Thinking out Loud
Something to think about.
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Feeling introspective this morning, need to think things through on paper. What am I looking for? Why am I looking? Why do I feel this if the place to find what I want?
My kink is so very vanilla, compared to lots on here, yet the people I've met have been wonderful. What am I searching for? I'm looking for something I used to have, still have in reality just not in close proximity.
Many years ago when I was in my late twenties, I met a wondorous woman, (in a red dress as it happens, her that is, not me. A bit corny, but true none the less.) I was at a clients party at there home. There an instant attraction, mutual too, I couldn't believe my luck. Our initial meeting was brief, a few words, small talk and eye contact a little too long. Just public pleasantries.
Later, after the party I enquired discreetly, and discovered she was married, to a very successful man and just had a little boy. Oh well that's not going to anywhere, I thought. Mrs ???? was out of bounds.
A year or so later as my work for my client came to completion, she told me Mrs ???? wanted to discuss a job with me. I met Mrs ???? to discus her project and over a year or so any many meeting I prepared a quote, all perfectly platonic. She was lovely to deal with. I called round to drop of the quote one afternoon, and she met me at the door wearing a pair of black jeans and black merino jumper, looking every bit as hot as Michelle Pfeiffer as Cat Woman ever did. She asked if we could rearrange our meeting as she was making arrangements for her birthday party, "It's a big one" she said. Wow I thought she's must be turning forty, and she's still as hot as can be! As it turned out, amazingly she was turning fifty, she was fifteen years older but look my age.
Shortly afterwards Mrs ???? engaged me and work began on her house, I was managing a huge renovation of her stately Victorian home. Months went by I was with her discussing details and becoming friends as the days ticked by. She commissioned more and more work. We were together more and more. I was completely in love with her by this time. every time I saw her I just wanted to kiss every square inch of her.
Then one day, she asked my why I never called her by her given name, always Mrs ????. I was stumped. What was I to say?... then I thought bollocks to tell the truth......
I said "Please do not be offended at what I'm about to say, I do not want to spoil our friendship or professional relationship, I'll understand if you don't feel comfortable with me afterwards. I call Mrs ???? because it reminds me you're married with a son. The truth is I've fancied you since the first meeting at Mrs x's party years ago. You're the most wonderful, most beautiful woman I've ever met and I just want to kiss every square inch of you until your completely ecstatic!" breathless, embarrassed I awaited the outburst.......
Mrs ??? paused, looked completely stunned. There she stood, marigolds on hands in the temporary sink we'd rigged up while we demolished the corner of the house that housed the kitchen, partway through the dishes, mouth open in shock.
I apologised and said I'd completely understand if she didn't think it appropriate I remain her contractor, but in my defence offered I'd been her friend for several years now and I always had these feeling and never once had she suspected so.
Mrs???? let out a long breath, both hands steadying herself on the sink and she said "I've felt exactly same since Sarah's party, years I've wanted you, I didn't thing you'd be interested!" (I must say at this point that in the interim years, I'd met and married my now current wife.) "But we're both married, we can't do anything about this"
I agreed but asked I could kiss her? We kissed passionately in the hallway like a pair of teenagers, one ear out for the front door opening in case her son, who was now ten coming home from school. Both promised nothing must come of this it would be a one off.
That didn't last long. Over the next couple of weeks we got increasingly passionate kissing session in her hallway. During one such session I told her I wanted to kiss every square inch of her body until she was completely ecstatic, I needed to taste her. She place her hands on my chest and gently pressed me, "are you a dirty boy" she whispered , heavily, lustily. I paused, pouted slightly and replied "Mrs???? are you asking me to go down on you?" She nodded and swallowed nervously.
So began our passionate, cunnilingus-centric relationship. I would ask to kiss, then ask to taste her, she would refuse, then relent. So for around three weeks I would go down on and bring this wonderful woman to fabulous a orgasm three or four times a week. The one day she flatly refused to kiss, refused to let me go down. She said she it was all one way, she got all the pleasure and I never let her reciprocate. I'd not really been concerned, I was always conscious we were in her house, and may be discovered at any moment. She held me at arms length and told me no more until her demands where met. Never before or since has a woman demanded she be allowed to go down on me. So there in the Hallway at the top of the stairs to the cellar she undid my jeans, took a very firm grip of me, bent over and placed her mouth over me. She took her time and brought me to the most fabulous orgasm I'd ever known. She righted herself, demurely wiped the corner of her mouth with a perfectly manicured finger and smiled as she licked it.
I just said "I love you" and kissed her deeply on the mouth, tasting myself.
So began the most wonderful friendship/relationship I've ever had, heavily based on oral sex, very occasional full sex. It ended purely because of separation, my wife and I emigrated.
Now my lover and I are separated by half a world, yet we're still friend. It was seven years before I returned home for a brief visit, I had to help my last surviving parent for a week after a major operation. I flew in, got the train to the city of my birth, My lover collected me and drove me to my parents. In the nine days I was there, we were together everyday. We tasted each other loved each other and fucked like we'd never been apart. I was forty five, she was sixty. I was no longer the ripped young stud, she was a little older but still looking great. A real woman, who'd lived a full and rich life, she was working, managing a massive house, without the help of house keeper, cleaners, she raised her son and been a good wife to an overbearing husband. Here we where, to old naked , breathless after sex like loves young dream, I Iooked at her naked body, down to her most intimate core, I felt proud, flowing out of her was my orgasm, I was quietly proud of copious wet patch we'd created. I looked into her eyes and again down to flow. My heart filled with love for her I went down and ate with such passion as I've never know. I was, I am and forever will be her dirty boy.
So the question why am I here? I need the passion, I've looked long and deep inside myself. Going down makes me feel complete, it's what makes me tick. Looking up into the eyes of a woman while I have her most delicate core in my mouth, seeing the trust, and the lust in her eyes is what I need. And yes I long for the feeling of passion so intense I feel compelled to go down and eat my own "cream-pie" from her.
Am I submissive? I do not feel so.
I love this scene, I love the leather, the latex, the beautiful rope work, the role playing, the spanking and so much more. I like the people I've met, sane, reasonable, accepting, kinky
I feel better, lighter for writing this. I will continue to refine and focus my thought to find what I'm after.
Bye for now.
Just remembered something else, I would joke with my lover, "I marvel at your power over me, you've made me your person, private slut. Your "head boy" and I love it, I absolutely fucking love it! If you rang me and said you wanted my mouth on your pussy now, I'd drop everything and come to you, and I'd love it! You amaze me" .
The real power of the relationship was we both new it was mutual, either could call and the other would respond without question and love doing it.
We were addicts, to love, passion, orgasm. I suppose instant gratification is the core of addiction. We'd meet, we'd laugh, we'd talk & share, we'd cum. Knowing when your with someone that they will bring your mind, body and soul, to a supernova explosion of an orgasm, that they want to, need to do this for you as much as you want to do it to them, is impossibly addictive. We never stood a chance of resisting.
So I guess I'm looking for a slut I can be a slut for.....personal, private... I'm a dirty boy looking for my dirty girl.
Of course the other side of the coin is, the mouth I'm being a slut with, is the mouth I kiss my babies good night with. That's the dilema....