December 23, 2012 - the day John Brownstone and I spoke to one another for the first time. We'd commented back and forth on each other's blog for days. I was writing steamy stuff and the harrowing tale of a broken, battered, crushed heart. He was sharing naughty Elf on a Shelf pictures that made me smile (something I'd thought impossible).
I used his contact page to send him an email. I simply wanted to thank him for being so kind to me and making me laugh. I didn't really expect a response, and I was nervous sending it off. It felt very forward of me...not my style really.
The response was quick and kind. From there, a relationship was born (not that either of us knew it that day).
Fast forward two years...
December 23, 2014
The second day of his vacation, the day after his sister's chemo, days before Christmas. Life had been slightly stressful (but manageable). We'd had a date night the Saturday before - not to celebrate, simply to give ourselves a break before two solid weeks of children hyped up on sugar, toys, and Santa. I hoped for something special on this particular day...
A beautiful purple and yellow bouquet of flowers.
Lots and lots of sweet kisses.
Time spent in each other's presence simply existing.
And then...we went to bed.
As I prepared our bedroom for sleep - turning down the bed, turning on the lamp, undressing - I saw them. The blue rope and the magic wand. Holy hell. I gulped. A sheen of perspiration dotted my forehead. I looked up at him and squeaked, "Oh!"
"What, babygirl? Is anything wrong?" I love that tone he gets. The teasing, playful, wolfish tone. The "I'm gonna get you little girl" tone.
"No. Nothing's wrong, Daddy. I...um...uh...I didn't expect that." I wanted to be nonchalant. I wanted to be cool and calm. Instead I was filled with nervous energy and excitement. There's always the thought that I won't be able to handle what he dishes out. It makes me nervous.
He directed me to get on the bed, flat on my back. He started at my ankles, forming slipknots and using the iron bars of our bed frame to good advantage. One ankle, then the next. I couldn't stop myself from pulling against the tie, checking to see if there was any give to it. When he arrived at my left wrist,I could feel the heat flooding my body, pooling in my pussy, open and exposed thanks to the bindings of the rope.
My nervousness made the rope feel tight, even though he could easily slip a finger between it and my wrist.
"Let's try out some lube with this." I had mentioned days ago that with a thick enough lube, the wand might not shatter me into a million pieces as it usually did. Apparently, I'd given him ideas.
I'd love to say that in that moment it was all hot, sexy stuff. But actually, I made him get out the handy-dandy lubricant guide book to make sure the right kind was chosen. I wasn't going to let my Hitachi get killed in the line of duty because of lube. So, there I was - naked, splayed out, waiting...and asking, "Which kind can we use? What does the book say?"
Finally we found the right one. When his fingers applied the viscous lube to my body, I almost came undone. His touch is so different from my own. My hips lifted to bring him closer. My body shuddered and jerked with pleasure.
Bzzzzzzz - low setting. I breathed a sigh of relief.
He started at my nipples. I moaned quietly. Already sensitive from weeks of constant
torture play, the vibrations from the wand were strong enough to send me flying. Turning off the wand, he pinched and stroked my breasts. I sighed with pleasure.
Now, he played. Running the vibrating head over my labia, up and down until I began to lift my hips to meet it, silently begging for more. Over and over, he teased and tormented me. And then...he pressed the wand directly against my clit. My hips convulsed. My pussy spasmed. I choked back screams. My entire body tightened. When it became too much, my legs twisted and turned in a futile attempt to get away from the torturous vibrations.
He stopped. Stroking my hair, he made calming, shushing sounds. I breathed. Afraid of the next one, I was more afraid he would stop.
The teasing began again. My knees splayed apart in an effort to give him even more access.
He pressed hard against my body. Electricity shot up from my feet through my thighs. Every muscle in my body tightened. I sat straight up in bed, my arms and feet pulling against the rope. Gurgly, choked screams escaped. My body pulsed with energy.
"You doing okay, babygirl?"
I mumbled something that was supposed to be a "yes." Thankfully, he understood me.
Again and again, he teased my clit and lips. Again and again, he pressed the wand into my body, watching me dance and jerk against my bonds, watching my body convulse and tighten with pleasure.
Then, it was over. Breathing hard, I looked at him, hoping we were done, wishing for more. Then reality kicked back in...
I started spitting. There was a hair on my tongue. I thought I'd go mad with wanting it gone. He tried in vain to find it and get it out of my mouth. Over and over, his fingers swiped across my tongue, missing it, moving it around. I tried to push it out with my teeth. As we dissolved into giggles, he untied my left wrist so I could take care of things myself. The relief of having the errant hair out of my mouth was almost as good as an orgasm.
Our two-year anniversary present was complete control for him and complete submission for me - so basically it was the perfect gift. Even better, it ended on a silly note which is just like us. Happy Masturbation Monday! On that note, make sure to check out what the other bloggers and authors are sharing for this week!