Friday, November 26, 2010

Filthy Thoughts in Inappropriate Places

This blog will be short.  I've stolen a few moments away to write it.  I just had to share these fun, lewd thoughts.  Because here I am, immersed in family, wholesomeness, Thanksgiving, and all that fun stuff.  And I'm thinking about drinking my Master's cum (not wasting a drop, of course) and crawling around naked on the floor begging to be treated like his dirty whore.

And luckily, my Master is an understanding man.  I haven't been very available to him these last few days.  I hate having the feeling that I can't be there, able to talk on the phone or go online whenever he might want me to.  But I try not to dwell on it and instead keep in touch the best way I can, through email, short phone calls and chat in scrabble (he beats me so often, i think it's why we enjoy playing so much). 

So here I am, at my in-law's house.  I haven't ever felt sexy or wanton here.  Even when T and I were first dating and he was feeling frisky over a Christmas break here, I more or less rebuked his advances for naughtiness.  And yet, this is the second time I've been down here and been soooo horny.  So wet for Him.  He and I talked on the phone a bit last night and just that contact (and a few fun comments) made me so hot, I swore to him I bet I was soaking wet.  To which he replied "you should go check".  Good Lord.  If that isn't enough to make me want to go in the bathroom, pull down my panties and just masturbate like there's no tomorrow.  Luckily, I have slightly (only just) more self control than that.  And I stopped myself at the checking and didn't go on to the rubbing of my clit or finger fucking.  And yes, in case you're wondering, I was soaking wet, pussy all inflamed and swollen and begging to be used. 

So this Thanksgiving season I am so very thankful.  I'm thankful I have a husband who's okay with me having a Master.  I'm thankful for my family and our health.  And I'm thankful that even in a place that I think of as wholesome and pure and generally very nonsexual, that I can be a raging dirty bitch, wanting to be fucked and used and made to suck and gag on his cock until I drink his cum over and over again until he takes his cock from me and uses it in one of my other holes.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I Need...

I need to be used as his sex toy. I need him to use my body so rough. To grab my face and slap it, then slap it again with his cock. I need my mouth choked with his hard cock, as he rams it down my throat. I need his hands around my throat, grabbing me tightly while he fucks me. I need to feel his burning smacks on my ass, as he's spanking me over and over. I need to be on all fours in front of him on the bed, while he stands next to it, shoving his cock in and out of my mouth. Then I need him on top of me again, shoving his cock so hard, deep in my pussy, then fucking my mouth again, letting me taste my cum on his cock. I need to hear the desire in his voice as he says “good girl” as I cum and cum and cum, all over his hand and his cock. I need to feel the urgency in his body, as he's fucking my mouth, as I struggle to take him all and suck and stroke him, while he's slamming it so hard in and out of my mouth. I need to hear him laugh under his breath, as he's fucking my mouth so hard, hearing me gag and then going right back to sucking and taking all of his cock. I need to feel his orgasm, feel his body shudder, his cock shooting his hot cum past my mouth, straight down my throat. I need to suck his cock dry, keeping it in my mouth and gently tonguing and sucking it until he removes it from me. I need this and I need permission to cum all over my toys, five, six, seven times in a row. Please, Master? Please? Please, may I cum sometime before Christmas?

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

How Me and Mr. G Came to Be

I have been meaning to write this post since I started my blog. I love a good “When Sally Met Harry” kind of almost didn't happen but then happened kind of story. And I'm sort of a cheesy romantic, as well as a hokey believing in karma kind of girl, too. I will try hard to not make this story sickly, I'm getting a cavity too sweet.

I will set the backdrop. T and I had ventured out into the crazy world of finding a Dominant to serve. He was in something pretty serious and I was ending a long distance thing that was starting to get sadly detrimental to me. I was in a real questioning, soul-searching kind of place. Maybe I wouldn't find someone who actually matched up with my own desires (and home life situation.) And here, T had something going on and I didn't want to ruin it for him by giving up (thereby disrupting the balance). But I just felt like it was so hopeless. 

Being single when you're married isn't easy enough. But add to that the plethora of nonsense on collarme and I really started to think what I sought wasn't ever going to be found.

I finally decided I would think of the criteria in my head of what I wanted in a Dom. And then, instead of waiting for him to find me, I was going to be pro-active in my search for my Owner. My list included someone living on another continent (sexy foreign accent a must), someone who had their own family and familial commitments (and therefore, presumably would understand mine better) and someone handsome. Because I'm shallow like that.

I almost always have a song I listen to over and over again for a few days when I'm in a certain mood.  And my theme song at the time was Soul Asylum's “Can't Even Tell”. The first line, I may never get what I want, but I'm happy just to die trying. That said it all.

So there I was, fishing through the profiles on collarme. And, honestly, I will say this. Mr. G was either the 2nd or 3rd person I messaged (and the others either didn't write back or were stupidly lame). He had this picture in his profile of his back....yum. His description of himself, his family, living in England and the fact that he wasn't some “dungeon master” really intrigued me. I am not an approach guys kind of girl usually. That's why this is so bizarre. I just felt like if a true Master was out there for me, I was going to have to take it upon myself to find him.

So Mr. G messaged back and we wrote back and forth a few times on collarme. Then he asked if I'd like to chat on YM. So I definitely did, because it's way easier to get a feel for someone in instant chat, as opposed to email or collarme messages. That first night, we talked for like four hours or something crazy. We had so much in common, it was surreal to me. But even that night was not completely unmarred. He had told me a few rules he gives to his subs. No talking with other Dom/mes was a biggie. Well, I explained that at the time, T's Domme and I spoke on occasion. He said that would be acceptable as long as I never ignore him to talk to her. And then, in our first conversation, I had to do pretty much exactly that!

She had called and was orchestrating a scene for T and I and here I am talking to his amazing, incredibly dominant and sexy man in England and I had to tell him, I need to go talk to her. Oh, and my husband and I are about to have sex. He was pretty much less than thrilled. After quite a bit more talking and explaining (and feeling like why do I feel like I owe this guy so much, we JUST started talking), he promised to give me another chance. We talked a bit more after the ickiness of me breaking one of his rules and I felt like we'd patched things up reasonably well.

The next night or few nights, I didn't hear from him. Or maybe an email saying he was hoping to talk to me again. I was feeling like, wow, I really fucked that up. And then, I got an email from him saying he really needed to talk to me. And I could tell it was about something big. So that night, on YM, he explains how it's not me, he met someone local and wanted to give it a try. I completely understood, knowing how Dom men need to feel, own, touch their possessions. I have never been so impressed with someone breaking up with me (I say that in jest, we really weren't together yet).

He could have just never spoken to me again. Or even just emailed me and said he met someone who lived closer. Instead, he made it a point to come online and explain to me that it really wasn't me. He really liked me and it seemed like we had a lot in common. I was more impressed than bummed. That he was this much of a nice guy, to talk to me and seem genuinely concerned that I was okay with it all.  I have never been dumped and felt better about myself afterwards, but this came pretty close.

So about five or six days pass. I've kept up my perusing profiles. I'm still playing my theme song. I'm pretty sure I may never get what I want. When out of the blue, either on collarme or YM, I get a message from Mr. G. He wants to make it clear that I'm not his second choice, but that thing with the local girl wasn't going to work out. I was so relieved and happy to hear from him, that I didn't care if I was his fifth choice. He and I had clicked (even with the ugliness that first chat) so well and I felt like I wanted to talk to him and get to know him so much more.

And now it's been four months and five days since he recontacted me. And I have thanked my lucky stars every single day that I was so brazen of a hussy to message a man living in England with a smokin' sexy back (and an impressive vocabulary).

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Craving Submission

I had a very happy and full life before I went seeking Mr. G. I know this sounds hard to believe to some people. They might ask, “if you were so happy and your life was so good, why did you seek out a Master?” Well, this is a complicated question and one that doesn't just involve my own needs. I will try my best to answer it.

I married my best friend. I knew he was someone who being around made me a better person. He is my partner in every way, shape, and form. And he and I are a great team. We balance one another out and really work hard at being here for one another. Part of this comes from what we've added to our lives. Knowing that there must be balance for this to work, T and I work very hard at engaging with one another, as opposed to just living in the same house, like roommates.

But we also knew when we met, dated and married that we were both submissives. Even in the beginning of our relationship, we had discussed having something similar to what we have going on now (finding Dominant others to fulfill our submissive sides). But then, I was much too insecure about having any form of an “open” relationship. I also felt like I had just found an amazing man and I certainly didn't want to go sharing him with anyone else.

But we are both true submissives. I, personally, identify with “slave”. Don't get me wrong, having a Master as well as a husband (and T having a wife as well as a Domme) is complicated. There are times the balancing act that I always feel I'm performing goes terribly wrong. If I've been too wrapped up with Mr. G and serving him and have been neglecting my family, then they get hurt and irritated with me. If my family demands makes me unavailable for Mr. G (even though he inherently understand my familial obligations, he can't help but be bothered by the fact that his slave isn't there for him when he needs her) then there's issues there. I can't make everyone happy all the time. I just try my hardest and hope for the best.

So this most certainly isn't like a traditional 24/7 live-in Master/slave relationship, where when I'm a good homemaker and a good wife, Mr. G reaps any of the benefits. And my being Mr. G's slave probably distracts me from my homelife on occasion. But the balance that I try attain is when I am Mr. G's good girl by being an excellent mommy and wife to T. I try to do menial house chores when I'm on the phone with Mr. G (instead of always just laying on the guest room bed in the dark dreaming about rainy England and being naked and trapped under his incredibly strong body.)

So needless to say, there are times when I'm busy living my vanilla life and craving submission. I inherently need to submit. Although, I do love being dominated, really what fulfills me is submitting to Mr. G. I know that my T gets fulfilled submitting to 
Ms. T's requests, as well. This balances us out, completes us. But since I live on a different continent from Mr. G, it's not like I can just kneel at his feet whenever I need to fill that submissive craving. And he understands I lead a very busy life, as well. He doesn't assign me lots of tasks or assignments in my serving him. He just expects me to be his good girl and that is what I strive to do.

All the blogs I read have been posting about proactive submission or slavery. And this is something I try to practice. I feel like in a way, I'm an employee of Mr. G's. My job is to serve him in whatever capacity he desires. But, like a good employee, if there's something I think of to do that might help me better serve him, I wouldn't hesitate to suggest it. I don't think of it as topping from the bottom because I am not telling him what to do, nor am I telling him what I am going to do that's going to better suit my purposes. I am merely making a suggestion of how I might better please him. How is this topping him? Would a boss feel a power struggle if an employee offered ideas on how they could do their job better? And ultimately, it is his decision anyway. I don't expect Master to always implement a suggestion, only that he listen. The final vote is, obviously, his.

So although I used to feel silly just going and kneeling for him without him requesting it, I find that it always puts me in my happy slave place. I also find that when I tell my Master I've knelt for him today, he is always pleased and usually tells me I'm a good girl or thanks me for doing this for him. Does this mean I'm topping from the bottom, because I kneel on my own without him asking me to? I don't think so. I think that it's my job as his slave to stay healthy and happy (and best able to serve him). And if kneeling on my own, centering myself and getting in touch with my slave-ness helps me be a happier, more productive person, then I'm going to do it until he tells me not to.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Pussy Training Advice

So I've been trying out my stainless steel ben wa balls and I'm not really noticing any effect.  I mean, I can hold them in some and then they just start to slip out.  And I understand, the point is to get to where you can hold them in all the time.  But unless it's slipping out of me, I don't actively notice the muscles doing anything (and then it's too late, because i can feel it start to slide out and it's going to be out in seconds!  This makes me know I haven't reached the wear them to the grocery store stage yet!  Can you imagine a stainless steel ball bouncing down the aisle and me just looking at my cart and muttering "damn carts!  they're falling apart").  And I am not one of those lucky women who finds the sensation of two balls rolling around inside me stimulating.  I more equate it to crunches or pushups for my pussy.

Has anyone found Kegel exercises that work?  I do the ones when you're peeing and all that.  And I sometimes play a game where I push out as hard as I can (Master seemed to think that was a fun trick) and I could probably shoot a toy a couple feet out of me.  But I really want a wonderously tight pussy.  I want exercises that get results!  Anyone have a fantastically fit pussy and want to give me some workout advice?

Monday, November 8, 2010

The Chuckling Sadist

I do not consider myself a masochist. When I say I crave pain, it's really more that I crave sensation. I crave my Master's touch and some pain/pleasure type of thing. Unless I am so frustrated or so turned on, a little pain (biting my nipples, squeezing my ass/tits) is more than enough. Especially when accompanied by fucking or finger fucking. That's really what I love.

But I am my Master's slave. I am not just in this for what I get out of it. Quite the contrary, really. I'm lucky that my master loves seeing what a whore I am and loves making me cum (and knows that I really love to cum and cum and cum until I'm a drooling, babbling idiot)! Because I exist (and play) for his pleasure, for his desires. I was reminded this a few times on my visit. Three specific incidents come to mind almost immediately when I think about really meeting Mr. G's sadistic side.

And don't get me wrong. There's times when he's been teasing me and I've realized it's because he's in a sadistic mood and I'm an ocean away and he can't physically get at me so he needles me mercilessly and enjoys watching me squirm. Plus, he's had me stand and present myself to him on web cam and he can SEE the struggle on my face, the discomfort, the pure uncomfortableness I feel when exposing myself like that. But really meeting the sadistic side of sir had to happen in person.

These are in no particular order. The first incident of my Master's sadism was in the form of face slapping. Now, mind you, I have filled out the likes/dislikes, limits worksheets. He and I have discussed at great length what we like and don't like in play. So he knew very, very well that face slapping wasn't something I considered a limit, but not exactly a big turn on either. I think I ranked it at like a 3 or 4 out of 10. Even at the time he said it was more of a 7 for him, which I knew was a bad sign.

So there he was, slapping me in the face and just looking at me, watching me react. I know I can safe word at any time. But let me explain something about the safe word for me. I think of the safe word as exactly that, a word for SAFETY. It's not a this isn't turning me on word. Or a this is very uncomfortable and I don't like it word. It's a SAFE word. I am to use it so that I don't let my Master damage his property (me). I have actually never safe worded in my life. I have said “I think I'm about to pass out” which was equally efficient at ending the scene. But to me, I don't look at the safe word as a switch to flip when I'm not having done to me what I fantasize being done to me. The safe word is a word of protection, so that Master doesn't hurt me in a way that he doesn't mean to.

So needless to say, I'd never safe word over something like having my face repeatedly slapped. But I was really, really not liking it. And there he was, smiling and smacking me. He said the look on my face was shooting daggers at him. I don't remember looking so hatefully at him. I do remember, however, thinking FUCK, I HATE HAVING MY FACE SLAPPED. But that's the point to all this for me. It's not about my pleasure. And if my master gets a kick out of pissing me off and slapping my face until I'm royally pissed off, that's his prerogative. Plus, it was terribly degrading, having my face smacked over and over again like that. That was a turn on, even if the actual act of having my face slapped wasn't. If that makes any sense.

The next incident of sadism wasn't really in play at all. We were lying in bed naked, maybe even spooning a bit. And his hand was resting on my body and he just grabbed the most hated part of my body, my belly, and just squeezed. I tried to push his hand off, roll away and he pulled me back and pinned my hand under his body and he grabbed my belly again. I'm pretty sure he said it was his and he could grab it if he wanted to. Which made me stop trying to push him away and stop trying to escape. I will say I was so unhappy, having my ugliest part of my body grabbed like that. But I also conceded to his point that it's his and if he wants to grab it, I'm not in any position to stop him. So in a way, this meanness led to something really incredible. I felt very, very owned in that moment.

And last but not least is the wrestling. I have been looking forward to tussling with Mr. G ever since we started talking about “resistance play” a few months ago. I have never had a rape or kidnapping fantasy. It's just not something that does it for me. I like to say, “you can't rape the willing.” But when we began talking about not role playing of a rape or kidnapping scene, just wrestling; me trying to get him off of me or something like that, I was very very interested. Plus I'm a big UFC/MMA fan and I love watching two men struggle and wrestle. It's really hot in a gladiator kind of way.

So the wrestling occurred with us completely dressed. And yet it was SUCH a turn on. He had me pinned and I was fighting with everything I had to get him off of me. There were a couple times I felt like I even moved him a little. But the kicker of this was he was over me, holding me down, and just laughing the whole time. This was like throwing gasoline onto my fire! I wanted so badly to throw him off of me, to make him stop laughing so amusedly at me. And this only made him laugh more and hold me down harder. Seeing the pure enjoyment on his face and trying SO hard to unpin myself from the bed really brought out the fighter in me. I struggled so hard! I never did get unpinned. Although, I will say he thought I was pretty strong (for a girl). 

But this battle, this struggle, even though he was laughing and I was fighting with all my might and not really moving him much, only ended up turning me on more! I felt like he was so strong, so powerful and so sadistic! He reached his hand into my jeans and found my pussy SO wet after this little wrestling match. I told him, it's funny, you can tell a guy is enjoying himself by his erection. But we, as girls, have just as obvious a gauge for how turned on we are, by reaching into our panties. Once he did, he could feel how totally soaked I was and how completely hot and turned on struggling with him made me. I'm only hoping next visit to struggle more, but maybe naked and with his cock inside me...

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Preconceived Notions

There were certain things that I knew pretty positively about my trip beforehand. From my last vacation to England, I knew the food was going to suck (I was surprised by a few actually palateable meals), I knew it was going to be cold as hell, and I knew the saying goodbye to my Master at the end of the week was going to feel like I was ripping a part of my body off and leaving it across the ocean. All of these things played out pretty much exactly as I'd imagined. (Although, I have to say, seeing my Master's sadness on the longest trip to the airport I've ever taken was a nice surprise. Not that I enjoyed in any way seeing him sad, but more that he had such strong feelings for me and wasn't ready to let me go just yet. It made my own sadness feel much more justified.)

And honestly, having been with my T for 11 years now, I had NO anticipated thoughts/feelings about the sex or the play. I didn't want to put pressure on myself to act or be a certain way. I also didn't want to build it up in my head as this fantasy world (where my body looks like Scarlett Johansson's when I'm naked and there's never any awkward moments or messy clean up afterwards) where real life can never live up to it. I will say that the comfortableness we seemed to feel pretty much immediately was a happy surprise. I will also say that I wasn't completely surprised that he affected me so entirely that the whole week had a dream-like Twilight Zone quality to it.

What I didn't expect was how unembarrassed I would be, coming and going with my Master by the front desk of my hotel at all hours of the night. I didn't expect to smile back with a cheshire cat grin at the snarky, I-know-what-you're-up-to hotel staff. But that's exactly how it was. I would go down there for coffee or chocolate with clothes haphazardly thrown on, just fucked hair and my face still flushed from playing and fucking and I would smile at the hotel staff with the proudest, biggest, cheesiest smile on my face. Like, “Yes, that was just me you heard screaming. I just got spanked and fucked and used so amazingly that all that ruckus you heard was probably even more wild and hot than what you're picturing. Oh, and you might want to tighten up the headboard.” (No, I didn't actually say any of this, but a smile can speak volumes.)

Alternatively, I didn't expect to feel total shame/panic when I'd go out with my sir. We didn't go very many places but the trip that stands out in my mind was when we went on an adventure to find me an American/UK power converter at like 4 in the morning. We were mostly sure we wouldn't run into anyone that knew my Master or his family, but it was so much on my mind to not walk too closely or hold onto him or look at him the way I can't help myself but to look at him, adoringly. And as a byproduct, I felt a bit icky, guilty.

Believe me, I was fully expecting at some point to feel like a homewrecker or an adulterer. I'm an overthinker, have tendencies for neurosies and really do care so much about my family and his. I would never ever want my actions or his to cause bad feelings of any kind to my partner or his. I just didn't think it would hit me, at 4 in the morning, walking through Asda (British Walmart) and realizing I felt like “the other woman” and terrified we'd run into someone that knows my Master. Plus, this snarky little employee was so disgusted that we'd want to convert their precious British power for use with evil American electronics. I thought maybe I was being too sensitive until Mr. G asked me if I noticed that guy's attitude and we had a good laugh about it afterwards.

I also thought I was going to work a whole lot more and not just sleep and read and watch some of my favorite TV shows that are no longer on the air. (Friends, Two Guys and a Girl, and Gilmore Girls!) I was so lazy and decadent. I ate like one meal a day, supplemented with stupid amounts of coffee, dark chocolate, and crisps (salt & vinegar, to be precise). I pictured myself feeling afraid to go out by myself, unsure of where to go and fear of looking like an idiot with their foreign money. Instead, I went out every day, walked around, people watched, bought little odds and ends, and felt very comfortable. I even thought to myself that I might blend in a little and not stick out like a silly American tourist (like how I felt my last trip to England.) I still took WAY too long figuring out how to pay for things, but the funny part is, I got to where I didn't care as much. I wasn't so self-conscious of it. And also, Mr. G was good to pay for things when he was with me so he didn't have to watch me struggle, picking up each coin and reading the amount printed on the side. I also think it helped that I'm a dork and I had google mapped the whole area around my hotel and had a good idea where all the shops and restaurants were.

I also had no idea the awe and amazement I would feel one night when we'd run out to get KFC (yes, I'm one of those fucking annoying Americans that goes to a foreign country and then eats American fast food) and we drove by Kirkstall Abbey. Mr. G was kind enough to stop and walk me around, giving me a private tour (it was closed but the outside is unbelievably impressive). I really couldn't have pictured he and I, at some ridiculous time like 2 in the morning, walking around a medieval Cistercian abbey (ruins dating back to 1152). It was so cold and he held onto me so tight as we walked around and I ooohed and aaahed over it. It was so unexpected and wonderful. 

There are probably a few things I'm missing here. But the last preconceived notion that was proven wrong was how badly I wanted to watch “The Secretary” with Mr. G. I had put my movie into my suitcase probably before I'd put any clothes in. I couldn't believe he'd never seen it and really wanted to watch it with him. About halfway through the movie (which, to his credit, he didn't say was boring or too serious or too slow, but I started worrying all these things) we decided we'd rather DO these things than WATCH them on a movie. It was funny how relieved I felt when I turned the laptop off and we started to play, when I'd looked SO forward to watching that with him. As it turned out, Mr. G and I had the most fun watching a comedy routine (Jimmy Carr's), Top Gear, my previously mentioned new favorite show The In-Betweeners, and Booze Britain (a show that's like Girls Gone Wild, but more like a documentary and no boobs).

Now, I think the main objective for me is to not get a bunch of ideas in my head for my next trip over. I try very hard to keep my expectations to a minimum. This lends itself to making everything more surprising and equally more fulfilling.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Phone Sex Existentialism

Sometimes I exist only to be his dirty whore.  I am nothing but a sex object, from the hair he can pull to jerk my head around, to the legs he can pin down while he's biting me or otherwise making me squirm, and moan, and try to fight through the pain.  My pussy gets so swollen and wet.  He makes me feel like fruit ripening on a vine, sometimes getting to the bursting point. 

Now when he talks dirty to me on the phone (and you have to understand, he's so polite and British, that hearing filthy, degrading things coming out of his mouth is so exceedingly sexy) I can picture his face as he's holding me down and putting his fingers or his cock inside my pussy, pounding me like the slutty slave I truly am.  I get to where all I can think about is his touch, his voice, and cumming.  Please let me cum.  And even after I've cum once or twice, it's almost like I only need to more.

Last night on the phone, he and I talked about things we'd done on my visit.  And I kept going to my oh my god i have no voice minnie mouse kind of voice.  I kept getting weak in the knees and I could feel my pussy getting more and more hot and wet.  Before I put my finger between my lips I can know, inherently, that it's going to be like warm massage oil in there.  Hot, slick and ready to go.  It was no exception last night.  My clit was so swollen and sensitive, I was actually a little shocked. 

I've been touching my pussy pretty regularly for 27 (ack!) years.  I know myself inside and out and have most definitely fallen prey to the laziness and ease of mechanical toys for stimulation and fruition of these orgasms I so desperately need.  When given surprise time to play before my house was full of people last Friday (and no idea how long I had privacy), I had the most amazing five orgasms in maybe five minutes' time.  I'm the queen of the microwave play session.  It's so hot and quick.  Very satisfying.

But Master has retaught me the art of feeling so turned on I'm going to explode.  Not having control over orgasms can sometimes make me feel like I'm going to have a panic attack.  I definitely used to cum as a way to relieve stress and reward myself for things.  I have to remind myself I am HIS whore, his begging slut.  I get to cum when HE says, which is essentially for his pleasure.  I am such a selfish fucking slut.  I know this. 

The upside to sometimes feeling like I'm going to go Hindenberg and just burst into flames is it makes me so sensitive, so much MORE turned on.  I think I used to play when I wasn't even wet, just start touching myself and make it happen because I wanted to cum.  I haven't touched my pussy in the three and a half months with my Master and not felt it and thought it felt like it was about to explode.

Last night, with just my fingers and the words of my Master in my ear, I got off so hard from phone sex, that even that one orgasm was enough.  I actually felt sated from ONE orgasm??!!! (this is crazy in my book)  Having heard "good girl" enough with his fingers or cock deep inside me, teasing me, making me beg to cum in person, having it fresh in my memory, and then hearing him talk that like, hearing the passion in his voice, was almost hallucinogenic for me.  I could FEEL my Master on top of me, over me.  I could feel my pussy grip around his hand, begging as he fucked me so hard to please let me cum.  Please.  He seems to know my breaking point because thankfully he's never crossed it (and I've never had to go Pulp Fiction and buy a gun from the sheer frustration of needing an orgasm). 

And then he lets me cum.  I cum for him.  I'm his good girl for being so obedient and so wanton and dirty.  I cum so hard, so deep in my pussy, that it sets everything right in my world.  Philosophically speaking, this is my utopia.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Along with the great highs of my trip, there were equally low parts. Some of it, in my opinion, was a bit of a letdown after a really intense, deeply satisfying scene. Some of it was the genetically instilled guilt that Jews in my family have handed down for generations. And some of it was worry that I was walking through a door in my marriage that I could never walk back through. 

The last night I was there, I had gotten this panicky feeling. (me? panic?) I started to worry that this would be the last time I would get to spend face to face time with my Master. Let me just say that T had in no way even insinuated this. I just get freaky in my own head sometimes.

Now, I know I've touched on my vanity a bit. Besides the fact that I turn into a tomato, (red puffy) and really leak liquids everywhere, I also really just hate crying in front of someone, getting comforted while crying. I think this goes deeper than just vanity, though, because my mom says when I was little, I'd push her away when I'd get hurt and she would try to comfort me. 

So it's stupid late/early.  We haven't slept and are both worn out.  Mr. G is heading home to get some sleep and help out with his family. I never for a moment will say a negative word about this.  It genuinely makes him so much more attractive to me because he's not a shirker. Being a good husband/father is a HUGE turn-on for me.  It was an insane balancing act for him that week and I actually got to see him more than I'd even thought I would.

And there I am, holding back a big ole girlie ugly cry. He's hugging and kissing me bye, gathering his phones, keys, putting on his jacket. I have a sob so big in my throat and I feel like it's about to spring out. I put on my fake smile and don't speak a word for fear the aforementioned sob will leak out.

He got as far as the hotel room door when all I did was take a ragged breath. He asked me, "you okay?" And I couldn't speak without some crying coming out in my voice. Without a word, he walked back in, took his coat off, put his things down and just climbed into the bed and held me as I cried. I cried for a good long time. And he just held me and helped me see everything was going to be okay. This was precisely what I needed at that moment even though I didn't know it beforehand. I think I even tried to persuade him to go because I felt it coming on.  It really tells me not only how well he knows me, but what kind of an owner he is.  He really takes responsibility for me and my well-being and I'm so grateful and feel so lucky.

And now that I'm back from my trip, I can say with a huge sigh of relief that my trip accomplished everything I'd hoped it would. I got to spend amazing time with my Master. I came home loving my life, my family. I feel lucky that this is my job, my day-to-day existence. I feel like I was missed and am more appreciated at home.  And all the clich├ęs like absence makes the heart grow fonder ring true.

Nothing like a dreamlike, decadent, lazy vacation to totally recharge my battery.  I feel myself more engaged in my life at home and at work, newly inspired to be the best me I can be. Which is really what this whole journey is all about, isn't it?