So I’ve been making out with someone new. I wasn’t sure how to write about it, so I kept it to myself for a week. But now that it has happened twice, I feel confident in where it’s going; nowhere serious, but someplace fun and definitely an avenue for exploration. I don’t know if this is what I want right now, but it might be something I need.
He’s all wrong for me. He believes in reverse racism, drives a hummer, doesn’t know yet if he’s voting for Obama and get this; graduated college in 2007. Does that even make him over 18? He’s a baby, and behaves as such, which in itself is frustrating; and a turn on.
He is so abash and open with his slanted upper middle class white young boy worldview. I am now making it my personal mission to school him in more ways than one. And he’s eager, let me tell you. He thinks its hot, enjoys being hit, even when it hurts. I don’t think he’s experienced a person like me in his lifetime. (please only with someone like this can I truly get into that persona too). He wants a lesson, and I’m ready to deliver. It’s a really intriguing dynamic. I wanted to do this with one of my tried and true boys, you know, give them my dominant virginity, but I think this way is better. This little one doesn’t know what he wants except that he wants to fuck. He doesn’t know/hasn’t explored it further.
He’s just a little energizer bunny right now (I made him come 3 times last night within a 2 hr period). I get to run this show and figure out what turns me on. He tries, which is another one of my turn ons. He’s big enough that he can throw me around, but he has this baby face and arrogant personality, but I can make him say please so easily. I don’t like passivity. I want you to try to get the upper hand, and believe me he tries. And fails miserably. I realized with this one, that one of my strengths is knowing how to cut you down in bed. I made fun of his eagerness, his inability to really know what to do, the fact that he shaves his chest and bics his balls. I mean, come on, what a frat boy move. Not that I don’t enjoy or like it, but I’m just going to call out your vain man nature for my own benefit.
I like hearing men beg, I like them big manly drooling balls of putty. “Can I just stick it in, please, 5 seconds, please?” oh come on! How great is that, just thinking about it again makes me wet. I pretended I couldn’t hear him and make him repeat it a few more times. Just 5 seconds, please? I let him push around in the general vicinity for awhile, getting all into it, watching him try to slide his dick inside me without any help by me. When he started getting close enough to make a difference, I slowly caressed his face, moaned arched my back, then slapped him across the face and told him no. (evil laugh).
Any doubt that I have ever had that I do not enjoy getting rough and giving pain jumped right out the window last night. My newest go to move: while caressing his cock, pulling his balls then slapping them hard enough that every muscle in his body tenses. That face! Why didn’t anyone ever tell me this sooner? A man wincing in pain is freaking beautiful. The sharp inhale of breath, the tensing of the muscles when its not expected. The sharp jerk back, Jesus Christ its gorgeous. That young face of his with his shaved hard body, fucking amazing. Combine that with that pure determination of his hard headedness. I am going to have fun breaking this one in. All girlfriends after me will thank me. He’s the frat boy type of my dreams but I’m not a scared timid little girl anymore. I own what turns me on, and I’m using him as my fuck toy and a way to explore what I want (and the occasional date, he already has all these plans for us; we’ll see). I now know what makes me come, and what does not, and I am not playing those games of me doing things I don’t like anymore. Example: Yes, you can come on my chest. But I’m going to watch and scrutinize while you do it, I get to do the looking, and especially the hitting.
I am pretty excited about the possibility here. However, I am also concerned because he knows how much I want to play with him. He knows how much I want him and holds it over my head. I’m going to get him to know how to touch every inch of my body before he’s allowed to fuck me. I'm also going to have to find more ways to make him wince. While I truly and thoroughly love watching his response when I slap his balls, it’s going to get predictable and the whole fun is not knowing whether it’s going to be pain or pleasure. Right when he came I smacked him hard on the balls, I have never heard nor seen anything like that, it’s like a drug.
In an hour and a half, I came 4 times and he came 3 times.
Showing posts with label hitting men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hitting men. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Seeing THE boy, first installment
We met on a street corner. He was coming from a full day of work. I was coming from half a bottle of wine with dinner for courage and an energy drink to combat the time difference
The entire week I was preparing for this, I hadn’t seen him in over a year. I didn’t know how things would go. Would he still be interested, would I?
I told all my friends not to worry, this is just drinks, that’s it. We’re two old friends catching up after 5 years of a tumultuous relationship consisting of fantasy and disappointment. This was just a drink, catch up and then walk away so I can go live my life; closure.
The second I saw him all that shit went out of the window. I knew exactly what I was doing that evening, I was fucking him. We walked to a bar downtown; he’s holding a briefcase. I make some snotty comment about him having a real job and needing a briefcase; he counters my snotty remark by showing me the contents of his briefcase. Half a Subway sandwich. His attaché is a lunchbox.
He takes me to one of those fancy nightclubs that most cities have. According to my friend, it’s the swankiest place downtown. To me, it just seems like all the other generic nightclubs I have been to. Dark maroon walls, gothic/modern binary, $10 drinks, too loud music, bottle service. It’s a Thursday and the place is quiet when we get there. After our first drink the after work crowd has landed and the music is thumping and the bottle service is pushing in on our little corner. He’s trying to impress me; this is what he thinks I’m into. I do, a little, and I’m flattered he was trying to pick a meeting spot that he thought I would enjoy, although I would have preferred a little hole in the wall where we could talk, snuggle and perhaps get a little inappropriate.
We’re sitting too close, like people who want to get inside each other. I’m probably smiling too much. We make small talk, school, his job, funny stories. I laugh too much and he moves in closer, putting his hand around my shoulders. I look up into those green eyes and smile. I want to do this, I can’t do this; I’m going to do this.
I want to stay like this forever, the tension, the ease. We’re old friends and shy (yet freaky) lovers. I want to hold his face; I want to gently touch every part of his body and then hit him so hard so he can finally feel what it’s like to love him. I want to do all of this right here in this yuppie bar.
I want a quiet booth where we can flirt and catch up. I ask him if he knows anywhere near here where we can get a beer that doesn’t cost $7, I feel like a PBR.
“Well there is a bar by my apartment”
Now I know his apartment isn’t close, this is not a hop skip and a jump. This is a $25 cab ride or a 30 min train ride. I make a face at him that basically translates to “oh really?” He gets a little flustered; maybe worried that he misread my signals. Now, I wish I can say no to him, have some backbone, prove to him that he’s not always on my mind. But at that moment all I want to do is see him naked, see what underwear he has under his baggy business casual.
“I’ll drive you back in the morning…”
He says please and of course I relent. We leave the bar holding hands, I lean into him for support; he gives it. I want this forever, walking confidently next to him, at his side. His hands are large and his fingers wrap around mine protectively, tender yet strong.
I love his hands, I hate mine. Mine are spindly and look like old lady hands. They’re small and jointy. Hs hands are long, surprisingly gentle and soft for all the sports he plays. His hands represent him entirely. They’re long and delicate; yet look like they would be at home doing manual labor.
We’re walking through the city hand in hand, talking about everything…nothing. I just remember that I was touching him. I get so emotional around him because its so fleeting and I have such intense feelings.
We go back to the apartment he shares with 3 other people. I’m loud, I’m always loud, and I can’t help it. Especially when I’m slightly nervous, I turn loud and flirty. I get like national anthem at a baseball game loud. He keeps shh-ing me, I tickle him and nuzzle my head into his chest; it’s where I reach. He wraps his hands around me and we stand in his small kitchen, my head on his chest. I think we both needed some tenderness, closeness: intimacy. I always wonder how a boy like this likes me. I’m not ugly, but girls fawn over him. It feels comfortable, but there is always that insecurity whispering in my ear.
We grab an large bottle of cheap white wine and two glasses and head to his room. He puts music on, lights some candles and we sit in the glow, shadows jumping off our faces
The rest is hard to write. I of course ruin the mood and get serious. I love this kid, I love being with him and sometimes I can’t keep my trap shut and just enjoy the moment. He says all the right things, but at this point who knows if it’s the wine, the late hour, or his hard on talking.
To be continued…
The entire week I was preparing for this, I hadn’t seen him in over a year. I didn’t know how things would go. Would he still be interested, would I?
I told all my friends not to worry, this is just drinks, that’s it. We’re two old friends catching up after 5 years of a tumultuous relationship consisting of fantasy and disappointment. This was just a drink, catch up and then walk away so I can go live my life; closure.
The second I saw him all that shit went out of the window. I knew exactly what I was doing that evening, I was fucking him. We walked to a bar downtown; he’s holding a briefcase. I make some snotty comment about him having a real job and needing a briefcase; he counters my snotty remark by showing me the contents of his briefcase. Half a Subway sandwich. His attaché is a lunchbox.
He takes me to one of those fancy nightclubs that most cities have. According to my friend, it’s the swankiest place downtown. To me, it just seems like all the other generic nightclubs I have been to. Dark maroon walls, gothic/modern binary, $10 drinks, too loud music, bottle service. It’s a Thursday and the place is quiet when we get there. After our first drink the after work crowd has landed and the music is thumping and the bottle service is pushing in on our little corner. He’s trying to impress me; this is what he thinks I’m into. I do, a little, and I’m flattered he was trying to pick a meeting spot that he thought I would enjoy, although I would have preferred a little hole in the wall where we could talk, snuggle and perhaps get a little inappropriate.
We’re sitting too close, like people who want to get inside each other. I’m probably smiling too much. We make small talk, school, his job, funny stories. I laugh too much and he moves in closer, putting his hand around my shoulders. I look up into those green eyes and smile. I want to do this, I can’t do this; I’m going to do this.
I want to stay like this forever, the tension, the ease. We’re old friends and shy (yet freaky) lovers. I want to hold his face; I want to gently touch every part of his body and then hit him so hard so he can finally feel what it’s like to love him. I want to do all of this right here in this yuppie bar.
I want a quiet booth where we can flirt and catch up. I ask him if he knows anywhere near here where we can get a beer that doesn’t cost $7, I feel like a PBR.
“Well there is a bar by my apartment”
Now I know his apartment isn’t close, this is not a hop skip and a jump. This is a $25 cab ride or a 30 min train ride. I make a face at him that basically translates to “oh really?” He gets a little flustered; maybe worried that he misread my signals. Now, I wish I can say no to him, have some backbone, prove to him that he’s not always on my mind. But at that moment all I want to do is see him naked, see what underwear he has under his baggy business casual.
“I’ll drive you back in the morning…”
He says please and of course I relent. We leave the bar holding hands, I lean into him for support; he gives it. I want this forever, walking confidently next to him, at his side. His hands are large and his fingers wrap around mine protectively, tender yet strong.
I love his hands, I hate mine. Mine are spindly and look like old lady hands. They’re small and jointy. Hs hands are long, surprisingly gentle and soft for all the sports he plays. His hands represent him entirely. They’re long and delicate; yet look like they would be at home doing manual labor.
We’re walking through the city hand in hand, talking about everything…nothing. I just remember that I was touching him. I get so emotional around him because its so fleeting and I have such intense feelings.
We go back to the apartment he shares with 3 other people. I’m loud, I’m always loud, and I can’t help it. Especially when I’m slightly nervous, I turn loud and flirty. I get like national anthem at a baseball game loud. He keeps shh-ing me, I tickle him and nuzzle my head into his chest; it’s where I reach. He wraps his hands around me and we stand in his small kitchen, my head on his chest. I think we both needed some tenderness, closeness: intimacy. I always wonder how a boy like this likes me. I’m not ugly, but girls fawn over him. It feels comfortable, but there is always that insecurity whispering in my ear.
We grab an large bottle of cheap white wine and two glasses and head to his room. He puts music on, lights some candles and we sit in the glow, shadows jumping off our faces
The rest is hard to write. I of course ruin the mood and get serious. I love this kid, I love being with him and sometimes I can’t keep my trap shut and just enjoy the moment. He says all the right things, but at this point who knows if it’s the wine, the late hour, or his hard on talking.
To be continued…
Monday, September 24, 2007
NO MORE FANTASY, REALITY!
So this post took a few days of marinating in my mind for me to be able to write it.
I mean, I had to think of the perfect way to introduce this, but it failed me.
I DD IT!
For the first time ever, I hit a man (intentionally and for my pleasure) during a sexual act. And Jesus, it was absolutely- fucking-awe inspiring-fantastic. There are no words to describe the high I got from the brute force of it, as well as the high I got from hearing his response (positive!). I was always worried that I couldn't do it/break out of my shell, /hit someone, and make it seem sexy. I mean I worry that if I slap someone in the face I'll ruin their eardrum and for the rest of their life their balance will be off. But that never happened (yay!!)
So details:
I was away for the weekend, and all this talk with the boy (see previous posts) got me thinking and got me way hot and bothered. And I was wondering, yes I can talk about it (slightly) and yes, I want to do it but CAN I?
I was out, in a new town, surrounded with people who don't know me and I said, why not? This is the perfect time/place to try on my dominant training wheels. I met this guy at a club, absolutely adorable. Tall, built, that perfect combo of skater boy and urban player. I was drunk, so it came easy. I will go into details because I want to relive them again. We shall call him Tom.
So things were looking good, I really got along with him. We had great conversation (that I vaguely remember, see above inebriation comment) and I could tell he was into me so it was green light go! We went from show, to after party, to apparently “make out point”. I fucking kid you not, I made out like a 50s teenage movie star. Annette and me have been to Make Out Point. But it was cute in that “I’m drunk and am going to hit you so I’ll let you take me wherever since things might get hairy anyway” kinda way.
Up on a hill, overlooking the city sitting on a rock (or a precipice...it just sounds funnier) I got violent and FUCKING LOVED IT. There were of course make outs before there always has to be foreplay, and I wanted to see how he felt about the whole “take charge thing”. Because if we remember, even if its vanilla sex I’m having I will no longer allow myself to be put in situations where I feel uncomfortable/pressured into things/uncomfortable positions mind AND body. SO I did it! And it was exhilarating and great, now I can’t take full responsibility, I should be totally honest. I did apologize a few times; I mean, I didn’t know how to proceed. I kept saying sorry (goes back to my constant need for validation) but once I started hearing his moans, and could see that he enjoyed what I was doing I WENT TO TOWN. From now on, I can only date boys who have enough hair that I can get a nice good grip. I grabbed hair; I pulled, (awesome). I pulled him towards me, I pulled him away from me (I took a page out of DevastatingYet’s book with her love of Jos’ collar) I dragged that boy around by his hair. And when I wasn’t bending him to my will I was steadying his face so I could smack him (delicious, that sound!!!!) There was a point when (mind the graphic nature, small children look away) when he was fingering me (there is just no nice way to say that) while I was holding myself upright (yes, we were both standing) by pulling on his hair with his head facing up while I was biting his neck to hold on (I’m sure I left a mark). This is of course when he decided to just slightly mention that he had a condom. Sorry folks, I was on a precipice, not gonna happen, which is exactly what I told him. So he tried to get me down on my back, which of course did not lead to sex, but more face slapping, and me asking for him to beg for it (which he did). But there was no orgasm in his future (this one was about me testing my limits, in a bed, and comfy and in a house maybe… with twigs in my back and his shirt under my ass…. not so much). I don’t remember if I came (read: drunk) but I am super psyched I tried this. Now I know I can’t expect every boy to enjoy this that I drag/bring home from the club, but it’s a good place to start and good to know that maybe I don’t need to look to the RPG/DD playing nerds for a little bdsm luvin. Now can I turn some Abercrombie models? That’s who I want to hit and tie up… or maybe there is a part II of this story, Tom is moving away, but I am wiling and able for round II as long as he expects/can handle more of the same.
For what happened INSIDE tom’s car while I was playing on the precipice getting my sadistic rocks off check some of the other blogs I check, it won’t be hard, you don’t need to be Columbo.
I mean, I had to think of the perfect way to introduce this, but it failed me.
I DD IT!
For the first time ever, I hit a man (intentionally and for my pleasure) during a sexual act. And Jesus, it was absolutely- fucking-awe inspiring-fantastic. There are no words to describe the high I got from the brute force of it, as well as the high I got from hearing his response (positive!). I was always worried that I couldn't do it/break out of my shell, /hit someone, and make it seem sexy. I mean I worry that if I slap someone in the face I'll ruin their eardrum and for the rest of their life their balance will be off. But that never happened (yay!!)
So details:
I was away for the weekend, and all this talk with the boy (see previous posts) got me thinking and got me way hot and bothered. And I was wondering, yes I can talk about it (slightly) and yes, I want to do it but CAN I?
I was out, in a new town, surrounded with people who don't know me and I said, why not? This is the perfect time/place to try on my dominant training wheels. I met this guy at a club, absolutely adorable. Tall, built, that perfect combo of skater boy and urban player. I was drunk, so it came easy. I will go into details because I want to relive them again. We shall call him Tom.
So things were looking good, I really got along with him. We had great conversation (that I vaguely remember, see above inebriation comment) and I could tell he was into me so it was green light go! We went from show, to after party, to apparently “make out point”. I fucking kid you not, I made out like a 50s teenage movie star. Annette and me have been to Make Out Point. But it was cute in that “I’m drunk and am going to hit you so I’ll let you take me wherever since things might get hairy anyway” kinda way.
Up on a hill, overlooking the city sitting on a rock (or a precipice...it just sounds funnier) I got violent and FUCKING LOVED IT. There were of course make outs before there always has to be foreplay, and I wanted to see how he felt about the whole “take charge thing”. Because if we remember, even if its vanilla sex I’m having I will no longer allow myself to be put in situations where I feel uncomfortable/pressured into things/uncomfortable positions mind AND body. SO I did it! And it was exhilarating and great, now I can’t take full responsibility, I should be totally honest. I did apologize a few times; I mean, I didn’t know how to proceed. I kept saying sorry (goes back to my constant need for validation) but once I started hearing his moans, and could see that he enjoyed what I was doing I WENT TO TOWN. From now on, I can only date boys who have enough hair that I can get a nice good grip. I grabbed hair; I pulled, (awesome). I pulled him towards me, I pulled him away from me (I took a page out of DevastatingYet’s book with her love of Jos’ collar) I dragged that boy around by his hair. And when I wasn’t bending him to my will I was steadying his face so I could smack him (delicious, that sound!!!!) There was a point when (mind the graphic nature, small children look away) when he was fingering me (there is just no nice way to say that) while I was holding myself upright (yes, we were both standing) by pulling on his hair with his head facing up while I was biting his neck to hold on (I’m sure I left a mark). This is of course when he decided to just slightly mention that he had a condom. Sorry folks, I was on a precipice, not gonna happen, which is exactly what I told him. So he tried to get me down on my back, which of course did not lead to sex, but more face slapping, and me asking for him to beg for it (which he did). But there was no orgasm in his future (this one was about me testing my limits, in a bed, and comfy and in a house maybe… with twigs in my back and his shirt under my ass…. not so much). I don’t remember if I came (read: drunk) but I am super psyched I tried this. Now I know I can’t expect every boy to enjoy this that I drag/bring home from the club, but it’s a good place to start and good to know that maybe I don’t need to look to the RPG/DD playing nerds for a little bdsm luvin. Now can I turn some Abercrombie models? That’s who I want to hit and tie up… or maybe there is a part II of this story, Tom is moving away, but I am wiling and able for round II as long as he expects/can handle more of the same.
For what happened INSIDE tom’s car while I was playing on the precipice getting my sadistic rocks off check some of the other blogs I check, it won’t be hard, you don’t need to be Columbo.
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