Feb 132009

I want to tell you about my girlfriend. She’s funny, she’s sweet, she’s both insecure and very confident at the same time. She’s pretty, she’s smart and she loves murder mysteries. She also sings Willie Nelson like she means it, which isn’t easy to do. She saw ‘Six String Samurai’ in the theater and watches ‘Deadwood’ at home. She thinks I am a sadistic mother fucker and she thinks that’s a good thing.

It’s been a year since my divorce. I feel like I have aged ten years as a person in that time. I’ve learned to like myself and I’ve learned to trust myself, which are two things I didn’t even know I had lost. I love myself too much to not marry this wonderful girl. I’m fucking 35 and that is too long to have been without this woman.

Being a cerebral type, I didn’t realize this until I heard Gnarls Barkley’s ‘Blind Mary’. The first time I heard it, I loved it. It’s simple but aren’t the best love songs simple? The song rattled around in my head and I kept singing it to myself. It was the only song I knew that captured the feelings I was going through. She doesn’t know that I am ugly.

And one morning, I came out of the shower and walked into the bedroom. My girlfriend was awake but still in bed. I was still singing but I had substituted her name for Mary.

And I sang to her,

I lo-ve Mary,
Blind Mary marry me.
I lo-ve Mary,
Blind Mary marry me

The pure joy on my girlfriend’s face was beautiful. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. It wasn’t my intention at the moment but what the Hell. You learn not to pause in moments like these. “Yes I am.”

Jul 152008

Few people make as many promises as the unhappy. When you’re unhappy, you make plans and commitments to happy futures under that amazing conditional phrase: If Only Some Amazing Thing Would Happen, I Would Blah Blah Blah.

In the BDSM community, these promises usually come from those who are not in a relationship. Doms promise that if only they had a submissive, they would tie her up every night. Submissives promise that if they only had a dom, they would stick to their diet and work out. Everyone swears that if only they were in a relationship, they would fulfill their desires on a constant basis.

Reality can be disruptive to those promises. For one thing, the happiness a relationship brings creates new pleasures. Making lasagna together is one of my new favorite things, which it sure as fuck wasn’t a year ago. Reality also introduces the idea of satisfaction. Now that you can fuck someone silly in the living room, you don’t need to do it every day.

I was looking at my girlfriend’s ass last night. She had on these cute blue green panties with stars on them. They weren’t sexy, but the ass that was filling the panties were. I thought about how many times I had sworn that if I only had an ass to spank, I would spank it every day. I thought about how I would sigh when I heard one of my submissive friends complain about how their doms only spank them once a week. I remembered how I could not conceive of NOT spanking such a pretty ass any chance I got.

She came to bed with a book. She rolled over away from me but with her ass facing me. The promises I made when I was married and unhappy came to mind. If time travel was possible, Shon from 12 months ago would have been kicking my ass right now.

I sat up and grabbed her panties. I pulled them up into a wedgie so I could have access to both cheeks. My girlfriend giggled and kept reading. I wasn’t offended. I took it as a challenge.

Bare handed and at an awkward angle, I spanked her ass. Her ass turned from brown to red. Her cheeks clenched tighter as I spanked harder. Her legs kicked but I pinned them down with my leg.

I spanked that beautiful ass. I kept my promise to myself. I deserve it.

Jul 142008

I tried to explain the concept of ‘Nipple Love’ to my girlfriend. She screamed at me through hysterical laughter, “You’re making this shit up!”

Sigh. Let me set the scene. It was a dark and stormy Sunday. We had recently bought the ‘Curse of the Dark Pharoah’ supplement for what seems to be our weekly game of ‘Arkham Horror’. We bought the supplement in the hope that some new elements would jazz it up. What happened is the game got twice as fucking hard.

My girlfriend hit a string of bad luck. She rolled ten dice; none of them came up as successes.

“My dice are cursed!” she yelled.

“You got to show them love,” I said. “You have to show them Nipple Love.”

She started laughing. “What?”

I got very serious. “Look, gamers know that when your dice go bad, you have to charge them up. You rub them on your nipples.”

She kept laughing. “”You’re making this shit up!”

“No, that’s what you have to do! The dice need to touch you and get your essence.”

She half heartedly rubbed them on her shirt.

“Skin to dice contact!” I said.

“You just want to see my nipples,” she said.

“Woman, if I was making this up, I would say you had to put them in your mouth and put a cock in there too.”

She laughed and reached into her shirt. She rubbed the die on one nipple, and then the other. She then blew on the die which really cracked me up. Once you start doing one superstition, why not throw others too?

She rolled the dice. Mother-fucking six.

Nipple Love.

Jun 192008

I had her by the wrists. The giant landmasses I call hands were wrapped around her delicate wrists. She was upside down on the bed with her plentiful breasts spilling out of the inadequate tank top she was wearing. I bent down and opened my mouth. I wasn’t sure if I was going to bite her tit or maybe find a nipple to suck on. I would decide when I get there.

She shrieked. She laughed. She was conflicted between the state of arousal and fear. No matter how much she struggled, my hands had her pinned.

I did what I wanted.

Jun 062008

Slow strokes. It’s too hot to do anything else. I take my time with everything. I entered slowly. I grabbed a thigh and propped it around my hip for that extra penetration. My hips shift in, my hips shift out. We get to fuck without hardly any effort.

But the best laid plans of sweaty lovers get tossed aside. Trying to conserve motion goes out the window when you slide into a tight pussy. No amount of heat can stop two bodies who need to fuck. The room is hot but my cock and her pussy are hotter.

I grab the bedpost and my gentle rocking motion turns into a violent slamming. I watch those heavy brown breasts quake from my thrusts. Sweat covers us both and we don’t care.

Jun 052008

Summer was made for spanking. The skin is already warm and each blow on naked ass sticks from the humidity. Heat layers on top of heat until the ass is a crimson furnace.

I rolled my girlfriend on her side towards me. My lips were still moist from eating her pussy. She resisted out of sheer laziness as the hot summer day has already sapped her strength. Once I grip her bare ass in my hand though, she stops fighting.

SLAP! It’s awkward as hell spanking some like this. We’re facing each other on our sides so the angle is awful but luckily I’m a tall man with long arms. The trick is to swing upward, striking the ass from the bottom up. The other trick is on a humid summer day, the slightest spank feels a lot worse than it actually is.

I spank her and she melts into me. Each slap of her ass makes her clutch to me that much more. Every time I hit that round bottom, the sound would drown out the weak buzz of our fan. With every slap, spank and groan, my need to fuck grew more insistent.

Jun 032008

On a Georgia summer day, heat and humidity is everywhere. Pants stick to legs, panties stick to asses and mouths stick to cunts. The heat sears body parts together and the humidity and sweat seals everything in. Days like these were made for pussy eating.

I licked my girlfriend for relief from the heat. With the sun light bathing us on the unmade bed, I took cover between her dark thighs. I found shade in the dark cleft below her clitoris. My mouth drank from the well of her desire. My tongue took slow lazy licks that subconsciously fell into sync with the slow lazy rotations of the fan.

There is no better summer day snack.

Jun 022008

She was flat on her back and I was on all fours above her. I had her ankle on my shoulder. We looked into each other’s eyes as I leaned forward. Her leg stretched and I saw her eyes roll.

She moaned. When we flirt, she giggles. When we fuck, she talks dirty. But when I stretch her leg, she moans like a woman in the throes of orgasm.

I shift my weight and we are a little bit closer. We are wearing clothes but I am hyper sensitive about how close my groin is to her open thigh. Her leg pushes back against me and I feel the power and tension.

She moans. She gasps when I inch a little closer. She starts to babble about how good it feels. I watch her cheeks flush. I feel my cock harden.

“Time for the other leg,” I say.

She shudders with precognitive pleasure.

Mar 282008

She lays flat on her belly. Her arms tucked under her head with her legs together. The curve of her ass is just begging for my hand.

I start slow. Light light light taps. I’m bouncing my hand off her ass. I remember being a kid and learning how to dribble a basketball. It’s that same touch. It’s not about power or force as much as it is letting the motion work itself.

My hand moves left to right. I bounce off one cheek and then the other. The speed picks up. My palm tingles and I slow down. Light and easy.

She moans. It’s a good moan. It is the moan you do when you slip into a hot bath. It is the moan of chocolate. It is the moan of stretching after sex. This feels good.

I remember when I used to make women do a different kind of moan. I spanked to terrorize. I spanked to spoil only myself. I spanked to hurt, to make them wince and to make them fucking notice I was there. I spanked like a bastard. I spanked like an angry teacher. I spanked to make them scream.

Now a days I only spank her. I spank because it makes her feel good. My precise blows are now a form of impact massage. My hand and all those cruel paddles are now just instruments of relaxation. When it starts to sting, I slow down. When it she starts to squirm, I strike gently.

I used to make fun of people like me. I called them spanking slaves. I rolled my eyes at the bottom who would make requests and I snickered at the tops who listened. Where was the terror? Where was the fear? What was the point if you’re not making them tremble?

But now I get it. I don’t have a wife who criticizes me non stop. I don’t feel like the only time I get respect is when I wield a paddle. I don’t have to justify every decision I make under the context that I am a sex obsessed goofball. I am a sex obsessed goofball but it’s a fucking asset thank you very much. I’m not angry, I’m not tense, I’m not unhappy and swinging a paddle to somehow spank my way back into self respect.

I don’t have to spank a beautiful ass to feel good about myself. I spank a beautiful ass because it makes her shoulders unclench, it makes her sleep better and some days but not always, she rolls over and begs me to fuck her. I spank her because it makes her happy and I am glad to be a part of that.

It doesn’t hurt that it is such a beautiful ass.