I said in my last post about the cougarling’s visit that he never replied to the ‘thank you’ email I sent him a few days after we parted.
I was concerned that I’d left him with hurt or anger or bad feelings, and thought that his lack of reply may have been a reflection of that.
But he did reply, finally, and long after I had reconciled myself to not hearing from him again.
I was surprised, not least because it was super sweet, lovely.
At my best, I hope that men I have had in my life in some … Continue Reading
I want to talk about wider lessons I learnt about trying something casual, but I’ll do that in another post.
One of the things, though, is this: If we aren’t compatible, I really need to not talk to him.
Because it breaks the tenuous hold on ‘whatever this is’ that we have established.
I knew it with holy-fuck-beautiful-eyes, and told him explicitly: ‘no talking’. It worked. But those were short visits of a few hours, not ‘an entire long weekend 24/7’.
Let me say this up-front: The cougarling is a lovely man, we were sweet and kind with … Continue Reading
…continued from Cougarling, with rope of course
He worked himself loose, of course. When he wriggled his hands free from the rope, he looked at me in triumph.
“If I’d known you were going to fight your way out, I’d have tried harder…” I protested weakly.
He smirked, nodded indulgently at me.
Pushing him down onto his back, I took the length of rope, and wrapped it more firmly around his wrists this time, something that approximated a double column tie, but probably wasn’t. I tied the end to the bedpost so his arms were stretched overhead, his body angled … Continue Reading
Some light rope play in the morning. A pentagram chest harness. Easy enough, but not for her: Unskilled and clumsy, painstakingly following directions shown on a youtube video, backtracking, trying again.
He was patient, always. Happy enough to feel the rope on his skin, gentle kissing, her chin already scraped raw from the night before when he had arrived after a full day’s work, a flight, a drive, carrying his five o’clock shadow into his long weekend. The rope play had a friendly camaraderie rather than some hot intimacy that spoke of more.
They’d agreed a bike ride along the … Continue Reading
Hidden under my bed is a beat up old suitcase. It’s a large bright orange lockable Samsonite that I’ve had for countless years of various kinds of travel.
It’s always locked. It’s heavy. It’s full.
When you open it, it looks disorganised, but it’s not.
Dildos of silicone, glass and steel, vibrators, butt plugs, lube, strap-on harnesses, various kinds of rope, cuffs, leashes, clips, blindfolds, an electronic zapper, paddles, a carpet beater, a breadboard, a slapper, a gorgeous leather garter set and…and… I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT ELSE.
I don’t know how that happened.
An entire suitcase full of femdom … Continue Reading
The vanilla man bailed.
I’m not really surprised, but I AM disappointed.
He has legitimate reasons that I don’t doubt are true (he expanded a bit on serious family issues that he mentioned earlier), but really: If you’re in the middle of some emotional upheaval, maybe, you know, don’t say ‘yes’ in the first place. I’d guess that he didn’t quite realise the mess he was in until he tried to add something else on top, and then he realised later that he didn’t have emotional/mental energy for it/me.
In taking stock, I’m not invested so it’s no big deal … Continue Reading
The vanilla man is not proactively showing interest. I vaguely wonder if that’s a vanilla/submissive divide. But honestly, it doesn’t matter much.
I felt it on the weekend after we didn’t have the date. His communication about possibly not being able to make it was good, so that was fine. But when the get-together was clearly not going to happen (and didn’t happen), we both dropped communication.
While that would have been fine if we had an alternative time lined up, we didn’t have anything else lined up. I hate texting, so don’t do any ‘just because’ chatty exchanges with … Continue Reading