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01 May 2014

Feasting



Gripping him. Drawing her closer. Never letting him go.  Their mouths consume each other as they share the same air. Her pulling him closer, holding him tightly. Him enveloping her as if his life depended on it. 

They both dine on their hunger and salacious desires. Feeding upon their gluttony of their yearning and ending the famine that had starved them for so long. A biting of lips, a tangle of tongues, a scraping of teeth as the taste of each other is embedded within each of them.Satisfying their lustful craving as greedily they feast upon each other.






30 April 2014

Blossom

I want to write. I need to write.  I've not done a great deal of it of late. I've gotten a few words down recently, but it's not how I want the words to flow, to be released, to be.

And it is frustrating.



I want the words to come, floating like the blossom that is falling from the trees. And they don't.

And I think of you. And how you left on the same breeze, fading into the distance, like the blossom blown away and never to return.  Now I know why they name hurricanes. They leave their mark, their name. Their force and strength.

I wonder what we would have named you.











 

29 April 2014

Level 3? WTF?!



So.

I receive an email from someone commenting on what "level" of FLR I follow.  I mean, what is that all about?  WTF?

My relationships are female led. End of. They don't go to any particular level they just are.  I was curious to how he was suggesting I was a level 3 and then realised that he'd probably read some "guide" or some online blurb about how we fit into neat little tick boxes and fit into certain levels with these things that we do.

And yes. I was right.

He sent me a link to "What is FLR" and there, it attempts to "define" what constitutes an FLR! Why are people so hellbent on trying to "define" the things that we do, trying to label, trying to fit everyone into little tick boxes of how we are or must be to be Dominant, or submissive and that if we don't do X, Y or Z we aren't either.  Why?

This article does say they created these four levels for discussion, but people, especially those who are new, exploring and trying to discover, take these things so literally.  But what pisses me off, is that people then take this "stuff" they read and insist it is how it is.

He couldn't get past the thought that because I don't do something, I couldn't be a level 4, that my FLR couldn't be "defined" as a level 4.

What absolutely fucking bullshit!!!!

Now, this somewhat pisses me off.  Actually, no, it seriously pisses me off!

I don't work to levels. I don't work to what someone may happen to say my FLRs reflect.  Who is anyone to say what "level" I lead my relationships? Who is anyone to say whether my relationships are female led or not?  Whether something is right or wrong?

There are things I explore. I do so because it is MY choice to do so.  Just because I don't do something doesn't then mean that my relationship isn't female led. 

If it is right for me. If it works for me. It is. 

Simple.

Why do people insist on writing these things? Why do people insist on leading people to these things? It brings those who find this stuff online into a place which for the main is just bullshit and they get drawn into thinking that because they've read it somewhere that this is how it is.  People do not fit into levels or tick boxes.  They do not fit neatly into what labels get thrown out there.

Wow.

My relationships are female led. No level. No debate. They are. That's it.  

End of. 






25 April 2014

No idea


You had no idea as we had dressed for the evening formal dinner that this was how the evening would end.  In the days of planning, neither had I. But with everything in place, I knew exactly how the evening would pan out. I knew that we would stay for dinner, we'd have champagne and dance a little.  But I also knew that at the end of the night we wouldn't return home alone.  And I knew that what was going to be a pleasure for me, would torment you.  That what would build me, would break you.

You had no idea until you had seen us flirting over the dinner table, a dark haired, younger very handsome man with the most kissable lips. You could tell from the way I looked at them, that I wanted to devour them, to devour him.  You could tell from the way I looked at him and the way he looked at me, that there was a current of electricity, shocks passing across the table which everyone else was oblivious too.

You had no idea where we had gone when I had excused myself from the table to "powder my nose" and you had no idea where he had gone when he had left a short time after.  The bewildered look on your face when we returned together, flushed faces, and a smile on my face.  As I sat down beside you and guided your hand between my legs, you knew.  You knew what had just happened and as I placed my hand on your device I could feel your cock begin to stiffen and I knew that you knew.

You had no idea that he would be coming home with me. With us.  And you had no idea that you would be sat across the room, the same room, while I straddled him, kissed him and lowered myself slowly onto his hardened cock.  And as I took control over his cock, the speed and depth to how he entered me, I could hear and sense your humiliation as I told him how wonderful it was to finally have such a big cock inside of me, to be filled by a real man.  I knew. I knew that you were longing to be him, longing to be in that place, that you weren't jealous of him, but longed to be him.

I knew that your cock would be straining against the device I had locked you in before we had gone out for the evening. After all, I wanted you properly dressed, you looked so handsome in your dinner suit, the bow-tie, it was as much as I could do to keep my hands from you before we had left, I had teased you, tormented you, edged you until you were so aroused and then locked you away.  Laughing at your frustration.

And there you sat, across the room, witnessing him fucking me.  My kissing him, our moans and groans of passionate release as he fucked me harder, deeper, as I rode him.  All the while, you sat there watching us. Watching him. Watching me.  

We were lost in the desires, the lust of the moment, oblivious to your humiliating defeat, oblivious to the strains of your cock.  Oblivious to your burning cheeks of longing, of need, of desire, your broken humiliation as his cock filled me deeply. Oblivious to your own moans as he came deep inside of me.

And you had no idea that soon it would be your turn.  That this would be your moment of even deeper humiliation as I order you to your knees before him, to clean his cock which had moments before been deep inside me.  

And you had no idea that your humiliation would only be complete as you led on your back while I straddled your mouth and ordered you to clean me, to clean me deeply and thoroughly, your tongue recoiling at the taste of him.

And you had no idea as your tongue brought me to a shuddering orgasm that my juices, his juices would flow over your face, your mouth, and your tongue, trickling down the back of your throat causing you to gag. You were broken. Your humiliation marked by us both.

You JoJo. Had no idea.