Delightfully unique- whatever or whomever I'm writing in consent, romance, and lust.
While the inspiration picture is entirely lovely and I enjoyed seeing Cara's thighs close up, the whole picture itself led my mind to my own body hair and something within my virtual family.
Tommy put the plug in the bathtub beside the armchair. Smiling, he turned his chosen bath oil bottle over the fast collecting water.
Miwa sat in front of the armchair. “My Lord, sitting in the armchair to play the shamisen feels too weird.”
“Okay, sorry for my Western mind. Create your art as feels right,” Tommy said before leaning over to kiss Miwa's forehead. He scratched his nose and moved in front of a vanity. “Scruff.” As the water continued to run, he covered his cheeks and chin in a thin layer of shaving cream before passing the razor over his stubbly facial hair. He grimaced at his hair falling into the foam and placed his razor on the counter before pulling up his shiny black strands into a hair clip.
“You'll need to go under the water, my Lord,” Miwa teased as she carefully plucked individual strings.
“Are you trying to get a trip to the pool before I'm supposed to present us to The Queen?” He grinned at her in the reflection of the mirror.
“Not at all, my Lord.” Miwa laughed her tinkling pleasure. “He may very well want to swim later, my Lord.”
Tommy stepped to his tub and turned off the water before returning to the vanity to clean up the mess he'd left behind. He sighed as Miwa produced the first, long notes of a song she'd played many times for him. Mess cleaned up, he eased himself into the hot water and leaned back onto the bathtub pillow. He closed his eyes.
Miwa's voice joined the shamisen's music.
I need to start up learning Japanese again. Tommy breathed in and tried to separate the fragrance notes in the oil preparation he had used. First he smelled the pine that would help him to smell similar to The Queen. Then the Ylang Ylang to help their energies balance. Then finally, the Bergamot for its sunny radiance. Without opening his eyes, he murmured, “Love, when you finish this song, please bring me the razor I forgot on the vanity.”
Miwa seamlessly moved from a Japanese word to saying, “Yes, my Lord,” before returning to her song.
What will I shave today? I'm glad in this household that I've come to learn body hair not to be assigned by gender identity or presentation. Tommy lifted his hands out of the water to flex and wiggle his fingers. He rested his hands on his chest to explore areas that he might shave, or have Miwa shave. The hair on his forearms had grown back feeling thick. His smile returned when he thought of The Queen's heightened passion the time he had shaved his pubic hair. “Smooth, not soft,” he murmured.
Miwa changed from one note to another as if in agreement with his non-contextual statement. Her song ended, she kissed his forehead before moving to complete his order.
“Miwa, love, I want you to shave my chest and back for me.” Tommy opened his eyes to enjoy her response.
“It shall be my pleasure, my Lord,” Miwa said, his pink razor in her hand. “Would you like me to do that first, my Lord?”
“Please.” Tommy moved to his knees so his torso was above the water. He lowered his chin to his throat and waited. He breathed in at her small, soft hand moving over his back to coat his skin with the Shea butter shaving lotion he'd created for the body.
“I'm so grateful you enjoy me giving you this care, my Lord.” Miwa's touch changed just before the protection strip of his razor touched his skin.
He released a held breath. “I enjoy it, even if I can't enjoy your shamisen playing at the same time.”
“I could sing, if that would please you, my Lord.”
“Maybe sometimes, but today I'd just enjoy talking.” His eyelids fluttered as her other hand touched the small of his back. “What areas of my body do you think I should shave for our Queen?”
“I believe your expression at one point implied you were thinking to shave everything below your neck and I would agree, my Lord,” she said, her voice stronger in speech than it had been while she was singing.
He laughed. “It seemed at first that you were trying to get out of giving a real answer.”
She joined him in laughter. “No, my Lord, just taking my time. After all, you didn't ask a yes, no question, my Lord.” Her fingers move gently between his asscheeks.
“Ahhh,” his moaning sigh formed phonemic sounds that time. I hope I just come into the bathtub so it's easier to shave my pubic hair. “That's perfect, my dear. Thanks for continuing down.” He wrapped his hand around his shaft.
“I'll be done there in just a moment, my Lord.”
Just after the razor moved over the hair around his asshole, he cried out as he ejaculated hard. He grabbed the side of the tub and looked over his shoulder at her. “Hopefully The Queen doesn't want me to come too soon.”
She brushed a hand over his smooth cheek. “Especially since there's so much more of you to shave still, my Lord.”
And yes, as I was writing this, I thought of Posy Churchgate's comment of my writing being like an impressionist picture since I don't think this is a straightforward “sex scene.”
I went to the Masturbation Monday website Friday morning, feeling like I can't possibly manage 50000 words this month [November]. Well actually, I went last night and saw May More's lovely photo with her stocking runs that had me thinking variably of gender and gender presentation. So this morning, Molly Moore and the mistletoe. My mind tried to go to My Little Pony and I said no! I'm not having a good morning, as far as managing my Autism and C-PTSD. But I have 1606 words to write for Nano before midnight in my time zone and I'm going to enjoy my nano characters at holiday time. And shhhh! This is a spoiler for my Nano novel.
And haha! How'd the weeks escape me? I thought this was week 213 of MM, not 222. But I promise you'll love have Molly's picture inspired me.
Chris stood back from the holiday tree and Kwanzaa display area. "Beautiful," he murmured.
Josh kissed Chris' cheek. "The ladies will be joining us shortly."
"Yes, Daddy," Chris murmured.
"First winter holidays in our new house." Josh adjusted a delicate, translucent powder blue glass ball ornament so it hung between tree branches.
"I'm so glad you talked us into a fresh tree, Daddy. I haven't had one since my childhood daddy passed." Chris reached out to grasp one of Josh's hands as he squeezed Doggo to his chest.
"Doggo's new scarf is quite colorful," Josh said.
"Like the white berries, Daddy?" Chris hugged Doggo so he started with the funny noises Mommy said were "womb sounds."
"They are entirely too cute, just like you, Little boy." Josh kissed Chris' forehead. "Hot chocolate with marshmallows on the table."
"Woohoo! Can we please start on our cups, Daddy?" Chris begged.
"If you're five now, I think you can wait on Mommy and Amy to join us." Josh wrapped his arm around Chris' waist and pulled him into a big hug. He tickled Chris under his chin. "We can go wait for them on the couch."
"And you'll cuddle me, Daddy?"
"Of course." Josh took Chris' empty hand and led him across the room.
Chris eased himself down onto their couch with its cover of red and green stripes and then curled up small in one corner.
"You're not getting too sleepy for hot chocolate and the first gift?" Josh teased.
"No, Daddy." Chris rested his head on Josh's shoulder.
"Hey there, boys!" Tonya called out as she and Amy sauntered into the living room. "I think it's time for Big boys to get their gifts first."
Chris' gaze moved from one woman to the other. They each wore a babydoll dress, although that was were the similarities ended. Tonya's dress brushed against her thighs, its bisque eyelet lace hem darling against her ebony thighs. The majority of the dress glistened with the gold-infused red clay colored cotton. Amy's dress, on the other hand, revealed more of her body than it covered. The neckline dipped between her breasts so stop high on her stomach and the hem had been artfully sewn in uneven points. Where Tonya had selected cotton, Amy's forest green dress seemed most constructed of silk threads spaced far apart.
"We'll get to that hot chocolate after it's cooled a bit," Tonya drawled as she straddled Josh's thighs. "I wanna come all over your clit."
Josh chuckled. "That can be arranged."
"And what about you, Sir?" Amy traced her tapered red nail over his naked chest. "I can feel your heat against my pussy."
Chris pushed the hips of his sweatpants to his thighs and pulled Amy onto his hard cock. Holding her by the hips, he thrust into her so she moaned and grabbed the back of their couch. "That's it. Can ya come quick?"
"For you, Sir!" Amy cried out and threw her head back.
"How are you doing, Sir?" Chris asked Josh.
"Wonderful," Josh groaned with Tonya's movements.
"A holiday quickie? Er, tradition?" Chris let his hands slid to cup Amy's ass as he pounded up into her. "Should I come in your mouth or ass?"
"Mouth, please, Sir," Amy whimpered. At his nod, she pulled off his cock and jumped to the floor between his legs. She wrapped her lips around his cock before sinking until her nose pushed into his pubic hair.
Chris leaned his head back against the wall as his orgasm rippled up through him and he came in spurts of semen into Amy's mouth.
A few moments later, Josh and Tonya grunted one after the other and then embraced tight.
After Amy kissed each other Chris' balls, he jumped up from the couch and pushed her onto her back. He licked their combined arousal fluids until only his saliva remained. He pulled his pants back up and led Amy to sit back on his lap in front of the couch. "That was very good, little love." He kissed her cheek.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Sir." Amy hugged Chris.
"So, Little boy, think you'll be able to stay my Little while Amy's all dressed up like that?" Tonya asked, her voice hitting just the right level of stern yet still loving. She backed off of Josh and then straightened his pants before turning completely to face Chris. "You have new Christmas Eve pajamas as well as a new 'no switching' item." She accepted items from Josh. "Put on these night clothes."
Chris pushed his pants off only to slip into green sleep pants that matched Amy's dress, yellow star patches sewn in various places. He struggled into the matching shirt, his giggles escaping with the warm fuzziness covering his skin. "I love it, Mommy!" He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight as he danced around her in a circle.
"And since you're big enough not to need a bib anymore, I made you this necklace of rubber cars," Tonya said as she screwed the pieces of necklace closure together.
"I love it, Mommy!" Chris grinned at Tonya. "Thanks, thanks, Mommy!"
"You're welcome, sweetie." Tonya kissed Chris' forehead. "Let's go enjoy the hot chocolate now before we open one present each before bedtime."
Chris turned to see Josh holding Doggo. "Mommy, look! Daddy's holding my stuffie who has his berry scarf on! You gotta kiss Daddy!"
Tonya laughed. "Sure. I love kissing your Daddy." She leaned over Josh and pushed her mouth down on his in a loving kiss. "Happy holidays, my Sir, my love."
"Happy, happy holidays." Chris dropped back onto the couch and looked to his family. "Hot chocolate!"
And because I realized I managed to miss signing up for Masturbation the last two weeks, I'm going to give you those links here:
"Fruity Frisky Femmes"
"Loving Audrey Around the Fire"
Looking for an image for “fire,” I found a nice, new-to-me site for pictures. While the license on this particular photo says “no attribution required,” I'm so excited to look at Matthew Barra's other photos on the site, so there. :D Yes, as for “nature,” I found a night scene for “fire.” Although I guess I could have looked for an indoor firescape. But Matthew's picture caught my eye. The extreme focus on the fire and its setting, no living beings in the picture.
In the darkness away from the fire, Audrey watches the flames move through the air in their spiral dance. Her nails scratch at her nipples through the light silk tank top; mine tingle under the cover of nylon and latex. She tilts her head in such a way that I know that she knows that I am watching her.
The warmth of the night allows me to be comfortable in just my binder. I pressed my hands against my thighs at her flirty cotton skirt; the wind picks up the lace edging, showing me her beautiful calves. My mouth dries out watching the deep brown skin with its copper tint from her recent play in the sun, move back and forth. With her one hand at the bottom of her skirt, I lift one hand to press against my pecs; a light touch might not pass through the binder to my skin, but delightful pressure certainly can. Her perfect, naked feet reach toward the fire's blaze and it touch my lips. My balls. Yes, comfort with the words. I squeeze my balls.
Her hand continues up under her skirt without fully lifting away the material. She slowly licks her lips; the amusement in her eyes teases me. She continues to tap on and scratch at her nipples even after they tent the silk accentuating her enchanting torso.
My hips push forward and I bite down on the gasp that wants to escape my trembling lips. Squeezing changes to pulling on my balls as my heart pounds against my binder. My fingers move just a bit higher to my bound clitorophallus; what would it be like if I went on T? I don't really want to transition that far. I hum into the pleasure spiraling upward along with the fire.
“That's right,” she hums. She grins. No skirt lifting. Her knuckles push up the skirt near her upper thigh. Just then, she pulls her hand out of her skirt, spits on her palm, and her hand shoots back up her skirt, this time, not stopping at her upper thigh.
My legs go rigid, even as my knee quake as if about to give out. When her hand starts moving up and down fast and faster, I fall to my knees, landing on what would be all fours, but is instead three because I need to make myself come watching her tease.
A bush pricks my stomach. I ejaculate immediately, my pelvis twitching and my ass rearing up in the air. “Just like that,” I whimper.
The fire crackles; a piece of wood breaks in half, sounding like a rocket.
My body freezes; my finger stops in the entrance to my cunt.
“That sound was at a distance from you and it's done,” Audrey soothes. Her lifted skirt reveals her hard cock, the glans shining in the half-light. She pulls her foreskin up and pushes it back down.
My body relaxes and I sink my middle finger into my cunt to its base. So wet, my hand ends up so wet. “Please, please.”
Her hand moves up and down. Her fingers pinch her cumhole.
My wet hand drops to the ground and I begin to crawl. The underbrush hurts my shins and hands so exquisitely. The scent of the burning wood reaches me first, but underneath it is Audrey's seductive odor. Her musk fills my senses.
“You look so good like that.”
I know she's seeing me as she's seen me in otherwise lit situations; I'm still in the dark behind the fire. My crawling body swings wide to the left as I make my way to her as fast as I can. My tongue rubs against the roof of my mouth, just behind my teeth.
“I love your mouth.”
I reach the space just in front of her. “Please.” My gaze moves up to her face and then down to her cock. Her hand is so soft on my cheek as I wrap my mouth around her, my tongue slipping out of my mouth to stroke her frenulum. My thighs quiver as I suck hard.
“Gonna fill your mouth.”
I suck harder.
Her warm cum shoots into my mouth as her hand tangles in the long part of my hair. “Love you, sweet.”
I smile around her cock and swallow.
I think sometimes, when I'm writing ahead like this, to pretend I'm not writing ahead. But when my friend gave me the word “wine,” I was irritated by the mono-sexism of two wine flutes together in so many celebratory images. That led me to think on wine in other ways; that's when I found wine making on YouTube. I can't say why I chose the one I did. When I considered how to be inspired by the how-to ideas, I thought of a sexy trip to an apple cider farm I wrote in my Vala's Story-verse.
“So we're going to try this?” Magda asked.
“We have the stuff.” Allysa shrugged. “Or we can play with the fruit.”
Magda snorted. “Fuck instead of make the wine?” She leaned forward to kiss Allysa.
Giggling, Allysa brought a bottle from behind her back. “I got some from the store.” She grabbed the wine bottle opener and pulled Magda to their bedroom.
“Ha! I got the berries.” Magda tore off her binder and her pecs swelled; her jaw clenched for a moment.
“There ya go. More,” Lasha urged from the corner. She took the bottle opener from Allysa and popped the cork as her girlfriends rolled into the bed. She then plucked a large, ripe blackberry from the container and dropped it into Magda's navel.
“Lasha wants a show,” Allysa murmured against Magda's cheek. With the tip of her tongue, she traced a wet path from the small of Magda's neck to the top of her slit before going back up to capture the berry. Dark juice dripped across Magda's porcelain white skin.
Lasha approached the bed and collected some of the escaping juice with her finger. Tilting the wine bottle over Magda's upper belly, she let the brilliant red fluid pour as Allysa tried to catch it in her mouth. She moved the bottle over Magda's chest and Allysa caught wine and nipple in her mouth.
“Oh,” Magda groaned with her lovers' attention. She writhed against Allysa's knee pressed against her pussy. “Yes, yes!” She swallowed hard before Lasha dropped a blueberry between her lips.
Berries on the head board, Lasha moved behind Allysa. “Move that ass, girl.”
Allysa stretched her hands behind her back. One middle finger popped up before she pulled her asscheeks apart with her other hand.
“Tease.” Lasha licked her finger before stroking Allysa's crack. She ragged her mouth, then her teeth over Allysa's neck and shoulders. Noticing the wine, she grabbed the bottle and poured starting the base of her spine. She frantically worked to drink the spirit from the gorgeous deep brown skin before her. Her tongue snaked between the globes of flesh to catch some wine she'd missed.
“No fair.” Allysa lowered her belly onto Magda's as she continued to feast on raspberry red nipples that had hardened to exquisite points of nerve. She placed one knee against Magda's outer thigh; Lasha slipped her finger between her lovers' bodies. “Just like that.”
“I thought it was no fair,” Lasha taunted.
The berry container toppled onto the bed. Fruit wandered between bodies and mashed into juice along with spilled wine.
Her teeth pinching the tender skin of Magda's neck, Allysa grabbed a raspberry that had fallen near the ear.
“Yes, oh, yes!” Magda shuddered against the bed as Allysa rode her thigh hard.
“Yes, come for me!” Allysa threw her head back and found her own trembling release when Lasha's finger moved into her pussy.
“That's my girls.” Lasha breathed in deep and smiled, at peace with her girlfriends' orgasms.
First an update: while I've had both good and bad days so far this Nanowrimo, I haven't managed to sign up for #MasturbationMonday. So at the end of this sentence, I'm going to give the "suggested word themes" for the last two MM's I managed to flub on- ASL and Nature.
When I got to my friend's next word suggestion- post- I debated the many ways I could take inspiration from it. I put it into image search and started scrolling. Physical posts (often made of wood), some post hole digging machinery, tons of online posts. Then I found the relationship status post that I just had to write to. :D
I won't list all the stupid things I've been asked, told as an asexual person; you can put that in Google, go look it up on asexuality.org.
However, and I'm not joking, I want to say that I've decided I'm in a relationship with mashed potatoes. I wouldn't say that to most allosexuals because it would just make me the butt of their joke.
When Audrey and my sibling submissives leave me to my own devices (and no chore list), I like to enjoy my romance with mashed potatoes. It's been very many years since I cheated on mashed-potatoes-from-scratch with powdered-mashed-potatoes; I may be polyamorous, but my mashed potatoes aren't. The purple potatoes slip under my hands as I scrub them under the warm running water. I would never think to peel my potatoes of their beautiful skin.
“Lovely one, we'll think of this as knife play, not being chopped into medium-sized cubes.” I feel the bodily memory of the time my Lady gave into my pleading for knife play- this was before Onyx joined us with his extensive knowledge and enjoyment of knife play. The multiple orgasms, most with ejaculating before that final one at the end, was the closest I've ever come from a more sensual, almost sexual interaction with another human being.
It's pretty decent being ambivalent about sexual activity with a person. But, oh the cubes of water, they plop into the water when I toss them into the gorgeous medium-green Dutch oven, sinking momentarily and then surfacing among the bubbles. A sense of loss pervades as I toss the final potato cube into the water.
Top on the pot, I grab the orange 5-pound kettle weight that I keep in the kitchen and I spend time doing repetitions to work on each muscle group in my arms. The sheen of sweat tickles the skin between my shoulder blades. “Lovely one, are you becoming soft for me while I get hard?” I replace the kettle bell in its spot and wash my hands.
The top shakes deliciously with the steam building in my favorite pot.
I remember my Lady wrapping her arms around my waist from behind as I watched the pot. “I love when you smell of sweat and when we can be close just like this, both getting our needs met without pushing the other to deal with anything boundary pushing,” she said. “I love you, my Lady.”
Hot pads on my hands, I pour out some of the water and return the shining Dutch oven to the heat. I think of this is a minor climax as I add spices, cow's milk, cheese, and butter to the pan. My Lady says I wiggle my ass as I add these things and then dance around with the potato masher; it's like a good paddle on my bum, helping me work through my conflicted thoughts about sexuality, sensuality, companionship, romanticism, my body, other's bodies.
No one's home. I scoop a dish of the completed mashed potatoes, chunky enough that they're obviously not instant, into a bowl. Sinking to the kitchen floor, I begin to enjoy. Just a dish. There's no need to gorge on my Lovely one.
Soon my belly is warm and my cock is as hard as stone. I wash the dishes as my heartbeat speeds pleasantly. As I place the last dish on the drying pad, I see an old chore list Pekka wrote for me. I gasp and clutch the counter; I'll have to do laundry now since I came in my shorts. I'm really not a teen boy, just an asexual man with complicated and non-common place sexual interests.
Now, the above story could seem like a typical “allosexual being aphobic.” (In other words, a person who feels sexual attraction being phobic against someone who doesn't feel sexual attraction.) I try very hard to do better by Didier; he's a part of the “Vala's Story”-verse of mine, not just an asexual I randomly created. I've been working less with these characters of late- besides Audrey, that is, as she started off existence as a character of mine, but is also now my girlfriend. I had a moment on Twitter to explain to Posy Churchgate about my wonderful extended BDSM family; you can see the hierarchy of domination and submission on the Vala's Story page- Didier isn't on it because the diagrams focus on The Queen's stable and Didier belongs to Lady Audrey, The Queen's friend and my girlfriend. Or maybe more :D oh the threads of story arcs and plot twists that reside in my head and various files.
And the first image from my friend suggesting a word: Nature
Nature. I started off intending to do an “autumn leaves changing colors” scene, but I went back to look for something at night. You see, I'm very sensitive to the sun and I just don't find much about nature scenes during the daytime at all pleasurable. I pondered setting this image to my wallpaper- after all, that's what it's meant for- but I have the ASL manual alphabet there for now.
Spring warmth made the nighttime walk enjoyably warm. Laney ran hir hands over a branch, feeling for the new buds ze couldn't see. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight.”
Together, Tara and Sarai murmured, “Of course.”
Sarai added, “We wanted to enjoy our sweetest partner.”
“And you're not sweet?” Laney snickered.
“Would a sweet person have their hand down your pants as we walked?”
“I think so.” Laney wriggled hir ass until Sarai's finger slipped farther between hir asscheeks. “Unh. Now that feels even better.”
“Good thing most people aren't up to nighttime walks until summer.”
“So we can fuck while walking,” Tara purred. They stroked Laney's midpoint clitorophallus into its lovely erectness. “And very good of you to go commando today.”
Laney moaned. “Sure. I love both your hands where they are.”
The group paused beside the solid fence and the building whose purpose they'd pondered many times in the past. Hands pulled from Laney's pants, Tara and Sarai pounded on hir. In a tangle of limbs, they pulled Laney's pants to hir knees. Tara slipped hir cunt onto Laney's midpoint clitorophallus as Sarai's five inches of unbound clitorophallus slid into Laney's wet asshole.
“Glad I had some lube handy,” Sarai groaned.
Sarai and Tara grabbed each others' asses as they moved against Laney in rhythm.
Laney whimpered in ecstasy.
“There, there, you'll get to come too,” Sarai teased. Kissing on Laney's neck, they growled. “But you'll have to be fast.”
“Might we come close together?” Tara said.
“We might.” Laney glanced into the night sky and noticed the twinkle of stars without the leaves of the trees obscuring the heavens. Hir body twitched with the paired pleasures of anal and clitorophallic stimulation. Pec to pec, nylon rubbing against nylon, their chests pressed close.
Sarai's toes curled against Laney's calves. They bit down on the tend nape of Laney's neck.
“Yes, yes,” Laney moaned into Tara's kissing mouth.
Tara threw a leg over Laney and Sarai. “Come with us.” Hir body clamped down on Laney's midpoint clitorophallus in climax.
Laney's eyelids fluttered even as they looked at the naked tree limbs. The arousal streamed out of hir body. “Thanks, loves.”
They kissed Laney where they could reach. “Outside sex is lovely at night.”
So I pondered Masturbation Monday and the inspiration picture. I wanted to be inspired but my brain seemed broken- roommate interruptus. Ugh! And so after playing more Cooking Tale, I finally decided to pick a random ASL sign- here's a picture of me doing that sign; I hope I managed the patient expression I meant to inflect the sign correctly for my needs.
Starting from just the sign, I wrote...
Luna signed, “Oh I see. Can I help you?”
Alice signed, “Yes.” She tore off her dress and dropped it to the floor.
“Oh I see!” Luna raised her eyebrows high to inflect her sign differently. Do I ask directly? What is the proper etiquette? This relationship is way too new!
“Stop! I want to touch you,” Alice signed, her signing a bit slow as if she considered what vocabulary Luna had.
Luna used the dimmer switch on the overhead light, leaving it lit enough she could see if Alice signed. With equal passion, although lacking in Alice's frustration, Luna slipped her sundress' straps off her shoulders so the cotton dropped to the floor.
Humming softly, tunelessly, Alice moved onto the bed and gestured for Luna to join her.
Glancing at her new girlfriend's pouty lips, her freshly butchered fringe of black bangs, Luna slid across the forest green silk sheets. She held out her hand and left it hanging in front of Alice's perfectly small, perfectly round breast.
Alice grabbed Luna's hand and pressed against her breast. She spread her legs and urged her to kneel between them before trapping Luna in her folded ankles.
I can still sign. If I even need to. Still grasping Alice's breast, Luna inclined her head to kiss Alice. She breathed in the vertiver shampoo that perfumed Alice's hair, as if she'd recently been at a bonfire. She moaned as their bodies touched more.
As the kiss continued, Alice reached up to stroke Luna's long red curls of frizzy hair. After some moments, her hands continued downward. She tilted her head slightly and Luna moved to kissing along her jaw then onto her neck.
With Alice's humming changing into sultry moans, Luna felt her lips growing wet with her arousal. She licked Alice's neck and then nipped it gently. She released a sound between a sigh and a moan when her lover pulled their pelvises together hard. The nipple underneath her palm teased her with its erectness. Just when the pressure started to work within her genitals, she gasped.
Alice pulled them down onto their sides, heads falling on pillows, legs twining and untwining in their movements. She reached between Luna's legs and cupped her mound. She took Luna's chin and directed her attention up. Her eyebrows moved upward.
Luna nodded, unable to untangle her hands to sign yes.
Grinning, Alice reached between Luna's lips and pumped two fingers into her pussy.
Crying out, Luna came immediately, her mouth frozen open from her screaming orgasm.
With her other hand, Alice traced Luna's lips. She brought her hand to her own face and paused a long moment before signing, “Beautiful.”
So a heads up- National Novel Writing Month begins on November 1st. I can't promise how many posts I'll get to writing, but I have written my own 4 MM posts using images I pre-selected after a friend gave me 4 inspiration words.
Sorry ahead of this for it may wander; the subject at hand- “Daddy Doms”- is something my mind has ruminated on, like a rock being tumbled shiny in a rock tumbler. I wonder, if my Master wasn't in His late 20s to my early 20s when we met, might we have started as a Daddy Dom and His little girl, rather than the Master/slave terms that I enjoyed?
When we met, I was a new mom and working to control my Bipolar through natural (non-medication) means. While my Master and I enjoyed casual sex, I was holding out on being His submissive 'cause I was still waiting for my previous dom to contact me (he'd been living in a coffee house and it closed); after watching me get further depressed for 3 months, my Master urged me to move on. Then I called Him “Master” one time as I was coming and we took that as the beginning of my submission to Him. We've weathered a lot of life together- including what was a happy polyamorous-V that fizzled when things with my first husband became too bad.
While I don't remember the exact date when I first called Him “Master”- the “fizzled” is a nice way to summarize a relationship turned abusive and neglectful- we do know that I wrote Him a poem in January 2001. So we use that as a rough anniversary date often, even if we often round things to “We've been together almost 2 decades” LOL. In those 2 decades, I went from refusing therapy and psychiatric medication to returning to therapy under my free will, having another nervous breakdown, and then getting on an anti-anxiety/anti-depression medication. I've also added two diagnoses and dropped a few I'd collected over the years.
My therapist- who is one of only two therapists that I've had good, working relationships with over the 27 years I've been in and out of therapy- summarized a bunch of my problems into “You have PTSD.” We recently talked about the newer term Complex PTSD, and she agreed with that for me. The other diagnosis is one I stumbled upon with a friend's help; I'm Autistic. Or I'm “on the Autism Spectrum,” if you wanna all go with a medical notion of it. I actually prefer to say that I'm Autistic, using identity-first rather than person-first language.
Why'd I spend a big portion of the last 2 paragraphs talking about my mental health? Well, my friend Rayanna Jamison contacted me about a group and a party happening on Facebook and our conversation prompted the comment that inspired this post: Because of my C-PTSD, I think we're more Daddy Dom, even if we use the Master/slave language. I need structure, although I brat and fight it often enough. But my parents were awful adult figures for me and I did my best to hide my undiagnosed Autism; as person assigned female at birth who can speak, it's only more recent activism by Autistic people that has created an awareness that would have helped me to get a diagnosis as a child.
My Master has quite a sense of humor; my therapist has a theory that both He and I are on the Autism Spectrum, even if neither of us are trying to get an official diagnosis- He's 48 and I'm 40, after all. But yes, we both have unusual senses of humor. Mine is a little more rare to see because through all the trauma I've experienced, I've learned the bad lesson that it's never safe to show one's emotions. I really am trying to unlearn that though. But my Master always joked that He wouldn't want to be called Daddy during sex because of some silly video game; well I've managed to call Him Daddy a few times now, but it didn't glitch Him. He even joked, “You will never be able to out-weird me.”
But how much do the words matter, after almost 2 decades of relationship? I'd love to call Him Daddy more often, but in a testament to His joke, He manages to hear me call Him Daddy with no problem, but I giggle and laugh my way through even saying it. I never wanted something just like a BDSM romance novel, but something real. I think my “something real” means that my Master cares for me in ways I need Him to.
Updated with an edit: So yes, I know it's already 4:35pm in my time zone, but I'm editing now :D. I let Rayanna read this before it went live and something she said stuck, although I can't remember the exact point she made :( Maybe she'll make the comment again. But it was basically about words and titles and how they matter in BDSM.
After telling Kathryn Blake that I'd take part this week, I almost forgot. Please don't tell my Master; I'm sure He'll give me lines rather than a nice spanking. I decided to share some of "Laura Learns"- it's currently with the editor and we're hoping to release it soon. I tried to find a hand spanking, but came across this section in Jack's POV and wanted to share. They're scene-ing at a club.
What was it that Tom did to make Nadia come from just a whipping? Was it all that whispering? He returned to whipping her thighs and even her calves as he studied her body movements. “You're making me think you can orgasm from just a flogging.” The leather played over her ass. This domination is truly arousing me. “I can't wait to get you home and have you laying on the bed, naked, your legs spread so I can fuck you hard when I'm ready.”
“Yes, please, Sir.”
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I started with an idea that came to me while working on The Complex PTSD Workbook: Lap time- divide attention between cataloging Him and masturbating while cuddling with Audrey in my mind. I'm going to try new colors (for text and background) and it might end up creepy :D (but I don't see Halloween as creepy)
“Master, may I please have lap time?” I ask Shaman, standing before Him in His large recliner wrapped in just a My Little Pony sheet.
“I guess since you're ready for a proper lap time.”
I giggle and wait for Him to lower His empty plate to the floor. When He holds out His hand, I adjust how I'm holding the sheet so it doesn't totally fall off me as I climb onto His chair before carefully settling onto His thigh. I pull in tight against Him and He arranges the sheet so even my toesies are covered. I lay my head on His shoulder and breathe in. “Audrey? Can we please enjoy some secure attachment right now?”
“Yes, darling. Excellent pairing of Shaman and I caring for you.” Her arms encircle me. “Very good asking if I can enjoy some time with you now.”
Doubly held, I focus on my breathing as the always-present tension leaves my body. I look up to study Shaman's face. His regal and unique nose. The tuft of His goatee with its liberal sprinkling of white among the black hair. His buzz cut, so many inches shorter than the hair He had when I first fell in lust with Him.
The smell of vanilla rolls through me as I press my face against Audrey's neck and her slightly longer hair tickles my forehead. Her hands move over my arms, reminding me that I haven't done any skin brushing in so very long; I should do that before I cover my hands with the crescent marks of nails pushed into my skin.
“Good, sweet girl, stopping that thought. In polyamory, each relationship is unique. I love you.”
“I love you too, Audrey.” I kiss her neck, Shaman's neck.
“Are you enjoying lap time?” Shaman asks.
“Yes, Master.” Reserved for pirates. 8pm. Need to write.
“Attached, sweet,” Audrey murmurs.
“Can I-I'd like to touch your hair please.”
“Will you ever feel we've been in relationship long enough that you don't have to ask to touch my hair when you have my attention?” She laughs. “Of course you may. Do you like this twist out?”
“Yes, love. It's so fun.” The silky weave slips under my fingers. I squinch my face.
“I know. You'd like to ask why the change, but you remember that's mostly irrelevant for me.”
I start to feel the tingles of His closeness, her closeness within me. I touch her cheek. I touch His collarbone. My nipples tingle and then my pecs, as if I'm wearing my chest binder when I'm not.
“Perfect. Pecs. I love your pecs,” Audrey murmurs.
Shaman brushes His fingers over my ankles. “Enjoying not shaving again?”
“Yup, Master. Thanks for being so understanding about me finding comfort in body hair sometimes and other times not.” No need for guilt. He said so. Tingles like a good energy drink caress the top and then the back of my brain. Virtually, my toes curl.
“That's right, baby. Shaman and I see you in the moment, not constrained by pre-determined notions of who and what you should be based on the gender assigned you at birth.” Audrey kisses my forehead.
Shaman kisses my forehead. “So why do I get treated with a naked wench on my lap?”
“'Cause it's just us in the house, Master.” I lick my lips as I spiral into the fullness of an orgasm, safeguarded by Shaman's and Audrey's loving embraces.
“Feel that goodness, love. Secure attachment with memories of me tonight? Cuddly snuggle time with Shaman soon?”
I giggle and kiss Shaman's jaw. “Might we move to bed, Master?”
“Lap time's not already done?”
I kiss Audrey's lips as she dips her fingers between my legs. “Well I was hoping for some cuddly snuggle time in bed, Master.”
“Is that just code for sex?” He grins down on me.
“Di di di di di!” I shake my head, grinning in response. “No, it's not, Master. Although sex would be very good too soon. I did my stretchies so I can ride you, Master.”
Audrey kisses my forehead. “Tonight, love.”
I kiss her back. “Love you.” I break out in huge giggles as Shaman struggles to His feet while still holding me. “Yay! Cuddly snuggle time!” I let the sheet fall away from me and kiss Shaman's neck as the release of my orgasm still plays through my body. “Struggle cuddles?”
He shakes His head. “You're 4.”