Baby Steps

I walked into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, fresh the shower after a rigorous morning fuck. He lay on the bed half dressed. "I noticed the handcuffs on the dresser over there."

"Oh yeah. Let me show you. I love these." I pulled out my Darbies and showed them how they worked. They are suprisingly soft feeling for such hard metal. I put them on myself first and we joked at how long it seemed to take and how did British cops do this quickly. I put them on him next. Ben (formerly known as S.) has small wrists. They looked good on him. I set the key on the dresser and slapped his thigh.

"Have fun. I'm getting dressed."

When I came back to the bedroom, he was still lying there and asked what other things I had. I opened up the bottom drawer and pulled out the various toys in my meager collection: the spreader bars, the various vibes, the blindfolds and the floggers. I looked at the strap-on harness and smiled. Not yet, I thought. He looked a little surprised, but pleased.

"What about those corsettes you mentioned?" I pulled them out and he helped me put one on. He took his time, determined to do it right, pulling tightly on the laces.

"Yeah, nice results," he said. I smiled back, shaking my ass, at him. It's been a while since I've had a corset on. I rubbed my hands over the fabric, feeling the stiffness, the structure. I miss it.

I'm seeing the signs. Last night, as I sucked his cock he started biting my ass. He's sucking my tits a bit harder, mauling them not just caressing him. He grabs my head, forcing me on to his cock, pushing my head down. He jacks himself off while I suck him, my head trying to follow his hand, his fist hitting my mouth over and over while I struggle to keep his cock in me.

Last night, while he was fucking me, pounding against my cervix he slapped my face, "Yeah!" I whispered and he slapped me again. "You fucking bitch. Your pussy's so fucking wet," he whispered so low I could barely hear him. I felt his hand wrap around my neck. He tightened his grip while he swiveled his hips, his cock exploring my crevices. I put my hands on the side of his face, running my fingers over his lips. Then he took my hand and placed it on his neck. I gripped tighter. Suddenly, he flipped me over and I sat down on his cock, riding him. He brought my hands back to his neck and I squeezed.

The room was pitch black. I could barely see his face, I gripped his throat and suddenly I panicked. "Am I doing this right?" I kept wanting to slip off of him, run to my computer and read up on the proper way to strangle someone. I've been the recipient in breath play, I've been to workshops, but I never actually did it to another person. I moved my hands off of his neck and placed them over his mouth and nose. I was a lot more comfortable with this since I couldn't accidently damage his windpipe. He moved my hands back to his neck and I thought back to all of those classes. "Where's that carotid artery, again? I know I have a flyer on this somewhere!" The subject became moot when he flipped me over, my legs thrown over his shoulders and fucked me stupid yet again.

Take My Breath Away

I bought a gas mask at an army surplus store a while ago, but I have yet to use it. I put it on every now and then and put my hand over the mouth piece to see how long I can go. It's amazing how hot not breathing for a while can be. Plus, it looks really cool.

It can be as simple as a hand over my mouth or pinching my nose while giving a blow-job: immediately my shoulders drop as I feel the tension leave my body. My ex-boyfriend was a big guy. When he laid on top of me he would hold himself up a little and I would have to urge him down, wanting to feel his full weight on top of me. One former lover would sometimes remind me to breathe while we were fucking. I wouldn't even know I was holding my breath. I love the way kinks can just develop over time, when suddenly you see the pattern form.

It started off as a nice, good fuck. With my legs over his shoulders, I luxuriated with his cock pounding in and out of me. But nothing is ever that simple with Jefferson. I felt the pillow over my face. I smiled under the fabric. I wasn't expecting this, but it was a nice surprise! I didn't hold my breath, but breathed through the thickness. As he fucked me, my breathing quickened as I panted into the cotton. I felt the weight as he pressed down on either side of my head while he pumped in and out of me. I held out as long as I could, until I had to come up. I fought against his weight and turned my head to the side, squeezing my head through the pillow with a gasp until the pillow came back down again.

La petite mort…

Earlier that evening, a lovely young man and I were locked in 69, he sucked and licked my pussy with his cock nestled comfortably in my mouth (normally I'm not a big fan of the 69. I find it distracting). Then Jefferson's started to fuck his ass and my brain exploded, in this gorgeous moment of over-stimulation. "God, that tongue feels fantastic and his cock tastes so good, and there's a dick pounding an ass inches away from my face!" And then there was the weight! The fantastic pressure of the body on top of me and the way it pressed down harder when Jefferson's cock shoved into him. The next morning he knelt on my torso as he reached for a condom, bouncing up and down a little, forcing little grunts out of me.

As someone who has a tendency to faint for no apparent reason, I know this is probably not the smartest form of play, but I've never really been one to stop doing things I enjoy just because they're bad for me.