XXXPLORATORY SESSION #3A: RODEO GIRL (pt.1)

So in our cavalcade of sexual edification, i.e. sharing moments in our co-mingled search for new sexual self-definition and revelation, we come together for pointedly semi-specific "though" decidedly fun sexual encounters (consciously avoiding the "lab rat" syndrome where we'd feel poked and prodded for no reason other than "SCIENCE!" as Thomas Dolby would scream).

The very nature of the beast seems to be sitting refreshingly and comfortably thus far...or as comfortable as you can be when having our nether regions explored by some sexy Ponce de Leon/Amelia Earhart adventurer...

Session #3 found MY wishes, or as Mary likes to call them "demands", on tap for the evening. Things went swingingly...well, not literally, since there were no other couples or ceiling hung devices involved...

The plan was to fool a bit with the master/slave role-play (new to me, and fairly new to Mary). Being so used to sexual relations where all is based more on spontaneity of the moment and not excessive planning other than, "You around?" so much semi-choreographed scenario planning was interesting as hell…

Mary, as I am, is always one to slobber on about motives, rationale and such explanatory bemusements, so for her I add the following to the stew before continuing the ribald tale: Miss Mary, I want to travel with your thorough the burn, embrace our suffering and push you through our pain, look you in the eye as the tears fall. I want to lather my cock and your wet crotch with our mingled tears, sweat and cry for each other's ecstasy, cry for the pain, the life and the twisted calm that this sharing brings...closer to who we are as individuals, what we share as sentient beings, what we find as microcosms of all in orgasmic blissfulness. Through the pain to better understand the joy.

Saddle up, my beautiful friend...and so we did:

Instead of concentrating on cut-and-dried S-and-M wordplay, we skirted around its edges to lessen the severity for us naughty novices but tried not to be complete pantywaists.

She asked me three days before for a script. She wanted to be dominated and suggested I throw in anything I was intereste din trying. If she was hesitant about anything she'd let me know and we'd amend the script. I'm a writer and a chronic fantasizer so I figured I could rise th the occasion. For three days, I (to coin a phrase) slaved over my task at hand. Sending it off to her not knowing if I'd overstepped my boundaries or if I hadn't gone far enough. It came back to me with the reply, "All good." A few minutes before the proposed time for her to step onto my porch, Mary pulled into my driveway and as instructed, knocked three times on my door ("9:30pm, not a minute before, not a minute after") and undressed to panties and bra only there in the chilly night. I had placed a blindfold in a wooden box on the bench next to the door and she opened it and put it on as she'd been instructed. She had also found and wore her black leather and chain dog collar, at my insistence.

She was instructed to again knock on the door ("and I will answer it when I'm ready") and I took a few moments thinking of her on the porch feeling the night air on her porcelain skin. Of course, I was jumping out of my own skin dying to throw that door open but I made her wait. I was getting the hang of this.

When I finally opened the door there she stood, one leg raised slightly, a bit of a nervous posture and her shy, sweet smile peeking out from under the blindfold. Taking her hand, I led her a couple of feet into the foyer and closed the door with a bang behind her.

Mary's skin was glowing in the low light of the room, her ample bosom round and held firmly by her black lace brassiere. I have been enamored of the handful of dark moles on her chest since I first noticed them on our second date as I tried to peek glances at her cleavage, which she had hidden well on our initial G rated dinner date. I welcomed her, circling, taking her in. Her straw-colored hair poked out from underneath the blindfold and hid her face. She continued to try to keep from smiling and answered quietly or with the small shake of her head when I asked her question. "Do you find this funny?" she shook her head side to side but the corners of her mouth told me she was enjoying every moment.

Sticking my finger under the front of her collar, I slowly raised her head and lightly kissed her lips. Perhaps a wimpy move in such a scenario but I wanted to instill at least a modicum of trust as well as confusion in the first few minutes. She let out a long breath when I was through and jumped when I slapped hard on her robust and waiting ass. I walked behind her and pulled first left and then right wrists behind her back quickly slipping on my uncle's old police handcuffs, the key hanging from a cord around my neck. Her hands glanced my hard cock as it pushed anxiously against my silk short pants. I'd opted for comfortable wear since she wouldn't be seeing much of me until later in the evening.

In my written instructions I'd stated the evening's basic premise and possible activities, saving specific details for her imagination to fill in. Part of it read, "At the top of the steps, I will ask you one question, 'Right,' or 'Left'. If you choose 'left', some of the possibilities may include: you being tied to the headboard, pain play (possible leather flogging, nipple work, temperature variation, etc.), mutual simultaneous penetration with a new toy (mmmm), etc.

Choosing “Right” may find you experience being bent over a special piece of “leather furniture” that I think you may enjoy; possible spanking, flogging, anal play etc.

Neither left or right has exclusivity nor dedication to any of these activities so be ready for anything within limits. Either choice will involve some pain play, toys of some sort, some role-playing and perhaps safe sex fucking. She'd approved the menu.

After walking around her and squeezing her breasts hard for a moment I slipped my finger under her collar, or was it around the cuffs on her wrist...it's a bit blurry now as of this writing...and guided her carefully up the carpeted steps to the landing. I turned her around a couple of times and asked, "So you must decide...left or right?" She replied quickly and coyly, "Maybe right, or...perhaps, left."

"Don't play games with me. Since you seem unable to decide you will wait here until you make up your mind," and I turned her around and bent her over the thick, log rail her head hanging out over the living room below. I stepped up behind her and pressed my cock into her cuffed hands and slipped my hands around to first cup her breasts and the slide up to her neck. She squeezed my hard rod briefly and tightly. I whispered into her ear, "Do not move, I don't want you falling down the stairs."

I backed away and left her to consider the expanse below her for a moment...from under her blindfold...

...to be continued

EXPLORATORY PARTNERS

I had never really heard this term until yesterday. An interesting woman who I had just gotten to know had said the word in our short goodnight after a second long evening of chat together. I was my usual cryptically hestitant self, not giving up any signs of stirring up some passion and she said to me, "Are you at ALL interested in me?" I garbled some scrambled answer meaning to say, "Fuck yes," to which she said something I sort of half heard that included something like "Everybody needs a friend" and "exploratory partner." Huh? What is that?

Of course, being my dense self, I was never quite sure if she was interested in me or how or for what either. So I spun scenarios, fantasies, and questions on my 10 minute ride home and ran into the house to type her a letter trying to clarify my throbbing interest (sorry, such a graphic image for such a more wonderfully complex attraction). Basically, the gist of my letter was...I'm open, what you got?

This morning I got a letter from her (let's call her "Mary" for fun) which spelled things out...distinctly. She thought she and I had similar sexual interests and were in a position to "switch off" when things got too clingy or "traditional". She sounded particularly interested in exploring some pain based scenarios, some S&M fantasy, some interaction based on pushing the sexual envelope a bit, some group stuff.

Uh, I'm in. What else you got? Where do we start. What, has she been reading my journals? Is this an intellectual approach to the age-old "fuck buddy"? I always hated that term but always wanted to have one. My proclivity was always sex=love=relationship and not always in that order. More recently it has been sex=touching god=humanity's oneness with all. More realistically, it could be equated as sex=fun=self-renewal=discovery. More than likely it is something a kin to how much exposure can one's sexual psyche take without exploding in a blissful quagmire of ecstatic NOW. Or as my friend Lars likes to say, sex=ok, I'll be Carlos the Pool Boy and you be the rich dowager.

What I'm trying to say, before I continually interrupt myself, is that this woman hit the nail on the head. I wrote the song "Why Waste Time" years ago and my, how it applies now.

On the one side is fear, on the other side love
and you stand alone in between
and in a shimmering orbit we fly
in a shimmering orbit we fly.

One day we're low and the next we're above
In the middle: the world that we've seen
And in a shivering moment we die
in a shivering moment we die.

so why waste time, why waste time
so why waste time, why waste time

On one side is weakness, on the other side strength
And everything else is a dream
And it's a glimmering tear that we cry
It's a glimmering tear that we cry.

So why waste time, why waste time
Why waste time, why waste time

One side says "No" and the other says "Go"
Chances blow by on the wind
Just a quivering instant gone by
A quivering instant gone by.

So why waste time, why waste time
Why waste time, why waste time*

Mary picked me out of the proverbial line-up and saw "spiritual, sexual, kama sutra, music boy" in the town where she had found little connection at a time when she was re-evaluating celibacy as a part of her spiritual practice and I walk into the door with a Tantric manual tied to my throbbing manhood like a talisman of silly import. Welcome to the high country where the altitude strafes your endurance and the rednecks push your buttons with their elbows so as not to dirty their hands with your fevers. So we are rebels here without applause (unless you call the sound of a paddle slapping a fresh pink ass applause)

As I was trying to say, it is time to allow my sexual proclivities some breathing room; to unbutton their straight-jacket but leave the cuffs on. All good.

I'm looking forward into some role switching with Mary, allowing her aggressor tendencies to slap around my passive side and in exchange give her a bit of her own medicine. I'd love to blindfold her, tie her to a chair and have her listen to Randi and I make love, getting up to tighten the nipple clips on her magnificent breasts, to slide my damp cock across her lips while Randi brushes Mary's face with her flowing hair. This of course would lead to both of them slicking up my hard rod simultaneously before I flip Randi over and slide into her while Mary greases up my anxious ass and enters me with a slippery strap-on, her breasts dangling precariously over my back...for starters...

NIPPLE CLAMPS

Told you weeks before that you had nipples
That were made to be pampered
Feathered
Silky scarf, slowly peeling its way across them.
Nipples, I recalled
Every time you came to mind
These past 27 years since we’d last held each other close.
Nipples begging to be
Pinched
Bitten
Sucked
Pulled
Tweaked
Licked
Rolled between two fingers
Slid across my eyes
Shoved into my ears
Rubbed down my forest of chest
Stuck into my begging pee-hole…
You still seemed surprised
When I told you to close your eyes
And your breath drew in sharply
Gasping when your engorged lefty felt the first pinch
And again
When I evened out your surprise
Your pain
Your accepting trust.
Running my tongue over the cold chrome
Dampening your pink tips as they got slightly darker
Your eyes closed and back arched
So I slid my hardness
Up slowly
Into your dripping gash
My mouth quickly
Subtly, tugging on the beaded clamp
And your head swung
Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth.

Virgin Territory: Extra Spatial Sexquesters

Welcome to my new blog. Here's where I will vent the labrynthian murmurings of my sexual, sensual and romantic inclinations. Always on the road to new corners of unexplored fantasy--which may be old hat, knick-knacks, paddywhacks, give that dog a bone to some of you--I hope it to be a fun and perhaps invigorating little foray into sharing the twisted and damp inner sanctum of my libido's secret crannies...a place for me to explore and discover what is around every corner, tucked into every fold of our shared humanity as thinking, sexual beings. And if it doesn't work for you...good luck in your search...

Blah, blah, blah...I am just another horny goofball, wanting to spill a little essence in a place somewhat safer than my webpage, my MySpace, my journals which are accessible to people who may not want to read my opinion of whether or not their ass is just perfect or whether their little sister came on to me at their cousin's wedding, whether their wife calls late at night to talk dirty to me because they are too focused on ESPN or the Bloomberg ticker.

Of course, I want to hear your feedback. FInd out your perversions. Read your beautiful descriptions of your conquests, conundrums and cornucopias of twisted vision. I don't want to meet you in public, know your real name, see pics of your cats. I have other places to do all of that. I dig Match and MySpace and more to the point THE REAL WORLD OUT THERE. But sometimes, as someone who has kept journals for more years than I'd like to admit, I love writing about my dreams, my fantasies, my sexual encounters. It gets me off to be sharing details with people I will never meet. Just as seeing a naked stranger at a nude beach, or watching two lovers kiss in an elevator or sneaking into a peep booth to watch a woman you've never seen before finger herself behind the glass...seeking chances to put ourselves into other peoples lives, or what we invision as their lives, without all of the risk, the daily questioning, the ups, downs and humiliations of "playing the game" of real world existence.

Here, as in our dreams, we can be anyone we like. No harm, no foul.

So here's that disclaimer: If you don't want to read about sexual behaviour, sexual situations, graphic language, fantasy and role-playing then please exit now and don't come back.

This is a semi-fictional fictional blog with certain occasional situations and characters based on composites of various real persons and events from my life. No real names and few identifying characteristics will be used in these scenarios. On rare occasions a historical figure from the public record may appear sporadically in semi-fictional or quoted form.
Once again, this is new to me so if you find this kind of thing appealing, come back and see how things expand. I have a tumescent imagination and some people of interest you may like explore with me... stick around. It may get sticky in here...

My goal, of course, is to find out more about me. What makes me tick. It is a life long process and one that I have been dabbling in for years but have only recently realized that it is truly ALL we really do in life. We just disguise what we find and fuzz its focus so we can skirt all of the real and sometime difficult issues that we may unearth when that mirror is turned on us in some blazing light. Then again, seeing all the cracks, fissures, eruptions and beauty in one's own reflection makes for some epiphanal revelations of character, purpose, compassion and enlightenment into our shared human condition and just how insanely sane we all really are. It ain't why, it just is.

Embracing the moment is the only truth we can really know. The difficulty is in its full embrace. Not leaning on old constructs, ancient, in-bred sympathies and prejudices and fears against the emotions that truth can bring forth. I first glimpsed the fringes of this in the arms of a new lover where while entwined in panicky lust I felt everything I've ever held true to come into question by the sheer falling away of all time and place...

topics to come: SEX AND GOD
SEX AND GREED
THE NEW LEASH (sic) ON LIFE
STOP IT SOME MORE

BE RESTS
AUTO AUTO EROTICA
SEX QUESTIONNAIRE
to be continued...