Panther Dreaming

Kittyboy and I got a new charcoal grill for a wedding present. (no, it hasn't happened yet, one more month to go.) Other than the obvious benefits of fire cooked dead thing every so often (yummy), the smokey smell gets into Kittyboy's clothing and hair after he's been slaving over the grill for long enough, and sheeeeeeiiiiiiit. That's not fair, he already smelled fucking delicious to begin with, but now he's all delicious and SMOKEY and I'm all like RRRRRRGGGGHHHUNNNNFFFGETOVERHERE.

Apparently the smoke goes other places too, which I found out the, erm, hard way. I don't think that's quite what they meant by smoked sausage flavor, but I'll take it... >:)

All anniversaries should at some point involve rope, cable ties, tea, candle wax, slow head and slowly teasing your tied-up lover until they are shaking with how much they want to fuck you. Just saying.

In response to a half teasing request for a quick round of ninja sex, I dropped the blinds in the living room, knelt on the floor and treated Kittyboy to a good long cock sucking on the living room couch.

I love giving head, in case I have never made that explicitly clear. I do though, all of it, love holding a cock in my mouth and throat, love the challenge of seeing how far back and how fast I can take it, love running my tongue all around the head and along the bottom, love the way cocks change texture and hardness under my efforts. Mostly I love the moment when I can press my nose against Kittyboy's crotch and feel the curls tickle my face; that's usually the sweet spot where if I tighten up my jaw just right, I can get him to moan. But yeah, there's something about going down on someone that just hits my brain in such a way that I kinda zone out a little bit and hit kind of a trance state, just get lost in the taste, smell, and rhythm of it. Kittyboy has said that I'm the first person he's dated that didn't treat going down on him like a chore or a massive favor. I suppose having a bit of an oral fixation and not too triggery of a gag reflex helps.

Afterward I straddled his lap and kissed him as he dug his fingers into my hips and slid into me; I remember closing my eyes, pressing my cheek against his and just hanging on for the ride. It was hard, fast, and intense, and over reasonably quick for both of us, but that didn't make it any less fun; there was a kiss and a moment of conspiratorial grinning as we were both still entwined and coming down; there might have been a fair amount of glow, tingle, smirk and swagger on my part for the rest of the night...

"Have the kind of sex with Kittyboy that scares you" was the assignment from my Lady. Best laid plans of Mice and Men gang aft agley.

No mistake, I found a way to shove at my boundaries, just probably not in the way expected of me. In a lot of ways I feel like I copped out last night in terms of what was actually done. Still, the evening did end with me in a sobbing, broken ball of hurt, with a Kittyboy wrapped around me warm and tight and comforting, dropping kisses on any bits of my face he could reach and gently brushing away the tears I had been carrying in my heart for too damn long.

I hate crying. I did so much of it in the past two years in the slow excruciating process of breaking up with my exes that I simply just don't do it anymore unless I'm pushed to. Even if I need to. And I won't do it in front of people anymore, because I find it so fucking humiliating. I think that's only the third time ever Kittyboy's actually seen me cry. And just lately I've been carrying so much around - fear, stress, anxiety, rage, grief, what have you - it had just hardened into a knot somewhere behind my eyes where I could ignore it most of the time.

Last night before he came over I was tying up my hair and watching Moulin Rouge! (I needed to see something as frenetically mercurial as I was feeling, and that movie goes from pure unadulterated batshit insanity to melodramatic bathos pretty much in one straight downward pointing line), I was kinda just trying to sit with all of my emotions at once, instead of the usual trying to stuff them all down into their usual box somewhere in the back corner of my psyche, trying to muster up the courage to pull one out. It's interesting that it was mostly the sad that showed up, since I think I wanted it to be something a little meaner, a little Darker, for lack of a better word (and only better in the sense that only my Lady, and little sister will know exactly to what I'm referring). But that's what showed up, and by the end of the evening, I needed to cry and be taken care of. Of course, that's never something I feel comfortable asking for in words. so when Kittyboy did show up and curiously inquired about the previous post, I handed Mace Windu to him, dropped trou, and gave up my ass for shredding. And fucking as it turned out.

yeah, I've actually never been caned in earnest. That shit hurts, and I've now got a nasty bruise/welt stretching from one asscheek to the other, which certainly makes sitting more than a little interesting. And god forbid you actually touch it. But it got the job done. And it was something I wanted, and needed, and had to actually ask for, which I have serious problems doing. Maybe I could have pushed myself harder, taken more, but breaking a dam causes mudslides and destruction - better to gate it open slowly, you know?

One leash, one chain at a time. Meanwhile, Kittyboy has something to smirk and swagger about. Until next time.