mypersonathing: cumguzzler17:alwaysready29:drjolene:sweetsubmissionxoxo:onceuponsirsstarryni
mypersonathing: cumguzzler17: alwaysready29: drjolene: sweetsubmissionxoxo: onceuponsirsstarrynight: I had to learn the ways of dominance and submission. That process has taken me over a decade, and it will consume me for the rest of my life. But one thing I never had to do was conjure a desire to dominate, that’s been my fantasy since I was a very small child, and far too green to understand what it all meant. If you were to explain to me that after a long day of work all you wanted to do was to sit down, relax, and watch some TV, I think most people would understand, but I just don’t get that. I mean, how could anything on television be more therapeutic than walking through your door, walking up behind your woman, wrapping an arm around her waist or shoulders, pulling her aside, kissing her neck, before spinning her around, slamming her against a wall, pinning her hands above her head and devouring her lips, neck and shoulders while your free hand pins her hips against her wall? Why not do that and growl in her ear about how hard your day has been and explain to her precisely how you’re going to use her as a tool of relaxation? I can’t possibly fathom a more effective method of announcing the fact that the man of the house is, indeed, home, and ready to claim what’s his. That doesn’t mean that I don’t understand what it means to come home tired. It’s not uncommon that from the time I walk out my door in the morning, till the time I walk back in, that I’ll spend 16-17 hours away, and that’s when I’m not traveling. So when I walk through the door do I really want to spend that precious time I have doing something mundane? No. I want fire, I want passion, I want electricity. I want to bury my face between her legs and let my tongue spell out exactly who her owner is. I want to feel her hips buck, her back arch, her legs quiver, her cunt grow hot, and I want to soak my entire face in her. I want to hear her moan and whimper and plead and beg. I want to listen as she supplicates herself before me. I want to watch her grow pathetic and desperate in her search for her release. And when I finally give it to her, I want to watch her come hard. I want to watch her convulse as wave after wave of her unrelenting orgasm crash over her and consume her body in ways that make her physically lose control of herself. I want to watch and listen as she sacrifices her dignity, freedom, and humanity at the alter of my dominance. You see, dominance doesn’t alway require you to pull out your bag of toys. You don’t necessarily have to tie her up or strap her down. In fact, most scenes don’t include that. Most simply require a man who knows how to assert his needs in a way his woman will respond to. They require him to be present in the moment, even when he’s exhausted, because that moment does not belong exclusively to him. It belongs to both of them. A dominant man seizes that moment, not out of obligation, but because nothing else would make sense to him. With no disrespect intended toward anyone, I simply don’t understand how that’s not a better, more relaxing way to spend an evening. So you can keep your Call of Duty, I have another calling, and I love that it’s my duty. UNF. Fuck!! Hell Yes! Perfection -- source link