Today, Pretty successfully managed to do a little breathplay with Craftsmate.
Ad even if it was only for two seconds and then the dynamic just sort of stopped, I did it with just one of my little hands.
Winningggg.
breathplay
I like that there’s some ambiguity here as to who is actually in control.
Meet Switch, Part Six
Eventually, he let me get off again and allowed me to go put a t-shirt on to get my composure back and use the bathroom. While washing my hands, I managed to get a look at myself in the mirror. The rain had soaked my hair and it had tried naturally, in these big, thick waves and curls. I normally straighten my hair or at least dry it straight. With my hair tousled this way, gosh, I don’t know, I felt like I was in rare form. I looked feral.
I decided I wanted to top him.
I walked back into his bedroom and he smiled and went to say something, but I cut him off. “Why the hell are you still wearing clothes?” I was nervous to do this. I’d never really done it before. He raised his hands to unbutton his shirt and I shook my head. “Did I say you could take them off? Lie down.” I pointed to the bed.
He got onto the bed and I climbed on after him. I had no idea what I was doing and I suppose he noticed, because he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me onto his face. It was the first time I’d ever sat on anyone’s face before, I’d always taken cunnilingus lying down. The position seemed to motivate me to keep at attempting to dom him.
I picked up tricks fast: breathplay through cutting off his mouth and nose with my body, teasing my lips over his mouth, pulling his hair to egg him on. I kept it up for a while, telling him he was a good boy and somehow getting used to the sound of myself saying that, even when it sounded incredibly foreign the first time it left my mouth. I slapped his hands away when he reached up to touch my breasts.
“Did I tell you that you could do that?” I reached down and buried his face in my cunt. I could barely recognize myself.
“So, have I mentioned you’re really good at choking me?” I asked the Southern Gentleman on Thursday morning while we were still in bed. He was curled into me, I was laying on my back. I like this position, I feel like I’m simultaneously cradling someone and being cradled. Spooning sometimes feels a little alienating and disproportionate to me.
The Southern Gentleman chuckled. I shrugged, “because, like, you’re really good at choking me.” His hand settled over my throat. I shook my head. “Come on, stop it. Number one, it is too early for choking. Number two, it is too early for choking. Number three, you’re going to get me worked up. Number four, it is too early for choking.”
He moved his hand from my neck and started kissing it. Soon, he’s rolled over on top of me, hands yanking up my t-shirt. He leans down and bites the skin right below my navel. I huff. “You’re going to get me worked up. Stop it.” There was that winning grin as his hand snaked down my sweatpants.
I reached down and pulled his hand out before attempting to push him off, “seriously, too early.”
He pulled my shirt over my head and started playing with my nipples. I tried to push his hands away, but I was starting to really enjoy it. His mouth joined in. I was moaning, I was grinding against his leg. He was smiling like a jackal against my breast, looking up at me as he did.
“Too early,” I sighed once more as his hand moved back up to my throat. You can’t say I didn’t try.
He chuckled and his hand moved back down over the waistband of my sweatpants, “then tell me you’re not getting wet.”
“That’s not the point I was making,” I huffed, “of course I’m wet. It’s just too…” He applied pressure. I gasped. My fingers dug into my sheets. His other hand snaked down to my cunt.
I’ve probably mentioned he’s really good at choking me.
I mean, just as long as he intends to mess up some sheets with me afterwards.
“The body is so easily damaged, so easily disposed of, water and chemicals is all it is, hardly more to it than a jellyfish drying on sand," Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale.
The Kitchen Sessions #2
(An Intimate Alchemists original)
I absolutely love breathplay. I love that swimmy little headspace you get into when your head starts to get light and things just border on a bit dangerous. I love the risk involved. I love the surrender.
But, I feel terrible for my partners sometimes. It’s a terribly risky game to play and I see them trying to maintain some sort of happy medium between going too light and going too hard. I don’t mean in any way that they’ve wanted to strangle the living shit out of me, but it is hard to curb it once you really get started and it’s also very difficult to push yourself further without worrying about the police report.
I have an interesting relationship with danger. I like to push myself to a place of uncertainty. There’s almost something calming about total surrender to the unknown.
I love when someone can sum up a universal feeling in a clever kind of figurative way.
She wanted some discipline.
One person to tell her no.
Until she said yes.
To everything.
Sometimes, I like to touch myself in the ways other people have in order to recreate those sensations. But, I never, ever can in quite the way they did. Maybe it’s like the fact that you can’t tickle yourself. I can recreate the motion, but I will never, ever fully recreate the feeling. It takes two to tango.