Are You Tender with Her

“Are you tender with her” it was not a question I expected. Not one I had ever been asked. I had to process it. Ask for clarification.

Admitting i wasn’t sure what she meant, which is often the case. She repeated the question “are you tender with her. Kind, supportive, affectionate…” her voice trailed off rather than adding more.

In a way i was taken back. At the same time the question seemed deeply important to her and strangely intiment to me.

“i’m not an abusive jerk.” it wasn’t meant as a defensive statment. “It can be easy to confuse the rough interchanges with the real world dynamic.”  I added on

“i kiss her hello and good bye, there are as many gentle touches as there are rough ones. She feels warm and soft curled up next to me and i very much like that.”

After a short pause “so yes i am tender with her, supportive, polite, and kind…except for the times that we agree that I shouldn’t be.”


She simply said.  “Thanks i just wanted to understand.” Amd then moved in to other topics seemingly satisfied on some level that i am more than just my kinks with another.



Indescribable Pleasure

Indescribable Pleasure


I do not relax, I do not get to escape…ever. I do not lose control or just let go. Yet I did. There are those (not so) rare occasions when I want to get lost for a few hours; but lack a companion with the same desires. So it never happens. Yet on a sunny fall day somewhere in a post orgasmic haze I found myself fully clothed and snuggled up on the bed next to her, the warm yellow light of a mid-morning filled the room. She moved and touched the edge of my bicep.


She traced up it and over my t shirt…that was a beautiful dark black to match my soul.   I purred with pleasure as she continued on. Nuzzling in closer, just running her fingertips from my low back, across, my lats, touching me so deliciously on the base of my neck, my arms and back again.


Now if this was purely about something sexual it would be the part where I take my shirt off. Which I did. It could have become deeply erotic. They were truly touching and powerful moments but not in the way you’d probably expect.

She continued to rub her hands across my warms flesh, and nibble on my neck, steal a kiss from my lips and push in closer. Her focus was on me, on nothing more than being there and caressing me. This sounds odd but it was not anything I had ever expected from a woman again. These type of moments are something so desperately longed for, craved in my most private of thoughts, and needed in ways that would vary to every person.


Yet when you are devoid of this type of connection it haunts you, it consumes you, it becomes an addiction to itself. Yet something seemingly so simple is not anything I even bothered to even ask for any more. Sadly requests for this type of attention, any kind of prolonged touch or focus on me in life has become the sole province of those paid to do so.; masseurs, spa treatments, and other luxuries. While wonderful, they are a sad substitution for an attentive lover. They are glorious in their own rite but lack the intimacy of moments like these.

Her lips soft and wet on my neck, her nibbles erotic, her hands tireless. She would ask if I minded lotion. I was the one floating now, drunk on her touch, at peace with in myself. I know I said “yes that would be nice” or something to that effect.

She walked across the room and I watched her, she really does make me happy. There are things about her that I may never quite find the words to say that amaze me.


She joked about debating on whether or not warm the lotion up. Which she did, cold lotion would not have been a new thing but it was a gesture of kindness. One that was appreciated.

I melted further and further away from the world with each touch, each movement of her hands, with each passing second.   Fighting back the thought that all too soon it would be over, that I would be leaving. Instead of worrying about the future even if it was only hours away the present was lived in.


I felt her petite frame stretch out across my back, her magnificent chest met my flesh as her touch increased. Becoming more sensual. She pressed into and against me, sliding her body against mine.

My foot moved and it donned on me I was still in jeans and wing tips. I thought of speaking up but chose to just stay as is and enjoy what was already amazing. Seconds felt like an eternity in paradise. She tells me our time like this was about an hour long. Honestly the fact I had completely lost track of time, of everything but her and I in those moments actually means more than anything.

As this time ended she offered.   “Thank you for letting me touch you”. Jesus she enjoyed this too. Touching me was not a burden or an obligation. I really had almost forgotten what that felt like. It may not have been conveyed how appreciated she was in those moments.

The day was calling. Soon enough we were in the car. Just talking, easily like two old friends about all sorts of things. After a shopping stop or two we’d head to the beach, strolling past a few homes where each of us mused about one architecture vs another, about the need for us to have a week together. She mentioned wanting to alternating playing, time with friends, and then time on the beach. Listlessly drifting from one activity to the next as it suited us.   I simply smiled and thought about how wonderful it would be to have her next to me for more than a night or two at a time.

We would share lunches and I’d prove my mettle with seafood. In my own way being attentive to her. Someday I’ll cook for her but until then….   We lingered over lunch just in the shade from a bright day with the sea breeze dancing across our skin.

She wound up with my phones in her hand. “Kiss me!” she demanded. “You have to kiss me if you want them back!” I reached for them and she turned away “NO you have to kiss me”. She was being playful. I realized it moments after I kissed her.   Prior to that my OCD got the better of me and like a dog ready to attack was myopically focused on those silly little devices and not her. “Ladies and gentlemen the Stupid man misses the bus AGAIN!” would be the voice over if this day were in a movie.

I kissed her, though not as much or as well as I should have. I should have played back, it never occurred to me in the moment. Later somewhere over Oklahoma I would realize how damaged I’ve become, to miss something so sweet and innocent.

We wondered out over the water, I’d take a call or two but mostly just watched her walk, talked about life, and family and work and just about everything else. Things being complicated of course we both talked about our other relationships. We agreed that we do need to find more time for us. And no sooner than we nodded in agreement it occurred to me this was our first “real” date. Not time to play, or reconnect, or catch up but an actual in earnest date. No D/S, not even sex although she did share a few wonderful idea’s on our walk.


Eventually with wing tips in hand, socks removed, and my jeans rolled we strolled up the shoreline. It was a holiday and the beach buzzed with locals but she was all I noticed.

After a time we made our way back towards the car. Longing for an excuse to steal a few more moments I sat on a bench and slowly brushed off the sand and sea water. Replaced my socks and shoes. Took her by the hand for a few steps and begrudlingly  headed toward the parking lot.


An hour later I’d be at the airport, she would be stuck in traffic. 8 hours alter I’d arrive home to no fanfare; at least the dog didn’t growl at me. She waited for me text to say all was well and I was safe.

I drifted off to sleep remembering, albeit somewhat sadly now that I was gone a day of seemingly  indescribable pleasure.


Its 18 hours since I’d left her.   Sure there had been conversations (about sports) with a few acquaintances, my Saturday morning ritual of rolling around in the dark with strangers (Yoga). Still before other parts of my weekend ritual began I sat there alone on the couch wondering why I bother to rush home? There I was in a big empty house, which even when not empty everyone chooses to be in a different part of it. No one other than the dog ever bothers to come snuggle up with me on the couch. Despite all the good things I have there sometimes the gaps of seemingly simple things that I have simply stopped asking for feels like a great expanse. In a future Post “Appreciating the Differences” will cover the conversations tied to that.

Mine – Unrightfully Possessive

Mine Unrightfully Possessive


Note This is the second in my short series of raw and unedited post.  You can read ” A poorly Time Delay” if so inclined.  Additionally the “Unpartnered” post was intended to somewhat more eloquently deal with my emotional reaction (or baggage) at a rope event and dinner.  It triggered a few things for me outside of just “us” that go way back.

I try but don’t always share well,



She used the word first “mine” in sharing a secret with me during some time together.  It was in those days that i had begun to think of her in those same terms…”mine” even though what that actually meant or could entail had never been broached.


I wanted and needed to say so much. I’m not normally possessive but in an instant went from no pressure and no worries. Which i do mean to MINE. Though it was not my place to lay claim to.  Looking down the road as the plan was to bring and introduce me to close friends, some family.  And in turn if no where else but my mind i had already thought about how to expand her into parts of my world. My girls, maybe someday even the Blonde.


She knew she would have to share me, i expected to have to share her but felt her slipping away.  There are not words for that feeling. I just wanted to grab her and kiss her. I wanted to claim her as mine.


Instead i checked those feelings and did what i thought was best. After all her happiness is truly something i want for her even if that meant she couldn’t be “mine”.
It was time for me to walk the walk. So i said my piece and was honest. Emotions are not me. Cracks in the armor are a once in a decade thing. I am not one for heartfelt admissions and do not make promises i can not keep

The Rather Unremarkable Demise of Red

The rather unremarkable demise of Red

I’ve put off this post for quite a while.  As the title indicates Red and I didn’t work out. Actually we both still work out but us dating didn’t work.  


She had originally asked me out when I felt another relationship was sailing towards the rocks.  In case you have forgotten  I also have a penis and she is hot.  So you have an angry, potenially lonely penis wielding human watching the nature of a relationship with treasured person in his world change.  So of course after trying the “I’m married” bit and her not giving two fucks i agreed to coffee.   


I still miss that treasured individual everyday single day and not to be a dick that isn’t even close to the case with Red. In fact the only real emotion i have when thinking about her is dread and the need to close out  the story line associated with her or if she’ll be in class with me next time i practice.


So look when first approached it was and still is very flattering that she pursued me.  She was as i indicated in the posts about her both very beautiful and seems to be a genuinely nice person. Her taste in men might be suspect, based on nothing else than pursuing me.  


My being married didn’t matter…which made it interesting in a way. “Does your wife know you’re here” and my reply of yes of course or no she thinks i’m out smoking crack with three hookers made me a bit of a novelty.  And despite all those facts we never really clicked. Or she never really clicked for me.


It happens, no big deal.  No hard feelings and no broken hearts, on occasion when i see her we chat for a few seconds then go back to rolling around silently in a hot dark room with other strangers.


in fact dating Red was doomed from the start. I wasn’t sure i wanted to do anything that was pure Vanilla but said yes.  See thebpenisbwileding human statement.  I was not looking for a random hook up, booty call or whatever.   In discussing the need to publish this post with the Sexy Little Temptress i admitted “I never want another vanilla relationship…EVER.”  Of course the intent of that statement is play and romantic partners.  We all need vanilla friends if for no other reason to remind us how much more fun our lives are and to watch them get drunk at parties and complain about monogamy and the lack of sex.  However i digress.


So Red and I are done. We were done before we began.  Not many people get let into my world, The ones that do are very few and very far between. They  have to put up with the insanity that is my life,  my (other) relationships, and a lot of baggage.  Sometimes literal baggage like two huge suitcases.


So stopping being a sarcastic dick there were some very good things that came from this.  More friends are always nice and i’d venture to say we may be friends.  It not at least Red and I are nodding acquaintances.  


It is nice to feel attractive and desired.  She did that by showing interest and when most if not all of my (romantic and kink) relationships were very very challenged. In large part due to my own head space.


I knew but trying to do the “normal” dating thing did really help me redefine how important kink is to me. My primary relationship may not have any hint of a power exchange in it but that will be a one and only  exception.


In other news our new dog does wear a collar unlike our old pup from by gone years. At kink events i can honestly say there is a creature who is both collared and wears a chest harness on a daily basis in the house.

  Talk about street cred.
If another hot vanilla asks me out what will i do?  Be charming, polite, and hope the “let me ask my wife, girlfriend and lover if it’s ok” bit scares them away.  

Brunch is not all it’s Cracked Up To Be

So it’s a Sunday morning. It was off to brunch at a cock themed farm to table place downtown. Ok it was Rooster themed but who can blame be for wanting to write that it was cock themed. It is not convenient for anyone local because well downtown sucks and no one lives there. Yet it was mobbed with people who are obsessed with large orange balls and men in shorts. No judgement you kinks don’t have to be my kinks. Wait basketball isn’t a kink? Fuck who knew.


Anyhow. In come Red. Its one of the first times I’ve actually seen her dressed…not in workout clothes. Perverts. What you think I spend time with women naked before buying them breakfast. Rumor may have it that I’m easy but no so easy…well frankly I’m nearly impossible to seduce. She’s tall (compared to other women in my world) lean and flexible. She has painted on torn grey jeans, black boots, and a tight yet plunging top. It was like she thought “he’s in to Lizzy Hale (the lead singer from the band Halestorm) what would she wear to brunch?” Kudos for effort.


Of course the fucking reservation app said there was no wait when I pulled off the highway 20 minutes before arriving and wouldn’t let me list for a table. When I got there was a 30 minute wait. She drank a mimosa. Being the teetotalers I am I had OJ. In a champagne glass thank you very much! Followed by a gallon of fair trade organic vegan friendly coffee with cruelty free creamer. Or something like that. It wa great coffee. We conversed awkwardly. Secretly I hope someone either of us knew would come and intercede.


I am getting trod upon by Orange Rubber Ball Fetishists, rolling around in a hot dark room with her is much more fun. Finally we’re seat. If it feels like it’s not going well…it wasn’t. In the back of my head it was “why the fuck am I here?” not the best mindset for a meet and greet. I was polite, conversational, and engaged. Still it felt more like a business meeting.

Finally we are seated; not at the Bar. Ok now let’s list the things I can’t talk about at this outing

  1. Kinky Things, Events, or Friends
  2. Swinger & Other Alternative Sexual Things, Events, & Friends – “oh when was the last time I was down this way. We’ll let me think it might have been for Pride right after X & X left the state to get married because we live in a right wing fascist bible thumping police state. Though I like guns…water guns mainly they count right?
  3. Other People I Date (which might be a good rule in several/most circumstances but I am used to being able to mention others at least in passing) “Oh she sounds nice. So what did you do with So and so on your last date with her?” You know the usual tied her naked and spread eagle to the bow of the Titanic and whipped her pussy with a cat of nine tails. Noting too intense just good clean fun really.
  4. Religion, Politics, or the Economy – Let’s see that one would go “I’m an atheist libertarian with a tolerance for some government social programs and believe the Bureau of Labor Statistics and the Fed are manipulating their reports based on the Party of the Current President. How about you?”
  5. Subversive Books – Sure I read the classics’ like Proust, Dante, Homer, a little Virgil. Then there’s Bradbury, Asimov, and Vonnegut. There’s this really great local guy Misha Burnette. He takes part of the Fetish community and turns them into Alien sub cultures in his sci fi series …wait never mind.
  6. Baseball – mainly because I couldn’t give less of a fuck about it and my knowledge of the game ended in 1979 with the “We are Family” Pirates. . In this city baseball is table stakes. I lived here for 5 years before learning that the name of a steak house and baseball announcer were affiliated.

You get the idea right? Sticking with downward dog commentary, upcoming hiking plans, etc. We order. The food is great and probably regular human size. It’s 11am and I’ve not eaten since the night before. “Fuck I should have ordered extra potatoes. And bacon, why did I order vegetarian. Thank fucking god I didn’t order something Vegan. I’d have died of starvation” was literally what ran through my head.


She said she had a nice time. We hugged or more accurately she hugged me and headed off to meet friends at the fetish event…err basketball game. I drove into a dodgy neighborhood a few miles away and ordered two tacos. Sometimes brunch isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.


Wasted Space, the Stupid Man and the Sexy Little Temptress

In the classic literary sense all of this is true and none of this is true. Every word is an undeniable fact delivered from the Gods and at the same time every letter is an utter and complete lie spewed by the devils and demons that taunt our soon to be loved Anti Heros.


You dear friends are about to embark on an epic journey of Lust, and Sex. Note I did not say love. Friendship for certian but none of the trappings that had recently trapped him elsewhere . Our man is not Don Quixote looking for his Dulcinea. Though he is not much less deluded.


It is not  a tale of damnation and redemption. Not a walk through the circles of hell with Dante and Virgil but rather a lively dance through the Karma Sutra with Nitri and Rati all set to a soundtrack of pornographic music and deliciously erotic auditory expressions.


And remember on this journey everyword is the absolute truth spoken by the Gods and every letter an utter lie from the deepest depths of hell.  It is completely up to you to decide which is which.


And our Anti Hero’s neck is ticklish for the first time since he can remember. Maybe 20 years. But that is a story for a later time now its time for the story about the Sexy Little Temptress and the Stupid Man.


 Part 1 Wasted Space and the Stupid Man
Wasted Space an Empty King Sized Bed
 So the picture tells the entire story really. The morning after, away and another empty bed. Wasted space in both the bed and as you’ll come to see a stupid man’s head.  Which in this case it was with out a doubt the emptiness was  his own damn fault.
 So let’s say there was Beautiful Little Temptress who offered to be there. And he is a self proclaimed world class Lothario of sorts. It should be a slam dunk. After all she showed up at his door with bags in hand.  Was more than willing and it had been a wonderful evening.  Oh did I mention she was on the bed looking every bit the coy seductress with a tempting little grin. A beguiling innocence to her appearance for such an intensely erotic creature and he would find even up to that point himself nearly drowning in her deep dark eyes.  Yes the woman was literally in bed when she offered to stay.


 Then though it gets complicated and as is often the case with him. He easily becomes a typically oblivious male operating at a level that can only be classified as infinitely stupid.


So did the deal close? A simple nod and “yes i’d realty like you to stay” would have been all it took; instesd he went Boy Scout.  Or more accurately literally world class stupid and passed.  For as good as he is in many respects there are times when we all still miss clues, lose opportunities, and like in this case let some deranged 7th circle of hell code of chivalry take over.


Dear readers it’s time for the play along so use your best “Mister Nice Guy” voice as you read the next paragraph
“Well miss as much as i would love to not sleep most of the night in this bed with you i’m currently performing the super human feat of not tearing your clothes off and doing very dirty things to you. Soooo  it’s probably best, if you maybe, well you know,  maybe you should go home.”
So what the fuck was the Stupid Man thinking?
1) Anytime anyone offers to actually sleep with me, host me at their house, take a nap on the beach or sits next to me on a plane. Not just lovers but friends, family, foreign dignitaries or any living creature for that matter comes the concern that more than anything insomnia is an unwavering companion.  The amount of time spent laying awake in the dark and trying not to think and go back to sleep is alarming.


2) i never want to be “that guy”.  If you know me then you know that as much especially early in a freindship (particularly of a sexual nature) no matter how casual and NSA I will move slowly. Gaurded in so many ways. And well at least if it you’re going to be more than Miss Last Night. The slow pace at first might be maddening; it will feel like forever in slut years. Put up with me i’m a lot of fun after that period passes.

3) Boundaries – to me yours are absolute. Mine with the exception of a few pretty major things (no breath play, blood play, safe sex only, etc) others are more fluid. Sometimes even when they really shouldn’t be. It’s a logical process really; but we’ll come back to this entire discussion another time.


Now back to our “Friend and his Sexy Little Temptress.


So he went about the night, it was wonderfully fun, very connective and frankly incredibly fucking hot . The evening had all but reached its end; she offers again indirectly to stay. Just in case we haven’t clearly established the two basic facts I’m a stupid man and the wasted space is both a spot in bed and in the giant melon of a head I tote around. Well some moron who should have said “yes stay here” hours earlier missed the clue.  And by the time he realized it she was gone.


So instead of saying “of course I want you to stay. In fact I want to do so many things to you and perhaps as fucking stupid and lame as it sounds just laying next to you might be one of them” nope some dumb man who we would like to think doesn’t really represent us goes blowing past that opportunity.


Fast forward 30 minutes and he’s in bed alone waiting for “got home safe” text.  He looked at the empty space beside him. She could have been there. In fact and this may be typical male ego but he thinks she wanted to be there instead of 30 miles up the highway. Yet he can still feel her touch on his skin like the haunting Sexy Little Temptress she is.
So let’s call a spade a spade the proverbial “he” is without a doubt me.
So I start to wonder if she would have been curled up beside me. Laying on me and if i would have been able to keep my hands off her long enough to sleep;  but as we already know I don’t sleep well anyway even without that temptation. And ahe had been tempting enough to smash through most of the boundaries i had set for myself.  For the record you should bet the under on me keeping my hands off her.


Then it’s two am and I wake up with a slight chill on my skin. She could haven been there warm next to me. The space next to me was empty it was wasted space and I am not disputing in this case to be the text book definition of a stupid man. Fortunately I’m not one prone to repeating his mistakes and usually recover very well.

Seeing Red

We rolled around in the dark covered in sweat panting for months before we bothered to learn each other’s names.  Oh and it wasn’t just us. There were others who came and went but week in and week out. we found ourselves in the same situation with a few other regulars and the roatstong scenery.  Silently moving with the rhythm soaked in sweat, mostly naked or at best barely clothed and contorting ourselves into countless positions and leaving littlebto the imagination. Some how both elegant and primal.

No mirrors on the ceiling but on every wall leaving nothing but your own body and gaze staring back at you, No pink champagne but countless bottles filled with ice.

It was back in the middle of December when she first (truly) approached me.  I declined the offer although women who know what they want and communicate it are really sexy in my book. Early in the new year we established that I was married. Nothing else was offered…after all we don’t really know each other (yet).

In fact here’s what we do know. She is substantially younger, far more fit, and seemingly undeterred by my relationship status. She kept chatting, upped the flirting on occasion and made sure to stay be in line of sight and on ocassion closer.  And of course she was noticing that I noticed.

What she knows about me.  Everything revolves around coffee, relationship status and that my work involves travel.

Just boys being boys and girls being girls and doing that dance that is all to familiar. Harmless nothing more.  Others have mentioned her to me in passing. A mutual friend has encouraged me “She is a very fun girl.”  Advocating meeting for drinks etc.

Today it seems she felt the need to up the stakes. “You know Mal I don’t give a fuck that you’re married”.

Ladies and Gentlemen I believe it may be game on. No decision has been made yet it seems I may end up actually seeing Red. After all its the chase that I love. Though who is chasing who is pretty clear.

Then again it really shouldn’t be surprising. Dark hot rooms are places i’ve always done well.




Dangerously Close -Revised, Censored, Revisted, and Restored

Dangerously Close Revisited


So as part of cleaning up and re indexing the site to reflect relationships I’ve decided to restore this post.  I am still truly sorry for any harm that I caused, I still miss her constantly and despite those things felt that the completeness of what our friendship had become and was evolving toward was not reflected genuinely here.  Not restoring it seemed dishonest.


The Apology (apologies)

Sometimes you just can’t shake an image from your mind and that is how the day started. An image of her in bed, thinking of me. More specifically thinking of you being curled up on and against me. It had been a cold night, the coldest of the season so far one where any remaining hope that summer would last forever had faded and the cold and dark of winter loomed mere steps away. So this is not how this post originally read but I am not one to not admit a mistake. The original content crossed a line and hurt people that I care for an consider to be good friends. That was never my intention as I have nothing but love and respect for them.

My sincerest apologies.


So this is not how this post originally read but I am not one to not admit a mistake.  The original content crossed a line and hurt people that I care for and consider to be good friends.   That was never my intention as I have nothing but love and respect for them.

My sincerest apologies.




Restored Original Content


Dangerously Close


Still the vision danced there, the sensation of her heat against me, hair just beginning to be draped across her face. Lying there content and still. I drown in her eyes. I stirred, the machine gurgled to life and my addictions began to be fed in the early hours of that morning. The Television playing something mindless in the background, the phone just within reach and the glow of the reader illuminating my face.

Nothing sticks, my mind is elsewhere. To borrow the words from a few weeks back “It felt dangerous”. Not deadly, or perilous of any other form of treachery but my thoughts were in fact very dangerous and growing more so that way. A short time later, my chemical demons satisfied I handle a few simple tasks and then head off to roll around in a dark, humid, and oppressively hot room with several strangers for ninety minutes. 27 strangers on this given morning as fate would have it. I make it sound erotic but it is not, despite the collection of scantily clad nubile bodies it is the one time every week I cease to think and simply exist. It is my time of magic and escape that feeds even my hardened heart and jet black soul.

The car stops, the shades are cast aside and like a cliché movie vampire I make my way cautiously through the sun light, waiting for the eternity that is probably not more than 30 step to get me away from the cursed light of day and into the warm yellow hued light and earth tone rooms that await. The door swings open I step in and am ready to begin my retreat into nothingness. Malflic

“good morning Mal” four voices ring out. It stuns me, this choir of voices pulling me from my flight of fancy preparing to simply be, I snapped back into the thinking world. Two Blondes, two brunettes all in very little clothing that left very little about their physical forms to the imagination. “We were just talking about you” the one with soft pure white sand color hair offers. Near or at their physical state of perfection all are blatantly younger than me. The Carnal me tries to rise asking why women this age would be discussing a man like me. I push him back into the depths.

Putting aside the fact that it was greatly unnerving that they knew me by name even though I had never spoken to any of them. I turned on my public charm “well that makes me a very lucky fellow” I smile chat for a few seconds, flirting harmlessly and in my typical gentlemanly fashion. Offering nothing tangible about myself then excuse myself wanting to go lay in the dark and retreat inward again as my body begins to bake. I love being anonymous, even in crowed public places I can be and often am completely alone with y thoughts. Quickly stripping and redressing soon I am in that coveted place but by now there were other ghosts haunting me. Last week an old friend was there, we’d not seen each other in a few years but it wasn’t the prospect of seeing them again. That was a harmless, a nonevent on the spectrum of cosmic disasters.

No; the voice that I heard when first coming to life that morning was there again, in my head, lying against me in the dark, in the warmth. I retreat further inward but she Is there waiting for me. She is too close, knows me too well. Not the public me, or the persona, or even the closely guarded private me. She is past all that. She is close…dangerously close and sees the complete unvarnished person.

The room fills around me and I lay there motionless thinking, my mind is my best friend and my worst enemy. It feeds my demons and my soul all at once. Breathe in the good to nourish the bad….. I move through life for the most part with grace and ease. With station and hard fought for status and privilege. From the outside it looks perfect, effortless, natural and well scripted…. “Good morning”

Nothingness escapes me despite my best efforts as I catch glances of those I had been speaking with earlier. They smile back. I am damned and women are my weakness, it is not the ones that are passing acquaintances that stay with me it is the ones I let close. It is the messages and plans for the coming weeks and months. It is thoughts about where the line is and where it is becoming blurred. Being in a relationship or even a friendship with me requires great caution. I am dangerous. Beyond the manners and grace, beyond the benefits of how I live lies challenges, constant changes, other requirements that can… Damn you! Your voice rings in my ears…nothingness today is only filled with you…things that cannot be ignored. Being more than that nodding acquaintance despite my best intentions requires infinite patience, it requires the understanding that no matter how cherished you are the day will come when…damn this and your ghost I can’t let go. The little brunette is smiling at me…I doubt she is any more internally focused than I am. I CLOSE MY EYES, CLEAR MY MIND AND MELT INTO THE EARTH. Or try to anyhow.

A chuckle escapes my resting body at the thought of how there should be a picture of me next to “it’s complicated” in the urban dictionary. I want to consume you, to have things I cannot have, want things that should not be to blur lines and cross others. Inner peace is not in the cards for me; the demands of the next hours flood in, the activities that will be required, the things that must be done.

The voice tells me to consider the divine with in, I scoff loudly at the thought in my own mind knowing that there is no good without evil, that gods cannot exist without devils and that every point has a counter point. The divine with in me is not likely to be a benevolent sea of tranquility. No I am like a raging storm, filled with fury. Beautiful and essential in its own twisted way. Nothingness does not exist as I take a stroll through the nicest parts of hell. All of it is nothing but madness running towards me…I am nothing if not the embodiment of temptation. And we all, both Sinner and Saints are getting dangerously close to the edge.

The shower washes me clean, frees my mind, talking and cavorting on the way out. Charming and well-mannered all while inside my fucked up mind is running faster and faster toward madness, crashing through the boundaries if only in my mind. Your voice and ghost are waiting in the car, dangerously close. I smile and drive away taking you with me, hope you are well rested we have a very busy day.

Finding the Edges and an Assortment of Unspoken Things

Prelude to the Evening
So it was late in the afternoon. Perhaps it was already truly early evening. Like so many things in life; when one thing begins and another ends is a matter of subtle shifts and perception. I was standing in front of the building, by the street, walking, pacing, or strutting back and forth. Again a matter of perception and interpretation. Strutting or sauntering is always a safe bet. More or less on the corner like the completely cliché whore that I am (professionally speaking) waiting for her to arrive. The imagination ran wild while wondering what she’d be wearing and no matter her choice of attire the seconds passed painfully and eternally slow. I was very covetous of having her to myself for a few hours or more. Not that she is mine to lay claim to in anyway. There are a lot of things that can be said about me, most them not very nice, some of those true but coveting time with a specific woman is rarely one of them.

Even eternity which if you think about it is an unimaginable concept for the human mind really eventually will come to an end. That eternity ended the second she pulled up, popped out of her car and threw her arms around me. Hugs are often soft, and fleeting her are always close and linger. Not for seconds or minutes, not even for hours or days. Her have the ability to be recalled in very solid detail for weeks and months with very little effort. Her dress was alluring and just short enough to provide glimpses beyond her mid-thighs. Legs that men like me probably have spent far too much time day dreaming of. The plunging neck line gave more than just a peek of the beautiful, soft and round inside edges of her breasts. A distraction that would taunt me for the remainder of the evening but more about that later.

One Demands Subsides but other urges begin to rise
It is never seamless when the time comes to change gears from Business Geek to a Sexual Being. The demands of the phone continue to call out to me, a few final things have to be dealt with until I can truly give her my undivided attention. The phone goes to silent, then airplane mode so there is nothing else but her and our time together. She looks younger than ever. I don’t tell her that, she fusses about her age but by my account seems ageless if not going backwards in years. I notice the subtle changes in her body, as if she wasn’t already sexy enough. A breeze begins and hope that the wind will take her skirt and raise it just a bit more fills the mind. I want to see more of her, I’d like to see all of her but busy parking lots near crowded streets aren’t really the best place for such things.

Into the restaurant…so I watch her walk, something I like to do. After all she has a cute little ass that I enjoy spanking so much…particularly when she bares it. Often her bottom taunts me from beneath her jeans, or various states of exposure in pictures that feed my lust. Tonight though her hips and legs are what I drink in, step after step, sway after sway. She knows my weaknesses and plays to them well with heels just high enough to be daring and sexy enough to know that they couldn’t help but be noticed. Our hands don’t meet, I don’t place mine on her back or make other physical contact. Not even the gentlemanly and seemingly innocuous offer of an arm. Holding the door open as she passes. There is fire smoldering. It is far too early for me to allow that spark any fuel, air, or friction. Even seemingly harmless friction; I know my limits. When a situation could easily become too hot for clear calm judgement.

Leaning in…often there has been criticism that I exude a sense of confidence and casualness in places that it is not appropriate. I sit back in my chair, legs out straight, hands resting atop my head confidently daring any takers. If I sit up it is usually out of intense interest, or an act of aggression. Simply put I don’t lean in…that night was an exception. With the table between us I leaned in. drawn to her, wanting to be closer, watching her every move, shift, glance, and breath.

Only looking away to make eye contact with the server as she came and went. At first she wasn’t sure how to take me but by the end she held my gaze. Eventually she’d smile nervously;  chat a little. I like to think something about me interested her on some level. Odds are though simply the young woman was afraid for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on.  A very good instinct indeed.

Do I make you nervous? Where was I?  Ahhhh yes. Her sweater and my roaming eyes…for god’s sake essentially I’m only a man. So how could I not look, have you seen her breasts? Have you seen them in a plunging V neck line? The soft curves, the exposed skin, the alluring call of them begging to be exposed. Her nipples chiding you, calling out to be touched, caressed, maybe even pinched as you take those wonderful and round shape in their entirety in your cupped hands?

At one point in the evening during a story a small exploration occurred reaching across the table to touch her upper arm. It was an example that fit with in the story being told, barely qualifying as tactile sensation, non-threatening…a few minutes later I looked across again, she pulled her sweater across her chest. I had noticed it a few times before during the course of the meal. Her arms would swing wide, she would draw the black cloth across her tightly holding it there, eventually letting go, in mere seconds from when it was released it would again fall away, baring the exposed parts of her chest to me. Was I looking too much, was it a habit on her part, was she cold?

Your guess is as good as mine.  What I really wanted to do is trace the neck line of that top ever so lightly with the tips of my fingers, slowly, deliberately, sliding the tip underneath the edge of the cloth, just enough to not be innocent but not so much as to be demanding. As if tracing a woman’s cleavage could ever be truly innocent. In private tracing that same neck line, or any other part of her body with my tongue would have also been fun…however I resisted. Probably smiled and did my best to keep looking her in the eye and not be drawn into yet another alluring temptation any more than I had already been. Failing miserably of course as her chest mocked me from 3 feet away.

Parking Lots, Hallways, and Lifts … through streets, the crazed interchanges, and alleyway.  Then past the gate and behind the building where my head would rest later than night. After I dared to ask for more of her time, to come in, to steal a few more minutes with me. It was selfish but she didn’t seem to mind. After some trial, error, and a bit of jostling we found a place to park that wasn’t too terribly far from the door. We cross the chasm of black top and out of the darkness and into the light. Through the vestibule around the corner and avoiding the masses in the center of the room and the main entrance darting purposefully around the furniture taking the shortest path possible to the elevators.

The ride is short but we are more or less truly alone. Something tells me I was leading the route, obsessed with something other than her. Something that needed dealt with so my mind and concerns would once again be free to enjoy the time together. Glances are exchanges. A few more long hallways, twists and turns and we are at my room. The view is one I knew she would enjoy. It is her that comes to mind every time I get a view like that one anywhere in the world. Often taking a few minutes to watch others anonymously pass by coming and going all with visions of her dancing in my head.

Tonight is was not a vision, it was her in the flesh. I would move quickly through my obsession, trusting the judgement of others. At first she paces, bounces, smiles. You can see the dreams in her eyes, in her smile. This view means things to her that I suspect lie beyond what she has told me. That there is a mystery or magic, perhaps even a secret. She is pressed against the glass, looking out, watching and thinking. I steal glances at her as I finally finish the task at hand.

A proposition of a bygone era is shared. I’m standing now, not more than a few feet from her, no obstruction, no barrier or obstacle between us. The ending to her tale was to me unimaginable, in fact I was imagining in very vivid detail what my answer would have been under those circumstances. It is one directly the opposite of the actual outcome. She turns back to the glass and presses against the cool of the night seeping through it. I step back and watch. Admiring the view of her there dressed in black head to toe.

I want to stand next to her. Or behind her pressing against her body, I imagine lifting her skirt and tracing the tops of her stockings, the curves of her bottom as she arches back towards me and my hand wonders between her thighs. I want to fuck her, roughly and wordlessly from behind as she braces her self against that window wondering if anyone can see her. Her breasts escape the dress and move with each thrust. Instead I keep my distance, and suggest we step out for a coffee.

In the lift on the way down I want to step closer to her. I want her to feel my strength and power with out making contact.  I want her to remember later the difference in our sizes, to understand an unspoken intent. But instead I smile, catch her eye, and imagine her on her knees. My edge is drawing closer. Restraint and reverence is beginning to lose its grip on me. Carnal desires rise…DING!

Thank fucking god!  Maybe, just maybe I can stop imagining my cock in her mouth, or what she’d look like facing the brick wall panting and sweating from being fucked in a secluded off shoot in the garage below ground.

Why is there never a booth available when you really want one…
Lounges are supposed to be dark and quiet. Coffee bars should be the same way but the first stop was too bright, too crowded, too much frenetic energy. She said it was fine, it was not. She insisted it would be more than acceptable. Options weren’t weighed, I simply told her we’re leaving. There was no deference in my answer.   The only thing right with the space in that moment was she was there. Everything else was wrong.

Our next stop was loud but dimly lit, loud but it has wonderful blue booths along the one side. High and circular and private except for directly in front of you. It would have been perfect, I could have slid close, the conversation could have become conspiratorial whispers and tawdry exchanges….it would have been against the edge or acceptable.  It could have been testing limits, it could have been too much. I may have caved and touched her just a little as I watch her face.  There is never a booth available when you really want one.

So a table it was. I took my chair and slid it around to more or less be next to her. Our conversation was polite; not heated and filled with sexual tension. It was proper not inappropriate. It was restrained and inoffensive all the while as I imaged putting her in the table in front of me. peeling off any undergarments she may have been wearing, exposing her to anyone near by. Then licking her to the edge of release denying her that pleasure forcing her to finish off her own orgasm right there in front of me while i watched.

A laugh not tied to the conversation escaped as the idea of the edges of her skirt tickling my face as I ate her pussy occurred to me.I sipped my coffee.  She checked her phone. Resolve was gone fortunately the evening reached its logical conclusion as she would make her way back home and I would return to admire the same view out the window she had hours earlier.

During an escape one rarely gets out unscathed…
I had found my edge but not crossed the line. Temptation called to me like a drug i was so desperate for but I had not succumb. Later after the madness of normal life had returned and then diminished I sat alone in the dark and she haunted me.

I tried to relax but in my mind I could only see her standing at the window. Smiling and then turning her back to me. I could all but feel her presence. My lips parted, the pill entered my mouth. A gulp washed it down. She was still there 30 minutes later as I slipped into the chemical bliss of the void. If it were not for modern science I would have sat their all night imagining the things that could have been done with…and to her.

So much better live…the non-update, update

So at the end of the 1st month of the new year it was so far so good. Sure the gym was still a bit crowded but generally speaking most other things were less troublesome. As the blog shows if you read between the lines a few local things had been attended, there was some harmless cavorting in Sin City and even before that I decided to start updating some profiles. There in the problem lies. In order to do that accurately and honestly you have to decide what you want, match that against what you have, and be realistic about the differences.

It was all going mindlessly well until I decided to try to actually update my Fet profile. Thank some imaginary deity I don’t plan on using actual online dating sites because it would be the fucking death of me. For those of you that do I have a new level of respect for you.

So the change to what I’m looking for…Easy, Drop down check list…added “looking for a sub” and “looking for a relationship”. It seemed to make sense at the time, was a shot across the bow back in December when I did it, and is still on my mind. So in that sense it is brutally honest. But is that really what I’m looking for? A play partner? Well yes no doubt. Events? Absolutely! Friends? – Yep I’m a friendly guy in a sort of reserved and don’t say much at first kind of way. Though admittedly I let very few people get close to me but nodding acquaintances are always nice. But am I really looking for a Sub? That is something that had never been consciously considered and longed for. And a relationship? All well and good and we’ll come back to these points in just a few short paragraphs.

Eventually it seemed that an update of kinks was in order. In fact the entire idea of doing so was spurred on by a friend showing me their profile and a “duh” moment when I noticed a few that should have been on mine and wasn’t (Forced Orgasms, Lingerie, and Stockings). I can modify check boxes and drop downs like no one else…ok well I’m pretty good at it anyhow. A later conversation sparked a few seconds of Self Doubt…did I have too few fetishes? Upon reflection I like a lot of things but at the end of the day I’m a spanking Top who likes rope and other forms of bondage. Are there other elements? Sure but they aren’t essential to my kink. Impact play and restraint; everything else is a bonus if I’m not one of the cool kids so be it.

Then came the challenging part, the decision that I needed to put more than a few tongue in cheek sentences on my profile in case the bizarre trend of meeting people and going to events actually continues. So I wrote an update…Shakespeare it wasn’t. Hell it wasn’t even a flop that had a two week run in a small theater in a medium sized city. So I tried again, enlisted feedback from some friends and it was better but didn’t really capture what it needed to. Basically it read. I’m really stupid busy, my relationships maybe fucked up but they’re mine, and I like rope, spanking, books, and coffee. Did I mention coffee? Oh sure it said those things in several drawn out well-crafted stanzas but that’s pretty much how it read.

In the end it takes me back to what am I really looking for? What is realistic? And most importantly is there a middle ground that might work in there for the right person. There are relationships in my life that are not negotiable, my marriage, friendships that are very dear to me, and people that I care for deeply that I don’t get to see nearly enough. As damaged or strained as those all might be (at times) I’m not willing to give them up. In fact I’m not looking for a replacement for anyone instead it’s a matter growing what I have and maybe find someone else who has similar needs along the way. How do you write that in an honest appealing way without being a dick? If you’re in a band and you don’t have a drummer that’s what you go find. Of course sadly I don’t need a drummer, or a bass player. Not that I couldn’t use one mind you but you get the point.

Along those line I don’t only want something casual. I’m not looking for a one night stand is a common theme found on many profiles… hey me too (although there is always the possible exception of hey do you wanna play). Causal and spontaneous is nice but I want and need a connection, never say never but I’m not looking for miss last night time and again. Been there, done that, may end up there again but that is not really what is missing.

Then the realization or perhaps more so the admission that I want and need a connection, and not just a physical one. Yes I want someone to play with, to go to classes, events and maybe even Cons with but it’s never that simple. I also want someone to go to breakfast with, someone who will curl up with me on the couch, I realized that as much as the thought was to find a play partner willing to tolerate or better yet accept and appreciate my other relationships and insane life style (work wise). In the end I really do want someone who is essentially mine. I’m rethinking my own D/s desires, my own relationship needs, and realized maybe I do in fact want my own sub, or at the very least someone who is primarily my bottom.

So here’s what I’ve come up with…

“Since I’ll be out and about a little more locally (and on occasion not so local) it seemed like a genuine update here was in order. My life is a little different than most and not the usual kind of different you see around here. I travel extensively and at times that makes getting to know me require a little more patience than most and seeing me at things takes a sense of humor since the airline gods often aren’t smiling on me.

Kink life started out as a spanking Top which remains my primary kink with a healthy interest on most things related to impact play of varying types, rope bondage and a few of other things. I’m “out” in that family, most vanilla friends, and many others know but I’m still fairly private. Yes that seems like a complete contradiction. Mainly I keep my work separate from my kink…unless of course we run into each other somewhere untoward…which has happened.

I’ve been writing a sex blog for more than a decade, it started out (mostly) as fiction and eventually became about my own life, relationships, kinks and adventures. Some of those tales include my dear friends that are listed above as my rope family who now share that space with me. Dating or playing with a sex blogger has inherent risks. I know I take them too but I never name names without permission and rarely name names even with it.

Work Life Balance = None. Literally I can’t get on a plane without a passport just in case my plans change and I have to go outside our borders.

So why Is it complicated?
It’s no secret I’m married. She’s great, our kids are wonderful we’re just into different things. She likes white wines, cooking shows, and detective novels and well I like all the things listed here.

Anything else you want to know just ask.”

And that is where I stopped. After all who cares what the profile says I’m just so much better live and the only way for people to get to know me even a little is to spend time talking with me not reading a blurb on a social site. Or of course they could comb through this damn where I don’t have any conventional constraints associated with a profile length and learn more about me than they probably wanted to. In the end though the live option is the most fun.