“We should write each other our hottest fantasy,” I said, triumphant at my brilliant idea.
I was in my mid-20s, in a wonderful relationship with a vanilla man who I loved madly. In hindsight, I have identified him as a vanilla submissive: the first man I found who could give me what I wanted in a relationship, the first man I ever fell in love with, the man to … Continue Reading “Sharing fantasies”
I’ve mentioned before that I sent holy-fuck-beautiful-eyes a random message out of the blue, not because he was a potential partner, just because he was beautiful and his OKCupid profile was smart and interesting. My profile there is all about the D/s: I don’t ‘hide’ it in secret code somehow, so he saw all that up-front. We agreed very early on that we weren’t a match, but still, the light conversation and flirting continued.
The slightly awkward hello of strangers. A few words to reiterate the rules. A blindfold slipped over his head. I held his hand in my lap while I took off my shoes. I kissed his fingers, his palms, gently stroking his bare skin, easing into this intimate contact.
He offered to be bound, told me there was ‘stuff’ in the drawer. There was: collar, cuffs, and a clip. No rope. I bound one of his wrists to the bed frame using both cuffs. He started giving me instructions on where to find rope. I stopped him. “I’m sure if … Continue Reading “Kissing date: strobe light impressions”
My last vanilla ex was my longest term relationship. I talk about him quite a bit on twitter.
He is a wonderful man: attractive, smart, attentive, sweet. He is my closest friend.
Relationship-wise, he puts most self identified submissive men to shame with his behaviour. We had known each other via a common circle of friends for some time before we dated. On our second date, he brought me a gift of towels because I had been to his place and had commented on his amazingly soft and gorgeous bath towels. I never thought a thing of the comment I … Continue Reading “Me and my vanilla ex”
Oddly, I haven’t felt like writing about it. I feel a little like I’m hugging it to myself, quietly turning it over and petting it.
Let me say this, though: Three hours of kissing with a completely lovely vanilla man who called me ‘Ma’am’, who invited me to tie him up, who let me hurt him and asked for more, who was responsive and crazy-hot under the onslaught, who was beautiful prey for me.
I didn’t want to talk about this until it was a SURE THING. Because, well, you know.
But since I’m posting this as I walk out the door to meet him, unless he’s a no show (he won’t be), fuck yeah, kissing date!
Holy-fuck-beautiful-eyes kept in casual touch after cancelling our kissing date (as he said pointedly to me, he DID offer dinner and a chat instead to which I replied that that’s like offering a nice salad with low fat dressing to someone who was expecting a roomful of chocolate).