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voluptuousOMomAndDad

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I am but a forgotten specter, doomed to haunt these slippery halls with the ghost of the English language. A phantom falling upon helpless little things in a flurry of debonair charm and dripping suave charisma, only to vanish at first light, leaving nothing more than a memory. A very, very satisfying memory.
15+ years S+M experience, offline and on. Patient with a novice, but I do not tolerate fools. Enigmatic. Expansive vocabulary. Older, stable, and established. Writing skills to match. Bored and seeking on a whim.

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10/20/2021 12:40:24 AM

Hello all you beautiful people on the other side of this terrible year. I guess I'm back for the time being, mostly in one peice. Hope you all made it out unscathed too.

 


4/13/2018 7:37:47 AM
I always wonder if profiles asking 'What would you do to me' know how much they sound like requests for jerkfic copy-paste spam. I wonder if people replying to them understand the person on the other end is probably just collecting stories to wank off to, or more likely, send to women as their own original work.

Random thoughts on a Friday.

3/31/2018 10:39:23 PM
That moment when CS eats half of your profile because you updated your photographs.

Ugh.

3/14/2018 9:31:45 AM

Confessions

of

a

Skull

Mask


We were at a party, you and I, in celebration of a long-forgotten cause for joy. There was raucous drinking. The party pushed on into the darkest hours of the night. Somebody brought out a video camera to tape the merrymaking. Your boyfriend was seated at a table with some other men, drinking. And you were there beside him, with your hand on his thigh. The camera came and exhorted you all to be witty for posterity. Jokes were made. Funny faces and obscene gestures were directed at the camera. I happened to be lying on the table. Your boyfriend picked me up, slipped his face into mine, put the cheap rubber band around the back of his head. He and I mugged for the camera together. For a moment, he was death personified as a drunk man. Or was I an inebriated reaper of souls?

You, my darling, leaned over and—performing for the camera—pushed your tongue through my plastic mouth and into his. You were tongue-kissing the personification of death. I could feel your breath, share your alcoholic saliva. Your friends all cheered. The kiss ended—but then, sweetness, you couldn’t pull your tongue back out through my face. My plastic lips had caught it tight, like a Chinese finger trap. You winced, pulled, made a sort of open-mouthed, gargling cry. The men at the table laughed and jeered. Finally you managed to extract your little muscle of love, but not without cutting it on the sharp edge of my lips. Afterward the videotape clearly showed sweet blood on your tongue.

If you’d been sober, you might have found it symbolic. You can kiss somebody else’s spouse and get away with it. You can kiss a member of the same sex with near impunity. You can give an incestuous kiss on the sly. You can tongue-kiss a dog or exchange raptures with lab rats. But you can’t kiss death without death kissing you back. Death is a passionate kisser. I bite your lips, chew your tongue, leave a little taste of blood in your mouth as a portent of things to come. If I were to kiss you between the legs, you’d see a little blood there too and think that your period had come early. But it wouldn’t be your menses, lover. It would be your ruination, a death’s head with your clitoris in its mouth.

Death is mad about you. Death loves you. Do you love me too? I’m not needy, but I enjoy intimacy—especially with you, darling. Go ahead. Slip your face into mine. I like to feel your warm lips in my inert visage. I like to feel your eyelashes tickling my empty old sockets. One day I’ll slip my face into yours too, and then we’ll experience another sort of intimacy. I’ll be inside you, like a lover. I’ll kiss you from the inside, and it will feel like catching a chill. You’ll get goose bumps up your thighs and shivers down your spine. I’ll whisk you to my wormy bed and we’ll lie there nestled in each other’s arms, or at least so long as you have arms. And even then, when you are hideous dust, I will remain true. I am death and when I love you, it’s forever.

And why shouldn’t you love me back? I know that sometimes you fantasize about me. You lie in bed at night wondering how and when I will come, and what I’ll look like when I do. Am I a knight in shining armor? A fiery dog of hell? Do I look like a vampire? A skeleton? A ghost? You imagine me taking you into my arms, embracing you, comforting you. “There, there,” I say, kissing your tears away. “I’ll make those awful things go away. Life won’t be a burden to you anymore. I promise.”

I pull back the curtain to reveal a wonderful new world—a party, a riot, a ball. It’s the costume affair, Mardi Gras, the Halloween festival, the Day of the Dead, and it’s enormous fun to prance around on the arm of inevitable doom. Life is short! Seize the day! Go ahead, darling. Slip me on. Pretend you’re me. See the world through my sockets. Laugh. Live. Love—while you can. Eat, drink, and be merry. What do you think I do? I’m death, and I laugh and make merry too. I dance with skeletons and make goblets out of skulls—to drink from the cranium, you should know, is very fine. When your brains are gone, what nobler substitute could there be than wine?

Death-drunk—mortality-mad—overdose on the necrotic narcotic—tongue the  skull—laugh in the mask—tempt fate—dance—flirt with the fatal—giggle at the grotesque—get down with the death’s heads—kiss the dirt from the cadaver’s lips—laugh—drink—dance—dissevered heads know how to party—skeletons rock—bones get it on—when you’re a skull and your brain is gone, you’ve got every excuse. You can’t say you knew better because you had nothing to know with. I am

the justification, the skull mask says, for the time of your life.

Everybody in a circle. Join hands and sing out loud, “We all die.”


1/19/2018 10:46:13 AM
[Wolf]: Then, enjoy your rest.
[Ela]: What rest?
[Wolf]: I assumed you were off to parts better tended by pillows and blankets. I know I would be.
[Ela]: You assume much that is not so.
[Wolf]: Ah, but you sew much that is not assumed.
[Ela]: Yes, but you assumed that I sow much.
[Wolf]: So much was assumed sowing the assumptions that the sewing was assumed.
[Ela]: ...You're good.
[Wolf]: Damn right.

6/29/2017 7:46:42 PM
Our wine tasting this year was lovely. Special thanks to our live string quartet who absolutely made the night, and to our patrons who surprised us with the anniversary glasses.
You made my evil heart melt and we are so very grateful to have you attend. 
Here's to another ten.

6/28/2017 6:02:46 AM
I am starting to become annoyed at the amount of people wasting time.

5/28/2017 6:06:48 AM
http://tinyurl.com/dapperplaylist
Because music.

5/21/2017 7:18:19 PM
Why are all the cute ones always so far away.

4/20/2017 7:48:01 AM
If you've any advice to offer an inexperienced dom, I'd appreciate hearing it, but I understand you are likely to have better things to do.

Never hurry. Of the mistakes I've made, the worst were always done in haste and could have been avoided.
No one but you can determine your style. If the person you are with wants you to change your style, change the person you are with instead.
And a little bit of patience solves just about every problem.
The same goes for kindness and compassion.

Hmm - perhaps one problem I need to solve first is "being better at finding partners and knowing which ones are worth making the effort for" - there are issues I should have probably let pass as "they weren't the right person for me" but still worry about instead.

I don't think that ever really goes away, I still worry about the next person to come along even after a decade plus of experience. That's where being patient comes in handy. The hardest thing for people to fake is consistency over time. When people start to flake out, it's usually the end of their limit. That's when the real person comes through. Everyone is flawed and I've never had a "perfect" match before. Figure out your own limits first, and hold yourself to them, and this life gets significantly easier.
Remember that you don't have to bend over backwards for your partner, topping someone properly is a huge time/emotion investment on your part and anyone who doesn't realize that or who doesn't respect that is bad news. It's not just a waste of time, it may have distracted you from someone much better who was only available for a short time.

4/19/2017 4:18:46 PM
The conundrum of being a Dominant in a place like this is mostly one of time to invest.
I have lost count of the amount of times I have gotten to know someone only to have them vanish days, weeks, or yes, even months later.
In response to this behavior I find myself becoming increasingly calloused towards people and initial interactions.
Of course there is simply no polite way to express this on initial contact, and the amount of people, submissives specifically, who seem to -get it- is remarkably low.
The time investment of a Dominant is not small. Especially if they attempt to practice even remotely monogamously. It is little wonder to me why so many younger or inexperienced Dominants choose to spin multiple plates at one time. Invariably half of those plates are just going to vanish entirely, and for those looking for lasting commitment, the entire process is infuriating, and leaves someone incredibly jaded.
Note I do not include the game players, the ones just looking for sex (Who end up perpetuating the cycle of meet-and-dump) and the abusives who simply don't care or maliciously want to hurt someone.
It feels like any more, I cannot have a discussion about BDSM without having to disclaim something. The scene wars never 'good' and I am sure i will be criticized for rose colored glasses and daydreams of a non existent 'Good old days', but I really do feel like things have steadily gotten worse over time.
The insidious thing about it all is that, the longer the behavior goes on, the more I am exposed to it, the less I care about offending feelings. This is especially troubling as someone who takes pride in being both caring and nuanced.
So take this as my apology if I ever come across as short, discourteous or rude when addressing you, I just don't have the goddamn time any more to play stupid games.

4/16/2017 6:01:29 PM
Up at the farm for the Easter weekend. Sorry if I miss any PM's, will be back to normal soon enough.

4/8/2017 12:10:36 PM
Profile updated once more for clarity.

3/22/2017 11:31:58 AM

3/22/2017 6:12:34 AM
I just do not understand for the life of me why some people with no experience form fantastic fantasies in their heads and then, upon entering the scene and finding out it is nothing like what they thought, choose to reject reality and return to their fantasy state instead of adjusting their views accordingly.
How many people will be hurt emotionally or physically because they were too ignorant?
I know I shouldnt care, but I still do.

10/11/2016 11:37:14 AM
You know, it isn't like I'm not going to immediately voice and picture verify you after initial contact to rule out Nigerian scammers and bots. If you're spoofing a profile pic, that's fine, privacy and all that, but don't try to bullshit it after you've been caught.

10/8/2016 9:54:34 PM
A day in the life

I’m asleep.

I know I’m asleep somewhere, in the back of my mind.

I can’t tell you exactly why, it’s one of those half aware things I’ve always done. I’m having a dream and I don’t know it’s a dream. I’m driving my car and traffic is gridlocked for miles. I’m getting frustrated, irrationally angry. If I knew it were a dream I wouldn’t care, but if this asshole ahead of me in the Prius taps his brakes one more time I’m going to get out and hit him. I feel her body dimple the bed. I can feel her hand stroke me. In the dream my passenger has moved over in the seat. Their weight is causing the dimple I can feel. I am aware that I did not have a passenger in the dream a moment before, and now they are some nameless faceless void. The idea of a passenger, a mental placeholder.My brain was not the source of the idea, I am reacting to external stimulation and I know it, on some level.

She slides her hand up my thigh. My cock tingles like a sleeping foot as she strokes it to wakefulness. Her wet lips around my cock. It’s the wetness I feel first. In my mind my passenger has knocked over a cup of soda on the center console. It’s flooding the seat and my crotch is all wet. I come awake with the panic. My body is not under my control. My limbs are stiff and sleepy. Lucky for her. I bring my hand down violently to my crotch to try and prevent the spill. I’m awake. My motion is little more than a sleepy patting. I can’t reach my cock. Her head is in the way. My panic fades to realization as the practical track of my brain, the one who knew I was sleeping all along, sighs and rolls its eyes at me.

I lean back as her talented lips and tongue swirl around the length of my cock. It tickles. I want to squirm but I’m not awake enough yet, I dont have the ability. The sensitivity gives way to pleasure as my body eases into what it knows. Eases in to what it loves. Eases into the slight numbness that comes with sex. I’m hard as a rock, morning wood adding a stiffness to the arousal I feel and she’s working me like a Popsicle. I have no idea at which point her lips and tongue turn into her throat but it happens, and I feel her nose poke my belly as she works away happily like it’s her job. It is. It’s her job every morning to wake up before I do, crawl into bed, and wake me with a smile on my face.

I am smiling, though at the moment my eyes are shut and my head is reclining on the pillow. She stops and pops her mouth off my cock. The weight on the bed shifts. I start to get up and shift my weight, instinctively trying to help change position, but her hand on my chest pushes me back into the warmth of the bed.

“No. Let me.” Her voice is soft, almost whisper quiet. Heat. Moisture. The snug grasp of her cunt slipping around my cock. Its slick and she knows how to work it, I’m inside her without any struggle. But she’s so tight. Up and down. I love her morning blowjob, but this, this is heaven. I open my eyes. Her hands and arms are stretched over her head, clasping one another and writhing like undulating snakes in the air. Her breasts heave as they dangle just above my face. My eyes are lingering on the feeling and my brain is matching the sensation to the visual when suddenly it takes me. I didn’t expect that one so fast and I press my hands down against the bed. I cry out wordlessly and she leans forward, hands on my chest. She’s rocking her hips so hard against me that the bed is shaking. I moan. It’s not a commanding baritone. It’s a cry for mercy. It’s a plea for more. Its pure carnal pleasure and I’m loving every second of it.

“Shhhh.” Her breath is hot in my ear.

“Give it to me, Master.” I cum violently. I’m not sure if I wake up immediately or shortly after. She’s still sprawled out over my chest, head down. Arms out. She’s in her morning prayer position. But she’s straddling my cock. Clever girl. It’s always the little touches that impress me most. I never comment on them. But I notice. I kiss her forehead and she looks up at me with big adoring eyes. I’m her God. I can do no wrong. It’s a mantle of responsibility I’m not always comfortable with, truth be told, but she makes it worth it. I tap her side, swat her ass.

“Up.” She complies, rolling off me. She pauses and wraps her lips around my cock, sucking the last dregs of cum off and out. I groan, I’m still hyper sensitive and it feels awful and wonderful, but it’s too much for me right now. I swat her again.

“Shower.” I growl. My voice is baritone to begin with, but when I first wake up there’s a landslide of gravel in it and I hit a nice deep sultry phone sex quality. She yips with glee and practically flies after me. I pause and grab a pair of towels on the way down the hallway and cast my shorts into the hamper. Since getting a dog I’ve had very little housekeeping to do. It’s been nice. Everyone should have one.

I reach the bathroom and it’s already steaming. She’s jumped into the tub and started the shower for me. She knows exactly where I like it, just hot enough to wake me up and then a few degrees this side of scalding after that. She’s already got the soap. Bubbles are tangling in her hair. She gets down on her knees as I enter the shower and starts sucking on my cock. Water’s warm. Eyes are closed. I lean forward, one hand on the shower wall.

“Wash me.” She pulls out a handful of soap chips, looks like a bar of dove got split. I arch a brow quizzically, this is new. She looks up at me with a grin and doesn’t say anything. Her lips pop off my cock and she pops one white fleck into her open mouth. Chew. Chew. Another. Chew. a third. She’s all but foaming at the mouth. I think my little dog has gone rabid. I blink and realize where she’s going with this right before she gets on with it. She starts sucking my cock again. White soapy fluff pools against my crotch with every pass of her lips.

“Your mother must never have bothered washing your mouth out with soap.” I quip as she works. Oh god she’s humming.

“Mhmmmm.” She wags her brows at me. I can’t help getting hard. My cock is immaculately clean now. She stops and washes her mouth out under the shower head. I start lathering up from a bottle of body wash. I grab her from behind and mash my palms against her tits. I’m doing a piss poor job of scrubbing her clean as she melts against me, but it doesn’t really matter. My cock is wedged in the happy place between the cheeks of her ass and the lips of her cunt. She’s slowly bucking her hips but the angle isn’t right. I can tell it’s frustrating her but she won’t dare break the embrace. I reach over her head and grab a bar of soap. I toss it down in front of her. She looks over her shoulder at me.

“Oops.” I say without a hint of emotion. She grins and bends over. She grabs the soap and then wraps her fingers around the spigot and spreads her legs wide. She’s a perfect little V shape against the ground, and against my dick, and her cunt splits when I enter her with the lewdest visual I could wish for.

I have to take care as the slip guards are still treacherous and the last thing I want is either of us with a concussion. The gentle nature of the fuck is pleasing though, I’ve got great control over my thrusts having just cum already and she’s moaning like a bitch in heat. She’s begging me to let her cum and I can barely hear it over the spray of the water. I get a nasty idea and grab the shower head and take it off the hook. I hold it between her legs, pointing up at her clit, and slide the nozzle to the massage setting. Her screams echo off the tile as I plaster her clit with the spray. I feel her cunt cumming, climaxing around my cock and milking me like a gloved fist, and I lose my cool and fill her again with my seed and spray her with my mark.

We lean against the wall panting until the hot water is gone and it’s cold as shit and I rinse off quickly. She pats me down with the towel and I wrap up. The rest of the morning is far less eventful. I get dressed. I could make her dress me but it makes me feel more like an invalid than a king, some things I prefer to do myself.

My wife sets out two plates of bacon and toast and eggs on the table, and scoops two fresh sizzling eggs into a little silver doggy dish and sets it on the floor under the table. We sit and eat together, my leg idly crawling up my wife’s thigh and over the dog’s back. I hook a little black leash to the dog’s collar and walk her on hands and knees to the door. She looks up at me with those eyes. I smile and pat her head. I linger in the doorway. I kiss my wife good bye. I unclip the leash and wind it into a ball carefully and place it in my pocket. She knows she’ll get walked when I get home. I hear the neighbor hurriedly open and shut his door and walk down the hall. I grin. Everyone suspects. I’m sure they’ve seen a few things. But if we’re the weird ones in the building, I’m ok with that. I kiss both my girls goodbye and head down the stairs.

It’s going to be a good day.


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