So, Am I Really And Truly A Lifestyle Kinkster - Redux

I started this post earlier today and accidentally hit the "Publish" button before it was finished. I instantly deleted it so I'm starting all over. Such a techno-wizard, though I'm still getting used to composing my posts on my iPad. That's my whiny excuse and I'm stickin' to it!

Aarkey has a great post about looking for a domme. Perhaps I'd more accurately describe his message as readying yourself for Mistress Right rather than specifically searching for her, finding her, and winning her. For me, his post fed an on-going internal debate I've been having over whether or not I'm really a lifestyle submissive or something else. While there is no "one size fits all" in any kind of relationship, the hallmarks of a D/s relationship lived in lifestyle fashion have recently given me pause. I know for sure I'm not a slave. I'd be constantly bridling at the complete lack of say. I always want a respected and valued participatory voice.

That said, I do think it is quite possible for me to meet a dominant woman who is a top in the sheets as well as in the streets, but who views me as a loving and equal partner in life. It's a lot of pressure and responsibility to always run the show. I'd feel protective of her and would want to contribute to and be supportive of any decision making process. I'd want to be heard and respected. Truth be told in all three long term relationships I've had, the women ran the show. There just wasn't a bdsm base to the coupling.

In the scene dating that I've done I've always done the asking. I've viewed it as offering myself for consideration. My dates never seemed to mind and I felt chivalrous and avant by taking the first step. With the limited time I have I just can't afford the commitment to "community service" that would put me on dommy radar screens. I've really liked the process of looking. I try not to take it seriously and have come to believe that it's enjoying the ride that counts. And if I like the scenery and the adventure, I'm not bound to the result. If it happens great. If not then I'm having a good time.

In the end, with all my monkey brain whirling about could I really ever measure up as a true lifestyle submissive in a Female Led Relationship, it's all about the chemistry. If we set fire to the rain I'll do anything for her.

Pound The Alarm?

This evening I was supposed to have a sneak away, clandestine, liason with Strawberry Blonde Baby Domme. We'd been out for dinner a second time at a restaurant right out of a movie set for an Edgar Allen Poe short story. Tucked back in a cellar corner in front of an open storage room shuttered with a iron barred door we plotted hotel dalliance. Ms. Berry Baby is a single mom to a teenager and I'm caretaker to my dying wife. Venue is a challenge. We had plotted an evening of CFNM based tease and denial. Easy and hot. Excitedly I made the res and informed her we were on. But as the week grew longer in the tooth and the reality of Saturday night began to really sink in, I realized I just had not plotted and planned well.

My window of opportunity? My wife was going out to the theater with friends. So what do I have? Three hours tops? There was the "can-I-get-away-with-it" obsessiveness. Gotta bring my own shampoo, soap, and product. Gotta have a cover story that accounts for whereabouts if I'm spotted. Gotta put it all on a card that will not have a statement she might see. And then there was the I've got to watch the clock factor. And finally, I'd go from sexual sub-space to helping my wife undress for bed with no reentry time. I just couldn't go through with it.

Mind you, I don't think it's cheating. I had no misgivings or doubts about my sexy playmate. I just wanted to be sure I was going to enjoy myself. And I didn't want my wife to find out. It would really hurt her. Somehow I think I'd forgotten I wasn't living alone. I suppose desire will do that to you.

So I cancelled the res on Thursday after talking about it in therapy. I swear therapy just sucks. I really can't do any serious sexy self destruction if I'm spewing it all out at my shrink. I texted Ms. Berry Baby and said I was deeply disappointed but my window of opportunity had shrunken. I did really want to see her though and suggested we meet in the hotel lobby for a drink. She very quickly responded yes, she'd love to do just that. However, half an hour later she said a different plan had emerged and she needed to be downtown at 9pm. Since we weren't spending the night together would I mind rescheduling? I replied sure, no problem.

But like a slow double take I began to think to myself that her response was mercenary. We both have limited play time and she'd probably gotten a better offer. But it just struck me as weird that we were going to see each other and should it matter whether it involved taking our clothes off? Not getting any from you but oh hey, I have a better offer and I'm outta here.

So do I pound the alarm that this girl seems too self centered or do we plot a "long lunch dalliance"? I'm still torn. Then again, if she reads this her new plan may not involve me at all. Ah the edgy life of an anonymous sexual politics blogger.

The EverReady Bunny Needs A Boost

So there I was happily groveling on my hands, knees, elbows, hips, and stomach, eating my sushi dinner from in between She-Who-Visits french manicured toes. The spare foot ground my cock into the marble floor. She had made a show of insisting it be "covered" so the condom, with whatever the hell "pleasure enhancer" is, would keep me from actual contact with the sole of her beach worn foot. So as she fed me with one foot and pushed and polished me with the other, we were both caught in perverse bliss. Pedidexterous is her term for her prehensile hooves.

Then all of a sudden, I went limp. Actually, it was agonizingly gradual. I got distracted and eventually I was reduced to flaccid, floppy, frustration.

"Hey Thumper, this is not like you. What's going on?"

What's not going on? Like, maybe I'm tired, (I had packed the car that morning, driven us from Sanibel to Miami, and unpacked us to the condo); or maybe I was distracted because worry for my wife creeps in unexpectedly, (she has great friends who come by when I'm away and a part time caretaker who helps out); or perhaps I was distracted by going to work the next day, juggling She returning her on-line shopping rejects, and getting her to the airport. Nah, nothing going on. But I was not to be deterred.

"I have some Levitra! Let's experiment with better living through chemicals!", I eagerly suggested.

"Oh no, I don't believe in that, even if it is doctor prescribed. Last thing I want is you having a heart attack on me."

"But what about all the meds you take? It's a momentary solution for a momentary problem."

"No, and that's the end of it."

Seemed a little rigid...okay roll your eyes and read on.

Mind you, fifteen minutes before we left for the airport yesterday She got me naked and she foot fucked my brains out to my first orgasm in two and a half months.

But the whole thing got me to thinking that there really shouldn't be any stigma or fear attached to adding a little extra charge in the tank if it's needed. And these marathon chastity sessions are just unnecessary.

Ah well, mostly I'm blessed with a dog's dick; happy, wagging, and loyal. I was just disappointed She didn't want us both to continue our bliss on this rarest of evenings together.

Finding FetLife

I really don't get FetLife. I love the concept but the place just seems so massive with little opportunity to participate in a real time, on-line community. I also imagine that most people join to meet other people with similar interests, to find play partners, and to search for the elusive special someone. While the site has discussion groups, the posting architecture is cumbersome. When I used to post on Max Fisch I so often felt either immediate or semi-immediate personal contact. I admit to not really giving the FetLife discussion process much of a chance, but it just hasn't worked for me.

The site operators seem to have purposely made it extremely difficult to search out play partners. I can't do a search for dommes between 45 and 65 in the New York City area. This is a big drag. It seems to me that this is pretty basic and would be of tremendous use to all members.

However, this failing has not deterred me and in spite of my critical whining I have had more success on FetLife meeting attractive kinky women than with any other method I've used. It just takes obsessive compulsive desire, of which I am blessed with plenty. You can search by city, state, or country so I just click on NYC and I'm immediately shown 40,237 profiles displayed 16 to a page. Then I begin scrolling in search of connection. And so it was last weekend when I sent a message to an attractive domme. Since I am a veteran of this sort of effort I really expect very little. Dommes get massive amounts of email and IMs. Responding to each is a huge time waster. Plus, I've been told that lots of the communication is not high discourse.

But I got a response and we met for coffee. I arrived early at the cafe and found a seat. It was such a nice day there were no outdoor tables available. Just as I went to sit down she walked up and just stood in front of the place. I had a perfect view from the big glass front facade. Petite and sexy she wore a form hugging white strapless summer dress and carried a large brimmed straw hat. She had long, strawberry blonde hair and an easy, confident looking manner. I just looked.

Then I got up and introduced myself and from there we just talked up a storm. We discovered we'd both had difficulty "converting" non-kinky partners. She had a great sense of humor, a keen intellect, and a mischievous smile. When she got up to get something from the counter and the sun light hit the back of her dress I could see she wore a tiny black thong.

It is always tremendously liberating to be "who-I-am" sex-wise on a first date. She asked what I was into to gauge our compatibility and confessed to being a recent convert to domming, having been a sub for most of her time in the scene. She had all sorts of enthusiastic plans to learn the craft and I immediately offered myself up to guinea pig for her.

We both lead very busy lives but as we parted we promised to be in touch. Later she texted me in response to my electronic thank you note and said she looked forward to seeing what sort of trouble we could whip up. So just maybe, despite my contrary mewling, FetLife isn't such a bad place after all.