First things first, I need to set the stage for this one. I've been alluding to this experience since I returned from my trip. I feel like I've put lots of pressure on myself to write this with just the right amout of accuracy and description, to give this Twilight Zone experience the attention it deserves.
Mr. G turns me on. (um, duh, big revelation there.) But I mean he turns me on to the point that I'm almost drunk with it. There's been times on the phone when he's just teasing me and has made me so out of my head turned on, I have to lie on the couch and just clench my thighs together because it's the only thing that will keep me from exploding. So you can imagine how much more intense this is when I'm actually in the same room with him. One time, he kissed me and just barely touched the tip of his tongue to my lips and I swear I almost passed out. Yes, he kissed me and I almost swooned. I kid you not.
I loved proving to him how much I wanted to please him and help him cum and be his whore in that way, and that it's not all about my selfish pleasure. I felt like such a good girl, like I was a slave he could be proud to own. But I also was so primed and ready and turned on, I had to change panties multiple times. I felt so horny, I don't feel that I can properly describe it. It's like I felt even more under his control. Even more his toy, his plaything. His girl that he can keep blissfully horny.
But I didn't feel the frustration, the pent-up, I want to hurt myself feeling I get when I get really turned on and don't get fucked or get permission to rub one off almost immediately. It was more like I was high on something. My body felt like all my nerve endings were buzzing, but I wasn't in hyper mode, it was more like I was moving in slow motion. I was so turned on, a rub across my nipple, through my shirt and bra could make me moan. And my nipples aren't even really that sensitive. But I'd moan and rub my legs together and my Master would laugh which would only make me almost embarrassed that I was such a slut. (which only just turns me on more!)
And then, this one night. We're watching “Pumping Iron”, the 70's bodybuilding movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Lou Ferrigno. As a side note, I do not get turned on in the least by oiled up muscle heads flexing and comparing biceps while in the shower or wearing tiny bikinis. That's not to say that I don't have gladiator/cage fighting type fantasies, but that's a whole different blog. I only say this to explain that we weren't watching anything like porn or anything even remotely sexy. We watched a wide range of things, but I can tell you, this might have been the least sexy thing we watched.
So we are lying side by side in bed. He's just absentmindedly touching me, not even teasing me or being sexual, just touching me. And he's is rubbing my leg and all of a sudden, he rubs behind my knee. And it was like whoa! I said “careful, sir.” because I realized he just hit a BIG errogenous zone. It felt like he'd rubbed his fingers across my clit! I swear! I might have even tried to pull my leg away, the feeling was so strong. Which, of course, prompted him to grab my leg and hold it in place and rub the back of my knee even more intensely.
I can only say that it really felt like he was rubbing my clit. He started saying all the filthy things that he says to me that makes me feel like I'm going to explode, and that combined with his rubbing of my spot, it wasn't too long before I was begging him to cum. It felt like how it does with my clit, with the feeling building and building and building. And that was the kind of orgasm I had. My clit orgasms, I imagine, are the most like a guy's orgasm. Big, explosive, draining. That was the kind of orgasm I had. From him rubbing the back of my knee. Even just now as I'm typing this, he called and we both just had a good laugh at how bizarre that sounds.
As soon as I'd stopped shivering and gasping, I was horrified. There's lots of times after I cum really hard for him, I get shy. It's almost like, wow, I can't believe what a slut I just was. But this was different. I feel like such a freak! To cum that hard from him rubbing the back of my knee. That's just weird, dude. Seriously.
And I tried to hide my face, I was like....I can't believe that just happened. But Mr. G never lets me hide from him. He turned me around and made me look at him and asked what's going on. And I said I feel like a freak. That was so intense, so bizarre. He said the perfect thing, something to the effect of it just shows how much control he has over me and that it's a good thing. So, thankfully, I quickly got over the horror. It's almost like the embarrassment was much more intense, just like the orgasm was so intense. Even now, I'm blushing as I type this. I'm a fucking weirdo.
And this spontaneous orgasm thing happened a second time. This time didn't quite have the surprise-factor the first time had and he was, technically, touching my pussy. But he was stroking me through my panties. It's not like he was fingerfucking me or rubbing my clit. The only touching was through the material and even then, just light touching. He wasn't grabbing my pussy, or cupping it, or smacking it or anything. He just lightly touched me and whispered dirty fucking hot things in my ear and made me cum so hard like that. Just like when he rubbed my knee, or when he's rubbed my clit. Thankfully, he told me to make notes, so I actually wrote a couple of things he said down, which typing them right now is going to make me want to put my hand in my panties right this second (I won't. Don't worry, Master).
“You're my whore.”
“I own your body.”
“Remember what it feels like to cum for me.”
I hope I don't ever forget.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
More from the Mr. G Admiration Society
First off, I have to confess. I'm a skeptic. I try very hard to not
be a negative person, but I kind of function under the theory of I'll
believe you, if you just prove it. I even used to doubt the realness
of squirting in porn, thinking it was some crazy filmmaker's special
effects or that the girl was just peeing, until I actually experienced
it myself. And I'd even been told by people with firsthand experience
of squirting (or secondhand, I guess if they're the ones getting
squirted on, technically). I just didn't think it was real until it
happened to me.
I am very in touch with my body. I've been in it for 38 (going to be
39 soon...wah!!!!) years and at least conscious of what's going on
with it for like 26 years. And yet, Mr. G has done things to and with
my body that have never been done before. He makes me cum in new and
interesting ways. Even just talking about this with him today, I got
all tongue-tied and blushed bright red. I get *so* embarrassed and
shy. I think it might be partially because it's a little
awe-inspiring, that these kinds of orgasms are even possible. Part of
getting all goosey and silly is that I feel a bit like a carnival
side-show freak. He even said how there's nothing to be embarrassed
of, it just shows how much control he has over me. I just have never
heard of real occurrences like this from real women (not men
pretending to be women and writing bad erotica). Although, granted, in
my circle of women, we're not often discussing orgasms or our Masters.
So the first mind-altering orgasm I had was very unexpected. The
history of this unusual occurrence actually goes back to before my
last visit. Before both of my trips Mr. G has given me the task of
riding a toy for X number of minutes, adding minutes every few days
until it was up to 10 minutes. I had to straddle it, squat on it, et
cetera, bouncing up and down porn star style with a stopwatch in my
hand. Oh, and I couldn't cum. Now, mind you, I don't usually cum
very easily on top. So I really took this task to heart as more of a
get my ass in shape type of task, rather than a he's trying to
torture me task, although I'm sure there's always a little of that.
Last visit I only barely got to show off my newly acquired cock-riding
skills (which are still really pathetic. it has a lot to do with the
fact that I have no rhythm, not much balance and when I get close to
cumming, I pretty much stop moving.)
Well, let me just say that when put to the test, I don't really think
I got a passing grade. I can complain and say the couch he was
sitting on was too low. I was nervous. He turns me on so much, I
sometimes forget what I'm doing. So, he'll have to speak for himself,
but I think, at best, rating my own self, the porn star bouncing on
the gorgeous stud's cock, I would say I was adequate at best. This
certainly inspired me to practice this task at different heights, with
my legs wider and closer apart for my next trip. I think I felt so
off my game because it wasn't one of the two positions I'd practiced
so very carefully.
So while I'm taking a catch-my-breath break, Mr. G starts fucking me
some, really grinding his cock deep inside me. God damn, it felt so
good. Then, without thrusting in and out of me, just buried deep
inside me, he started to....flex (is that the right word?) his cock
inside me. It was this subtle but deep feeling that was so amazing.
And I was already all worked up, having bounced up and down on his
dick and maybe having even cum once already. (usually after my first
orgasm, it just makes me want more, more, more) So here I was,
sitting completely still on him. I think he had his hands around me,
pulling me to him somewhere on my body; neck, hips, tits, hair, et
cetera, or some combination thereof. And with us almost completely
still, his cock just throbbing up and down inside me made me cum so
intensely, I think he even had to put his hand over my mouth to muffle
my noises of happiness.
I have run out of time to write today. I haven't gotten to the
pinnacle of my freakiness yet. I guess it will have to wait for
tomorrow or perhaps Monday....
be a negative person, but I kind of function under the theory of I'll
believe you, if you just prove it. I even used to doubt the realness
of squirting in porn, thinking it was some crazy filmmaker's special
effects or that the girl was just peeing, until I actually experienced
it myself. And I'd even been told by people with firsthand experience
of squirting (or secondhand, I guess if they're the ones getting
squirted on, technically). I just didn't think it was real until it
happened to me.
I am very in touch with my body. I've been in it for 38 (going to be
39 soon...wah!!!!) years and at least conscious of what's going on
with it for like 26 years. And yet, Mr. G has done things to and with
my body that have never been done before. He makes me cum in new and
interesting ways. Even just talking about this with him today, I got
all tongue-tied and blushed bright red. I get *so* embarrassed and
shy. I think it might be partially because it's a little
awe-inspiring, that these kinds of orgasms are even possible. Part of
getting all goosey and silly is that I feel a bit like a carnival
side-show freak. He even said how there's nothing to be embarrassed
of, it just shows how much control he has over me. I just have never
heard of real occurrences like this from real women (not men
pretending to be women and writing bad erotica). Although, granted, in
my circle of women, we're not often discussing orgasms or our Masters.
So the first mind-altering orgasm I had was very unexpected. The
history of this unusual occurrence actually goes back to before my
last visit. Before both of my trips Mr. G has given me the task of
riding a toy for X number of minutes, adding minutes every few days
until it was up to 10 minutes. I had to straddle it, squat on it, et
cetera, bouncing up and down porn star style with a stopwatch in my
hand. Oh, and I couldn't cum. Now, mind you, I don't usually cum
very easily on top. So I really took this task to heart as more of a
get my ass in shape type of task, rather than a he's trying to
torture me task, although I'm sure there's always a little of that.
Last visit I only barely got to show off my newly acquired cock-riding
skills (which are still really pathetic. it has a lot to do with the
fact that I have no rhythm, not much balance and when I get close to
cumming, I pretty much stop moving.)
Well, let me just say that when put to the test, I don't really think
I got a passing grade. I can complain and say the couch he was
sitting on was too low. I was nervous. He turns me on so much, I
sometimes forget what I'm doing. So, he'll have to speak for himself,
but I think, at best, rating my own self, the porn star bouncing on
the gorgeous stud's cock, I would say I was adequate at best. This
certainly inspired me to practice this task at different heights, with
my legs wider and closer apart for my next trip. I think I felt so
off my game because it wasn't one of the two positions I'd practiced
so very carefully.
So while I'm taking a catch-my-breath break, Mr. G starts fucking me
some, really grinding his cock deep inside me. God damn, it felt so
good. Then, without thrusting in and out of me, just buried deep
inside me, he started to....flex (is that the right word?) his cock
inside me. It was this subtle but deep feeling that was so amazing.
And I was already all worked up, having bounced up and down on his
dick and maybe having even cum once already. (usually after my first
orgasm, it just makes me want more, more, more) So here I was,
sitting completely still on him. I think he had his hands around me,
pulling me to him somewhere on my body; neck, hips, tits, hair, et
cetera, or some combination thereof. And with us almost completely
still, his cock just throbbing up and down inside me made me cum so
intensely, I think he even had to put his hand over my mouth to muffle
my noises of happiness.
I have run out of time to write today. I haven't gotten to the
pinnacle of my freakiness yet. I guess it will have to wait for
tomorrow or perhaps Monday....
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Sex, Lies & Video
Sex with my Master is unlike any other I've ever had. I'm very carefully learning how to talk about my past and not ...um...upset Mr. G (I get it, I'm his toy. He doesn't want to know that anyone else has ever played with his toy). But let me just say I'm not new to the having of sex. But when he and I have actual intercourse, it's so different for me. (Why do I hear Madonna singing in my head?)
It's just that he holds me down so completely while he's fucking me. And he fucks me to perfection. He possesses me by just physically dominating my body with his. I feel so absolutely covered by him and his body, so...owned. He takes complete control when he fucks me, using me for his pleasure, but also making me feel like I am so totally his slut. His, period. He says amazingly filthy things to me (sadly, I pretty much can never remember the amazing things he says while he's fucking me and I'm cumming and cumming and cumming. i always ask permission for each orgasm and he says i can cum and he definitely says "good girl" and such, but dammit, it's too vague to describe otherwise.) He fucks my body so properly, if I was a poet, I'd write sonnets about it.
And if there's a synapse even firing upstairs, my incoherent thought would be something like “ohmygodthatssofuckinggoodthankyousirwowohmygod” He sends me to this place where I can't speak, can barely move, and am almost like blissfully semi-conscious. Don't get me wrong, I know how my blog sounds. I was making fun of myself to Mr. G last night on the phone. I just go on and on about how amazing he is and how wonderful he is and so perfect and I'm so lucky. I hear how chirpy and annoying some of this sounds. And rereading things I write does sometimes make me sort of roll my eyes at myself or think I sound totally gaga for Mr. G, like a schoolgirl. But I swear I'm not sensationalizing. I don't stretch the truth or try to amp up my blog by filling my stories with exaggerations. I just write it how I remember it. And thankfully, Mr. G encouraged me to take notes so I don't forget all the things I want to write about.
The reference to lies in my title is one of my least favorite things about being my Master's girl. I hate lying to everyone I know. I'm getting better at it, but am still really awful. And I didn't even get my cover story together, explaining where I was last week, to have any details to give. So when my sister made conversation with me, asking where I stayed and whatnot, I sounded like a total moron. Hopefully, she was distracted enough to not hear the panic in my badly told lies.
And I also learned a valuable lesson that I really need to learn to keep my fucking mouth shut. Sitting in court Monday morning, the judge was an overly friendly sort. So I was making small talk with him (I loathe small talk) and I said I was on vacation last week. He asks, "where'd you go?" And then, here I am, in court, lying to a judge. I mean, obviously, I wasn't under oath, wasn't testifying, wasn't on the record. But seriously?! I have GOT to remember to button it up more!
The video. Oh, the video. No photographs were taken this trip (boo! I always want them after the fact, even if I am horrified when they are taken) But Mr. G took some video of me worshipping his cock. He thoughtfully let me be dressed and thankfully made the video early enough in the night that my makeup was decent and my hair was recently coifed. I'm just afraid it's too tame, too mild. The cocksucking I gave him later on that night was so intense, so loud, so slurpy, so much more of everything. Even Mr. G admitted to wanting to stop mid-flow to memorialize it. But I will wait to criticize my performance until after I've seen the video. So on the plus side, on the video, I know at least I'm not naked, makeup askew, or vomiting.
It's just that he holds me down so completely while he's fucking me. And he fucks me to perfection. He possesses me by just physically dominating my body with his. I feel so absolutely covered by him and his body, so...owned. He takes complete control when he fucks me, using me for his pleasure, but also making me feel like I am so totally his slut. His, period. He says amazingly filthy things to me (sadly, I pretty much can never remember the amazing things he says while he's fucking me and I'm cumming and cumming and cumming. i always ask permission for each orgasm and he says i can cum and he definitely says "good girl" and such, but dammit, it's too vague to describe otherwise.) He fucks my body so properly, if I was a poet, I'd write sonnets about it.
And if there's a synapse even firing upstairs, my incoherent thought would be something like “ohmygodthatssofuckinggoodthankyousirwowohmygod” He sends me to this place where I can't speak, can barely move, and am almost like blissfully semi-conscious. Don't get me wrong, I know how my blog sounds. I was making fun of myself to Mr. G last night on the phone. I just go on and on about how amazing he is and how wonderful he is and so perfect and I'm so lucky. I hear how chirpy and annoying some of this sounds. And rereading things I write does sometimes make me sort of roll my eyes at myself or think I sound totally gaga for Mr. G, like a schoolgirl. But I swear I'm not sensationalizing. I don't stretch the truth or try to amp up my blog by filling my stories with exaggerations. I just write it how I remember it. And thankfully, Mr. G encouraged me to take notes so I don't forget all the things I want to write about.
The reference to lies in my title is one of my least favorite things about being my Master's girl. I hate lying to everyone I know. I'm getting better at it, but am still really awful. And I didn't even get my cover story together, explaining where I was last week, to have any details to give. So when my sister made conversation with me, asking where I stayed and whatnot, I sounded like a total moron. Hopefully, she was distracted enough to not hear the panic in my badly told lies.
And I also learned a valuable lesson that I really need to learn to keep my fucking mouth shut. Sitting in court Monday morning, the judge was an overly friendly sort. So I was making small talk with him (I loathe small talk) and I said I was on vacation last week. He asks, "where'd you go?" And then, here I am, in court, lying to a judge. I mean, obviously, I wasn't under oath, wasn't testifying, wasn't on the record. But seriously?! I have GOT to remember to button it up more!
The video. Oh, the video. No photographs were taken this trip (boo! I always want them after the fact, even if I am horrified when they are taken) But Mr. G took some video of me worshipping his cock. He thoughtfully let me be dressed and thankfully made the video early enough in the night that my makeup was decent and my hair was recently coifed. I'm just afraid it's too tame, too mild. The cocksucking I gave him later on that night was so intense, so loud, so slurpy, so much more of everything. Even Mr. G admitted to wanting to stop mid-flow to memorialize it. But I will wait to criticize my performance until after I've seen the video. So on the plus side, on the video, I know at least I'm not naked, makeup askew, or vomiting.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Different Ways His Dick Goes into my Mouth
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Monday, March 21, 2011
The Girl with the Crappy Rose Tattoo
I've been reading the Stieg Larsson books and came across a couple of
passages that were so incredibly on point in my life, that it's almost
eerie. I love when a book or a song encapsulates my own thoughts or
feelings better than I can. This is from The Girl who Played with
Fire. It says:
“The only person who understood her passion for sex with B (her lover)
was her husband and he understood it because she dared to discuss her
needs with him. It was not a matter of infidelity, but of desire.”
“It was not that her sex life with her husband was boring or
unsatisfying. It was just that B gave her a completely different
experience.”
“She could not do without either of them, and she had no intention of
choosing between them. And this was what her husband understood, that
she had a need beyond what he could offer her.”
But now for the good stuff. First off, I have to say, I was pretty
impressed with myself. It's real easy to say, "oh, it's all about you
cumming, sir." (1st and foremost, but thank the little baby jesus, my
Master always takes care of me when I'm visiting). And then, in
person beg and whine and pout after he's used my mouth and not so much
as given my body an iota of pleasure (unless you count the actual
using of my mouth by him. Which is so unbelievably pleasurable for
me, I do count it.)
At least on three occasions, I had to go to the bathroom to change my
panties after he'd fucked and used my mouth. I was so wet and I really
didn't want to get a rash or something from sitting around in wet
bottoms. And minus moans and over-the-top reactions (think
13-year-old male). Mr. G's teasing of me afterward while we were
watching a movie or doing something vanilla, when he'd elicit a moan
or gyration or some other incredibly lady-like reaction, he'd ask me
"you all right?" and I'd try my damnedest to just smile and not say
anything begrudging him the fact that he likes to drive me right to
the brink of insanity (that need to cum, so beyond words, writhing
like a possessed woman; the feeling of being completely out of control
and at his whim and mercy).
I'm happy to say that I'm such a lucky slave, in that my Master truly
always takes care of my body, my seemingly bottomless pit of need, and
aching for fulfillment with serious fireworks-finale type orgasms.
More in-depth blogging is forthcoming, regarding both my cumming and
my Master's amazing talent at skull-fucking me while slapping me on
the face and tits. Feeling pain for him while simultaneously giving
him pleasure definitely makes it into the top five of my favorite
things this trip.
passages that were so incredibly on point in my life, that it's almost
eerie. I love when a book or a song encapsulates my own thoughts or
feelings better than I can. This is from The Girl who Played with
Fire. It says:
“The only person who understood her passion for sex with B (her lover)
was her husband and he understood it because she dared to discuss her
needs with him. It was not a matter of infidelity, but of desire.”
“It was not that her sex life with her husband was boring or
unsatisfying. It was just that B gave her a completely different
experience.”
“She could not do without either of them, and she had no intention of
choosing between them. And this was what her husband understood, that
she had a need beyond what he could offer her.”
But now for the good stuff. First off, I have to say, I was pretty
impressed with myself. It's real easy to say, "oh, it's all about you
cumming, sir." (1st and foremost, but thank the little baby jesus, my
Master always takes care of me when I'm visiting). And then, in
person beg and whine and pout after he's used my mouth and not so much
as given my body an iota of pleasure (unless you count the actual
using of my mouth by him. Which is so unbelievably pleasurable for
me, I do count it.)
At least on three occasions, I had to go to the bathroom to change my
panties after he'd fucked and used my mouth. I was so wet and I really
didn't want to get a rash or something from sitting around in wet
bottoms. And minus moans and over-the-top reactions (think
13-year-old male). Mr. G's teasing of me afterward while we were
watching a movie or doing something vanilla, when he'd elicit a moan
or gyration or some other incredibly lady-like reaction, he'd ask me
"you all right?" and I'd try my damnedest to just smile and not say
anything begrudging him the fact that he likes to drive me right to
the brink of insanity (that need to cum, so beyond words, writhing
like a possessed woman; the feeling of being completely out of control
and at his whim and mercy).
I'm happy to say that I'm such a lucky slave, in that my Master truly
always takes care of my body, my seemingly bottomless pit of need, and
aching for fulfillment with serious fireworks-finale type orgasms.
More in-depth blogging is forthcoming, regarding both my cumming and
my Master's amazing talent at skull-fucking me while slapping me on
the face and tits. Feeling pain for him while simultaneously giving
him pleasure definitely makes it into the top five of my favorite
things this trip.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
I am home from my second trip to see my Master. Yet again, another whirlwind and dream-like experience. And this time, I even navigated from the airport, onto a train, and into a cab to get to my hotel (and the reverse to get back to the airport.) Having had a car at my disposal since I was 16, public transportation has never been something I've had to learn. And doing all this in a foreign country (yes, they speak English, but still!) was very daunting and definitely gave me some worry. And I am happy to report that all of that was completely hassle-free. Although, I will say the fucking cab driver that took me from the train station to the hotel charged me more than the kind cab driver who took me back to the station four days later. I'm sure, with my American accent and deer in the headlights look after being up for over 24 hours, I was an easy mark.
And this trip, at Mr. G's suggestion, I made a few notes for myself so that when I sat down to blog after the trip, I'd have a few things to trigger my memory. And what amazing memories I have. I know that it's not real life. He and I even discussed it. When we're together, there's no work, no kids, no bills or household chores. It's just us. And it's so amazing. I feel so incredibly lucky to have the home life I have and also get to go live out this dream/fantasy with Mr. G. If it wasn't totally creepy, I'd send his wife a thank you card. My T knows how thankful I am and this trip worked out well for him, as well. He was able to have his Mistress come and spend some time here with him. So it was a win/win for both of us. And yet again, alleviated any guilt I might have about leaving him to fend for himself, while I go and have a stupid amount of fun. Instead, we both got to have our cakes and eat them too, so to speak.
But my poor Master. He has been recovering from one of those awful lingering illnesses that just saps your energy, clogs up your nose and makes you feel mostly bleh. He was probably only at best at 80% my entire trip (and one night, probably closer to 65%). But he's such a trooper. He still made so much time for me, bruised me, fucked me, used me so perfectly. But how frustrating is that? We get to spend four days together for the first time in four months and he's sickie?! Ah, such is life. We still, you can be certain, made the most of it. And even when I could see from his eyes that he wasn't quite feeling up to snuff, he never once complained or went home early to sleep or made me feel like I was probably not helping his healing process by sapping all his energy or cutting into his precious sleep time.
And talk about sleep time! When he wasn't with me, I took the opportunity to sleep and sleep and sleep. I'd wake up, go pee, get a drink and just lay back down for another hour (or three) of lazy, decadent sleep. And one morning, realizing that at some point, I was going to have to be up early enough for housekeeping to come tidy up, I got up, went and got a bite to eat, walked around town for a while, came back to the room, took my clothes off and went back to sleep! I think with all the extra sleep I had last week, I might have taken like five years of wrinkles off my face. (maybe it's just me, but the less sleep I get, the more I look in the mirror and visibly see myself aging)
And I have to say, I'm not just saying this to keep any of my readers hanging in suspense (maybe a little) but I have a couple of stories to tell that are seriously intense!!! I can think of three things (two unbelievably amazing and one...ugh...gross!) that happened that have never happened before!! And one of these amazing story-worthy happenings actually occurred TWICE. So with that, I will just say, check back in the days to come. I promise to write in fantastically filthy detail those three experiences as well as other fun, silly and sexy tidbits from my visit.
And this trip, at Mr. G's suggestion, I made a few notes for myself so that when I sat down to blog after the trip, I'd have a few things to trigger my memory. And what amazing memories I have. I know that it's not real life. He and I even discussed it. When we're together, there's no work, no kids, no bills or household chores. It's just us. And it's so amazing. I feel so incredibly lucky to have the home life I have and also get to go live out this dream/fantasy with Mr. G. If it wasn't totally creepy, I'd send his wife a thank you card. My T knows how thankful I am and this trip worked out well for him, as well. He was able to have his Mistress come and spend some time here with him. So it was a win/win for both of us. And yet again, alleviated any guilt I might have about leaving him to fend for himself, while I go and have a stupid amount of fun. Instead, we both got to have our cakes and eat them too, so to speak.
But my poor Master. He has been recovering from one of those awful lingering illnesses that just saps your energy, clogs up your nose and makes you feel mostly bleh. He was probably only at best at 80% my entire trip (and one night, probably closer to 65%). But he's such a trooper. He still made so much time for me, bruised me, fucked me, used me so perfectly. But how frustrating is that? We get to spend four days together for the first time in four months and he's sickie?! Ah, such is life. We still, you can be certain, made the most of it. And even when I could see from his eyes that he wasn't quite feeling up to snuff, he never once complained or went home early to sleep or made me feel like I was probably not helping his healing process by sapping all his energy or cutting into his precious sleep time.
And talk about sleep time! When he wasn't with me, I took the opportunity to sleep and sleep and sleep. I'd wake up, go pee, get a drink and just lay back down for another hour (or three) of lazy, decadent sleep. And one morning, realizing that at some point, I was going to have to be up early enough for housekeeping to come tidy up, I got up, went and got a bite to eat, walked around town for a while, came back to the room, took my clothes off and went back to sleep! I think with all the extra sleep I had last week, I might have taken like five years of wrinkles off my face. (maybe it's just me, but the less sleep I get, the more I look in the mirror and visibly see myself aging)
And I have to say, I'm not just saying this to keep any of my readers hanging in suspense (maybe a little) but I have a couple of stories to tell that are seriously intense!!! I can think of three things (two unbelievably amazing and one...ugh...gross!) that happened that have never happened before!! And one of these amazing story-worthy happenings actually occurred TWICE. So with that, I will just say, check back in the days to come. I promise to write in fantastically filthy detail those three experiences as well as other fun, silly and sexy tidbits from my visit.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Calmness in Chaos
I am just fine. Calm even. I am a monk sitting peacefully on a
mountain, looking out at the world completely at ease. Or I'm running
around like a chicken with my head cut off, laughing maniacally and
completely out of my mind. Really, I'm somewhere in between,
vacillating between the two. Luckily, I'm closer to the monk than the
headless chicken.
And I got some very fantastic news last night. My in-laws want to
have the offspring next week! This is *such* a huge relief for me.
It's not that I don't think t can handle it all, it's just that this
was the source of a great deal of guilt for me. I don't feel guilty
as a wife, going to spend four days with another man. I won't let
myself feel badly about this, because this is the arrangement we have
made as husband and wife and this arrangement is acceptable to t. The
guilt I felt was leaving him to single parent while I went off and had
a great and relaxing time. I felt guilt to little one, too (I always
feel guilt as a working mother) because she deserves better than an
overworked, stressed out single dad. So instead, now she gets to go
play with her cousins and get spoiled by her grandparents. And t and
I both get a break from parenting for a few days (which I personally
think always recharges my mommy batteries). What a win/win situation.
Now, I have to go pretend to be a professional for about eight hours.
There are certainly some days that I'm glad my job can be so
all-consuming. It certainly makes the hours fly for me. The less
time I have in my own head, lost in thought the better right now.
mountain, looking out at the world completely at ease. Or I'm running
around like a chicken with my head cut off, laughing maniacally and
completely out of my mind. Really, I'm somewhere in between,
vacillating between the two. Luckily, I'm closer to the monk than the
headless chicken.
And I got some very fantastic news last night. My in-laws want to
have the offspring next week! This is *such* a huge relief for me.
It's not that I don't think t can handle it all, it's just that this
was the source of a great deal of guilt for me. I don't feel guilty
as a wife, going to spend four days with another man. I won't let
myself feel badly about this, because this is the arrangement we have
made as husband and wife and this arrangement is acceptable to t. The
guilt I felt was leaving him to single parent while I went off and had
a great and relaxing time. I felt guilt to little one, too (I always
feel guilt as a working mother) because she deserves better than an
overworked, stressed out single dad. So instead, now she gets to go
play with her cousins and get spoiled by her grandparents. And t and
I both get a break from parenting for a few days (which I personally
think always recharges my mommy batteries). What a win/win situation.
Now, I have to go pretend to be a professional for about eight hours.
There are certainly some days that I'm glad my job can be so
all-consuming. It certainly makes the hours fly for me. The less
time I have in my own head, lost in thought the better right now.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
I am Mrs. Smith
I had a successful weekend with my sister. I felt like I was very
cool. I just kept picturing Angelina Jolie from Mr. and Mrs. Smith
and thinking I am Mrs. Smith. I can do this. I am cool, calm, and
collected. And I didn't even raise her suspicions (as far as I can
tell. I'll have to peek at her blog in the next few days to see if
she says anything about me or her visit.)
There was only one time I was a bit cheeky (as Mr. G would say). And
even then, I'm sure she thought I was just joking. She was saying how
her husband would understand if she slept with Kid Rock, he was her
one-time freebie. And I said, "oh, I've already used mine." and she
was like "what???!!" and I said "just kidding" and we all had a
chuckle. And t just gave me a look like....you're so funny
(sarcastically)
Now I have one week before my trip. Wow. One week. It's already
starting to feel surreal. I have the joyous benefit of my in-laws
being here next weekend, too. So I get to be Mrs. Smith all over
again. So instead of obsessing about packing and thinking and
overthinking about every aspect of my travel, I get to make up a lie
of where I'll be (trip for work) and try not to bring my passport or
British pounds out in front of company. I do adore my in-laws and
hopefully their visit will actually be the perfect distraction for me.
So this month is Q&A month on all the blogs I read. And I have never
commented back on any of my commenters. Which (I believe) has led me
to not have any more comments. The reason I've never responded to any
of my comments is that I am not allowed to communicate with other
Dominants. So instead of only commenting back on submissive's (or
nondominant's) comments, I just never responded to anyone. But I love
more than anything to answer questions. So....if there's any reader
questions, I would be thrilled to answer them. I am actually a total dork
and obsessed with my readership, even though I have never spoken of it
before. I write because I love to write. But really, being read by anyone
(even just Mr. G and Ms. T) is a thrill to me. My dorkiness goes so far
as having a spreadsheet with all the countries that have visited my blog.
Yes, I am that big of a nerd. So, please, ask away.
cool. I just kept picturing Angelina Jolie from Mr. and Mrs. Smith
and thinking I am Mrs. Smith. I can do this. I am cool, calm, and
collected. And I didn't even raise her suspicions (as far as I can
tell. I'll have to peek at her blog in the next few days to see if
she says anything about me or her visit.)
There was only one time I was a bit cheeky (as Mr. G would say). And
even then, I'm sure she thought I was just joking. She was saying how
her husband would understand if she slept with Kid Rock, he was her
one-time freebie. And I said, "oh, I've already used mine." and she
was like "what???!!" and I said "just kidding" and we all had a
chuckle. And t just gave me a look like....you're so funny
(sarcastically)
Now I have one week before my trip. Wow. One week. It's already
starting to feel surreal. I have the joyous benefit of my in-laws
being here next weekend, too. So I get to be Mrs. Smith all over
again. So instead of obsessing about packing and thinking and
overthinking about every aspect of my travel, I get to make up a lie
of where I'll be (trip for work) and try not to bring my passport or
British pounds out in front of company. I do adore my in-laws and
hopefully their visit will actually be the perfect distraction for me.
So this month is Q&A month on all the blogs I read. And I have never
commented back on any of my commenters. Which (I believe) has led me
to not have any more comments. The reason I've never responded to any
of my comments is that I am not allowed to communicate with other
Dominants. So instead of only commenting back on submissive's (or
nondominant's) comments, I just never responded to anyone. But I love
more than anything to answer questions. So....if there's any reader
questions, I would be thrilled to answer them. I am actually a total dork
and obsessed with my readership, even though I have never spoken of it
before. I write because I love to write. But really, being read by anyone
(even just Mr. G and Ms. T) is a thrill to me. My dorkiness goes so far
as having a spreadsheet with all the countries that have visited my blog.
Yes, I am that big of a nerd. So, please, ask away.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Livin' on the Edge
Let me preface this blog with this. I have in the last few days had
two different people tell me how happy I look. And one of them was a
nurse at my doctor's office, so one might even classify that as my
condition. Happy. And really and truly, I am.
But....and here's the fun part. I'm a damn nutjob. I have been
having to work SO hard the last few days to not get completely lost in
my head with things that are never going to happen (and getting myself
stressed out about it). Luckily, my Master is very used to my
flipping from completely low key (he might argue against that ever
being my state) happy, and content girl to someone who has her head
between her knees, breathing into a paper bag.
And here's why. My trip is coming up so fast. And I *know* my last
trip was so fantastic. But I just neurotically worry about silly
things. And since my last visit was so surreal and I didn't write
enough about it, it's like a fond memory from a book I read or a dream
I had. This makes me thankful that I do have so much contact with
Mr. G. Whenever I speak with him, I remember that it's Him. I worship
Him. He's so funny and charming and sexy. Plus he's like the
neurotic slave whisperer. He always seems to know exactly what I
need, whether it's a hysterical one-liner, a virtual hug in SL (you
might say cheesy, I hear you. but if you know the day I'd had and
then the surprise offer of getting to go chat and hang with my Master
and he greets me with this huge bear hug, it actually brought tears to
my eyes, it was so what I needed at that moment)
So it's not my trip that has me so on edge, And let me tell you, I'm
jumpier than a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. My sister is
coming to visit today. And don't get me wrong, I love my sister and
we are (were?) extremely close. Keeping such a huge secret from her
as Mr. G has made me feel so many emotions. And yet, I keep it from
her for her own good. I don't want to ruin the closeness that we
still have. And I certainly don't want to ruin her good natured and
comfortable relationship she has with t. So not letting myself be
all giddy and silly and relaxed is going to have to be my modus
operandi. I'm just such an open book. When I get off the phone with
Mr. G, I look like a 15-year-old, starry eyed and goofy most of the
time. And I'm not meaning to say that this gaga-ness is strictly from
dirty talk. No, siree. Master is just generous enough (*cough*) with
talking filth to me and doling out orgasms. Most of the time, it's
because I've just laughed my ass off and I have that giggly, flushed
face feeling. I'm going to either not talk to him at all over the
next few days (god, no, please?!) or try to learn composure. I'm an
adult. I can do this! Right?
And my sister is a detective. She's known me the closest and the
longest of any other human being on this planet. She also happens to
love me and want me happy and all that. So I'm sure seeing me happy
is going to make her happy. And also make her more into detective
mode of what's up. Why is my sister so happy? Maybe I'm reading too
much into it. T says I'm basically normal around his family, so maybe
I'm putting too much pressure on myself for her visit.
Really, she's just coming here to go to the Kid Rock concert with me
and to see her niece. Plus, my sister loves talking on the phone and
won't be following me around like a hawk. I'm sure everything will be
fantastic and I'm just crazy girl who's had a little too much coffee
today.
I also have to give credit where credit is due. My t is such a great partner.
He's my sub buddy and we are so very alike. He is very very good at talking me back from the edge all the time. I will say we are very good support for one another. And he will also cover for me so I can have some phone time, I'm sure. I'm so lucky.
And anyway, only 10 days and I'm on a plane to see Mr. G. Thinking
about kneeling and looking up at him adoringly is my zen, happy place.
I picture that and just breathe...
two different people tell me how happy I look. And one of them was a
nurse at my doctor's office, so one might even classify that as my
condition. Happy. And really and truly, I am.
But....and here's the fun part. I'm a damn nutjob. I have been
having to work SO hard the last few days to not get completely lost in
my head with things that are never going to happen (and getting myself
stressed out about it). Luckily, my Master is very used to my
flipping from completely low key (he might argue against that ever
being my state) happy, and content girl to someone who has her head
between her knees, breathing into a paper bag.
And here's why. My trip is coming up so fast. And I *know* my last
trip was so fantastic. But I just neurotically worry about silly
things. And since my last visit was so surreal and I didn't write
enough about it, it's like a fond memory from a book I read or a dream
I had. This makes me thankful that I do have so much contact with
Mr. G. Whenever I speak with him, I remember that it's Him. I worship
Him. He's so funny and charming and sexy. Plus he's like the
neurotic slave whisperer. He always seems to know exactly what I
need, whether it's a hysterical one-liner, a virtual hug in SL (you
might say cheesy, I hear you. but if you know the day I'd had and
then the surprise offer of getting to go chat and hang with my Master
and he greets me with this huge bear hug, it actually brought tears to
my eyes, it was so what I needed at that moment)
So it's not my trip that has me so on edge, And let me tell you, I'm
jumpier than a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. My sister is
coming to visit today. And don't get me wrong, I love my sister and
we are (were?) extremely close. Keeping such a huge secret from her
as Mr. G has made me feel so many emotions. And yet, I keep it from
her for her own good. I don't want to ruin the closeness that we
still have. And I certainly don't want to ruin her good natured and
comfortable relationship she has with t. So not letting myself be
all giddy and silly and relaxed is going to have to be my modus
operandi. I'm just such an open book. When I get off the phone with
Mr. G, I look like a 15-year-old, starry eyed and goofy most of the
time. And I'm not meaning to say that this gaga-ness is strictly from
dirty talk. No, siree. Master is just generous enough (*cough*) with
talking filth to me and doling out orgasms. Most of the time, it's
because I've just laughed my ass off and I have that giggly, flushed
face feeling. I'm going to either not talk to him at all over the
next few days (god, no, please?!) or try to learn composure. I'm an
adult. I can do this! Right?
And my sister is a detective. She's known me the closest and the
longest of any other human being on this planet. She also happens to
love me and want me happy and all that. So I'm sure seeing me happy
is going to make her happy. And also make her more into detective
mode of what's up. Why is my sister so happy? Maybe I'm reading too
much into it. T says I'm basically normal around his family, so maybe
I'm putting too much pressure on myself for her visit.
Really, she's just coming here to go to the Kid Rock concert with me
and to see her niece. Plus, my sister loves talking on the phone and
won't be following me around like a hawk. I'm sure everything will be
fantastic and I'm just crazy girl who's had a little too much coffee
today.
I also have to give credit where credit is due. My t is such a great partner.
He's my sub buddy and we are so very alike. He is very very good at talking me back from the edge all the time. I will say we are very good support for one another. And he will also cover for me so I can have some phone time, I'm sure. I'm so lucky.
And anyway, only 10 days and I'm on a plane to see Mr. G. Thinking
about kneeling and looking up at him adoringly is my zen, happy place.
I picture that and just breathe...
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