“If you’re going to do all the work of relationship, you might as well have sex a lot,” was the thought I strongly felt in my torso, this morning, waking up my spouse. I want more sex.
He slept in a couple hours longer than usual. So I went to the bedroom and turned on the light. He stirred, and I took off my shirt and cuddled to him.
He woke up pretty easily. I offered him veg I made for my breakfast, and he said yes. So I sprinkled hot spices and salt on it, for him, and brought it to him.
We don’t have enough privacy, but I don’t care. I need more sex. Our first two years together, we had sex every day. Sometimes twice and three times. It was really healing, because previously, I’d been getting way not enough.
My spouse was youngish, and I was young. Then we moved here, living in community, and having less privacy made things difficult. Need for utter silence is annoying. On a trip, we can make way more noise, which is so relaxing, and not worry who is just outside our bedroom window, hearing my whimper, or hearing him tell me to suck his dick.
Anyway, a blow job can be quiet. I can make zero squeaks of the bed, and giving him devoted attention is my joy. So I asked him to ask for them.
You know I can be a bit subby. Well, yeah. Not a full time thing, for sure. But in bed, I can enjoy being told what to do, and get off on being used and play-harmed.
My spouse is not one of those maniacal superdoms who just loves hurting people, only wears black, likes to leash people, and gets boners from power. I’m annoyed by those tall white guys with low social skills who make domming into their whole identity, and are always looking out for another plaint, obedient girl to put a ball gag into.
But my spouse can get off on domming me for sure, from time to time. He is very capable of taking on a role of controlling and giving me play-harm, for a thrill. He’s happy to.
Some people find that repulsive–that he would slap me, hit me, call me bitch or whathaveyou, for a desired effect. Sit on me, command me, make me come. Sigh. Other people are neutral on that, and then some such as me are overjoyed by some play transgression and power shifts, subspace, and the particular ecstasy of all that.
Subspace is so heavenly. Like a trance–such certainty, of what to do. But with the dreamy haziness, mixed with the bodily response to pain. I must get flooded by some well-being chemical, but I don’t know which.
It’s a welcome break from a regular life full of decisions and that agony of trying to do the right thing, all the time. Relinquishing my power in a play way, for a limited time, is such a pleasure.
I love unusual feeling states and going into other modes of being. Subspace is almost like entering another dimension, or another plane. Just euphoria and this simple sexual act. Like a drug. Probably it is a drug, but my body is making its own. I would like a Master’s degree in subspace!
topping from the bottom
Topping from the bottom is pretty common, for this mild BDSM we do, and I must admit, I am the one asking for it. I love the ritual and care. Are all subs like me? It only works if we consent.
But I experience it more that I’m begging for someone to hurt me. And the only person I’ve trusted to hurt me like that, so far, is my spouse.
I told him this fantasy I had, that he would be hard from imagining someone else going down on him. He would find me doing whatever I was doing, and command me to go to the bedroom with him and suck his dick, right then.
It would be fun to please him, service him, for him to use my body, for him to enjoy me as the slut I am, and to know it had originated from him wanting some other person besides me.
We could do that specifically, or just talk about it. But mostly I would just like to suck his dick daily, for more sex. The spiritual practice of that, the dailiness, and something to count on.
Blow jobs are getting easier for my neck–my neck is in way less pain, lately. So let’s make a commitment to sucking dick.