Bryce Lloyd

"Just stand there", I said, and you did. I looked at you for a while, then stepped forward. "Arms up", I said, and you put them up. I pulled off your shirt, and began to squeeze your breasts. Playful bites on your neck. "Just stand there." Bra straps off your shoulders. Unhooked, the bra comes off. Sucking your nipples, and biting them. Kisses under your breasts. The room is dark. Only candles light it. My hand is rubbing your pussy through your jeans. "Just stand there." Jeans unzipped, and pulled down. "Left foot up." You do it, the boot, sock, and leg of the jeans are off. "Right foot up." You are only wearing panties. I rub you again. You are trembling. I can feel the wetness through the panties. I can smell your juices. "Just stand there." My hand is inside your panties, rubbing your clit, then fingers inside you. Panties on the floor. "Left foot up. Right foot." You are na...

She was kneeling. What is your desire, she said. She was nervous. She was supposed to be taking a conference call. She was running late. She was supposed to do the call with Bangalore in the late evening. She wasn't sure what time. Give me those panties, he said. She slid them off, a bit complex since she was kneeling. It's time for your conference call, he said. She was about to protest, but the look in his eye told him that he was not being conciliatory, he had something in mind. As she was dialing, he said, one moment. Go into the bathroom and take off the bra, then button your dress again. She did that, and he was in the kitchen, doing something. She dialed. Rajiv was there, and so were Mohan, Pushpendra and Sneha. More would arrive. They began to discuss the functional spec. He was back in the room. She could hear him but was thinking about wire frames, as she reclined on the bed. He was unbuttoning her shirt with one hand. He had a little tray with stuff on it, but she co...

I am going to tell you a story because it is important. I will try to make it as brief as I possibly can. My marriage almost ended before it ended. I was married to Lily, whom those who remember this blog and this writer from ancient days will know. What had been a hopeful marriage had suffered through trauma and age and the indignity of the years. With two children and an increasingly demanding job, things found their way from bad to worse. This is such a common story that it is a stereotype, but what is not common is that my marriage experienced a renaissance after Lily took a trip to Colorado. This what happened. At that time, the sex had stopped, for all intents and purposes, completely. It almost never happened, and when it did it was clear to me that, for her, it was an unpleasant experience that she would prefer to avoid, and I did not have any interest in being that for her. When she was in Colorado, and a bit before, she had tried to rekindle things, but they...

It is difficult to explain how they got here. Long ago, it felt like long ago but really it was not, she had asked him whether he had a collar that she could wear during what had become very their very kinky sex and romance. It seemed of a piece with the cuffs and straps and leather implements, creating a mood and providing one more means of restraint. "Collars are not toys", he had said, "at least not to me. There are some who treat them that way, as a plaything or as fashion. But I am among the people who give them significance." At the time, she had remembered hearing about collaring as something that people did, and that it symbolized submission or slavery, or, well, she wasn't certain. What she knew for certain was that this was a topic that she had, a moment ago, had less than no interest in, and he had said a few words and she was suddenly eager to hear more. That kind of thing seemed to keep happening with him. So she had asked what ...

The skin of your back. The muscles in your shoulders. The ridge of your spine. The curve of your waist. The soles of your feet. The arch of your torso. The rhythm of your breath. The glistening of your sweat. The grace of your neck. The color of your hair. The shiver in your movements. The sighs from your chest. The force of your heart. The relaxation of your body. The ecstasy of your surrender.

My wife and I once watched a television show. We watched many, actually, but this show was of specific importance. We had embraced polyamory, and here on television was a reality show  (however generously so described) about the topic of polyamory. We were each also blogging on these matters, so we (well, I didn't think of this) decided to live blog each episode. And so, we watched the show. One of the narrative lines followed three people who were together in a relationship and their decision to marry. Each week it built up to the marriage, as I remember it, and made plain their internal and external conflicts. And then they were going to select their wedding rings. What the decided was not to have rings at all, but to tattoo rings onto their ring fingers. At this moment, I need to back up. When I married, as I have described before , I was drawn to permanence and it's symbols. And, beyond that, or because of that, I was also in a mindset of love and relationships...

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 unde...