Kink

The Twelve Days of Kinky Christmas

I’ll spare us the twelve days of build up. Instead, here’s what the kinky lover sent in grand total.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my kinkster sent to me

Twelve vibrators buzzing
Eleven fingers fingering
Ten tongues a-probing
Nine ladies moaning
Eight hands a-spanking
Seven cocks a-squirting
Six sluts a-laying
Five nipple rings
Four slippery lubes
Three French maids,
Two leather paddles,
And a corset with a lace trim.

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

Defining One’s Kinky Self

Since my last relationship, I have been questioning my kinky identity. How should I identify myself?

Prior to my last relationship, I identified as submissive, though I always have said I’m not a submissive. There’s a fine line between the two that I’m not sure I can articulate. Some people would label me as an alpha submissive. I’m a very high-powered Type A woman outside of the bedroom in the real world. In the bedroom, though I don’t want to be in control. I want my partner to take charge. I want to be the submissive partner, but I don’t build my sexual identity around serving my partner. I’m definitely not a slave.

Yet with my last partner, I discovered that I couldn’t let him dominate me. It felt wrong. When he would try to dominate me, his “Dom” voice was terrifying. It scared me. He wasn’t a scary man at all. He wasn’t trying to scare me. He was just trying to be commanding, a role he didn’t normally take. He wasn’t completely sure how to do it. The way he tried to do it wasn’t natural for him, and it wasn’t natural for me either. Our relationship didn’t really work well as a D/s relationship. We worked better as equals in the bedroom, albeit equals where he spanked me.

I’m not a switch, though. I don’t really enjoy topping men that much. I will do it on occasion, but I don’t like taking charge. I don’t like causing my partner pain. I don’t get off on tying him up, though it can be fun to do on rare occasions. I don’t really want to top my partner and tend to steer away from men who want women who can frequently dominate them. I just don’t want to be in control in the bedroom.

So it turns out I’m only submissive for the right men. With others, it just doesn’t work for me at all and can feel completely wrong. I think who I am in the bedroom is in part defined by my partner, his needs and our dynamic. Hence, I decided change my identification to “kinkster” on Fetlife because I am definitely kinky. I’m not sure I will keep it that way, but for now, it seems like the right label.

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

Watersports

I’ve never really understood the appeal of watersports. The desire to pee on someone or be peed on just didn’t make much sense to me. In the case of our current President, I do understand part of his desire to have women (possibly prostitutes) pee on the bed which the previous President slept in while in Russia. The current President is a racist, and he hates everything about the previous President. In that alleged case, it’s an act of disrespect and desecration. It doesn’t seem too sexual to me, but it could have been for him.

However, I’ve always said that for the right guy under the right conditions I would try watersports. One of my past partners gave me that opportunity. He was very open from the beginning that he was very aroused by watersports. He wanted to be peed on and would have loved to pee on me while we were in the shower or tub. He was aroused by the sound of me peeing in the toilet. He loved to drink urine fresh from the source no different than some men love drinking female cum or arousal fluids.

I grilled him at first as to why these things turned him on. I truly did want to understand the “why” behind the sexual attraction. He put it in terms of boys (and some men) having peeing contests or writing in the snow with urine. I’ve never really understood the male desire to do that either, but I’m female. I managed to kind of understand the urination things if I lumped them into “it’s a guy thing” though I know some women love them, too. I’m not sure I ever completely grasped his attraction to watersports, but the bottom line for him is that it’s a very primal experience. He finds it erotic.

So I set up the conditions under which I was willing to try: I was only willing to do it in the bathtub. I was only willing to pee on him; there was to be no peeing on me. He let me know that he would love to masturbate with my urine, and I was willing to accommodate that. He indicated that he would love for me to pee in his mouth, but I told him I couldn’t do that. It just was too much for me.

Life being what it is, I got stage fright the first time we tried. I just could not pee on him. Eventually during another session I managed to pee on him, and the look of pleasure on his face was truly amazing. I will never forget that expression on his face. He wasn’t lying about how much he enjoys watersports.

However, another time when I was peeing on him, he managed to gather some of my urine in his hands and then drink it. That freaked me out and turned me off completely. It was the end of that sexual session between us. I couldn’t go on, even after he had rinsed his mouth. I was totally grossed out. This same guy had stuck his tongue in my ass and kissed me afterward, and I’d rimmed him, too. We’d both gone down each other for fellatio and cunnilingus, and there was plenty of kissing after that. I was ok with any of that. Yet for some reason, urine in his mouth just repulsed me. I still don’t know why. Urine is theoretically sterile. There are some weird alternative health treatments out there that involve drinking urine. But someone drinking my urine during sex? I just can’t do it.

I’m wondering if maybe the smell has something to do with it. I can’t stand the smell of urine. I don’t like the smell of most bodily fluids to be honest. I hate semen and am grateful for condoms. I tolerate precum only because I have to. When this guy peed in my shower with me watching because that was sexually arousing for him, it totally turned me off. I really think it was the smell that did it.

Through all of this, my partner was a perfect gentleman. He never pushed me to do watersports. It was completely voluntary on my part. He respected when I hit a limit and freaked out. He knew that I was pushing my own boundaries trying this new thing. Ultimately, though, watersports turned out to be something that is a hard limit for me. He was willing to continue our relationship without watersports, but I know for him, it’s something that brings him intense pleasure. I want him to be able to have it as part of his sexual play. This is one of those cases where polyamory could be a wonderful thing… except we’re both monogamous.

I’m glad I tried so that I know that it’s a hard limit for me. I wish I could have been able to tolerate watersports enough for it to be part of our relationship for his pleasure. However, it’s something that I just can not ever force myself to do again.

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

Fluid Bonding

In the kink and polyamorous communities, there is a phenomenon known as “fluid bonding” that is held in high esteem. “Fluid bonding” is when a couple chooses not use any kind of barriers during sex and allow fluids to co-mingle. This is a sign of closeness and indicates that the couple is willing to share anything, including any possible STIs they might have.

I’ve found that fluid bonding is put on a very tall pedestal in the kink community and from what I can tell in polyamorous communities as well. It’s the biggest sign that one loves one’s partner truly, deeply, and unconditionally.

Contrary to this esteemed pedestal, I’m going to give what probably is an unpopular opinion: most couples are fluid bonded. Think about it. When you French kiss a partner, you are exchanging saliva which is a bodily fluid, one that can carry bacteria and viruses including HSV1 and 2. When a man fondles a woman’s genitals, he touches her arousal fluid and sometimes licks it off of his own fingers or makes her lick it off of his fingers and then kisses her. If a couple has sex while a woman is menstruating, even if they use a condom, it’s likely he will end up with some of her menstrual blood on his hands, legs, and abdomen. Depending on how much arousal fluid she produces, a man is also likely to end up with that all over his genital region as well.

What’s more, it’s rare for partners to use protection for oral sex from what I have experienced and heard from friends’ sex stories. I have never had a dental dam used on me, and I rarely use condoms for giving fellatio. Men directly ingest arousal fluid when giving cunnilingus. Women ingest precum in giving fellatio. Not one of the men I’ve been with who have been in their forties or fifties hasn’t leaked abundant amounts of pre-cum during our foreplay. I’ve ingested far more of it than I’d like to!

However, none of my partners aside from my ex-husband would consider us fluid bonded. Why? Because they have not ejaculated inside of me without condoms on their cocks. In the kink community, what “fluid bonded” really means is a man ejaculating inside a woman’s vagina (or in some rarer cases, her anus) without using barrier protection. The term “fluid bonding” does not really mean fluid bonding. What it actually is is an unconscious glorification of penis-in-vagina sex. Unless a man dumps his load in a woman’s pussy, they aren’t truly connected, aka fluid bonded.

The problems with this mindset are abundant and ridiculous. It raises the general STI risk as people who aren’t “fluid bonded” can still share STIs. More philosophically, it continues to promote an idea that “real sex” is only sex that involves a penis being inserted inside a vagina, and that’s far from true. Most importantly, it continues to feed the cultural male ego into believing that their semen is a sacred part of sex, and women’s vaginas and relationships as a whole are incomplete without that theoretically amazing jizz. Nothing could be further from the truth.

It would be great if “fluid bonding” was called what it really is: “semen-vagina bonding.” That’s far more accurate, and it lets people know what the true situation is. Furthermore, it doesn’t downplay other relationships which are just as “bonded” but which don’t glorify semen as what makes a relationship deep and true.

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

Ballbusting

Fascinating DM on Fetlife from a non-local man who is about my age:

Have you ever had to hit some jerk in the balls cause he was either a jerk or cause he was being an aggressive asshole? Curious how effective it is – ? Did the guy drop unable to get up or immobilized to some extent ? Anyways

Really? REALLY? Is he trying to get me to threaten to do the same to his balls? What would possibly make him think this the way to start a conversation with me? There is NOTHING on my profile to indicate that I’m interested in ballbusting or CBT, and given that I’m a sub, it’s probably not a conversation that will turn me on or interest me.

I do not understand the weird men of the internet, but then again, that’s nothing new.

The block button remains my best friend on Fetlife, dating sites, LinkedIn, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook….

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

Wax On, Wax Off

Almost all of the men I have had sex with have preferred a shaved pussy. I’ve heard the theory that it’s due to influence of porn on men’s minds as to what vulvas “should” look like. I can also buy the argument that they prefer not to have hair in their mouths when performing oral, though that argument loses a lot of steam if they subsequently refuse to go down on women (as too many do).

Since I’m not attached to my pubic hair style, I’m happy to style it however my current partner prefers within reason. However, as an obese woman, I find it very difficult to shave myself. I end up cutting myself most of the time even with an electric razor. It’s physically difficult to reach many spots. I can’t see what I’m doing even when using a mirror to help.

Thus, I tell the guys that I’m happy to shave myself for the first time or two, but after that I either need them to shave me or wax me. I love being shaved by my partner. It’s an act of dominance that totally turns me on. It’s also an act of caring and devotion. Some have been willing to do it (and I’ve returned the favor for them if they’ve asked though I prefer my men to be somewhat hairy in the genital region and otherwise).

However, not one single partner has been willing to wax me. They cringe at the thought. They want me to wax myself (how, I don’t know) or have someone else do it. They won’t do it. They turn into scared wimps. One of them, the most disciplinary Dom I have had, started whining at me about how he was afraid he’d hurt me. Really? You love to beat my ass red. You want me to choke on your cock when you ram it down my throat. Yet you are afraid of hurting me by waxing me?

I have never understood this bit of male logic. They want us as women to go through the pain of being waxed for their sexual gratification, but they’re too scared of the pain of waxing to help do it to us or even being around when it’s done. What a bunch of wimps. Also, see: hypocrites.

There was only one guy whom I was messaging with who I believe would have actually waxed me, though I found out he was married and that was the end of that since I don’t do married men unless I am married to them. He was the most sadistic man I’ve ever messaged with. He identified as primal, but his sexual desire for pain was more than that. He was a true sadist. He honestly scared me quite a bit with the level of his sadism, so when I found out he was married, part of me was relieved that I wasn’t going to be playing with him despite all his other appealing qualities.

So what does that say that only a true sadist is willing to help a woman wax her vulva yet all the other men want a silky smooth pussy as long as they don’t have to do the work? What is it about men and their unrealistic beauty requests of women? Why is this still the way the things are? What are other women doing to help change this?

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

The Nooner

(At long last! A M/F spanking and sex story that has taken me months to complete. Based on true events though no names are used to protect the very obviously guilty.)

My new boyfriend had a great deal of flexibility in his schedule since he worked from home as a computer programmer. He took advantage of that freedom to shift his work schedule to his natural bio-rhythms, sleeping in until 11 a.m. or noon every day but working until late in the night. He had also just moved into a new apartment, one that he hadn’t had the opportunity to christen yet with a sexual partner.

I kept a more traditional 9-5 work schedule because of my career; I traveled between locations locally meeting with clients while doing my job. One particular Monday, I had several last-minute cancellations for the next day on my schedule that left me with a big block of open time in the middle of the day. My last appointment before the free time was not far from my boyfriend’s apartment. I looked at that opening and thought to myself that it had a great deal of potential for some mid-day fun, so I sent a text to my boyfriend asking him, “Any interest in a nooner to christen your place tomorrow?”

The reply quickly came back: “Um, yes? Is there any other answer to that question?”

I was already fairly certain that his response would be an affirmative, but I laughed at his incredible willingness. We sent a series of texts working out the details. I would show up on his doorstep at 11 the next day, ready and willing for whatever fun might arise.  Part of me was a bit nervous about this plan for one reason: since I had learned how to have incredibly pleasurable but also incredibly loud orgasms, I hadn’t had sex with a man who lived in multi-family housing. Thus, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to restrain my screams for the sake of the neighbors. Still, I wasn’t about to turn down this opportunity based on that fear.

The next day I found myself at his front door with a cloth grocery bag of sex toys. The crop wouldn’t quite fit in, but no one was really around outside so I wasn’t too worried about what the neighbors were seeing. As I knocked on the door, my boyfriend opened it to greet me with a kiss. He was as happy to see me as I was to see him. However, he was also in morning mode, and he was in need of his coffee. I kicked off my shoes and made myself at home on the family room couch while he went in pursuit of his heavenly nectar. He had just gotten out of the shower and was still waking up.

We chatted while he loaded the coffee pot, but we quickly began kissing again on his couch while his coffee brewed. I was quite happy to see him, and he seemed equally excited (ahem) by the prospect of what was happening between us. When the coffee finished, he stopped kissing me to go grab his cup and fill it. While I knew how much the coffee meant to him, I wasn’t really in the mood for him to take time to drink it. I wanted to have sex. Desperately.

When he returned to couch to drink his coffee, I pounced on him as soon as he set the mug safely on the side table. The few seconds he had been gone had been too long. My tongue was rapidly inside his coffee-flavored mouth, and his hands quickly moved to my hips as I slid my body onto his lap. He pulled me close and returned my kisses with his, letting his left hand wander up to my breasts amidst the passion.  After a few minutes of this intense interaction, my boyfriend pushed me away to give himself a bit of space to grab his mug and take a long drink. Then he turned back to me.

“I have morning wood we need to take care of. You seem like you’re ready to help me what that issue.” A big smile crossed my face. I was definitely ready to help relieve his erection. My boyfriend took one more gulp of his coffee and then lifted me up off the couch and led me toward his bedroom. As we got into the bedroom, he pulled me close again and put his hands on my cheeks. A gentle kiss was followed by more sex talk.

“I want to make you cum,” he said emphatically, “but until we deal with this morning wood, I can’t think about anything else. You’re going to have to help me before I can help you.” With many men, I would think this was a line to get his and then leave me hanging. However, I knew my boyfriend was good to his word. He loved making me cum. He truly needed release, and I was more than ok with that. I put my arms around his shoulders, kissed him again, and then nodded my consent.

With that, my boyfriend couldn’t wait any longer. He began taking off his clothing while I removed mine in a rapid fashion. This wasn’t a sensuous undressing. It was desperation and desire. The goal was to be naked with our bodies pressed together as soon as possible. It only took a few seconds before we had achieved that goal, our lips and tongues again touching while my hands stroked his now naked cock that was definitely as hard as he had promised it would be.

Meanwhile, my boyfriend fumbled around on the nightstand, trying to find the condom and lube while still kissing me. He finally gave up at multitasking, pushing me onto the bed and onto my back. He opened the condom and slipped it on skillfully, squirting some lube onto it and then ordering me to spread my legs so he could put some lube on my pussy as well. I happily complied. Now prepared for what he truly wanted to do, my boyfriend slipped his sheathed cock inside my pussy, and I wrapped my legs around his legs. Missionary is one of the worst positions for me in terms of cumming, but I still love it for the intimacy it provides while watching my lover reach his climax. My partner knew that, and he was happy to put on a show for me as he worked through the motions of reaching orgasm, thrusting and pounding inside me, moaning louder and louder as he finally released his load. When he collapsed on top of me in exhaustion and relief, I ran my hands through his long hair and held him close, listening to his breathing and feeling his sweat on his body. I loved the feeling of my man lying on my body post-orgasm.

Eventually, he regained his wits, and my boyfriend scooted off of me onto the bed with a smile. He removed the condom and put it on a tissue on the nightstand, and then moved back to me to kiss me and pull me close, both of us laying on our sides and facing each other. Now that the animalistic fucking was out of the way, the sex could finally begin between us.

Among the toys that my boyfriend was anxious to use that day was an underbed bondage set. He had bought it since his headboard wasn’t bondage friendly but he very much wanted to include bondage in his bedroom. He had already installed the straps under the mattress and had the cuffs waiting for my wrists and ankles. He gave my bottom a smack and ordered me, “Roll over on your stomach in the center of the bed so that I can tie you up and give you the spanking you deserve for being such a naughty girl and having sex with your boyfriend in the middle of a work day.”

Eager to comply, I placed a pillow on the center of the bed, and then I moved onto my stomach over the pillow while he stood next to the bed. He started with my right wrist, securing the hand in the restraint. He progressed down to the right ankle, binding it tightly as well. Next, my boyfriend scooted around the king-sized bed, cinching up my left ankle and finally immobilizing me completely by putting my leftt wrist into the restraint. I tried to wiggle, but he had me very tightly bound which is exactly what he wanted. He then pulled on my ponytail, forcing my eyes to look into his.

“You’re now totally under my command. You have no choice but to submit to what I’m going to do to you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied. He was right. At this point, I was his willing prisoner, anxious to see what he had in mind for our kinky fuckery that day.

He didn’t keep me waiting long as he released my hair and then grabbed a blindfold from his nightstand which he slipped over my eyes. Now I couldn’t move and I couldn’t see. The kinky suspense was building, and I was loving every minute of it. He traced his hands down my back and onto my bottom where he gently caressed my naked globes, his fingers meandering closer and closer to my asshole. He had a fondness for sticking his fingers in my ass without warning, an action I loved but that was not to be this time. Instead, he slapped my bottom briskly and then moved off the bed.

I could hear him rustling around in the shopping bag I had brought. What was he looking for? He’d given me a very specific list of things to bring that included his favorite toys of mine including that damn riding crop which I hated but he loved. Still, I was his submissive, and I was going to do what he asked of me, so I brought the crop. The noises from the bag stopped, and then I heard the lid pop open on the lube that was already on his nightstand. Since he had thoroughly lubed up my pussy earlier before he fucked it, I knew that could mean only one thing: he was about to insert the large butt plug I had brought along.

Sure enough, I felt the cold lube dripping down my crack as my boyfriend whispered in my ear, “Are you ready to take the butt plug like a good girl, Little One?”

“Yes, sir. Please put the butt plug in my naughty ass,” was my desperate reply. I loved having the butt plug inserted, and he knew it. It was a power trip for him to use my ass however he wanted, but he also got off on knowing that I wanted him to use me anally. Slowly I felt the very cold glass pressing into my ass, slipping gently in until it hit the point of resistance. Then, suddenly, there was the painful pop that always made me moan from a combination of pain and pleasure as the plug moved past my sphincter and all the way into my bottom. I tried to wiggle a bit as my boyfriend adjusted the plug to his liking, but there was no hope. He had me cinched tightly, so the wiggling of my bottom was all I could accomplish. My boyfriend took that as a sign that he needed to start spanking me.

“Hold still!” Daddy commanded as he smacked each side of my butt with his bare hand.

“Ow!” I responded to his sharp and unexpected spanks.

“Well,” he said, “If you’re not a cooperative little girl, then Daddy is going to spank you for not behaving. You should know this by now.”

I sighed. “Yes, Daddy,” and with that verbal acceptance, my boyfriend continued the spanking he had started. He was peppering my bottom thoroughly with spanks from his strong hand, occasionally letting the spanks fall onto my upper thighs which he knew was a turn on for me. As he spanked, I tried to hold still, but I was wiggling a bit. A girl can’t help it when her Daddy is reddening her bottom!

“Ok, Little One, I think you’ve had enough of a warm up. It’s time to punish you for having mid-day sex with your boyfriend like a naughty little slut,” he informed me.

“You do realize the irony of you spanking me for that…” I pointed out. He responded with a smack from an implement which elicited a yelp from me in return.

“Yes, but I’m not worried about logic at this point,” he said. “I’m more concerned with punishing your naughty bottom. Now tell me what it is I’m using on your bottom right now,” he commanded as he gave me several more swats.

“That’s the wooden hairbrush,” I replied.

“Correct!” He rewarded my answer with several more smacks of the hairbrush scattered around my bottom and thighs which more than got my attention.

“Daddy, I’ll be good,” I began promising.

“I very much doubt that!” he stated as he continued spanking. “This was your idea to come over here like a naughty girl and have sex with me in the middle of the day. That’s not the sign of a girl who plans to behave!”

“Ok, true,” I agreed with a laugh. “But I promise I’ll only misbehave with you, Daddy!”

“I’m ok with that,” he chuckled, “But I’m still going to keep spanking you.” And true to his word, I got several more swats with the hairbrush before I heard its wood clank against the nightstand when he set it down. However, I was certain that I wasn’t free from being spanked. Sure enough, another implement soon hit my tender bottom.

“Ouch!” I cried out. I heard my boyfriend chuckling with sadistic pleasure. He enjoyed spanking me every bit as much as I like having him spank me.

“So what am I using on your ass now, Little Girl?” he asked.

“The small leather paddle,” I replied.

“Correct!” he responded, and he rewarded my correct answer with a series of swats moving up one side and down the other of my bottom and legs.

“Daddy,” I began begging again, “I don’t think you need to spank me anymore.”

Suddenly the spanking stopped and I felt him jerk my head upward using my ponytail as a handle. He began talking directly into my ear.

“Who gets to decide when your spanking is finished?” he asked.

“You do, Daddy,” I replied with a semi-defiant sigh which was rewarded by a crack of the paddle on my ass while his other hand continued pulling my head back by its ponytail.

“That’s right, young lady,” he said, “And I am definitely not done spanking you yet. I am also not done fucking you either.”

With that, he released my head. I heard him putting down the paddle and picking up his next choice for torturing me. He began running it up and down my spine, moving past the butt plug and onto my pussy.

“That’s the damn crop!” I said even before he asked me.

“Correct again!” he replied, rewarding my unrequested answer with a sharp crack of the crop on my sit spot.

“OUCH!” I hollered out, and he laughed at my pain.

“It’s always so much fun to crop you,” he added. “So little work on my part and so much screaming on yours.”

I continued yelping and he continued randomly striking my bottom and thighs with the crop. Because he had my legs tightly stretched and bound, that meant the sensitive insides of my thighs were easily accessible with the crop, a situation he was happy to take advantage of. After quite a few targeted slaps to this most sensitive zone, I finally heard the crop set down on the nightstand.

“I’m ready to fuck you again,” he stated factually. “I’m going to loosen your legs so that you can get up on your knees with your butt in the air. I’m going fuck you from behind while your face is in the bed and your pussy is spread and open just for me.”

With that, he did as he had promised, loosening up the leg restraints just enough for me to get on my knees but not to move an inch more. I wasn’t going to be going anywhere he didn’t want me. I still had the blindfold on, a butt plug up my ass, a red bottom, and a very wet pussy. After getting me in the position he wanted me in, I heard him opening another condom from off of the nightstand, and then I assumed he was slipping it on his cock which was likely rock hard again after all of the kinky foreplay.

I felt the bed shift as he climbed back onto it. The next thing I knew, he was pulling the butt plug out of my ass. From previous sessions, he knew it was too uncomfortable for me when he vaginally fucked me in this position while the glass butt plug was still in, and pain was not the goal at this point. Instead, my boyfriend now wanted me to experience pure pleasure.

It didn’t take long for him to accomplish his goal. He plunged his cock deep into my wet pussy which caused me to call out loudly, “Oh, Daddy!” He laughed at my response, and he took it as a sign that I wanted more of the same. He continued thrusting his cock in and out of me, quickly causing my moans to get very loud. He already had me so aroused that it wasn’t going to take long before I burst into orgasm. With a few more powerful thrusts, I reached that point, screaming out, “Daddy! Oh, Daddy!” as I came. I tried to let my knees drop after the orgasm, but he stopped me with a sharp smack from his hand on my already reddened bottom.

“Did I tell you that you could change position?” he demanded.

“No, Daddy,” I truthfully responded.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to punish you for that, too,” he retorted, as if that wasn’t already part of his evil plan. I felt his still hard cock slipping out of my pussy, the arousal fluid and remaining lube dripping down my legs. My boyfriend stepped off the bed again, this time moving up to my right hand. He loosened the restraints on my wrist just enough for me to prop myself up; he repeated the same action on my left hand, too. I was now on my hands and knees with my red butt in the air and my blindfolded eyes facing the headboard. The only question was what he had planned next.

I soon found out as the mini-floggers came down on my bottom. I had one and he had one, so he liked putting one mini-flogger in each hand and thrashing my bottom with both, using one after the other in a rhythmic beating. He always started slowly, building up the pain and pleasure from the floggers’ bites. He was very good at using those floggers on me, better than anyone else who had ever tried. I was soon moaning both from pleasure and stinging pain as he repeatedly struck my sore ass, turning me on even more than I already was.

Suddenly, the flogging on my bottom stopped. Out of nowhere, he began flogging my shoulders. This was new and completely unexpected. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did I like it? Did I not? Once the shock of the novelty wore off, I decided that I preferred him flogging my ass, but the flogging of my shoulders made an interesting alternative. I requested, “Daddy, please flog my ass more,” and he happily complied, striking my bottom in rhythm with the music he had playing in the background.

When he could tell I was getting close to my breaking point, my boyfriend stopped the flogging. He dropped the implements on the bed, and then his hands began caressing my ass, a feeling I truly loved. His strong hands on my stinging ass were truly a treat. But he still wasn’t done with me. I felt him moving behind me once again, and then his cock suddenly plunged in my ass which was already lubed and waiting because of the butt plug I had been wearing earlier.

After all of the intense spanking foreplay, the anal sex was powerful in a way I had never experienced. I quickly began screaming with pleasure, “Oh God, Oh God, OH GOD!” as his cock pounded in and out of my ass, his abdomen slamming against my tender cheeks. I could tell my screams were only turning him on more, as he began pounding even harder and faster, bringing me to the brink of orgasm and then finally pushing me over in one of the most powerful orgasms I have ever had. As I came, I kept screaming, “Daddy! Oh God, Daddy!” The orgasm seemed like it went on for half of forever, and my pleasure pushed my boyfriend over the edge. I could hear his moans building until suddenly, he too found release. His body stiffened as his load released in my ass. We both held still for a few minutes until collapse seemed like the only option for us.

He released one of my legs and one of my arms from the restraints so I could lay on my side; he cuddled up behind me with his arm over my sweating and satisfied body. His heavy breathing was on my neck which his lips also gently brushed. I took off the blindfold and snuggled up closer to him, feeling his exhausted body pressing against mine.

One we had both recovered from the amazing orgasms we had just shared with each other, my boyfriend quipped, “I guess all the neighbors now know that my name is either Daddy or God.”

“Oh, God!” I exclaimed once again. “I was so lost in the play that I completely forgot we were in an apartment complex. I’m so sorry I was screaming so loudly.”

He laughed loudly and said, “Hey, remember? I’m an exhibitionist. I’m totally proud of the fact that my neighbors now know I can make a woman cum so hard that she screams the way you did.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” I giggled. I used my free hand to release my other hand, and then I released my one remaining restrained ankle. I rolled over so I could nuzzle my lover and kiss his lips again. My hands went to his beard, caressing and touching it with gratitude and pleasure after all we’d just shared.

Eventually we accepted that we needed to get on with our day, no matter how lovely the “nooner” had been. Four hours after I arrived and really needing to head to my last appointment of the day, I was finally leaving his place from what was supposed to be a one or two-hour fuck session. Considering our first time in bed together had lasted eight hours, we clearly were not  a couple for quickies. Even on the way out the door, we still had our hands and lips all over each other.

As I stepped onto the front porch, I turned back and put my arms around my lover’s shoulders. I gave him a deep kiss, and he returned the kiss. Something felt wrong, though. It took me a couple of kisses before I realized what it was.

“I’m not wearing any shoes,” I suddenly said to my boyfriend.

He looked down at my feet. “No, you’re not,” he laughed. “Maybe you should come back in and fix that problem.” And so I came back in his apartment, slipped on the shoes I had kicked off by the door on the way in, and headed back out the door for a second goodbye.

“You know it was a really great session when your boyfriend fucks you so well that forget to put on your shoes when you leave,” I said as I smiled and laughed. With that, I gave him one final kiss and headed back to my car with my bag of sex toys to face the real world again.

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