Writing yesterday’s post about my little dalliance in the Barbican at a friend’s birthday made me think back in more ways than one. There was that enjoyable erotic nostalgia of remembering a very hot sexual encounter in detail.
A good sexual memory is a thing of joy. You never quite know the sexual experiences that will fill your mind afterwards. I’ve had encounters with people that were fantastic at the time and left me more than satisfied but I’ve never thought about them again unless prompted. And conversely I’ve had experiences that weren’t particularly earth shattering or notable while they occurred but that have crept into my mind time and time again since.
I’m sure some of it is the person you have it with. Who hasn’t lusted long term after someone only to find they didn’t live up to the unrealistic expectations you created for them? Or been surprised to discover feelings about someone you didn’t expect? You can’t detach sex from the people you have it with completely.
And sometimes you don’t want to. Sometimes it’s doing that particular thing with that person that makes it. I’ve never had a D/s relationship with anyone before my Master despite always being drawn to being submissive. He’s very much the person I want to be doing these things with.
I didn’t quite realise how far my Master pushed my boundaries (in a good way) until one night last year when I discovered being blindfolded for the first time. He told me to get dressed up in a skirt and stockings and kneel on my living room floor having blindfolded myself.
And I waited for him. I waited just long enough that I wondered if I’d mistaken his order and he wasn’t actually coming round, just seeing if I’d follow an instruction. I was just starting to doubt myself when he walked in through the front door and put his cock in my mouth.
I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t speak to him and it was terrifyingly exhilarating. He made me put my hands behind my back and pushed his cock down my throat making my eyes water but determined not to stop.
I was so preoccupied with each sensation of the experience I hadn’t even thought how it was making me feel until my Master slipped his hand up my skirt and touched my cunt lightly with his finger. And it quite literally dripped onto the carpet I was so wet.
He came in my throat and left me kneeling there on the floor, make up and tears running down the blindfold, dripping with myself down my own thighs and the taste of his come on my lips.
And I waited. I knew he’d left my flat but I had no idea where he’d gone. Was he waiting outside watching me to see if I was waiting for an instruction? Was he coming back? Had I missed an order while I was so preoccupied?
Then my phone buzzed and I knew it was him. I crawled across the floor to find it and had my permission to move again. But I’ve lost count of how many times my mind has gone back to that whole experience since.
It never fails to stimulate either my brain or my cunt and it’s because it was the moment I knew I was having the right experience with the right person…