I’m hiding. I can feel it, and it just snuck up on me. Hiding or just going inside? When I returned home from work there were workers sanding and painting our deck. I had the thought, but I was a million miles away from the feeling inside my body of wanting to fuck anyone. I do enjoy the way latin guys seem to have no inhibitions saying yes, too.
I’m surprised at myself a bit. Especially since the last Latin lover I had was hot! Very hot, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anyone grab my hips that way before; angling them in such a way that the tip of his cock slammed into my cervix and gave me the deepest pleasure. It felt so amazingly good that it shook me out of my ‘it’s all for Him and this guy’ head that I go so deeply into, I literally forget myself. In my case, not a bad thing either. It’s probably the most selfless moments cumming out of me. And, yes, I know I’ve spelled ‘coming’ wrong. I just fucking love to spell it ironically like that…reminds me of Him…Sir…Daddy (don’t tell Him I said that, it just felt so good to utter it out loud).
Still, all of that and I’m upstairs typing instead of sucking some hot Latin dick…if they let me, I guess. I did have some fun with Him this morning. I woke with not a clue of what to say or do, and then I had this ‘vision’ of Him in a beautiful black tuxedo with a crisp black bowtie. “Every woman’s crazy ’bout a sharp dressed man…”. Heard that today, oddly enough.
I wrote to Him and told Him of my imaginary trip into His world. He’s shown me a photo of Him years ago in a beautifully tailored Armani suit that looked achingly stunning on Him. I must admit that His stories of the way He lived before His illness thrill me; I can’t help in imagining myself living it with Him. Especially when He has shared stories of past girlfriends that He dropped huge sums of money on.
I have gotten passed a lot of my own snobbery in the ‘designer bag, clothing, jewelry phase’ I went through, yet, there’s still something about living so luxuriously. When I feel beyond the ‘needing to show someone what I’ve got’ bullshit, there really is an incredible sensuality in using money to live well. To buy what pleases you or someone else, and to feel and live that life. I have, but, and I say this with some sadness, really…I’ve live it with the wrong person. That’s how I feel when He talks about His past life. Sadness, envy, desire, longing, all of those feelings wrapped around Him. He knows how to live and love more than anyone I’ve ever met…or connected with, at least.
As I was driving to work, the song “Legs”, ZZ Top came on. Another vision, but this one of my legs videoed for Him. I pulled over in a flash, yanked off my pants and sneakers; put one leg up on the car door and hit record. While “Legs” was playing, I slowly panned my arched foot up my leg to my bent knee; then down my pale thigh onto my mound with my white and black sheer lace, leopard print panties on display. It was crazy instinctual to do this, but it felt right, it felt fun and hot and I loved giving it to Him.
“Yep, legs all the way up to your wet bald cunt”, He said.
“And she’s VERY wet now, imagining unzipping your tux pants on my knees in front of you and taking your cock as deep as you can make me take it”, I returned.
“Showing you off in some little black dress showing everyone what a hot lil cocksucker you are”, He said, and with that, I felt myself crumble inside some. As usual, He had picked up on my deepest desires. Not that I had made them a secret here, but He spoke them. He went there. He could have ignored me, and I would have obeyed by not pushing it. I would have felt the slap down and tried to move beyond it. But, He went there with me…and He continued with me after my next comment.
“No panties so that when you bend me back to dip, they all get a perfect view of how wet and swollen she is”, I offered.
“Yep, thighs already soaked from your leaking pussy”, Sir said.
“And the cum of some stranger you made me bend over for in the men’s room”, I typed, my fantasy about men’s rooms flashing through my mind.
“Oh, there’d be lots of those”, He teased, and I followed with all my aching pussy and heart as if it was the smell of sweet chocolate in my nose and dripping down my lips onto my waiting tongue.
“I’d be praying so”, I said.
“Good, cause I’d keep having you fucked until you’re praying for it to stop”, He quickly added. My imagination was as wet as my pussy was.
“As long as it ends with your cum being the last load exploded inside me”, I said, and I felt slightly scared that I had just, basically, asked for His cum. Maybe not so okay.
“It always does”, He said, and I breathed a sigh of relief and swam in the joy of hearing those words and how alive my body and pussy felt. (Note: I wondered at that moment if He meant He always cums after I fuck others for Him? Not sure, really, but what a hot thought THAT was!!)
“Then perhaps I better make sure my dancing skills are up to par…and my mouth and pussy stretched and ready for all the abuse”, I semi-joked, but secretly hoped He’d play along.
“The dancing thing is up to you, the mouth & pussy I’ll have taken care of”, He wrote, and I closed my eyes and just let it swirl around me for a second. The idea of Him arranging all of that. For me to be used by so many men, I’d need to stop or feel myself split in half. I can feel myself wanting to resist ever saying it. Even if I were fatigued and aching; I’d want to show Him I could take anything, give anything to please Him.
Those are such deep seated wishes (more like deep seeded wishes) , it almost hurts to go there with Him. Yet, it hurts in a different way not to.
I feel a bit better writing all of that. It took my mind away from hiding in my room, but I am here. Still recovering from a weekend that tore my heart out. I’ll bounce back; I always do. The need to serve Him is the strongest impulse I have now. There’s no doubt about that. Staying quiet, right now, feels like the right thing to do. To go to Him and tell Him anything other than what pleases Him is just not acceptable any longer. I’d hate if He felt I was ignoring Him in anyway, but I feel it’s better to be still and stay quiet.
I miss talking to Him as much as I did, but much of that was me just looking for attention from Him. Me just wanting His eyes and ears on me. Not to truly give to Him. I see that now, rather painfully. Believe me, I’m still a selfish, needy lil slut. It’s just that more and more is becoming apparent to me, and following what feels right, feels better. I only want Him to be happy, to heal, to feel love and to have an amazingly hard dripping cock whenever He hears from me. Maybe my words here can be silent prayers to whomever Great Spirit listens to those kinds of things. I pray so.
p.s. I have a gift for Him for Daddy’s Day. I know, I know…if I can’t call Him Daddy, then He isn’t my Daddy. Well, I won’t use the words referring to me. He is a Daddy to His sweet pups and I just can’t in my heart of hearts let “Daddy’s Day” cum and go without giving Him something from me. I really really really hope He loves it. I can’t WAIT to have it sent to Him. Shhh, don’t tell Him. I’ll share all about it after it gets to Him ; )