The last months have been rough, play-wise, not because they have been bad, but because it's been a roller-coaster. Spectacular, then huge drops, too dramatic and deep for comfort.
So, I will write to comfort Myself - I'll write the memory of some of the good moments.
He sank to his knees and kissed My feet the moment he was inside. I am not such a great fan of having My feet kissed, particularly not while wearing shoes, but I was barefoot, and his mouth was soft and warm on My skin. he made love to My feet, but I moved away, and told him to undress. I wanted him naked before he got down to it, and he did - undressed - and stood while I inspected him. he was soaked in sweat from the tension, his balls pulled up, his body tense. A touch over-weight, he filled out his skin as if there was no give in him, like some well-fed men do, and I touched that tight surface gently. Then I sat down and told him to get back to kissing My feet.
While I am not into foot-play, I love seeing a man on his knees, struggling to please. I love the movement of his muscles, the line of his back to the curve of his ass. I love the touch of effort it takes to get that far down to the floor, and the contrast between his struggle and the gentleness of his kisses. As I have told others: I love the things I can do to them, and the fact that they don't get annoyed and leave. I am a Bitch in life in general. It's lovely to really express this inner Bitch and be desired for it.
I did quite a few things to this man this first time. I beat and fucked him, tied and used him. But right now what I think back at fondly is one thing in particular. It's how he, at one point, gently kissed the soft curve of My belly, dwelling on the sensation of My skin, breathing in the scent of Me, slowly kissing his way towards My sex. When things like that happen, what blows My mind is again the contrast: between the pain I unleash in him, the marks of the cane or whip, the challenge, and the incredible gentleness with which I am treated. I cherish it to the point that it almost makes Me cry. At times, I do.
And then he made Me tea, and for a few hours, the world was perfect.