…sometimes almost magic…

I was supposed to be nice. I was planning on being nice. But I just can’t seem to help myself.

When I got to his house, I laid all the toys out and told him he had to choose three toys we would definitely play with, and three toys we wouldn’t play with. The rest were up to me. There were mostly sensual toys, as I had decided that we’d been doing a lot of pain play and should switch things up a bit. Like I said, I really did mean to be nice.

I used the handcuffs and some rope and tied him to the bed. And then I tormented him. It started out very soft and sweet, with the bunny flogger and another furry toy, even an orgasm. But somehow I ended up with the Big Scary Knife in my hand and just had to caress his face with it so I could revel in his trembling. And then the ice on his nipples after the clamps came off, watching him writhe.. And I distinctly remember threatening to cut his throat at one point.

I love the times when I hurt him and can watch him become aroused by it. And I love that I’m the only one that’s ever happened with.

“Last night you were… unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me. Do it again!”

Have I ever mentioned I love the Addams Family? Charles Addams is so invited to my dinner party.

Are all relationships this schizophrenic?

Earlier tonight, MJ and I were sniping at each other, well, frustrated with each other is a better way of putting it. She was annoyed because I had my crafting stuff all over the place, and I was annoyed at her being annoyed at me. She had a few choice comments, and then I did - and this particular argument might be what breaks us up eventually because it is so ridiculously reoccuring and highlights how condescending and blah blah she can be - and I think we were both just irritated.

…And then she cooked us dinner and we cheerfully watched a movie together and everything was sweet.

I don’t get it at all. It’s like bitch bitch–> fuming irritation.. and then nothing, like it never happened, only we both know we’ll have basically the same argument in a few days or a few weeks at the most. It really throws me for a loop.

I want to be fucked. Really, well, and energetically fucked. Mutual pleasure, and gettting what I want, and that being what the other person wants. Why is that so fucking hard to find? Oh wait, I’m lazy. I guess I can’t really get worked up about not getting worked over when I don’t take any action to get it, eh?

But fucked, yeah. Vigorously, and oh, just like that and don’t stop and do it a little harder.. And don’t come. You want to come though don’t you? And I squeeze you from the inside just to watch the hitch in your breath and the electric-shock look on your face. And the desperation, the conflicting desires.. he wants to come, he needs it, but I’m not ready yet, and I want it harder and faster and just exactly the way that’s going to bring him over the edge…

“I’m not stopping him from coming for his benefit but for mine. Only mine. My desire to see him suffer. To see his face twist as he fucks me, trying to keep his strokes hard and regular enough that I scream and screw up the sheets in my fists, without tipping himself over the edge.”