All I Need
I never post about what I'm supposed to post about.
I should post about our scenes, which have been more ritualized, like we planned. I should talk about when Boy put a condom over a wooden tool-handle bolted to a stool made of a metal tractor seat, and sat me there and teased. I should talk about taking Boy bent over a bed and up against a wall with my big hard cock.
I should post about those wonderful scenes, but scene posting doesn't seem to be what I do, anymore.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. In an hour and half, it is Valentine's Day. We have no plans, other than watching episodes of Cowboy Bebop like we do every Thursday we can, with friends. Goose, over at her blog, is busily posting about loving her loves.
*A pause, in which I hit a tired and small Boy harder than ever before, until my poor little fists leave the possibilities of bruises on his back. And we sleep.*
Plans changed in the interim. We will try to get some sushi today, for a treat. And I have dressed up for him in tall black boots and a short school girl skirt and a low cut sweater. Just a little treat.
And what can I say? I was pushed to write because Boy's weariness felt overwhelming. My own did. And yet we've played much more in the past few weeks than we often have in the past. I think things are bleeding through into kink the way we always want them to: rather than the troubles of the day spoiling our perfect scene space, I find I can channel all the bits that get stored up in me through my difficult days and pour them out in pounding fists or Toppy attitude. That's nice.
I wore my big sparkly strap-on under my clothes the other day. Under my favorite pair of men's pants. It's too big for that in public, it was incredibly obvious, but it felt so much more real... this is my cock. This is the erection, wrought in silicone, sprung of the excitement of my Boy hurrying across campus to be with me. It is pressing through my pants. It is not subtle.
It has been conjectured that boys like girls with penises because the penis shows its arousal in a way that is more clear to them. If a girl has hard on, you know she wants you. And y'know, I kinda buy into that. Wearing my strap on under clothes made my own desire that much more palpable to me.
And other odds and ends. There are a lot of them. And I am not much of a one for Valentine's Day. I used to wear all black on this day, every year for ages. In relationships and out. Because the cruelty of this holiday for those of us who don't have relationships is not lessened by the fact that I happen to have one. But also because through most of the formative years, I was the one who only had valentines from those kids whose parents made them get one for everybody in the class. That's the real reason, I am sure. A more mainstream childhood and I'd be a joyous girl on this day.
Beh. Some years I'm sure I'll forget this day, and other years I'm sure I'll remember. This year I remembered and dressed up, but that has no bearing on what's important. And what's important is that I love Boy. I have leaned on him harder the past few weeks, and he's supported me. And I think he's leaned harder, too. And I think I've been there. And everything in the world is changing, except I've got him.
What more is needed?
I should post about our scenes, which have been more ritualized, like we planned. I should talk about when Boy put a condom over a wooden tool-handle bolted to a stool made of a metal tractor seat, and sat me there and teased. I should talk about taking Boy bent over a bed and up against a wall with my big hard cock.
I should post about those wonderful scenes, but scene posting doesn't seem to be what I do, anymore.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. In an hour and half, it is Valentine's Day. We have no plans, other than watching episodes of Cowboy Bebop like we do every Thursday we can, with friends. Goose, over at her blog, is busily posting about loving her loves.
*A pause, in which I hit a tired and small Boy harder than ever before, until my poor little fists leave the possibilities of bruises on his back. And we sleep.*
Plans changed in the interim. We will try to get some sushi today, for a treat. And I have dressed up for him in tall black boots and a short school girl skirt and a low cut sweater. Just a little treat.
And what can I say? I was pushed to write because Boy's weariness felt overwhelming. My own did. And yet we've played much more in the past few weeks than we often have in the past. I think things are bleeding through into kink the way we always want them to: rather than the troubles of the day spoiling our perfect scene space, I find I can channel all the bits that get stored up in me through my difficult days and pour them out in pounding fists or Toppy attitude. That's nice.
I wore my big sparkly strap-on under my clothes the other day. Under my favorite pair of men's pants. It's too big for that in public, it was incredibly obvious, but it felt so much more real... this is my cock. This is the erection, wrought in silicone, sprung of the excitement of my Boy hurrying across campus to be with me. It is pressing through my pants. It is not subtle.
It has been conjectured that boys like girls with penises because the penis shows its arousal in a way that is more clear to them. If a girl has hard on, you know she wants you. And y'know, I kinda buy into that. Wearing my strap on under clothes made my own desire that much more palpable to me.
And other odds and ends. There are a lot of them. And I am not much of a one for Valentine's Day. I used to wear all black on this day, every year for ages. In relationships and out. Because the cruelty of this holiday for those of us who don't have relationships is not lessened by the fact that I happen to have one. But also because through most of the formative years, I was the one who only had valentines from those kids whose parents made them get one for everybody in the class. That's the real reason, I am sure. A more mainstream childhood and I'd be a joyous girl on this day.
Beh. Some years I'm sure I'll forget this day, and other years I'm sure I'll remember. This year I remembered and dressed up, but that has no bearing on what's important. And what's important is that I love Boy. I have leaned on him harder the past few weeks, and he's supported me. And I think he's leaned harder, too. And I think I've been there. And everything in the world is changing, except I've got him.
What more is needed?
posted by Switch at 11:41 AM
3 Comments:
You got it all, sister!
Happy Vday!
Scene posts are after all boring. good once or twice but after awhile there is a dulling similarity. Letting us into the small moments, the peephole visuals of you on the tractor stool, boy bent over being hammered.
leave tantalizing and brilliant moments that if you were to hash out the whole scene would lose there preciousness and glowing memorabiity.
Now where did I put that bottle of lube ;-)
Happy Big V day to Both of you.
:) This is a lovely post. Nice to have such a nice update from you. I meant to post yesterday, too, but didn't get to it. I will eventually though, soon enough.
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