I’m back. Miss me?
So last night, the first full night of my return, was full of talking (and a little sex – I’ll get to that in a minute). Belle was somewhat put off by my lack of subbie Belle-oriented behavior. Funny, she thought, since our “arrangement” was my idea and now she’s so accustomed to it that when I’m not in the proper state of mind, she’s annoyed with me. Unfortunately, she really didn’t say anything about it until we were in bed at the end of the day. She was right, of course. I hadn’t been focused on her in that way, though I certainly was horned up and wanting her in more mundane ways. My excuse (such as it is) is that I was so far out of my headspace after a week in the woods and 18 hours on the road getting home, that I couldn’t just snap back into the groove. As I’ve said, I’m not by nature a submissive person. It’s a state of mind I need to work on in order to achieve. Had she said something about it – made it clear that I was underperforming and that she was disappointed – I think I would have fallen back into the groove (or started to, at least). She feels she shouldn’t have to say anything, though that’s difficult for me. Hearing her assert her dominance over me gives me quite the charge. She suggested that I had been out of the device for too long and I felt a combination of foreboding and excitement that always exists within me after being free for a while. I value my freedom but also crave her control. She neglected to say when she’d put me back in.
After that, we talked about my trip. The one rather important thing I neglected to mention here on my blog was that the The Other Woman was also on the hiking trip I took (along with eight other people, including her fiancee). As I’ve said previously, I met her through a group of wildlife enthusiasts – the same group I was hiking with. My participation in this trip was always kind of up in the air. Belle and I are in a very different place than we were nine months ago when I was unfaithful, but still, it was difficult. It was difficult for Belle and it was difficult for me. In any event, Belle wanted to know how it was. How I felt, etc.
What I decided once and for all on the trip – something I’ve pondered quite a bit over the past three-quarters of a year – is that the dominant paradigm of monogamous life-long relationships is not the only entree at the buffet. In fact, I do still have feelings for TOW, but they’re entirely different that those I have for Belle. As I told her last night, Belle is my mate. My other half. She completes me. I have never wanted anything other than to be with her for the rest of my life. She really is the love of my life. My feelings toward TOW are clearly inferior to those I have for Belle. They lack depth, richness, and complexity but they exist. I don’t know that I’d call it love. If love is what I feel for Belle, then it’s not exactly that. I feel like I need a new word. More than like, less than love. In any event, these feelings don’t in any way detract from my feelings for Belle. If anything, they enhance them. During those moments over the past week where I felt a resurgence of my feelings for TOW, I felt even more in love with Belle. I can’t say I fully understand how that works, but there it is. I know in my heart of hearts that TOW is no threat to what Belle and I share, even though I continue to carry these feelings around for her.
I also wanted Belle to know that I didn’t regard these feelings for TOW as representative of anything lacking in my relationship with Belle. They are separate and parallel and in no way competitive. I do not want to leave Belle and/or replace her with TOW, but the affection I feel for her is real. Is this polyamory? I don’t know. Perhaps. I can’t say I fully understand the concept enough to be able to say that’s what I’m experiencing.
What I am capable of saying, however, is that the idea of Belle having a little piece on the side seriously turns me on. Like, seriously. I told her as much. As soon as I brought it up, I felt myself stiffen considerably. Unlike Belle, who loses energy to the perceived competition TOW represents, I feel that I’d gain energy from her having a paramour. It’d make me want her even more. The competitive energy would convert to a greater desire on my part. Again, I can’t explain this. It runs entirely against what we’re all taught by society as to the model of the perfect relationship. I’m sure a part of this has a lot to do with where my head is now with regard to her sexual satisfaction. We’re not equal. My sole purpose is to ensure she’s totally sated at all times. In fact, according to Our Covenant, “Belle Fille claims the right to achieve sexual satisfaction in any way she sees fit.” When she decides she wants a vibrator over her cock, that’s a major turn-on for me since she’s sacrificing an element of my pleasure to ensure hers. It reinforces her position. If she took that several steps further and replaced the vibrator with the cock of another man…well, I get somewhat light-headed just thinking about it.
All this talk of cuckoldry had me well and truly worked up. She instructed me to close the bedroom door and remove my clothes. As she laid on her back, I was again looming over her body on all-fours. She gently rubbed and stroked the stiff flesh between my legs, my balls, and – eventually – even my exposed crack. Sweet Jesus, that felt glorious. I flexed my hips in order to fully expose myself and told her, even though I knew it more than a little squicked her out, I totally wished she could fuck me. Feeling her fingers glide smoothly over my puckering little hole sent me into a drooling stupor. I was snapped out of that when she slapped my nutsack. She didn’t hit me hard enough and in the right place to cause the level of pain I really crave, but she got a few good one’s in there.
After being reduced to a simmering pot of sexual energy, I pleaded for a chance to do something to her. Anything. Please.
She pulled up her top and I latched on to her nipple as though my life depended on it.
“Gentle,” she reminded me.
“Yes ma’am. How would you like to come?”
“I can’t decide,” she replied.
“Your cock is available,” I reminded her.
“I don’t want to hear your lobbying.”
“I’m not lobbying. Just making a statement of fact. I know how much you like it.”
“Yes, but your fingers are so sweet.” She removed her bottoms, now totally nude. “Put them in me.”
I obeyed. She was incredibly wet as I ran my fingertips up and along her slick contours. She moaned.
After a few moments, “Stop! I’m going to come too soon.”
My fingers retreated from her snatch, but continued to stroke the inside of her legs while my mouth stayed on her breasts.
“Oh god, you’re going to make me come without even touching me. STOP!”
I pulled away entirely. She was significantly turned-on. It had been more than week since her last orgasm (she neglected to use her vibrator while I was away) and her body, now that it had become accustomed to regular relief, had a lot of pent-up energy. It didn’t take much to put her on edge.
She climbed on top of me, but didn’t put the cock in. She just rubbed her outer lips against it like an animal in heat and almost immediately came (hard). My desire reverberated within me. I felt a pang of regret for not getting inside her, but also a thrill at how turned-on I could make her.
After she had a few moments to bask and glow, I asked, “Can I put it in? I want to fuck you so bad.”
“Sure.”
I grabbed what used to be my cock and positioned its head between her lips and pushed it home with my hips. Holy fuck, that felt good. Her moist heat sent the reptile brain within me into autopilot and I began to slide it in and out like a piston.
“I promise not to come.”
“Liar. You’ll come.”
“No, I won’t. I promise,” as I continued to fuck her.
“Liar.”
“I swear I won’t come without permission!”
“Good, because you don’t have permission.”
And I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her. Crude, half-formed fantasies about her non-existent paramour flashed though my brain. I can’t imagine my desire could have gone any higher. I so badly wanted to come, but knew it wasn’t allowed. I had to stop once as I got close to the edge, but had plenty of time to pull back before starting the steady rhythm again. I could have gone on like that all night. At one point, I opened my eyes to see her head being propped up by one hand, a bemused and somewhat bored expression on her face.
“You’re being so kind to me,” I told her. “Thank you for humoring me…uhhhng…oh, that feels soooo good.”
I had to stop again as another orgasm approached and she decided to pull the plug.
“OK, that’s it. You’re done,” she said as she lifted off me. I felt her hot wet pussy start to slip away and I lifted my hips in order to keep it inside her as long as possible. She pulled completely clear of me and I felt her soft wetness slide its last over the head of her cock as it fell back and bobbed, so hard and so desperate for more of her, suddenly cold. It flexed on its own volition. So, so desperate.
A short while later, after she had put her pajamas back on and the majority of my desire had eaten itself, I said to her, “I bet you’d let your boyfriend come.”
“Who says it’d be a boyfriend?”
Oh, fuck!
With that condition in mind, and also thinking about her statement that I would relive that pressure though milking rather than ruined orgasms (not that I could ruin an orgasm with this thing on me), I started to release some of the money I collected on my birthday and bought a specialty tool from Stockroom.com. It’s called the G-force and it’s a hard silicone dildo with a handle on one end and a bulbous knot on the other. It’s specifically designed for reaching those hard-to-get-to spots. I have a few different items (one, two) designed to stimulate the prostate, but I find they’re hard to manipulate in tight quarters. I like the look of the G-force’s Kung-Fu grip. Usually, I play with the toys I already have all alone, but I’m hoping that the G-force will prove easy and effective enough that Belle will use it on me. More and more lately, anything I do of a sexual nature by myself feels inappropriate with respect to our arrangement.