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Fresh Every Day

Before the great Bryce Lloyd fire of '15 (not an actual fire), on the ancient version of this blog, I wrote an essay. I wrote many actually, and many were lost in the (not literal) fire.

Two of these were such that keenly feel their loss, and I remember them with fondness, and also sadness.

What follows is an effort to recapture one of these again here, because I feel as if it had an enduring value, at least to me. We shall see about that.

When I was first married, I was drawn to symbols of permanence: gold rings, diamonds (which are not really forever) and things, in general, that seemed an unchanging touchstone that could represent the eternal.

These symbols, perhaps, were manifestations of my insecurity, but they also embodied an ideal: they were physical representations of a lasting love that could, and would, survive the years. I think that it is an image and an idea that society presents and we consume, unthinkingly, but it also did resonate with my own image and understanding…
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Feel The Vibration

One of the places I did not imagine that I would go when I began my journey was becoming a quite avid fan of vibrators.

I know that there are men who enjoy using them or having them used on those men's own bodies, but that is not what I am talking about. For whatever reasons of physiology or psychology I don't enjoy that feeling.

I am a fan of using vibrators to make women happy, whatever happy might be, and to tease and frustrate before that to bring the greater happiness later.

There is so much to love. They are tireless instruments, and their abilities exceed the limitations of the flesh, but continue on with their work with unvarnished monomania (though I have dealt with the unfortunate matter of batteries giving out at an inopportune time).

They can also be precise instruments, causing just the right amount of pleasure, walking up to the edge and then retreating, then walking again and back. They can find just the right spot and do it at just the right moment.

And they ca…

Flogging Flogging

It is more than what it is.

It seems a very simple thing, a physical transaction. The arm moves and the falls strike the skin. The leather or suede or whatever material they are made from patters in a tiny storm and draw themselves along the body, leaving their evidence as they travel. Slide off and the arm pulls them back. Then through the air to strike again.

It seems almost as nothing. Simplicity itself.

It can be, of course. But it can be more.

It can be transcendent. It can be meditative.

Which sounds like nonsense, until you experience it.

When I began, it was all I could do to, with minimal competence, to land the falls on the beautiful expanse of skin before me. All I could do to accomplish what is so simple. And so, the raw, physical act was all there could be.

But somewhere it became more, much more. One day it was different.

It is something in the rhythm, perhaps. Or maybe more.

Because, for me, and those I have shared it with, it creates a place in isolation. A universe in…

Restraint

The idea was, they were supposed to check in, put the luggage in the room, and see some sights.

He looked tired, and she wondered if he'd be too tired for that agenda. She was worried he'd feel like sleeping.

He'd given her the room key, so he could carry the bags with one in each hand.

As the door clicked, he was pressing, lightly on her back, urging her into the room.

She heard the door click behind her, then his voice, calm, direct, and not at all tired.

“You don't actually care about the tourist stuff, do you?”, he said, not really asking.

“No”, she said, “I don’t”.

She looked in his eyes. He was smiling, but also looked quite determined.

In a moment, he'd pulled a few objects from his bag.

“Get on the bed”, he said.

She took a moment to think, unsure what his smile meant.

She figured there was only one way to determine that.

The first, and only thing she saw was a blindfold. It was in the style of a sleep mask, and he put it over her eyes.

She couldn't see what he was …

Cinema

It had been her idea.

Seeing a movie. They had not done that for quite a while. She liked movies. She liked to go somewhere. Somewhere with the two of them, as it had been at the beginning.

He did not surprise her by selecting an extremely boring documentary about agriculture. It's not like she could get him to go see anything FUN.

But it was a movie, and she was happy.

He had put a blanket in the car, and he brought it with him to the theater. “It might be cold in there”, he said.

He spent a long time inspecting the room. He'd taken forever selecting popcorn and candy, and the previews had already begun.

Why he was scanning the room was unclear. It was a weeknight, and the room was almost empty. They could sit absolutely anywhere.

He eventually saw some seats two thirds of the way to the back, in the middle, and they sat there. It was kind of cold. He had spread the blanket over the two of them.

It was nice and warm, and the candy was nice. Who cares if it's a documentary about ag…

Skin

Darkness.

Everyone was too tired. We slept.

But I am awake, and I am hard.

Sleeping, as you seem to be, at first I just rub my cock with my hand. But the smell of you, and your body close to me are too much.

As I begin to slide your panties off, you seem asleep, but there also seems to be some volition in your actions. Subtly, you are helping.

I rub my cock on you from behind, and you respond. Never really awake, but on your back. Legs spread a bit, I spread them more.

And I am on you, pressing into you. You are wet. My cock slides in, with some effort at first. I stay there for a moment, inside you, not moving. Then gradually building to a good fuck.

Never admitting to being awake, you moan a bit, but do not open your eyes.

I cum in a geyser inside you, and rest for a while.

I roll over, and sleep overtakes me. Really deep. All is right with the world.

Buzz

The restaurant was not big, and not crowded. It was noisy. But dimly lit.

He had asked for a table near the back, away from the door, and away from major traffic.

Or, at least she assumed that he had. She'd seen him speaking to the Maitre'd before they sat, and he seemed very insistent.

He sat next to her, which was unusual. He usually sat across the table, but here he was beside her.

It began normally, with airy conversation, but he casually took a little box from his jacket pocket as he spoke.

He put it on the table, and kept talking.

She became curious, but she let him talk, and wondered.

After a bit, he pushed the box toward her.

She looked inside.

It took a few minutes of examination to determine that the odd little object was a vibrator. It was more like a work of art. Only when she managed to switch it on did she understand what it was for.

“Why are you giving this to me here?”, she asked.

“Well”, he said, “read the card.” She noticed the card, taped to the top of the box.

He took …