She placed a palm on his chest, the warmth of her hand a reassurance through his t-shirt… she felt bulky muscle, strong, shapely.
She was surprised, gently shocked, she looked at him. He looked thinner, softer than the body she felt hidden from her under his clothes.
She ran her hand over his pecs, reassurance turned to curiosity to feel what lay beneath the fabric.
Fingertips travelled over surprisingly firm muscle, well defined pecs, she ran her fingers along the curved ridge below his pecs, then cruised back up, feeling the bump of his nipples as she slid nails gently … Continue Reading
Another photo of my most awesome ropework on the pretty boy…
The thing I am beginning to like about rope is that it can make a pretty boy even prettier. It whispers of acquiescence and helplessness in a way that hastily clipped together cuffs does not. It is concentration and patience and acceptance.
And plus… a boy’s tiny arse in boxer briefs accentuated by design… ?! Well, the appeal of that is just obvious…
I have a dilemma about casual play and it’s the reason I stopped doing it, haven’t done it for so very long, and don’t do it as a rule.
In play, I need and *want* to create the bubble, you know, ‘the bubble’. That intimate, hot and lovely space that exists between me and him, that place that I describe, well, all the time. For me, play is about creating impossible intimacy, about opening him up and shoving my fingers into the wet stickiness inside. It is about those moments when there is nothing else, when all that noise is … Continue Reading
He wears black boxer briefs, also a rope corselet in white, a rope pentagram harness in white and red, a collar, wrist and ankle cuffs, a ball gag, a blindfold, he is kneeling.
I clip his wrist cuffs to the rope at his belly, I examine the ties, the loops, the smoothness of the rope around him, reach between his legs to pull the ends forward, through his legs and up to attach it to the d-rings on his collar, I pull it tight, I am touching him, exposed skin, my knee pressed against his groin.
I stroke the rope … Continue Reading
I shall call him richie.
We have caught up three, maybe four times in the last few months. We eat, we drink, we talk. We have spent quite a few hours together, we get along well, but we are not a romantic relationship match.
He is a pretty boy, who thinks he is not. He doesn’t look in the mirror and see who he is, but who he is not.
He has no experience, is scared, his trust in me is a gift, it feels tentative. As much as this play is about me exploring some rope play, it … Continue Reading
The proposition leads to a yes leads to a discussion leads to a negotiation.I send him a play list. It lists all the activities that I may want to do with him.
It is not a ‘will do’ list. It is a ‘might, possibly, maybe, if it feels right, these are in the realms of possibility’ list.
He gets to rate them from 0 to 5, he gets to add to them, he gets to say ‘No’.
0 means you have utterly no desire to do that activity and don’t like doing it (in fact, may loath it) and would
… Continue Reading