So much to say...

There is so much to say today. It all goes together. If I leave any bit out then you don't get the full picture. I hardly know where to start, so I'll just take my time and spill it all out.

Kiss

This morning we were chatting about how Mistress’ relationship with Dave will unfold. I was maintaining that he wants to fuck Her, and She was going on about its just friendly – although She is now realising that its more than that – that he is ‘chasing’.

She said how She enjoys that the first thing he does when he gets in to the office is IM Her – ‘Hello C’, he says. ‘It’s nice to be the first thought in his mind when he gets to work.’ She says, ‘I like that’. Makes sense.

She’s worried that after the disaster of shagging Chris, who was such a lousy lay, that if she fucks Dave and its doesn’t go well then they’ll loose the ‘special’ friendship they have developing – and She’d prefer to maintain the excitement of the chase and the friendship. Makes sense too. But he’s a guy, and guys like to fuck.

She said that She recognised that David was a one off – an exceptional lover who fucked Her like crazy like very few if any others ever will – She said She does not expect anyone to ever match up to that, and therefore She’d rather not try, and spoil it. Makes sense too….

Apparently, She confessed, this morning, that on Tuesday when they went for coffee, as Dave entered the café he put his arm round Her waist and gave Her a peck on the cheek. A liberty that She noted he took, and thought ‘Uh huh! I know what you’re doing!’ So how come, on that same Tuesday when telling me about it, She tried denying to me that he wants to shag Her?

So on Tuesday, this guy establishes that he can put his arm round Her waist and kiss Her on the cheek, and on Thursday She tells me. Interesting.

Time

I had another crawl through Her Crackberry yesterday. I’m addicted to it too – I just have to see if they’ve chatted, how much and what they’ve said – what who said to who. It’s terrible. But I can’t resist it.

They’d started sending messages at 10 am, as soon as She got to the office, and they were still doing it at 7pm by which time She was back at home. The traffic was two ways – an even exchange of flirty and fun messages between them.

I have curtailed the number of messages I send Her through the day – She complains that She is too busy to chat to me all day. Obviously not too busy to chat to him though…

If I’m honest, I resent the time She spends chatting to him. Why doesn’t She spend it chatting to me?

Yesterday evening She told me about Her ex who started to text Her in the middle of day. He had the day off, so he had nothing better to do than exchange kinky messages with Her and they did – She told him how I’d gone down and licked Her arse that morning, and other equally personable things. This ex is the one who took Her anal virgnity.

She’d spent quite a while texting him as well – so between the two of them they got a right load of messages, and I got one, asking me to send Her a photo I’d taken of one of the kids that morning…

A buddy of mine maintains that there are five men in every woman’s life:-

1. A sperm donor to father her children. Selected for apparent brilliance.

2. A soul mate to talk through life. And to help her understand men.

3. A lover that gives her sexual gratification and excitement.

4. A husband to give her a name: ‘ Do you know my husband? He’s such a …’, and

5. A funder to pay for all of life’s niceties that She ‘needs’.

Lucky is the man that is all five men to his woman.

I used to be all five. But since David She has found both the sexual gratification and I think even more so the sexual excitement more outside the matrimonial home.

As She said to me this morning, She loves the chase and the flirtation, all day every day from him, not knowing where it might end up.

I no longer provide that, and that’s why She doesn’t want to text me all day. I simply don’t offer the same level of excitement as other men do.

Domination
Years ago, before we got into the FemDom thing, She used to always, always, always wash my cock when I was in the bath. She would soap Her hands and luxuriously wash it, often choosing to make me cum, but not always, particularly if She fancied a nice, hard cock to herself later.

But after a while living FemDom I said to Her that I didn’t feel it was right, Her spoiling me like that – I said I didn’t feel worthy of such special time and attention, of such a gift from Her to me every day. She agreed. And so it stopped.

But yesterday I lay in the bath chatting to Mistress who was stood next to me and I asked Her if She’d like to wash my cock. She clearly didn’t want to, but She didn’t just come out and say it. I could see She didn’t want to, and so I quickly interjected that She needn’t do so, and that I’d be equally happy to just have a kiss, so She gave me a little kiss instead, and we were both happy.

But I wished for more. I wished She had replied to me to say ‘Yuck! No! I don’t want to wash your dick. Don’t ask me to wash your dick ever again. If I want to wash your dick I’ll do it, and if I don’t I won’t. So stop asking.’

I want Her to change the passwords on Her phone’s and ban me from asking Her anything about any text’s She sends to any of Her men friends. I want Her to be the sole judge of what to tell me about those texts, if anything. I want to be prohibited from ever asking about what transpired between Her and any other man – to merely be the recipient of any graceful news She cares to drip down to me.

I want to be caned most severely for ever suggesting any sexual act or asking any question about any other man.

My cock is so hard now thinking about this. I’d love to live like that. I think. Not. I don’t know.

Orgasm
I was thinking those thoughts as we got into bed last night. So my cock was hard and She noticed as She got in next to me, and She reached across to play with it.

Her delicate hand wrapped round it, and felt soooo good as She stroked up and down.

I groaned with pleasure as I said how nice it felt, and thrust my hips up to meet Her hand.

I thought all about how I’d love to be treated as a sexual inferior as She stroked my cock.

I wondered if She would ask, as She so often does, what I was thinking as She played with me? If She did, then should I tell her the truth? Should I offer up that truth whether She asked or not?

Would She fuck me, or make me cum with Her hand? I groaned again – how good it was. How sweet it felt.

I kept my mouth shut apart from the groans and the thanks for how great it felt, and She brought me to a crashing orgasm over my belly. We wiped it up and slept in each others arms. Life’s good. Why change it.