Last night, I was leashed.
(Yes, this post has heaping spoonfuls of explicit sex. If you’re against that sort of thing, come back the day after tomorrow, when I turn all of this sticky, nasty sex into navel-gazing goodness. Everybody else, more after the link…) Read the rest of this entry »
I woke about an hour ago. In the midst of moving, my wife and I handed the little girl off to her grandparents, separated ourselves from friends and well-wishers and various hangers-on, and got a night to ourselves.
Fast-forward to an hour ago, and after our night of debauchery, the room reeks of sex, that wondrous-it-shouldn’t-smell-this-good musk of fresh, well-lubed fucking. My cock aches from where there’s a little raw spot below the head from too much grinding. My wife is walking funny and says she’s got a pleasant bruised feeling in her sex. My ass hurts from pegging and a near-fisting. My throat hurts from forced oral and some choking.
This is why I haven’t responded to emails and comments, and I’m sorry — kind of — especially for not responding to Goose’s very good comment I want to talk about, and there’s a dozen blogs out there talking about things I want to comment on myself, but I’ve just been so busy being an object of abuse and sexual servitude I haven’t had the time.
I will say this — after the night of wickedness and cruelty I just experienced, I desperately wish there was some kind of femdom version of Gor. Like, “The Gate to Women’s Country,” but with less peaceful, maternal ninjas fighting post-apocalyptic Amish people and sending the legions to their doom, and more women tapping their man’s flanks and telling him what he needs to improve right before his mouth is used as a hole for the business end of the feeldoe.
