In High Gear

In my fantasy, I am wearing an open-crotch body stocking and a blindfold. I am taken to a place where I am bound, bent over on elbows and knees, and unknown hands and mouths and cocks and cunts roam me freely and take me at will. My perspective shifts back and forth between the tactile sensations experienced by my blindfolded self, as the object, and some outer view of the dimly lit place, among the masked figures who cannot identify each other. In this third person view, I see myself, writhing, slick, swollen.

My usual version of this fantasy includes the important idea that all these masked anonymous figures are people I know and trust – but none in the party know who the other participants are. They’ve each received discreet invitations with careful instructions about maintaining the anonymity. All distinguishing features such as birthmarks and tattoos are to be covered. The absolute minimum risk of discovery and its consequences.

When I stop to think about this, I do realize that I am attracted to most of my friends and other people I know. Part of me wishes for a breakdown of inhibition, so that I could make contact. But the rest of me knows that every action has consequences, and most of the consequences could be undesirable. For one thing, I would lose esteem. For some reason the person who gets around is seen as some deficient being. In our language, “slut” is a bad word. There isn’t much room in our worldview for someone who enjoys a nice romp among friends. Then you add fidelity issues for those people who are attached, and weirdness issues for people who don’t see the line between lover-sex and friend-sex. It gets complicated.

It’s not surprising that a fantasy that removes these consequences would seem appealing. Plus it plays into my love of rope and restraint. And I like the feeling of being an object of curiosity and interest, experimentation and maybe even mischief. I spent so much of my life being invisible – why not be a specimen instead?

Which leads to another favorite fantasy – the object of study. This is the earliest and most persistent sex fantasy that I have. In it, I am the specimen being observed to gauge female response. The first and simplest version featured a high-tech dildo mounted to an examination table, one that would measure temperatures in various locations, pulse, moisture levels, and applied pressure. These data would be relayed via cable to the off-location computer that graphed all the results. The experiment would take place in something like an operating theater, dimly lit but antiseptic, while the researchers with their clipboards watched from their backlit gallery behind the glass. Variations may include lab assistants who place electrodes and other instruments, or who apply whatever stimuli or restraint the experiment calls for. Or there’s another subject, male or female, and both participants are geared for data. Perhaps there’s a feedback measurement, where I am the restrained subject at the mercy of several who are not, and my arousal is studied in conjunction with theirs to see if their increasing levels of arousal increase mine and on and on in a loop.

Perhaps tactile stimulation is tested, where I am blindfolded and wearing hearing protection that muffles all sound, and I am covered in sensors that will pick up the changes in skin temperature all over my body as a single calculated touch is applied.

Many, many of my fantasies feature me bound, sometimes blindfolded as well. I think that has to do with responsibility. I take so much responsibility in everyday life, and I always have, since I was a small kid. My first sexual experiences were all about being pleasing and accommodating and impressive, trying to hone my skills to make the most of the experience for the other – but this is taking responsibility too. It feels so good to feel at the mercy of another, and to not be responsible, but to know that they are getting their rocks off by doing to me what I want them to do.

Usually, orgasm is difficult to achieve, sometimes to the point of frustration and tears. With the help of that first fantasy up above, and nice long unhurried strokes with what has become my favorite dildo, plus some clit and labia massage with the big heavy-duty super tension massager, this time it was almost accidental, quasi-involuntary – much how I imagine it must be for men.

I was left feeling very relaxed.

Some of the above is probably something I’ve mentioned in this filter before. I honestly can’t remember. If you find that I am being a broken record, please forgive me, and please ignore the reiterations.

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Not sure if I mentioned it before, but I’ve consumed so much pr0n, moving more and more to the harder and more bizarre stuff just so’s not to be bored to death by that which I’ve seen a thousand times, that I’ve come full circle. I’ve come to really appreciate vintage porn.

I would give a shout-out to the person at who posted this outstanding link to such an impressive array of vintage porn throughout the ages, to include bdsm and the truly freaky along with good wholesome voluptuous sex. However, everything in that community is friends-locked for reasons of good neighborliness, and I should respect privacy for the same reason, so I will say – if it was you, you know who you are, and thank you!

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Sometimes timing sucks. Sometimes timing repeatedly sucks. For instance, why is it that almost every time I get a chance to play with kires it’s either verging on my period, or it’s during? I don’t like doing things during my period. It’s a buzzkill for me. And getting close to it is nerve-wracking.

Several timing clashes this month. A series of condom accidents had me worrying about pregnancy, but we dodged a bullet this time. The aforementioned arriving period. Trying to sort out extra special intimate time with the honeys, in several races against bodily fatigue and digestive distress.

Then there was last night (Tuesday). spc476 and I finally perceived our opportunity to visit the swinger’s club he’d been to before with a previous girlfriend. I’ve been looking forward to this for years, and last night was -the- prime opportunity.

Except it was closed. It’s Wednesday through Saturday only.

There’s another swinger’s club in the area, and just about when we’d decided to head for it, the visual effects of an impending migraine began crowding into my eyeballs, and it was a matter of medicate now or suffer.

He got me some medicine, though it was too late to head off the pain completely. We headed on home and I got tucked in.

If the swinger’s club is open Christmas Eve, we might be able to give it another shot. Or maybe New Year’s Eve. I got the former off this year, and swapped a shift to get the latter. This kind of thing is about the kinkiest spc476 gets, so I don’t wanna miss the chance.

I had forgotten that this club is right across the street from Kozy Kampers. I should have been prepared for that, but I wasn’t. A hot little stab of pain hit me when I saw the sign, and it surprised me – I thought I was totally over all that. KK is where someone I love used to live, during a time he made a mincemeat of my heart. Well, next time I’ll be ready.

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The AP got a photo. I guess I’m not a completely heartless bitch – I actually felt a lurch and a stab of pain at seeing this.

The last time I know of that he was in an AP photo, he was helping to carry my sister’s coffin out of the church. That was jarring too, right on the front page.

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After quite a hot round of vanilla rumpy bumpy with my spicy spouse, again I felt kind of in a rope sort of mood. My thigh typing hadn’t gotten the rope messy, of course, so I asked my darling about putting my elbows behind my back. My hot love did so – I’m not quite limber enough to get my elbows touching behind my back, but that doesn’t really matter.

It felt utterly hot. I did need to wriggle every now and then to make sure the blood was getting where it was needed, but this was totally doable. Meanwhile, I had tingly shivers of anticipation all up and down my skin. He was touching the pink parts, sometimes softly, sometimes not so much, and hot jagged flashes of pleasure kept jolting from my clit on out. He kept doing That Thing with the Fingers – I’m sure it’s a G-spot stimulation, because the G is for God in “OH MY GOD!” He teased me all over the back and ass with something soft that sent the shivers running from my tailbone to neck. All over I quivered, and I was far beyond the ready mark when he was ready to enter me again. Hot rampaging spurting lust. Oh yeah.

After another cool down period, after my bonds had loosened, I started playing around at another tie, one around my ankles while my legs were in a lotus position. This one came out much better, and as far as I could tell, circulation was good.

I really don’t like to see bondage where body parts are turning purple or looking swollen to bursting. That’s just gross. It’s unaesthetic. It just don’t make me hot. Also, I don’t much care for the pins and needles experience of returning sensation.

So, I got my ankles tied up nice, and my honey gave me The Look. Well, I was giving him The Look too, so I guess that’s only fair. He began to fondle the slick parts, and pretty soon I was moaning for More. During all the fondleage, I’d kept playing with the rope, and had gotten one wrist pinned to my ankles, and was well on the way to getting the other one done when I got him persuaded to wash the ubiquitous dust and ever-present hairs off some of my favorite toys and work me over with them. I had tipped over on my back, which left a good deal of exposure.

Mmmmmmmm exposure.

The double-ended dildo is a good moderate thickness, a trait curiously absent in most of my toys. It has a good length, too, so I don’t have to worry about bottoming out too soon, and the veiny ridges are such that I can actually feel, unlike those condoms that claim to be ribbed “for her pleasure”. I love long, slow, deep strokes with it, and eventually adding a dish of delicious clit vibration brings me right there into big juicy round O land.

Seeing me that way, tilted over, all slick and swollen and heated-looking, inspired my spicy honey to ask me to suck him back into readiness. I was most pleased. Just the other day was the first time he felt bold enough to ask, and I was proud. For such a shy person, this was something of a landmark. Aroused as I was, and I so very was, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than a big taste of his gorgeous cock, so I did.

One of the most rewarding things about a satisfying sexual encounter, for me, is the sound. When I take his head just a little into my mouth and roll my tongue round the ridge and give just a little suckle, then make suckling kisses all down the ridge that runs along the bottom of the shaft, he makes gasps and moans and sounds of surprise that make my nipples go POP! and send goosebumps all over me. Highly enjoyable. He was soon ready to plunge into me.

Oh what exquisite fit! With the way my ankles were crossed and trussed up, I fit into his lap with a beautiful snugness, and his thrusts struck delightfully deep. When he climaxed, I felt it all through the areas of my skin that touched his, and I gasped nearly as much as he did.

O languid satiation! As we lay there I lazily undid the ropes.

Oddly, my left wrist carried the imprints for hours into the afternoon.

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