No Strings (Or Silk ropes) Attached

 Things seem to keep ending with this guy, and then they predictably begin again in two weeks or a month. We just can’t stay away from each other for that long. The pull is too strong. 

    We met one random night. Talked for three hours, then went back to his place and fucked until we fell down and literally couldn’t anymore. Things were hot and heavy three weeks later. He is strictly poly and initiated me in the lifestyle. I had a jealous outburst, and he broke it off with me a few days later.

    Two weeks go by then he wants to see me. Then a week later I break it off. Now a month later we are texting terms to see each other tonight. My terms are iron clad.  

    -I will come if you can promise to adore as well as dominate me. 

    -I must feel welcome the entire time I am at your home. 

    -No spending the night (That just leads us down a road neither one of us are     comfortable with). He agrees. 

    Sex between us is beyond anything either one has experienced, and we are both very experienced. It’s like traveling through the universe with someone else. Neither one of us were prepared for the gravity of being with each other. We keep ending it because it is just too much to incorporate into everyday life. No one has time for this kind of thing in LA. We have too much invested in ourselves and our careers to travel through the wormhole twice a week. It makes all that other stuff not seem as urgent, And we need our urgency if we are going to survive in this town. But trying to keep that perspective while his fingers are in my mouth is very difficult. There is no choice but to bend over when he tells me. Nothing to be done but get on my knees when he tells me. I can only obey when he commands me to come.

    When I arrive, he greets me with a drink. Water in a tall thin glass.  We sit on the couch, and talk through some of the shit that has happened between us. We both agree to start over. 

    After we resolve our issues, he says he has a surprise for me, and presents me with several yards of silk rope. If he gifted me a diamond ring, my smile could not be more joyous.

     I have never done this before, but he is skilled in the art of rope tying and bondage. He bends me into an origami shape with one leg suspended, the knee bent, and the foot pointing back towards my head like a dancing Yogi. The other leg is on the ground.  I am bent over most of the way, and my hands are tied behind my back at the base of my spine. All the ropes connect to one secure line that is attached to a small hook in the ceiling. The silk ropes feel soft on my skin, and the suspension is thought out perfectly so I am completely comfortable

    I have explicitly consented to this and to accepting whatever he wants to do while I am tied up. There is one limit. He can’t put his dick in my ass. The girth of it would rip my anus apart; I know it. I trust him to keep his end of the agreement. In his community it is a given that all will play by the rules, and most, in fact, do. He has thus far proved himself to be trustworthy in keeping his word, and sticking to agreements. This is why I feel safe with him. We have talked about everything in detail and gone over our boundaries, physically and emotionally. 

     He begins by tracing his fingers across my nipples. He pinches them softly. Then harder until it makes me cry out. HIs reaction is a hint of a smile, that I can just see from my angle. Then he checks my sex to see if I am wet. He is almost clinical in his inspection. I am very wet, and I know he is giving that satisfied smile again, even though I can’t see his face. 

    Then he runs his hands up and down my back, over the silk ropes and my naked flesh beneath it, like he is petting an animal. At first it seems kind of funny, but then I begin to really enjoy being stroked with affection. I purr. Then he pets up toward my throat. His massage increases in pressure as his fingers enclose my neck. He does a light choke hold, and I gasp with joy. 

    Then he backs off and walks to the other side of the room. He drinks a glass of water looking away from me. A power play. He wants me to wait. He wants me to submit to him completely. Not looking at me he asks if I want water. I say no. I want to show him how content I am in my bound state. I say nothing else and wait for him to return, which he does within a minute. The next half hour is a blur with visions of the edge of the universe and the sound of his baritone voice in my ear. His words go from curses of satisfaction to tenderly asking if I am ok, and do I want to let my leg down, and back to expletives of pleasure.

    He takes great care to make me come over and over again with his fingers, his tongue, his beautiful, thick cock.  I must be fucked to his satisfaction, he says. He stimulates my g spot, my clitoris, my anus. He uses that fat cock like a divining rod, getting to the places that have lied untouched until this moment. His skill is unprecedented, and I respond exactly as he hopes. I scream, I whine, I whinny, I beg and sigh. I let out a string of profanities that I do not recognize. I tell him he is the best I have ever had, and he owns me completely. He comes, finally, in an explosion that matches all the bellowing I have done. 

    Then he gently unties me, and massages my suspended leg. He wipes my brow of the sweat that has accumulated. He pats down my poor pussy with a damp cloth and tells her she is good and beautiful and the entrance to eternity. I lay and recover for a while, and he holds me to his chest. I use my free hands to rub his beautiful body up and down. We are both happy and while away an hour. We come together once more, this time with me on top and him with his arms to the side, happy to let me dominate for a moment.  

    Then comes the time to reenter the real world. I gather my things, and he remains naked. He looks so beautiful in repose, with his skin, gleaming in the dim light. I want to climb on top of him and rub myself against him and start all over again. But I kiss his lips, and go out the kitchen door to where my car is parked.

     I drive the mile home floating. It is after midnight and almost no one else is on the road, so rare in Los Angeles. I left turn from La Cienega to Jefferson with no wait time, but the victory is lost. I am running recent events over and over in my mind. I am content. I am full, I am happy, even, with this arrangement.  It will be another six days or so before I see him again, but I need the time to come back to myself. Galaxy surfing is a high that takes time to come down from. I only hope we can both remain in the same place long enough to reconnect. It is always a gamble, but one I happily take.