My Once and Future Domme

What a long strange trip this week has been. It began with high anticipation over the possibility of my meeting D., the strong, mercurial, fascinating, beautiful woman whom I have been hoping to enlist as a real-life (not paid) dominant mistress for many, many months. We have exchanged upwards of 200 emails over that time, exploring one another's fantasies as well as one another's sometimes odd peccadillos. I can't say that I've ever come to fully trust her--after all her screen name on the website where I first encountered her was "Sexy, Manipulative, Dangerous"--but I did develop a real dependence on her emails and a delight in her incisive view of the world in general and of the odd interactions between men and women in particular. "Consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds," Ralph Waldo Emerson famously observed and over the course of our conversations D. proved her mind to be anything but "little" as she veered from hard-boiled money-obsessed cynic to vulnerable lost child to world-weary realist all in the space of a day's worth of emails. Perhaps all that inconsistency should have put me off, but like many of my brethren, I am a sucker for a smart, fucked-up woman, particularly if she happens to be beautiful as well. So, at last--after a sizable gift from me I hasten to add--we finally were able to agree on a time to meet. The agreement was that I would be allowed to suck her lovely tits, an activity that she particularly enjoys, but nothing more. No kissing, no touching of other parts of her body, and little or no touching of me by her. This was all fine by me inasmuch as I hoped this first meeting would lead to many, many more. So it was with great excitement and even a little nervousness that I pulled my car into the parking lot where she told me to go and waited for her to find me. Within five minutes of the appointed time, a tall, dark-haired attractive woman with a killer body appeared in my side view mirror and was quickly sitting beside me in the passenger seat. My first reaction was that she looked quite a bit as I expected her to, attractive but not stunningly beautiful, with gorgeous full breasts and a tight body that must have fueled a multitude of male fantasies through the years. As I interacted with her, again as I thought she would, she came across as strong, hard, tough, with a nearly impenetrable exterior, like a beautiful, if somewhat cold, piece of polished black obsidian rock.... pretty much everything I could hope for in a Domme when you get right down to it. On the flip side, beneath that obsidian exterior, I also detected some real vulnerability and a sense of deep, turbulent waters, churning, churning....

She directed me to drive to an isolated parking lot a short distance away, then asked me, "Do you know what you are here to do?" I responded that I was to suck her sensational tits--a prospect that became only more enticing the more glances I was able to steal at her sizable but firm cleavage. "So get to it," she ordered. So began my 15 minutes or so of tasting her lovely breasts, sucking them as she instructed, with my mouth on one nipple while my hand tweaked and twisted the other. She seemed to be enjoying herself and at one point complimented me on my ability to follow instruction. As she murmured commands to me, she held each of my ears in her hands and twisted my head into the position where she wanted me, then pulled hard on my ears as I sucked away. I was in heaven. Then, for reasons utterly unknown, she suddenly stopped and told me to pull out my cock and stroke it. This came as a bit of a surprise as, although she had mentioned wanting to see my cock in the past, she had not talked about that activity as a possible feature of this first meeting. But of course I happily complied and I know she was gratified by the fact that I was already hard as a rock before my cock even saw the light of day and she expressed admiration for its size and shape. At one point after I had stroked for a couple of minutes I made a gesture towards returning to her breasts and she roughly rebuffed me, making it plain that my hands, which now had touched my own cock, were defiled and unworthy to touch any part of her. I begged her forgiveness but there was a feeling of a spell being broken somehow and she quickly turned away, pulled her shirt up and announced that "this is taking too long. I don't think you're ever going to cum." Of course I was not aware that she wanted me to cum. So again I begged her forgiveness and pleaded with her to allow me to cum. Within a matter of seconds I was able to summon a lovely orgasm and an impressively prodigious load of cum. She softened enough to praise my ability to cum on command, but after cleaning myself up, I was instructed to return to the original parking lot immediately. It was clear that she did not want me to see her car as she had me drop her off in front of a nearby supermarket and drive away. Her final comment to me was that she would email me.

I stopped for lunch after our encounter and emailed her from the restaurant to say that I had enjoyed our meeting and that I hoped I would have the chance to be with her again and learn further the proper way to please her. After one of her typically brief responses--"You're welcome"--I further queried her about another meeting and she responded that I had disobeyed her and thus had "sealed [my] own fate." After months and months of conversations, I simply could not believe that I was being so summarily dismissed, so I sent her another email (unanswered) and then another, begging her to tell me what was going on. Her final response was, "Be a gentleman and leave me alone." I have since sent her one last email just asking her to confirm for me that these brief emails mean what they seem to mean, that she wants absolutely nothing further to do with me--no emails, no more meetings with her or with her other male friends (we'd talked about my introducing some of her other men to bi activity), no contact of any sort whatsoever. I begged her for some further explanation, arguing that our many, many emails through the past year surely entitled me to that. Even if she failed to see the validity of that point, I argued, shouldn't the substantial financial contribution I made to her justify some further response as well?

I have received no answer at all. I closed the email with an expression of continuing admiration and with the hope that perhaps I am wrong and she might in the end relent and agree to pursue our somewhat twisted relationship. Might she be considering this? Not likely....

In truth, as coldblooded as I often am about my many sexual escapades, this experience left me deeply depressed, feeling stupid, manipulated, and profoundly unattractive. My answer to this emotional pain? Have one of my male admirers come over today and give me an unusually competent blow job. The total amount of time between my initial conversation online with him and his appearing on his knees before me with my long cock buried down his throat? Less than 60 minutes. What a truly bizarre life I lead...

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My Darling Domme

Well, it seems that I may be on the verge of actually meeting my fascinating, infuriating, elusive D., the dominant woman I have been dying to meet and submit to for six months or so. The reasons for my near obsession with her are many and various. First of all, she is a genuinely and naturally dominant woman; I learned this from interacting with her for some time, long before we discovered we had a mutual interest in dominance and submission. Second, she is smart and creative and very, very sexually curious. Third, she seems to possess a libido as active as my own--could she be a fellow addict?--which suggests a driven quality capable of overcoming the sometimes difficult logistics associated with two married people like us. It also suggests that, for her anyway, while she no doubt will enjoy the thrill of sheer dominance, of being able to tell me precisely what she wants me to do, there will also always be a strong sexual component involved, which of course is just the way I like it.

For our first session, she wants to instruct me precisely how to suck, massage, and manipulate her gorgeous ample breasts, while simultaneously stimulating her nether regions with her rabbit vibrator. I am not to touch myself or expect any direct sexual stimulation whatsoever, though of course a guy can dream. The final logistics remain to be ironed out but I am hopeful that at last I will meet this amazing woman.

On other fronts, C. and I have decided not to pursue anything. I know I am going to sound like a pig with this comment--if the shoe fits, so be it--but she seemed to want me to work a lot harder to have sex with her than I am really willing to do with someone to whom I am simply not attracted at all. B. and I continue to talk and I am still hopeful of having sex with her again one of these days. But, believe it or not, I really do value her friendship and respect her enormously as a person, so I am not going to do anything to jeopardize the nice relationship we have. Of course the sex with her was without question some of the best I've ever experienced so I will continue to gently urge her toward a renewal of relations...

In the meantime, I have had sex with two different men, both of whom were a cut above the recent collection of men I've met with, which was a nice change of pace. The second one in particular, a man I met with two or three years ago, was actually quite a turnon. He had lost 30 pounds since our last meeting and gotten pretty buff--much of the improvement coming from a brief stint in jail amazingly enough--and he *really* wanted to meet.... Our session was held in an unoccupied part of an office building, where I found him naked and jerking off in one of the empty offices. He wanted me to dominate him, which I did, forcing him to swallow my cock and eventually standing over him and shooting a load all over his naked chest. I also got a chance to explore his entire body as he presented himself to be fucked--I did not do so--in a variety of positions. I generally do not get into fucking men very much, but with this guy I may make an exception. The other guy was in pretty good shape as well but, after promising to give me a great blow job, was disappointingly limited in his oral technique, seemingly able to only handle 3 or 4 inches of my cock down his throat. I might give him another try, but more likely in a group than one on one...

Red-letter day

You just never know what the day may bring. As an addict, I always remain alert to the possibilities, I always check my various sources, I always make every effort to remain in touch with all the candidates I am working at any particular moment, and then, often with the blood boiling in my veins, I wait. And I hope. And I search. Many days--no, most days--end in frustration with next to nothing to show for my efforts other than the small residual pleasure to be derived from the sense that I am leaving no stone unturned, no possibility unexplored. But on other very rare days, like this one, the planets seem to position themselves in such perfect alignment that everything seems to fall in place. Let me catalog the day:

D., my dominant woman friend to whom I have been dying to submit has agreed to accept my gift ($$) and meet with me. The expenditure of funds--a one-time thing I am reasonably certain--was a bit painful, but the reward is potentially truly fabulous. She describes herself as possessing extremely sensitive breasts, and during our first session she wants me to arouse her with my mouth and hands on her lovely nipples and her wondrously pendulous breasts. (I have seen pictures.) If I perform this task reasonably well, she may place her shaven pussy on my mouth as well and allow me to suck her and taste her and cover my face with her luscious and hopefully copious juices. My sense is that she derives great pleasure from such sessions.... and my hope is that this might perhaps be the first of many....

A new candidate, let's call her C., agreed to meet me today. With a genuine errand to run, I was able to get out of the office and meet her at the location we selected together, a local park. She is significantly overweight, but pretty, and though uncertain at first, I became fully won over when we kissed and I found myself instantly hard. I have actually not heard back from her yet, but I feel confident she will want to meet and will want me to fuck her. I also have this sense that she will be *extremely* passionate... for now I greatly enjoyed the making out, and the foretaste of what may be to come...

After leaving her, I texted my old friend B., whom I truly adore, and was able to meet her for a quick conversation and a little making out too, before heading back to the office. She is so sexy, so sweet, so smart--I wish I could find a way to see more of her and I wish the relationship was not so intrinsically lopsided. She needs a real relationship... and the man who ends up having one with her will be one extremely lucky guy... for now we are not having sex... but of course I continue to hope she may change her mind... Kissing her was bliss and there is no question about the ongoing mutual desire we still have for one another... but for now she is abstaining.

Finally, I got back to the office to find multiple frantic messages from two men I have been chatting with, both of them available and wanting to meet asap. My faithful readers surely know my response to that, which was to invite them both over and engage in an oral threesome. One of them actually turns me on quite a bit for a man, in part because of his nice tight body, but also due to his amazing ability to generate truly porn-worthy massive cum shots, with his emissions--as many as 7 or 8--often traveling as much as 5-10 feet. Why is that feat such a turnon for me? Who can understand these things? But it is, and I usually shoot pretty hard myself immediately after witnessing one of his prodigious orgasms. I certainly did today. The third guy is considerably less attractive but he has a nice thick cock that is fun to play with and he seemed to function as a good complement to my hotter friend and me. Of course, I would much preferred to have met with any one of the three women discussed above, but all the making out had me very horny and I needed a release. As is often the case, men proved to be the pathway of least resistance.

So there you have it... one candidate (D.) nearing paydirt, so to speak, another (C.) with a very promising beginning, and a third (B.) kept simmering, hopefully for another day. Finally there were the reliable guys to get me off in the end when I needed it.

I've certainly had much better sex... but I've rarely had a day as potentially productive as this one. Welcome to my strange little world.


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Sex on Venus & Mars

Here is a typical IM/email exchange with a potential male sex partner that, based on his online profile and pictures, I find at least somewhat attractive:

Him: Hey, great cock, I'd love to suck it. (Sometimes he will want to get fucked, a desire that would entail a longer conversation--I very rarely fuck men.)
Me: Sounds good, you look hot too. Where are you?
Him: About 10 minutes away. Can you host?
Me: Yeah, are you d/d free and sure of it?
Him: Absolutely
Me: When can you be here?
Him: I just need to shower, I can be there in 35 minutes. OK?
Me: Yeah, call me on my cell at xxx-xxx-xxxx when you get here.
Him: Hot, talk to you then.

That's it--deal done. Within the hour he will be on his knees happily sucking me off. If I really do find him attractive, which is pretty rare, I will initiate a more active session, with body contact, mutual oral, and even (rarely) kissing if he has a particular look that turns me on. In any case, the session is not likely to last much longer than 15-20 minutes. If it is reasonably good, there is a decent chance we will have a return engagement. If not, we will part company and never speak or communicate in any way whatsoever again.

I suspect that my female readers, with some exceptions I'm sure, will find this scenario alien and, for the most part, repellent. I am currently hoping to connect with a woman from one of my feeder sites, who is quite open about her desire for a relationship based almost entirely on sex, but even she wants to chat, get to know me a bit, share a meal, etc., before jumping into the sack with me. (In her case, I do think there is a chance the first meeting will lead to sex that day, but no meeting will take place until we've communicated online quite a bit.) And, when we get to the main event, I can absolutely guarantee that the sex will last at least an hour--considerably longer if our schedules permit--and will involve pretty much every body part each of us possesses.

For me, the dynamics are pretty simple. I would much prefer the fuller, more mutual, extended experience with a woman to whom I am fully attracted and whom I find compelling as a human being. But I am indeed an addict, and, to paraphrase Stephen Stills, if I can't be with the one I love, I will, most certainly and with very little hesitation, love the one I'm with...

The nature versus nurture debate, particularly applied to gender, is never ending and in all probability is not amenable to solution anyway, but even granting the conditioning girls go through to encourage attention to interpersonal issues, I cannot believe that there is not a strong innate biological basis for these starkly different approaches to sexuality. I'd love some feedback on this one....

By the way, though I would never be so presumptuous as to even hint that I am in any way unique, I am guessing that my level of experience with both men and women is relatively rare. Even assuming that bisexuality (and its many, many gradations) is more common than most people think--and I most certainly think that it is--you'd have to slice that population a good bit smaller yet to find the sex addicts in the mix, and I suspect you'd come up with a pretty small group that has had the level of experience on both sides of the gender divide that I have. So I guess I qualify as at least somewhat of an expert.... For whatever the hell that is worth, which probably isn't much.

Sugasm #174

October 3rd, 2009 by Vixen | Updated: October 3rd, 2009

Veronica Zemanova courtesy of Bad Girl’s Hotbox.

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #175? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

5 things I have learned from customers last week at the adult store

“Attractive men typically buy the freakiest toys on the market.”

Doctor’s Visit

“Reach back and spread your cheeks for me”

Voyeur

“Recently it was in a more public venue.”

Sugasm Editor

Freebies

Editor’s Choice

A Race to the Finish

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Erotic Writing & Experiences

An Afternoon With The Ex

Being a Stranger, Being Fucked rough

Conditioner

Designated Cock

The Display

The Fantasy And The Reality

Gloved

I Just Want to Watch

Killer Heels - Red Satin Skirt

My G-Spot does exist- HER perspective

Library Offences

Nothing is sacred

Staying After Class

Sunday

Teachers Pet

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

24/7 BDSM

Danielle Lloyd Topless and All Nude For Nuts - September 2009

Handcuffs

Spanking High Impact!

Spanking in the workshop

Strapped on her bare ass!!!

Veronika Zemanova

When The Sunflowers Bloom (HNT)

BDSM & Fetish

Be Careful What You Wish For

In the Dungeon with dangerous: Notes from Dark Odyssey Summer Camp

Knife Play

Lessons Learned (2/2)

The Long Awaited Demo

The M/s Relationship~Fact or Fiction

More Fun with Clothespins

Sub space and sex before bed

Thing

Wake Up

Sex Advice

Bareback sex = better sex?

How to Give Your Woman an Orgasm during Intercourse

Trans girl sex: I’m a clumsy asshole

News, Reviews & Interviews

20 Questions With Courtney Trouble

Lelo Gigi

Tres, Dos…nah, Uno

Thoughts on Sex & Relationships

Cyber

Sex with Dopey

Without any choice in the matter.

Filed Under

Bad Sex

There is a school of thought, particularly among those on the masculine side of the gender divide, that there is no such thing as bad sex as long as the session culminates in an orgasm. Having engaged in literally hundreds of liaisons, let me strongly disagree. If you've read any reasonable proportion of my posts, you've come to know that I am, to say the least and to put the matter most charitably, easy. When faced with no sex or unappetizing sex, I will almost always opt for the latter. My recent session with Dopey, my tryst with the grossly obese couple, and my group grope with an unattractive collection of middle aged men, all attest to this very pronounced tendency of mine. It is indeed one of the genuine hallmarks of the sex addict. I will confess that in the midst of these encounters I even sometimes find myself turned on by the sheer perversity of the situation and by my own ludicrously hyper-driven libido, which manages to propel me through some pretty bizarre encounters. Well, for the record, even I have my letdowns.

Yesterday, on the spur of the moment, I accepted an invitation to join two men in a threesome that at least held the promise of some excitement. The host was a man I had chatted with before, who seemed to have at least a couple of characteristics--he is fit, with a decently large cock--that I find attractive in men. His friend was almost completely unknown, other than the fact that he is young, which can sometimes be a turnon for me. This was actually the first all-male threesome I'd attended in which I had never met either of the partners involved. Perhaps I should learn from the experience. I arrived in the older man's very nice apartment--is it inappropriate when engaging in group sex to find oneself distracted by a handsome prewar apartment building and a gorgeously appointed apartment?--to find both men naked, the younger one lying on his back on the bed, passively accepting oral service from the older one. I was briefly greeted by the older man, who immediately returned to his strenuous oral ministrations on his friend, leaving me unsure as to how to proceed. Even in the relative gloom of the bedroom, I could tell that neither man was particularly attractive. Some men might have left of course. I, on the other hand, removed my clothes. Eventually the older man took a break from his friend on the bed and dropped to his knees to service me. His oral technique could best be described as a one-speed vacuum cleaner approach, with intense, constant, and almost painfully hard sucking seemingly being his one and only approach to the problem of my less than entirely hard cock. After a bit of work produced little or no improvement, he returned to his friend. I moved to the other side of the bed in hopes of engaging the younger man in some--in any--kind of interaction, but he simply lay motionless, like some gigantic blow-up sex doll, passively receiving his friend's enthusiastic servicing. I found next to nothing appealing about him--he was overweight and his cock was average sized at best. (His friend was able to deepthroat him with no effort whatsoever.) I returned to my station beside the bed, the older man returned to me, and eventually my cock sprung to full life, a situation which did not cause my service specialist to alter his one-note approach in the least. Eventually I lay down on the bed next to passive sex-doll boy and stroked his cock while the older man brought me off to an admittedly copious orgasmic release. "There are towels in the bathroom if you want one," my host told me, speaking 10 of the approximately 20 words spoken during the entire encounter. I went to the bathroom, cleaned up, quickly put on my clothes, and with little more than a wave, was out the door and gone.

While many men are terrified of their own latent homosexuality and react to even a hint of same-sex attraction by going to a bar, watching several football games, and getting into a fight with the biggest guy they can find, I am of the opposite mind and am disappointed to find myself confronted with more and more evidence that I am really not all that attracted to men. For a sex addict, this is very bad news, since such a conclusion, if allowed to become determinative, will severely limit the number of sex partners available. Men are just so damned easy, so plentiful, so open to meeting at the drop of a hat, that shutting the door on them seems just too painful to even consider. Any reasonably thoughtful non-addict would have accepted this conclusion a long time ago, of course. But somehow I keep hoping that the next man will be different, that I will eventually find the holy grail, i.e. a man just as slutty as I am, with a hard smooth body, a big cock, and an attraction to me as strong as mine to him. The incredible thing is how this search continues in spite of the now massive quantities of evidence suggesting its futility. I would guess that I have had sex of one sort or another with some 200 men or so.... and I can count on one hand the number that I was genuinely attracted to. This compares to my experience with women, virtually **all** of whom I was easily and effortlessly attracted to. What does that tell you about my general sexual predilections? But, as I've said often, in a pinch, a sex addict will take what he can get, and often the easiest solution is a man. In spite of all my equivocating, I suspect that will continue....

Thank God, there appear to be two new female candidates, one of them very promsing indeed. Sadly M. seems to be slipping away, with serious issues at home dominating her time and her emotional energy. (Can you believe it? Someone for whom the promise of an intense and pleasurable sexual experience is not the sole determinant of her behavior? Bizarre!) Of course I will stay in touch, but I'm not optimistic about the situation. More on the new candidates as soon as I know more.....

Sex with Dopey

I do not find him even remotely attractive. He has a goofy face that puts me strongly in mind of Dopey, the least appealing member of the seven dwarfs. (How's that for an entertaining parlor game? Which of the seven dwarfs would you actually agree to have sex with?) His body is shaved but oddly pudgy in spite of his relative lack of fat. He is short, perhaps 5'6", and his cock is misshapen and oddly proportioned. He also has some filthy predilections, including a desire to have me defecate on his face. (I make no judgments on this fetish, but find it repulsive nonetheless.) Put another way, he has none of the characteristics that I sometimes find attractive in men. And yet, I respond to his incessant demands to meet, his endless emails in praise of my large cock, by continuing to meet with him and allowing him to suck me off. The only way I can derive even a frisson of genuine excitement out of these meetings is by being somewhat abusive to him during our sessions, which of course is precisely what he wants. So I shove him around, slapping his ass, twisting his nipples with considerable force, and holding his head firmly as I ram my entire length down his throat, causing him to gag and nonetheless ask for more. Throughout this process, he continually murmurs effusive endearments to my cock as he begs me to feed him more and more. I received a swooning email from him after our session on Friday indicating that my load was the largest he had ever swallowed in his life. (I had not cum in two weeks.) While he fantasizes about our sessions--sometimes reliving them through a video I allowed him to shoot (no faces shown)--I rush home to the shower, frantically soaping my entire body to remove even a trace of his saliva from my body. Who but an addict would indulge in this behavior? In the end I am left with a deep sense of shame. In the midst of all our blogging efforts to entice readers with the most appealing erotic descriptions possible--many of them highly embellished I suspect--how often do we address the emotions aroused by some of our less savory behaviors?

Of course I am in no position whatsoever to take the moral high ground here as I am under no illusion that my addiction will not continue to drive me forward, in spite of any ethical qualms I may be harboring. And here is an unanswerable question: Why is it that my shame is triggered by Dopey but not by my liaisons with women, or even by many of my meetings with more attractive men? Is there something particularly shameful about my ability to get it up for anything that moves?

New to the blog? Start at the beginning....