An Answer

I want to engorge my spirit on each morsel of the seventeen courses you offer to cook and be enchanted by the ground, course spices of you. I want to be lost in the circularity of your brilliant poetry only to grasp in vain for its meaning.

Please mi vida cut without mercy at the staccato beat of my heart in your thrall.

I reach for your outstretched hand and am rescued.

Only to find this mystery of awkward feeling; enveloping, questioning, and frustratingly elusive.

But when you sing me your songs I find you as you really are and I sit at your feet shocked by our good fortune; the thinnest reeds of luck and desire.

I yearn to carve together our story in an ancient gnarled tree; to etch it in the stone shore of a distant land; to live forever as a talisman of our good fortune.

Together, apart, alone. But found.

Here in my solitude, with you in a mysterious distant land I am lost in your words until suddenly without warning across vast space you plunge your gentle hands into my heaving chest and tear out my heart.

I trust your certainty as you whisper I am yours; though even as I write this you are with him in your shared and romantic far away land.

Your hands drenched in the blood of my violently beating heart. My heart's blood; red with ache and a deep longing desire for your love.

My soul feels blindly in the darkness for yours as I envision we claw together at the bottom of a false well. Suddenly it gives way and we seem to tumble entwined into the eye of the most violent of perfect storms.

I can't swim a stroke. Strong legs are of no use. But I hear your haunting, naked, and most vulnerable song as I drown in the tide; only to be rescued in a dream by the sweetest melody and harmony of a life forever together with you.

Can you tell I'm in love...

Je Suis Perdu

It was a perfect August Friday afternoon. We met in a hotel in the FiDi. I had suggested we "get a room" the day after we made out like teenagers on the park bench and she said, "Are you crazy? Spend all that money? You can just wait until I'm an empty nester again". But the delicious sexual tension grew and she agreed to allow me to go ahead and make a hotel reservation. Now, I've never done the love in the afternoon thing with a room that I rent for overnight. Do I tip the maid? When I check out will they smirk knowingly that I wished for clean sheets and an hourly rate? She-Who-Visits used to get hotels to give her a "day rate" when she plied her trade back in the day. No day rates in our world today. Believe me I tried.

But once I'd made the res I felt totally right about it. And so she and I met at the hotel's wine bar. She kissed me wet and hot and sat down. "I'm nervous", she whispered. "Me too", I confessed. "No you aren't", she followed. Really I was nervous. Mostly about whether what so far seemed like a perfect lightening strike would crash and burn. And of course I worried about getting it up. Am I the only guy who worries about getting it up?


The concierge delivered the hotel key to our table. She definitely gave me a "you naughty boy" look. I'm sure she did. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So we went up to the room. When I tried to sneak my Levitra into my mouth and Mi Goddessa asked what I was doing I told her it was an insurance policy pill and she just smiled.

In our little den of sin I did a slow strip tease as she lay back on the bed and watched. Then I found the generic fancy lotion mid-level hotels like to use to convince you that you are among the luxuriously moneyed class. I started on her feet and she was moaning. The next thing I knew I was having the most incredible mind blowing straight vanilla sex of my life. No lie. We ravished each other. For hours. We fucked like bunnies and made love like it was the last time we'd ever see each other.

So? Is vanilla a gateway fetish? Should I stop writing about kink and focus on a gazillion kama sutra positions? I swear I feel like a little kid in a candy shop. Can I have another please? Can we try that thing I haven't done in like 25 years? Oh please!!!

Actually, quick as its been I think I've fallen in love with La Goddessa De Vainilla. She is not a domme. But she's open to exploring all things kinky. She's been reading my blog and thinks Veronica is unbelievably hot. She loves the retro lingerie sites I've shown her. Most of all we connect. Now this is a relationship that could just so easily disintegrate. I can't give her the love and attention she wants right now and caring for my wife will always come first. But I've imagined a life with Maitresse Vainilla in such brilliant detail that it's scary. What am I going to do? I have no clue. But for now I'm lost in romance.

Que voy hacer je ne sais pas. Que voy hacer je suis perdu a mi carina vainillita.

Recortes Pequeñitos

She hit on me on the date site. Interested in kinky and no commitment. She seemed exotic but grounded with the most mischievous and licentious of grins. We began a text/sext affair that lasted almost ten breathless days. She grew up the child of privilege in a mysteriously beautiful South American country riven with struggle, hope, and blood. She lived in Paris where she learned French and furious fashion. She was a Barcelonita muy bonita. And she's lived a stone's throw from me in the country for many years. I knew I knew her and yet couldn't place it. No parties, no chance passings in town. It was from another life we'd lived together for though we knew many in common we'd never met.

We planned to remedy that but her conscience caused a delay. If she was looking for her next great love she was spending precious time if she dallied with me not going anywhere she'd set as an emotional goal. I totally got that but was devastated nonetheless as by that time I had many pictures of her to ignite my flights of fancy. She swam across lakes at sunset, cutting the water smoothly under twilight sky. She rode horses. I imagined her at a canter wearing tight cream jodhpurs and a prim white shirt buttoned to the neck. And there was the riding crop...

So when she cancelled I got it but was devastated. And then she came back, confessing distraction from her search. With my wife temporarily out of town, we met, drank, and dined with a view of the lights coming up across the awakening of a perfect Manhattan summer's night. Then we found a park bench by the river and made out like teenagers. A kid rode by on his bike and skidded to a stop right next to us. "Damn", he yelled, "This is Make Out Paradise!!" We collapsed laughing and saw two other couples going at it down the bench.

She'd made me speak to her in Spanish over dinner and pronounced that I spoke well. She was being charitable, but she did say I should install the Spanish keyboard on my phone. So the next morning she texted that she'd awoken to thoughts of our "besos mordelones". She loved our kisses that bit. I rejoined that she'd left "recortes pequeñitos en mis labios codiciosos". No, I haven't had a sex change operation. I wrote she gave "little cuts to my greedy lips". She called me a poeta. I told her I'd cheated on her with Google Translator. She told me I needed much correction.

So we shall see. If I get lucky we'll soon be up all night tryin' na get some.

The Magic of A Melancholy Tear

Okay, I've been away from the blog. Endless loop of work, care, sleep, and again. Time is such a precious commodity. However, I realize the more I make the effort to try to get some "me" time; the better I feel and the better I am at giving care. I'm going to write again. And I'm trying to find a kinky friend with benefits. Thought about seeing a pro domme. It would be a perfect solution. But while business is better, health care costs for my wife are rising. I've got insurance but it doesn't cover the constant home care she needs. Plus, we are renovating in the country so she can still get in. Ramps, lifts, and a big shower for a bathroom. Actually, the bathroom is kind of kinky. Watersport anyone? When it's done it will double as a playroom someday! But, the wonder of the pro domme option is out.

I can't really date. Recently, I had a text thing with a friend over an interaction I'd had on my on-line date site. I'd made a nice contact with an age appropriate, interesting, fun sounding, domme. Life got in my way for less than 36 hours and I didn't get back to our chat. On line chat. We had not even met. I checked in and she'd written me a dismissive message that I'd forgotten her already. She seemed upset. Well...she'd not be able to handle me and even though I apologized, she thankfully has not forgiven me. Anyway, my friend says "if you're a client too many emails you're a wanker; if you're a suitor not enough email and you are neglectful." I replied I'm neither suitor nor client. I'm an oddity. She promptly called me Oddity and asked me out to do something or another, but I was, of course, busy. Story of my life.

I'm not asking much. Couple meet ups a month for a couple hours each. Be my key holder, euphemistically speaking, as I'm an on my honor guy. Denial, denial, denial and some tease. Humiliate me with dignity and witty sophistication. I don't have much time for the friend part so love the benefits you supply? I'm sure I'll have extremely attractive, intelligent, available women lined up around the block. But I feel better trying.

So here it is, the Fourth of July. I'm writing again. And it feels good. If I ever figure out how to embed the Tom Waits video I'll add it, but for now I'm putting up the post. Sheesh. I leave for a few months and everything changes...

I Will Not Seek Nomination And If Nominated I Shall Not Run!

Oh sure. Who am I kidding? I'm incredibly touched and deeply grateful that Brigit at the lustful literate nominated "Client Nine And A Half" for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award. For some reason I can't seem to make the link to her work, but you can find her in my blog list. She is such a wonderful writer, courageous communicator, and all around fabulous on-line presence that I was literally floored (really, picking myself up now...) that she threw my battered hat into such an impressive ring of bloggers. This nomination comes with requirements and, OMG, rules! So here they are:

Rules:
1. Display the award logo on your blog.
2. Link back to the person who nominated you.
3. State 7 things about yourself.
4. Nominate 15 other bloggers for this award and link to them.
5. Notify those bloggers of the nomination and the award's requirements.

Jeez, I only get to say 7 things about myself? Oh well...here goes:

7 Things About Moi:
1. I sometimes verbigerate as a method of self-soothing. The words I use are incomprehensible.
2. I have an awful sweet tooth.
3. I sometimes worry that I'll never meet Mistress Right.
4. I sometimes worry that I will meet Mistress Right.
5. I try to be careful what I wish for.
6. I wish for only the best of things.
7. I eat the same thing practically everyday for breakfast; Bare Naked Fruit and Nut Granola and Ronnybrook Maple Vanilla Yogurt.

Actually, I'm a bit fatootsed that I can't figure out whether I do this upon nomination or upon actually receiving the award. Oh who cares. I get to nominate 15 amazing and wonderful bloggers so details be damned!

And The Nominations Are:

1. Aarkeybabble - My friend and fellow traveler, his blog is hilarious, sexy, personal, and truthful.
2. Her Majesty's Plaything - We joke that we were separated at birth or are brothers from a different mother.
3. Pieces of Margo - A no holds barred look at her life, Margo is raw, scathing, vulnerable, and true.
4. Troy Orleans - Sexy, down-to-earth, word rich, insights on the life and times of a fab pro-domme and true friend.
5. Femdom Resource - Every day, rain or shine, paltego gives us image and comment, upon wonderful image and comment.
6. Unspeakable Axe - Our very own kinky Charlie Rose, Axe not only has the best kink podcast in the world, the iconic Masocast, but he blogs about the scene, life, and true love with his wonderful wife Sade.
7. Sadist Next Door - My BFF Crimson writes equal parts dirty sexy fun, political critique, and insights on the sex industry. Not to be missed.
8. Freedom Through Discipline - Veronica is funny, in your face smart, and the coolest girl in the world.
9. Whether You Like It Or Not - Alex's menacingly erotic expansive intellect is only surpassed by her recent fetish for rampant exhibitionism as evidenced by scorchingly hot photo shoots. The ultimate subbie guy's crush girl.
10. Dumb Domme - Ms. DD has the most imaginatively humorous and touchingly romantic blog on the internet.
11. Thoughts of a Submissive Cuck Hubby - junior writes the best blog on the internet about the deeply intimate and erotically humiliating fetish of cuckolding.
12. The Edge of Vanilla - Tom Allen on real life chastity. Irreverent and wise.
13. Fetish Furniture Factory - Vanessa Chaland promotes great looking fetish furniture but also writes the most realistically erotic posts about cuckolding. She makes me want her every time I see her name. The best tease.
14. Mistress Wynter - Knee weakening lustful pictures and the most scathing rants from a dirty girl domme who makes my insides quiver like yellow jello.
15. Domme Chronicles - Ferns is the heart and soul of the on-line kink community. Blog, comments, FetLife. You name it she is there sharing her unique and wonderful perspective on this life of ours.

I'm sure I've left out many, but I'm amazed that I'm real time pals with nine of the fifteen wonderful writers. Who says we don't get out from behind our hard drives? Thanks again for nominating me Brigit! This was a blast.

Quest Fetish

I really don't know how I developed my love of being assigned tasks to complete by a nurturing but bossy, critical yet encouraging domme. Does it appeal to my need to be told what to do or be ordered around? Is it more about feeling as though I'm her trusted go fetch it guy, always at the ready? How did it become a sexual thing all on its own? I have no answers; only fun questions.

I get my own satisfaction out of either completing the task or struggling mightily to succeed yet falling short only to have her shake her head in disappointment. She-Who-Visits is expert at assigning me tasks which benefit her, quench my quest fetish, and carry a tease and denial twist to them. Most recently she visited her parents in the suburbs of NYC and asked me for a car service. I offered her mine and after making fun of me for perhaps not having enough money to care for her in such a style, accepted and graciously thanked me for my generousity. During the reservation and pick up process she'd email me and text me with instructions on insuring that the car and driver were present at appointed times and places. She ended with telling me how she'd have to upbraid me in person over the early Monday morning car to JFK which reeked of smoke and made her sick to her stomach. During her visit she came into the city with her family and texted me that she was so close, yet so far away. Even though I didn't get to see her, the whole thing was thrilling and made me feel that much closer to her.

Yesterday completely out of the blue I got a message on FetLife from a domme. The missive was titled "sub wanted". She said she was expert at having her needs satisfied and wondered how I sought satisfaction myself. I told her a little about my quest fetish to please my domme. I wondered this morning whether the message was a generic one sent to many, or would I actually hear back from her. Time will tell.

Finally, in a best-of-kind, I am tasked by the incredibly hot and deliciously intimidating Mistress Alex with scouting locations for a Grand Central Terminal boot blacking photo shoot. This wonderful assignment grew from an interaction she and I had on a chat thread on All Star Dommes. GCT is my favorite public space in the whole world, I have a thing for public play, and she has graciously allowed me to indulge in my quest fetish to my heart's content. As I scour the Terminal I am to send photos and chat to the boot blacking guys about whether they will be okay with Alex having her high sexy black boots shined to a luster while I'm receiving instruction on how to do it right.

Ah perhaps it is merely the desire to dream the impossible dream that calls me so often to quest the pleasure of gorgeously dommy women. Hey, how can I have Andy Williams singing the theme song from "Man of LaMancha"? This is my life, and I ain't gonna live forever.

Caregiving And Slavery

I've never really thought I was a slave. Didn't think I had it in me. I'm too independent, too opinionated, and too contrary just because. Sure I've had my share of fantasies over the years about being locked up in chastity and made to serve. It didn't include doing laundry, paying bills, cleaning the house, or making dinner after a long day at work. But recently I've begun to think that maybe I could be a slave to a domme. Probably not but maybe.

I am my wife's slave. I bathe her, dress her, undress her, cook for her, clean some (not my strong suit), and am learning to cook (big fun). I try to anticipate her needs and just do them without having to be told. I take pride in my work and want to protect her and care for her. I sometimes become resentful, but the negative feelings pass. My feelings of being put upon are far outweighed by my sense that I'm providing her with the best quality of life she can experience in this last leg of her life.

I've been reading "At Her Feet" by Tammy Jo Eckhart and Fox. They are in a long term M/s relationship. She's married and has a husband and Fox is her slave. While the book was mostly common sense and basic psyche 101, it was written from a decidedly kinky point of view by a femdom and her slave. I began to think whether I could do a real 24/7 dommy girl/slave boy thing. I guess I was intrigued by whether I could sustain this dynamic with a dominant woman who was realistic about the limits real life can put on two people. I do this some with She-Who-Visits but we do long distance, not up close and personal. Made me want to talk to her about her thoughts about our future.

Such a venture would involve a poly relationship as she is happily married. More than my doubts that I could be a slave, I have serious doubts I could responsibily commit to a poly relationship. Way to complicated. I can barely sustain a relationship with myself let alone two or more others. Plus, I'm a loner not a joiner.

But in these days of trailing luggage through airports jogging to keep up with the speedy wheelchair attendant who pushes my wife to our waiting car - home from a visit out West to see her parents; it's fun to think about. There's a free form beat to my life and maybe I'm just slave to the rhythm.

Sometimes It's Getting Too Dark To See

Icy cold dawn's early run, the gym, and coffee. Maybe she'll need me to get her to the bathroom before the gym, after, just out of the shower, a minute after I pull my underwear on. Mornings are bad for her. She can hardly move. I sit her up as best I can, leveraging my body so the legs take the brunt of the lifting. On her feet she'll falter and I'll hug her and massage her lower back and hips where all the weight and pressure are because of her dead and dying muscles. She still forces herself to walk with her red metal four wheeled stand up helper. I brace her arm with my hand. She stutter steps to the edge of the bathroom and parks the walker. I pull up the commode toilet seat that is way too small for a normal person to enthrone upon. She wobble gaits until she's in front and I reach around, pull down her underwear and lower her onto the seat. I hand her toilet paper. Soon I'll be doing the wiping.

And that's the first ten minutes of her morning. I get her back to bed, test her blood sugar as she's also cursed with Type 1 diabetes since she was a little girl. I fetch coffee, her iPad, her breakfast, her phones. Sometimes I give her a shower. All before I leave for my crazy day. Little by little, day by day, there is no improvement. Only destruction. So gradual, but the sign posts are unmistakeable. She's going slowly and torturously.

But her courage and humor profoundly inspire. Her newfound acceptance of me is stunning. We lunched with Aarkey and Crimson in Florida. Those two had never met and Crimson had never met my wife. She and Crimson chatted away about burlesque. My wife liked them both. Sushi in South Florida where I had set up a second life to be single in and here I was, falling in love with my wife all over again. Crimson texted me later that she saw why I fell for my wife - because she's awesome.

And though it's sometimes too dark to see, our renewed connection will see us through to the entrance of that door.