of His, and smiled.

It was the smile that slayed her. It bloomed across His face like a rose, taking its time moving from one corner of his mouth to the other.

And it was a challenge, too. A week and more had passed since she had pronounced that she could handle it this time, that she’d be able to breathe and be one with the universe, no matter how hard He chose to play with her.

Now here she was, hanging by a thin wrap of hemp rope on a cross, in a room full of people. He’d promised to break her, she’d promised to stay the course, and breathe.  He’d turned that raised brow and crooked smile to the crowd gathered around them,  drawing more than a few laughs at her recklessness.

She took a breath, another. The heat from her tortured flesh and  the pain swirled together, a blending of sensations that was nearly overwhelming. She flinched, snapping away and back from the cross as He hit that so-tender spot at the base of her back just before the padding of her ass.

His crop moved faster now, over the curve of her asscheek, and then the next senstive spot just under the curve, on the very top of her thigh.

She arched to her toes on the cross, yowling. His chuckle filled her ears, even over the roaring of her own throbbing pulse.  He didn’t pause until He had covered one entire side. She felt the roaring heat from the welts. He leaned against her, His sweater irritating the smarting flesh.

“Half done, little one.”

She moaned, taking a deep breath to try to steady the hammering of her heartbeat in her head. It sounded like a roar in the darkness.

Or was it Him?

“Oooohhhhhhmmmm” He purred, his lips against her temple.

Graphic

So ya’ll likely read most of the same blogs i do, right? i mean, my blogroll is right over there to the right …

You’ll remember the flap that anon caused over at sins a few days ago, about people over 40 and sex, and about dominance and abuse and submission and wimpy women/men…blah blah blah. i’m not gonna rehash it all here, it’s been said by all the commentors there and at a similar ‘attack’ if you will, over at Mick’s blog.

It’s pretty obvious that anon is young. She is contentious and rude and snarky, which is upsetting enough…but her ongoing sentiment that sex is only for the young?

First it stuck in my craw, pissed me off. And then i got the humor of it. Oh, my gawd, if only she knew…and if she lives long enough, someday she might. I’m putting it out there now:

I am 52. Fifty-two.

And i’m having more sex (and better, more satisfying sex) now than at any other period in my life. Ever.

Ever.

That includes, btw, the thrill of masturbating to orgasm, when Master allows me the privilege. Something which i never did when i was young coz i was a “good” girl…and it was “bad” to touch yourself.

I hope today’s generation begins to love their bodies, and understand that we are inherently sexual beings. Our purpose as higher mammals isn’t only to procreate…but to recreate! We are one of the few mammals that play games. Create them, play them.  Recreational sex falls into that category, for me anyway. It’s good. It’s fun! It’s enjoyable…and i believe we’re hardwired for it.

So the title of this post is “graphic”.  Because all of this beginning stuff right here? It is …the prequel, i guess,  to what, by some accounts, might be oversharing. OH, i’ve given you glimpses. Tastes and tidbits,  a bit here a bit there. But today i want to go deeper, try to show you, anon, since i know you read here, too, that sex between consenting adults over 50  is hot. Steaming, smoking, writhing with heat. Just so you don’t think life should end at 29 (btw…have you ever seen Logan’s Run? just a thought…)

*~*~*

He takes me from the bathroom, where i have dressed sexy for His pleasure and mine. I strut across the room in the 6 inch red heels, the skirt of my black lace outfit flirting with my ass, under His watchful gaze. I reach the far wall, and turn, then cross back at His silent gesture.

He hands me the velcro cuffs…the pair that slide up my legs, tighten at my thigh, and the matching pair for my wrists. He clips each wrist to each thigh. He slips the blindfold over my eyes. Here is where the trust enters fully. Trust, as well as  love, are always present when we are together, but… Blindfold marks the start of our “scene time.” I trust that He will hurt me…i want that, after all, as does He. But i also trust that He will not harm me, my body or my spirit.

When we are together, He is always the Dom, and i am always the sub. But during  blindfold time, there is a different…tenor to my submission. Less playful girlfriendy…more fully submissive. He takes me by my hair and wrist, and pulls me across the room, and bends me over his lap.

The spanking happens here, and the pinching. And the assessing. He feels how wet i am. He tells me that i have wet his pantleg with my juices. My ass is burning, the crack ouchy with bruises from his pinching, and i’m upsided downed on his lap…smiling. I feel the throbbing between my thighs, and know how badly i need.

I want.

I want desperately  to be fucked. To cum. To explode for Him. He pulls me up by my hair, and i feel my juices run down my thighs. Hair pulling, this level of control and dominance turns me on so much.

I want.

Already the endorphins have made me high, and i’m disoriented from being ass-end up for so long. He snaps the heavy metal clamps on my nipples, the chain cold against my belly as it sways. He’s moving me across the room, placing me precisely.  He shoves me down, hand firmly between my shoulder blades. Face down on the bed, one leg straddling each corner, knees just above the floor. My pussy is pressed into the corner point of the mattress, my hands uselessly strapped to my splayed legs. My clamped nipples are pressed hard into the mattress and i feel the shivery connection between them and my aching, needy cunt. I am bound now to His desire, His wants.

I have no fucking idea what is coming next. He is silent, yet i feel Him, the heat of Him between my legs. His hand is between my cheeks, spreading me.

And i know.

I know what is happening.

There is no preamble. OH, He uses lube…for His pleasure, ease of entry…i feel the cold drizzle of it as it trails between my buttmoons. So cold i shiver…or is it the nervous anticipation of what is coming?  There is no prep. No butt plug to slowly loosen my asshole. The head of His cock slicks through the lube trail. And presses. Steadily. Without undue roughness, but considerable intent.

His way.

His cock presses inside and a gasp slips from me…a gasp, and a moan. Pain, yes, but i’ve been so turned on for so long, and no fingerfucking, no vibe, no relief since the blindfold went on.

I crave Him. Even this. As He slides up inside my bowels, i am moaning with the burning pain of it…that never ends, really, and then as always when i’m being butt-fucked…the first orgasm SLAMS into me.

There is no warning.

There is no slow and steady build up, that trembling tumble over the edge. No twinkling of my clit, of my inner muscles to warn me. Just abrupt, intense convulsions of my cunt around the nothing there.

He feels it, buried in my ass. Moans, and grunts happily.

Tells me i’m such a dirty slut, cumming with his cock stuffed up my buttpipe. And it happens again. I cum. I …more than cum. I explode. I’m squirting all over the bed, feeling the covers soaking underneath me.

There is no memory i have of “how many” orgasms i had then. He says he fucked my ass for the better part of an hour. I remember little after the fourth or fifth orgasm. It’s a blur of pain, of pleasure, of wants met. The remembered Heat of Him between my legs, His hands pressing down on my back, almost like  backwards cpr,  while he fucked me that way.

Later, long later, He slapped my ass and made me crawl up to the middle of the bed. I thought He was done..  His erection spent, played out in the cavern of my ass.

Silly slut.

 He had a new toy. One i didn’t see  for hours…but i felt it.

A dual insertion vibrator.

Over and over again, He continued fucking into my sore and tired asshole. . . and my needy pussy. The hummmmm of the vibe is a low counterpoint to my mewling crying. No sotto voiced slut, my voice rose and fell all over the vocal register as i came.

And came again.

For hours He played His games with my body. Finally i was near unconscious, so far out in subspace that only the sweet beloved timbre of His voice pulled me back.

Over the course of nine hours, i had more orgasms than you could imagine, anon. When it was time to go, i was sore, throbbing, sated, relaxed, tired, and gawd. . .

So fucking happy.

I wish that for you, anon, that kind of intense, fulfilling happiness. If you’ve got it already, good on you.

But so do i.

So do lots of us.

So lets share the happy. Its fine that you find your bliss in your vanilla bed. But it’s equally fine that i find mine, graphically, in a darker place.

Pain

inspired by sins blog….finding my submission…go read it…it’s good. (link is in my links to the right. You KNOW i don’t do well with this computer stuff, right??)

It  hurt.

Waves of pain swirled around her, a whirlpool of heat, centering on her tormented tits. A firm bite from the clamps on her nipples insured that every movement renewed the pain waves. From the shallowest breath, to the swats He administered with the thin crop, everything centered just there, on the erect nubbins at the end of her full breasts.

Each time she was certain He was done, as she stood, panting in the heat of the inferno of her tits, she’d hear the faint swish of the thin leather a hearbeat before the slice of pain registered.

She whimpered. Tears fell freely, drenching the blindfold. Eventually they began leaking from underneath, long smudges of mascara’d saline, etching the pain strokes upon her cheeks.

A long pause. His thumb against her cheek, smudging the trailing ravages of her slut make up. His fist grabbing at her chin, pulling it up, and assaulting her lips with His ravaging mouth. Teeth and tongue took her to the brink, stealing her breath, fucking her mouth with savagery. Her moans were swallowed into Him. His hand plucked at the chain that decorated her chest. Pulled up. Up. Up. She rose to her toes, His mouth still latched firmly against hers, as He ate her scream of pain.

The release of pain was almost as painful to her.

Alone, clamps gone, flesh gently throbbing, she rubbed her swollen lips with a finger.

Wondered when He’d return.

Possession

You slide the blindfold over my eyes, the blue traded in for darkness. You blind me to everything.  You. Your distracting eyes. The sun pooling outside the window, casting mystic shadows around the room. I think I may be afraid of this darkness, in every sense…but you are there. I am on Your terms now……
 
Suddenly, where there was nothing, there is…..everything. Your smell. Your voice. It’s strong, firm. Controlling. Your hands are bigger somehow, and everywhere.
 
“hows that, slut?”
 
“hurt, slut?’
 
“yes, good girl”
 
“mmmm, yes, that’s it…they look nice on your tits, little girl”
 
my moans come from you. my body shakes with passion, a raw lust that is born of heat, of fear, of pain, of naked hungers. No longer blind to the need, i strain for you. Are you looking at me? Ignoring me?  Are you there? Ouch! Oh! that so hurt…and yet, the hunger builds inside me. Will i feel it, or will you see it first…the lust leaking from between my legs, coating my thighs with need for you?
 
you pull me to my knees, guiding me to your cock. Your hand at my head as you give me my first taste of you. Compelling me on this journey. I have given my path to you, to guide to steer. Your words at first harsh, become kinder as you teach.
 
‘suck that, no teeth!”
 
‘deeper, slut’

“do it. Now.”
 
“all the way down there…into your throat little girl”
 
A pause, but not quiet. Sounds of wetness and groaning, gagging and slurping.
 
“aaah, yes, that’s a good little cocksucker,”
 
Has there ever been a better freedom than this? Freed of my need to choose, i have only your desires to serve. And in doing so, am free to ignite. To explode.
 
Your lips on mine as you raise me. Poised on heels so high i feel i’m towering, teetering. Your hands on my tits. Pulling on chains. Testing me. Teaching me. 

 
Fingers probe in secret places. A thumb in my mouth…a finger sliding along my very wet slit. You find my clit. The first to ever do this…and i come apart. Fingers continue to touch, to explore. Sliding deep inside my cunt. So wet, so slippery, you tell me. I hear the pleased note in your voice. You know it is for you, this wetness. i have sent texts  of it to  you, over and over again.
 
A finger glides to my virgin ass. Squirming in place, i know this invasion is coming. Marines don’t back down from a challenge…and you are Marine to your core, Marine and Dom rolled into one unstoppable force. But i  cannot stop this. Because. i. want. this. Scared, my heart pounds in my chest, even while i push my body towards you…
 
Your cock slides into my heat. Will we spontaneously combust? Perhaps. Perhaps. Oh, but what a delightful way to burn. Consumed by desire. Burning until our fluids combine to douse the flames…until the next time…

Power

He laid her across the bed, a naked, living  blanket for him to warm himself with. Her arms were brought together above her head, wrists joined, then secured to the headboard frame. Her legs were open, cuffed at ankles and secured to the bar that kept her open, vulnerable. He watched her breath hitch as he secured the last buckle on her left ankle. Slid his hand slowly from ankle to knee, tickling gentle and making her buck and moan. Her scent spilled into the room, sweet perfume to entice him.
 
He laid his hand on her stomach. Felt the muscles twitch in response. He moved away from the bed, trailing his finger across to her hip. Moving to his table, he chose an item, returned to the bed. A flick of his wrist and a red welt appeared on her left breast. She jolted. Blindfolded, he had removed her advantage to prepare for his attentions. He slashed again caressing her flesh with his toys. Lines crisscrossed her tits, with special attention to her nipples. Reddened, swollen they strained from her chest as if seeking further attention from him. He was quick to answer their need. He adjusted the clamp on one, pulling firmly to seat it tightly. A whimper escaped her mouth, before she could pull it back. He chuckled. It pleased him to  pull this response from her. She was beginning to loosen her inner restrains. He could contain her flesh. He wanted her mind as well. Moving leisurely around the bed, he fastened the second clamp. Unsatisfied with the bite, he pulled it away from her nipple. She arched, biting her lip, and a muffled groan emerged. A louder sound came from her as he found the sweet spot, and a short, shrill scream as he firmly pulled the chain that interlocked her breasts.
 
He mounted the bed, and sliding his cock under the chain he fed her need. Each thrust forward gagged her, and pulled the nipple chain taut. She could not scream, but the vibrations that came from her throat swelled his cock harder, bigger. Tears formed and slid down the sides of her face.
 
She gave him her submission. He gave her raw power. Took her need and fed it back to her. When he was close to exploding, he pulled away, made her beg for it.
 
It was her final submission. He took all from her, gave all back.
 
Satisfaction filled him. He filled her.
 
Together, they came alive.