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Posts Tagged ‘long distance relationships’

  1. We are still US

    January 11, 2015 by Heather Cole

    The weeks leading up to my trip overseas, where my sir now resided, were a whirlwind of activity. I was in a constant state of motion, cleaning up, cleaning out, and packing. But all the physical activity was a distraction to what I was feeling. I was out-of-my-body excited to see sir. We had been apart for four months, and although we connected via Skype every single day without fail, nothing could compensate for the lack of touch. His kisses, his hands on my body, the reassuring bulk of him next to me at night… I missed those things so much that I couldn’t even admit to myself how I ached to be with him.

    I was also feeling nervous. Not about the trip itself, but how we would reconnect in the flesh. And in my darker moments, I felt jealous. Jealous of a geographical location. Sir’s new city had him, and he was building a life that I could only learn about through my incessant questions during Skype. That city with its exotic customs and foreign life had consumed him almost completely. From my perspective, I was my boring old self in our boring old life that we used to share. My anecdotes from sex blogging and writing work seemed lame in comparison.

    When I stood beyond the gate in front of customs, I could only gaze at sir and smile. I told him he looked amazing, and I meant every syllable. I had to wait until we were alone in his apartment to feel his arms around me and the feeling of being held by him made me cry. Even though we both made a lot of effort to connect despite the geographical distance between us, nothing felt as exquisite as his physical embrace. It felt like I had journeyed all this way into the heart of a foreign land to finally be home. Home with him.

    The tears didn’t last long, though, and after he dried them, he gave me a quick tour which ended in the bedroom. He proceeded to claim me then, in every way possible. He filled my mouth, my pussy, and my asshole. His body dominated mine just as his will did. He smelled different, but his cock tasted and felt the same. I shed more joyful tears, mingled with the sounds of our bodies joining.

    That first day was divided into sleeping, eating, and fucking. During one of our awake times, he dug into his closet and pulled out the toys he had accrued for us. He had made a flogger from a discounted pair of nunchucks and paracord. There was a pingpong paddle, a foot long plastic shoehorn from Ikea that stung like a sonofabitch, a wooden spoon, a belt, and his favorite rattan cane. How he got that through customs, which was notorious for confiscating any items sexually related, was a mystery to me. Maybe they thought it was a camel stick? He’s going to take me to the Souk (the traditional market) and make me pick out my very own camel stick that won’t be used on any camels, only this girl’s backside.

    I fell into the familiar rituals of a spanking with wholehearted enthusiasm even as a part of me hesitated at the edge of giving myself completely. I felt like we had to be reacquainted in some ways, and I waited to see if I would find our D/s connection as strong as it once was. Now we were in his new life, a life that hadn’t made room for my physical presence yet. Everything about this world was foreign, and I worried that he would be too, or that perhaps, we wouldn’t share a love of the things we used to. Eventually I told my monkey mind to shut up, so I could be present. I trusted sir with my body and heart, and I had to trust that my unease would vanish the more time we spent with one another.

    Sir had me suck his cock while he hit me with his belt. The pleasure I took from sucking and running my tongue along his shaft was punctuated by the licks of pain from the leather. I gasped around him, trying to focus only on what I could control:  my mouth, tongue, and lips. Eventually he pulled me up beside him where I cuddled into his side. He stroked my cheek and looked intently at me.

    “Did you like it when I hit you?” he asked.

    “Yes, Daddy,” I replied with a small smile.

    “What kind of girl likes being hurt like that?”

    It was a question that he had asked me in various ways ever since the beginning of our relationship. And staring into his beautiful hazel eyes, the answer practically exploded out of me.

    “This girl loves when you hurt her, Daddy. It’s because of you that I love it so much. The pain goes hand in hand with trust, and it moves us beyond our defenses. Together.”

    Lust swept through me as my words unlocked the last gate around my heart. I wanted him all over again, and I wanted him to consume me. This was our connection in action. This is what kept me at his feet for the long months that we could only talk through our computers. The fire that blazed beneath my skin was lust for this man, love, and a trust so deep that I couldn’t feel whole without it.

    I kissed him hard and pressed my body along the length of his. He pushed me gently back and thrust his fingers between my legs. The orgasm hit me immediately, and I cried out as my fingernails dug into his arm. A second orgasm followed on the heels of the first, and I squirted on to the sheets. Daddy laughed with delight and fingerbanged me to a third orgasm.

    I couldn’t believe that I had squirted. It had been so long since I had done so, and when he asked me about it later, all I could think of was how strongly I felt about us. That was what inspired and reassured me. Despite all the time apart, our bond was still powerful, and we were still us.

     


  2. Masturbation Monday: The Cucumber

    October 13, 2014 by Heather Cole

     

    It’s an old cliche:  the bored housewife decides to use a cucumber as a masturbation device. I had joked about surveying the produce aisle for sex toys, but in all my years as a sexually active woman, I had never placed food in my vagina. In fact, Nikki and I have preached, “NO FOOD IN THE VAG” for as long as we’ve had this blog. Because let’s face it, the vagina is a delicate ladygarden. A cucumber, though, with it’s protective peel and generous girth… I mean, it really gets one’s imagination spinning. Right?!

    Last Wednesday found me seated in a plush chair facing the flatscreen of my computer, my thighs spread wide for sir to see. I was nude and carefully positioned so that I was completely exposed. He stared at me from beneath heavy lidded eyes and gave me instructions in a voice that made goosebumps ripple over my flesh. It didn’t matter to me that half the world separated us physically. He was my Dominant regardless of distance, and despite the prickly feeling of vulnerability, I responded in the same way that I did when he was directly next to me. The man owned me, body and heart. And my responses were partially the product of habit and training, and partly devotion.

    His first command was that I fellate the cucumber. I blinked at him and felt ridiculous, but I did as I was told. I awkwardly placed the wide vegetable in my mouth, the taste of green peel coating my tongue. As sir coached me with encouraging words, I moved the cucumber in and out, pushing it further and further into the back of my throat. It was much wider than my esophagus and could only go so far. With watering eyes, I pulled it out and gasped for air.

    “It’s too big, Daddy,” I said and wiped my eyes.

    “You’re such a good girl to try. I miss your mouth, whore.”

    I blushed and squirmed beneath his gaze, unbidden lust rising inside me. I had been so careful to keep my desires leashed. Shoved inside a steel trunk and wrapped in chains, they had sunk to a shadowy place inside me while I dealt with the sadness of sir’s departure. I had spent weeks mourning the distance that now separated us, and more than one of our calls had consisted of me weeping in front of the computer. My body missed him with a physical ache, but I refused to acknowledge how deeply that sexual need was rooted. Dealing with the day-to-day challenges of missing him filled my time. I wasn’t ready to open the trunk and feel all of that captive sexual energy pour forth.

    A towel stretched beneath me to protect the fabric of the chair from lube and my own juices. A second cucumber and the bottle of lube sat on the table next to the computer, and I had two extra-large condoms nearby as well. Sir’s low voice demanded that I lube up the American cucumber. (The English cucumber was saved for my ass and a later date). I adjusted the angle of my hips so that they were raised slightly and squeezed more lube on to my fingers. My fingers worked the cool liquid around the lips of my pussy and then into the wet heat. I was physically ready, my body responding eagerly to the stimulus and my master’s presence.

    Nervousness made my hand tremble as I placed the cold cucumber at the entrance to my vagina, and in slow increments, I pushed it inside. It felt smooth and alien, stretching me wide. I glanced up at the computer screen to see sir’s eyes widen and a slow grin cross his face.

    “That is so fucking hot,” he said. “Now fuck yourself faster.”

    I complied, my eyes falling to the side as I felt another blush start. Spreading myself open for another person wasn’t exactly new territory for me, but there was something extra dirty about being on camera. Maybe it was the anonymity of it even though I knew the man on the other side intimately. And then there was the foreign object that I used to impale myself. I felt wicked which lent an illicit quality to my masturbation. All these elements combined into a whirlwind that fueled my desire.

    Every thought left my head, though, when I changed the cucumber’s angle to stroke along my G-spot. Suddenly my entire physical awareness snapped to attention, every synapse and nerve focused on the building pressure of an orgasm. My gaze met sir’s in an unspoken question.

    “I want you to get close, but I’m not going to let you come. You’re not permitted to come,” he said sternly.

    I nodded, too engrossed in the pleasure that rolled through my body. I was almost there.

    “Please may I come, Daddy?” I panted.

    “Beg.”

    “Please please please may this girl come, Daddy? Please let this girl come for you.”

    The words slurred in the rush to expel them. My hand slipped along the cucumber that was now slippery with my arousal. I could feel my inner muscles tightening in anticipation of orgasm, and the vibrations, both and internal, almost pushed me over the edge. The fantasy in my head imagined that I could feel

    “Come for me, baby.”

    The orgasm exploded, golden sparks of ecstasy sparking through me. My eyes squeezed shut, and I cried out, the cucumber falling from my hand. Sir murmured his appreciation as I fell back, my legs sprawled like a rag doll.

    “You’re such a dirty girl barebacking a cucumber like that,” he said with a smile.

    I giggled. “I probably should have bought organic.”

    “Thank you, Daddy. This girl is happy to please you.” I made a motion to sit up, but he stopped me.

    “Let yourself relax and enjoy this moment. There’s nothing but me and you. No rush. No responsibilities.”

    Two months ago I would have placed my head on his lap so he could stroke my hair as I basked in the afterglow. That was impossible at the moment, so I smiled and let my eyes drift shut. Sir was right. For this brief space, it was only the two of us again. I loved being there with him, and at the same time, I acknowledged that it was fleeting. We couldn’t remain on Skype forever.

    “Pick up the cucumber, babygirl. I want you to go again.”

    I pushed away the bittersweet thoughts to grab the vegetable. Later I would peel and slice the still-warm cucumber for my salad. Dinner would be eaten alone with the erotic thoughts of my faraway lover and the echoing sensations of our electronic date. First, though, I had to orgasm again.

     

    Want more #masturbationmonday? Check out Kayla Lords’s post and the other steamy, sexy participants!

     

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