Daddy knows he’s gotta treat Sweetheart real nice if he ever wants to get let out of those cuffs.
My pretty gift needs its kisses too…
kiss
My mother used to tell me blowjobs weren’t very intimate. I disagree.
Craftsmate and Penthouse once made a little joke, much to my chagrin, on a certain tinychat about how people would read and write fan-fiction about them.
Or slash-fic. Whatever. Whatever the fuck this nonsense is called.
Either way, I refuse to let my sex life be co-opted into freaking spinoffs. No. No. No. No. No.
Good boys recognize the benefits of being just a little extra sweet to Pretty.
And, yes, worship counts as “just a little extra sweet.”
Things changed when I started letting him sleep over. The first time was an accident: we dozed off on my couch together after a long conversation and I woke up with my head on his chest and his arm draped over me. It’s hard to explain why, but it felt strange and different to see him in the morning. I just never had before.
And then he just wound up staying over some nights after he had untied me. We’d go to sleep together and I would find myself curled against him in the morning. It was this strange, hollow phantom relationship that existed exclusively in my bedroom. Which makes it sound like there was nothing there, but the terms of play partners was something I had never had to traverse before.
Except we started violating our own terms. We kissed each other, eventually in front of our friends aided by alcohol on Halloween. We started going out on dates, something he first suggested that I initially balked at. We broke rules constantly about how we could touch each other and for which reasons we could.
And, cheesy as it sounds, feelings started to develop out of ambivalence and confusion. I ate my words about it just being a strict “play partner” arrangement, something he now teases me about having said on here.
If you were to ask friends, they could give you a partial story about two people with some banter that figured it out from sharing a bed. Which is true. Something happened when he started sleeping over.
Her daddy always says she’s the greediest at playdates.
She says she’s just the best hostess ever.
“I think I want to kiss you,” Craftsmate said one night about a month ago while in bed with me.
The last time that I had happened, there was a little bit of an episode, as you may recall. So we had agreed to be play partners and not kiss or be emotionally intimate. Which was all fine and good until there would be nights he would sleep over and we would wake up curled into each other and I would feel some little pang of something growing in my throat.
That night, the lights were already out and I couldn’t see him. “Are you sure? I’m not sure my ego can handle you freaking out over this again.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “yeah, I’m sure. I want to kiss you.”
I climbed over him to get out of bed. “I’m going to the bathroom. Think it over and when I get back if you want to, maybe we will.”
When I returned, he confirmed that he was still on board about it. I was a bit embarrassed at how nervous I suddenly felt. It was too dark in my room and we bumped noses. The entire kiss was awkward and reminiscent of a middle school playground.
Somehow, that felt about right.
Playdate with Popcorn, Part Four
Popcorn came over to find me leashed up to the bed once more. She greeted me and hopped on the bed, sitting across from me with a little smile. However, I could see the blush already rising in her cheeks and I felt just as nervous. We started with small talk, giggling and averting our gaze every so often.
“If you two don’t just give each other a kiss by the time I could down from ten,” Penthouse joked as he took a seat near the bed. “I’ll pull you together and make you.”
Popcorn reached up and grabbed the leash, pulling me into her and kissing me. Her lips were soft, cautious, gentle. She had informed me, while we were talking, that she had never done much with a woman but she had wanted to change that. But, I didn’t want to push and I let her control the pace, also acting off of the fact that I was the one chained to the bed and she was not.
Because of some limits with the guy she was messing around with, she could not play with Penthouse but she could with me. However, I had requested Penthouse be present for my own sense of security. So, he sat a few feet from the bed, watching, which turned me on even more.
As Popcorn deepened the kiss, never letting go of the leash, I tried to angle myself for him, attempting to give him the best view of what was going on possible. This fact, in itself, felt submissive.
“I kissed her. Kissing is more intimate than fucking. That’s why I never liked my girlfriends to go around kissing men. I’d rather they fucked them.” – Charles Bukowski, Women.
Anyone that tries to tell you that
‘leggings aren’t pants’
is missing out…
The first time I messed around with a girl, it was through a pair of leggings that I eventually soaked right through. Whyexactly is right on the money with this one.