Posts Tagged ‘rope’


“The rope longed for her beloved, the ceiling hook.
The suspended body; a harbinger of good news.
Love was lost.
Love was found.”
~ Chirag Tulsiani


Friends often bring the nicest things to play with. 🙂




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You Tie?

I had a dream, a hot dream. I wasn’t sure about sharing it here at first because it felt so intimate and erotic in my dream that I didn’t think I would be able to aptly convey it in words. I finally decided that I wanted to remember it, to be able to go back and revisit it, and writing it here would enable me to do that. Regardless of how well or how badly I write it however, I really do hope you are able to get an idea of how it affected me.

Today I was taking a little step outside of my comfort zone. I was at an introductory to rope class. I had long been intrigued by the art but had never tried my hand at it. Granted I was sitting off to the side and observing rather than actually participating, but still, I was there.

A man near the center of the room caught my attention as he worked with a worn piece of rope. I had no idea what he was doing with it but he appeared to be handling himself well. He was tall and lanky, not handsome by any measure, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. There was a confidence about him, and yet there seemed to be something quite vulnerable as well.

He caught me watching and came over. No introductions, he walked right up to me. “You tie,” he asked. This man I didn’t know, had never met or spoken to, was in my personal space, so close I could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell his intoxicating scent. His eyes bore into me. I wanted to move but I couldn’t, I was transfixed. I just stood there, slightly light headed and off balance, staring at him.

“I tie. I used to cut before I found tying,” he told me as he rolled up the sleeve of his plaid button down and showed me the scars on his upper left arm. I closed my eyes and let my hand glide lightly over his arm. The first touch was electrifying, they felt like ripples on his skin, each mark distinct yet somehow running into the next. I could feel his angst on those scars. A wave of emotion crashed over me. His pain and suffering, his joy and elation, his sexual energy and arousal, I felt it all.

My desire to move away from him disappeared. I now wanted to be as close to him as possible. I bowed my head slightly and leaned into him, my forehead resting against his chest. It was so intimate. The energy intensified, enveloping us as we stood there so close to each other, this man I had never met but who I now knew so intimately and I. The room around us disappeared and nobody else existed. A curtain came up around us and the energy swirled about like a tornado with us in the center, aware of its power and movement but standing safely in the eye of it.

I was so very turned on in that moment, and yet so calm and at peace as well. The energetic exchange was intense to say the least. It was like foreplay, orgasm, and subspace all rolled into one and whirling about us. I was grounded there to that moment with him while still floating off into another dimension, aware of everything yet connecting to nothing but him. I wanted to stay like that, connected to him in that way, for eternity.

Click below to read about how others were knocked off balance, or found balance, or were just being generally wicked this Wicked Wednesday

Wicked Wednesday

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“I’m in the mood for love simply because you’re near me. Funny but when you’re near me, I’m in the mood for love,” Rod Stewart swoons on the stereo as she sets the table for supper.

Her husband still laughs at her when she calls it supper. “It’s dinner my love,” he says.

She smiles as she dances around the table listening to the music and thinking of her handsome husband.

Twelve years they’ve been married, nearly fourteen since the day he staggered into The Bosville with his drunk buddies during Dan’s creeling. She was smitten with him right away. All thick black hair, blue eyes, and mischievous grin. Then when he spoke, with that accent, she nearly dropped her tray.

Leaving everything behind and moving to Canada wasn’t easy for her. There were many days, in the beginning, when she thought she would never make it here. Many a night she would cry herself to sleep wishing she were back home with her family in her beautiful Isle. Her husband was wonderful through it all. He was patient and kind and loving. He would hold her and comfort her, telling her it was ok to miss her family, ok to feel sad, but that she would get over that one day and she would be happy in her new home, her new life, with him. He was her family now. He loved her so, and she him.

She had been so green, inexperienced when it came to matters of sex. In the beginning she had felt so inadequate and insecure. How was she to please this man who had swept her away when she had never really been with another before? He would surely leave her for not being able to keep up with him, to satisfy his sexual needs.

He was wonderful with her. He was so gentle and loving, taking his time getting to know her body while she got to know it as well. He would watch as she pleasured herself to learn how to better pleasure her himself. He watched the way her hands moved over her body, rubbing her breasts, teasing her nipples. He watched as she spread her lips and rubbed her clit, pulling the juices up after putting a finger in her wet cunt. He watched her face as her orgasm overtook her, her body as it tensed and quivered in aftershocks. He would put his own fingers inside her to feel her muscles contract around them. She was beautiful when she came, but then he thought she was beautiful always.

It wasn’t easy. She barely knew what to do herself at first, but she learned. She learned to be comfortable with him watching her do this intimate act, this thing she had always felt ashamed of doing. “Good girls don’t touch themselves down there,” she recalled her mother saying. It was so freeing to realize that there was no reason to feel ashamed or dirty. It was natural and sensual, and it felt oh so good. Surely there should be no shame in being intimate with her own husband.

She also learned to be comfortable watching him do the same, pleasuring himself to orgasm. His cock was the first she had ever seen outside of a magazine, let alone felt or tasted. She had been in total awe the first time she had watched him cum. It was so strong and powerful, so sexy. She wanted to touch it and taste it, to experience more of him, and she did. Hesitant at first, it did not take long for her barriers to come down, for her love and desire for her husband to overtake the feelings of shame she had grown up with. Once he had awakened the sleeping beauty inside her there was no turning back.

As she thought back on it now, waiting for her husband to arrive home, she was struck by how much her life had changed over the years. From the naive lass she had been when they first met, to their wedding, moving to the other side of the world, and all the firsts they had experienced with each other since. She knew how lucky she was.

Tonight there would be another first, a special anniversary and Valentine’s Day gift combined. Rope is the traditional twelfth wedding anniversary gift, well silk actually.

Click the link below to see who else is being wicked this Wednesday…

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