[MF] Burritos, Blindfolds, Bruises and Bare-Knuckle Fisting

*(This was also posted to Fetlife) I feel that this needs a preface — I don’t often write about intimate experiences and I don’t want to come across as boasting. Despite swearing-off New Year’s resolutions, it seems January, for each of the past two years, is a time of immense change for me and my relationships. January 2019 was a rollercoaster. Supremely-high highs and subterranean lows. I’ve learned a great deal about myself and my relationships; I’ve begun to tackle demons that have haunted me since childhood, affect how I see myself and inform how I approach relationships. In the process, I may have lost the chance to build a profound connection with one person who came into and left my life all too quickly (“O”). At the same time I have been growing, exploring, and evolving my relationship with “Sprite.” Alongside all of that, in the space of one month: I’ve found a new job that has me feeling happy and appreciated, dressed up as a Viking princess, had a failed attempt at an MFM that made Sprite and I both appreciate just how attuned and caring my ‘lost’ relationship partner was, reconnected with an old dear friend via an automotive crisis, reconnected with a college friend as a result of a facebook photo of my chest hair, and begun to explore the parts of BDSM that held both allure and anxiety.*

*I’ve also been doing a lot of reading and listening about different takes on* [*polyamory*](https://thebolditalic.com/take-it-from-a-monogamist-polyamorists-do-it-better-f6b571c12f08)*,* [*anxious*](http://mariamerloni.com/abondonment-issues-polyamory-disaster/) *and* [*avoidant attachment*](http://mariamerloni.com/the-major-miracle/)*,* [*overcoming anxiety*](https://www.reddit.com/r/polyamory/comments/akad3v/husband_slept_with_someone_else_for_the_first/) *and* [*self-defeating behavior*](https://zenhabits.net/closer/)*. So* [*much*](https://www.morethantwo.com/communication.html) *of this work has been* [*focused*](https://www.npr.org/2015/09/22/434597124/trying-to-change-or-changing-the-subject-how-feedback-gets-derailed) *on* [*better*](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/multiamory/e/44626821)*,* [*compassionate*](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/multiamory/e/54226381)*,* [*loving*](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/multiamory/e/55986696)*,* [*nonviolent*](https://www.nonviolentcommunication.com/aboutnvc/4partprocess.htm) [*communication*](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/multiamory/e/46245585) *and healthy* [*expressions*](https://www.reddit.com/r/BDSMcommunity/comments/a8vywb/why_i_dont_mind_calling_you_a_slut/) *of* [*need*](https://www.ted.com/talks/christopher_ryan_are_we_designed_to_be_sexual_omnivores?language=en)*,* [*anxiety*](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/multiamory/e/58203069) *and* [*anger*](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/multiamory/e/58453396)*. (You know you’ve found a good podcast when your therapist can’t wait to tell you about it, and you can’t wait to tell them.)*

*With all of the above in the back of my mind, digging through* r/BDSMDIY*, some ideas started percolating in my pervy brain, so I loosely designed an evening of fun and impact for Sprite. Knowing that I’d deviously devised something, a subby friend asked me to tell her “everything;” this is the result:*

## After Action Report: January 29, 2019

Sprite and I had dinner (the world’s blandest homemade burritos) and talked about her deep dive into the history of her old, old house on Green Street (which came out of a conversation about the socioeconomics of mill houses and structural racism in Durham, sparked by my recounting a conversation at work about my discomfort at having attended an elite, overwhelmingly-white school in a majority minority city). I told her that I enjoyed basking in the compersion of her dinner date with “NB” and I was relieved he showed her care and respect (I have a hard time trusting men, in general). We talked about the fact that I’m really not looking for anyone… that if “O” came back into my life, I would be content, and if she didn’t, I could continue to mourn, but I couldn’t control anyone but myself and that I wanted to respect her boundaries. We talked about the therapy session that I’d had early in the evening and the perspective I was gaining on coming to terms with some of my insecurities and discomforts around masculinity, (in)secure attachment and how the erosion of willpower over the course of a day can lead to irrational anxieties being expressed in disregulated behavior.

— Sexy Stuff Starts Here—

We went upstairs and, after separate trips to the restroom (so romantic, right?), I began to undress her (starting with the red cardigan she was wearing over the red striped shirt that she wore the first time I met her. I asked how she was feeling and she replied that she was a little tired and perhaps didn’t have the energy for anything too complicated. I told her we could stop anytime and keep it simple, if it got to be too much.

Once she was fully undressed, I sat her on the bed and admired (read: pressed hard upon) the mark I’d left on her left thigh with my teeth, the night before, then I showed her the “cuffs” and “collar” pervertables I’d discovered at Home Depot: Husky Hang-All straps. I wrapped the two small cuffs around her wrists, then placed the medium strap snugly around her throat. She looked at me with the most amazingly blue eyes as I clipped her wrists to her collar. I grabbed the ring of the collar and lifted her up to her feet and then guided her to the storage bench at the foot of my bed. The thought immediately occurred to me to buy her a leash.

I directed her to kneel, bend over and present her ass. It was then that I remembered that I’d forgotten one thing: to blindfold her. I wrapped a camel-colored shemagh across her eyes and tied a simple overhand knot behind her head. I began spanking her with my bare hand, sensually caressing her supple, round ass every so often. Smacking her thighs. Draping my fingers along her shoulder blades, dragging my nails on her back. Rinse and repeat. Occasionally reaching between her legs to evaluate just how wet her pussy had become and tease her with just the tips of my ring and middle fingers. Watching her toes (as her face and hands were absent from view), I brought her to the edge of ‘too much’ and let her come back down, again and again. To check in, I draped my body over hers, pressing my hard cock against her ass and whispered queries into her right ear. When she wouldn’t reply, or was too quiet, a handful of hair would raise her chin and make her much more audible.

Deciding to raise her degree of difficulty, I placed one clothespin on each of her labia and on her clit, flicking them lovingly (sadistically), and some very tight clover clamps upon her thick, sensitive nipples. She struggled to keep her breasts off of the bed, propped up on her elbows, as each time they grazed the bed, the pain would make her jump a little. As she settled into more spanking, I chose to change the sensation again, pulling a prototype latex balloon flogger (a friend made it for me) out of the bedside chest for the first time.

The balloon flogger’s falls are shorter than I am used to… I began with a fast rhythm across her buttocks, moving to her shoulders and back down her back, focusing on her ass, before satisfyingly cracking it against her. I like the weight of the handle… I like how dynamic the impact is — it’s shockingly thuddy when used lightly and very stingy when used in a whip-like motion. The falls are short enough that I can get a very fast, but pulsing rhythm going when thuddy… the feel is definitely different when I pull back for a sharp stingy hit, in that I don’t have to hold the falls like I do with my leather floggers.

After a few minutes I told her I was going to retrieve two things from my closet — one with which she was familiar and one which was new. I returned with a medium length crop — a new tool for me (my only previous experience was with two riding bats that a metamour had lent me during a private impact play tutorial, last year — the most loving and positive experience I’ve had as a metamour) — and began alternating sharp and slow impacts on her ass and thighs, occasionally moving to her shoulders, with slower, thuddy taps. I asked her if she knew what it was I was using, her reply was unintelligible muttering (I always, always find that cute), so I pulled her head up by her hair and she told me clearly that she couldn’t think of the word. Satisfied, I put her head back down on the bed. Her right left was shaking as she continued to kneel; checking in, she asked me to remove the “clothespins” from her nipples. I reminded her of the right way to ask, meaning “Sir.” She said, “yellow.” Close enough. Her sharp breaths and yelps as I removed them made my heart skip a beat and my cock even harder.

After a few bare handed spanks, to resume the pace and reaffirm our physical connection, I picked up the ‘Dino Skin’ flogger (made by LovingNcMaster at BrutalPassion.com; thick falls — very stingy) and began ‘thuddy’ impacts on her ass and back, sometimes gently letting it fall across her shoulder blades and sometimes whipping her buttocks and thighs.

After a few minutes, it was getting to be too much for me to stare at her increasingly red ass and her slick, soaked pussy. I removed the remaining clothespins, draped myself over her, rubbing my cock against her ass, then slipped inside her pussy. She gasped and then moaned deeply. I grabbed the back of the strap collar and pulled and she grunted with pleasure, but being mindful of pressure on her windpipe, Iet go relatively quickly, weaving my fingers into her thick, curly hair and drew her ass against me. Letting go to grab the crop, she whispered, “pull the collar, please…” I let the lack of “Sir” slide, as it’s generally not our dynamic (we’re not 24/7 and how I express my Dominance is fluid) and protocol is usually less important than sensation and shared experience. I grabbed the collar and struck her right thigh sharply with the crop, as I thrust deep inside of her.

I alternated between holding the collar, her hair and her shoulders, driving my cock deep inside, sometimes cropping her thighs and buttocks, sometimes with both hands firmly gripping her shoulders. I could feel her back arch and her breathing deepen in sync with my thrusts. I felt myself edging closer to orgasm than I wanted. I pulled back slightly and stopped moving my hips. “Pull away from me, let my cock slide out, and crawl forward onto the bed.” She didn’t move, still breathing heavily. “Crawl forward, now.” She did as I told, and stopped once her knees were on the bed.

“Crawl to the headboard.”

She hesitated. Even blindfolded, I could see the gears turning as she struggled, as I intended, with the mechanics of how to move with her wrists bound to the collar. The she crawled forward, just as I wanted. “Roll onto your back.” She did as asked, though to the other direction than I expected. (Note to self: specificity is key when a specific behavior is expected.) I crawled onto the bed and repositioned her, closer to the center, under the fourth Hang-All anchor that I’d placed into the headboard. I unclipped her cuffs from the collar and snapped them to the headboard, repositioning the strap higher so that she could relax her shoulders and let her arms hang straight.

I stepped back off the bed and dug into her bag for the hank of jute I’d told her to bring. Turning back, I tied her right thigh to her right calf in a double column tie to give me more control over her body. I picked up the crop and smacked her inner thighs, making her jump. Hitting her pussy made her yelp. A direct hit to her left breast resulted in a sharp inhale and a moan (and a lovely mark). I decided I wanted to create a little more anxiety, so I picked up the Dino flogger and began working her thighs and pussy, mostly thuddy, but occasionally cracking it on her. I carefully flogged her chest, making sure not to let the falls reach above her collarbone. She was shaking, to my satisfaction.

I turned back to the bedside chest and pulled out the cordless Hitachi wand, turning it on to high and pushing the bulb inside her wet pussy, without lube. She arched her back as it popped deliciously into place. I decided that the steady vibration would allow her to zone out, so I changed it to pattern ‘one.’ (Despite the downsides of slightly less power and having to keep track of its charge level, the cordless Hitachi wands are so much more versatile.) I kneeled close to the headboard, grabbed her by the back of her head, she opened her mouth expectantly; I pushed my cock over her lips, against her waiting tongue.

With my right hand, I rubbed hard on her clit, occasionally digging in with my fingernails, the way I know drives her crazy, while my left hand held the back of her head, her forehead and nose pushed against my left thigh. I pumped a little lube onto my hand and spanked her clit hard. Wet spanks are so much more… fun. She jumped in shock and almost squeezed the Hitachi out of her swollen pussy. Lube and girlcum splattered the sheets as I pushed the wand back inside. At that point, I removed the blindfold, wanting to watch her blue eyes roll back in her head as she took my cock deep and I ground her clit with my fingers, to her moaning satisfaction.

A short while later, concerned by the awkward geometry of her arms and my legs, I unstrapped the Hang-All anchor from the headboard and wrapped it around her right thigh, twisting her body, but giving my cock unobstructed access to her face. As I rubbed her reddened, throbbing pussy harder, I drove my cock deep into the back of her throat, catching her off guard. She needed a breath and I used the opportunity to check in with her, before feeding her my cock again. I could feel her getting close, but not quite getting over the plateau. She pulled back, gasping for air again.

“Talk to me,” she half-whispered, frankly shocking me by speaking.

“You mean you want to be degraded, don’t you? Reminded that you’re mine? Reminded that you’re my whore?”

“Mhmmm”

“I want you to cum, but I wonder: is your slutty pussy so greedy that you can’t cum without my fist?”

She made an “Mmmm” noise.

“Do you want to cum?”

She didn’t answer.

I put my thumb into her mouth, playing with her gag reflex (a little too deeply, as she actually gagged). “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that… back to business… [ahem] answer me: do you want to cum?”

“Yes”

“Have I ruined you for everything else that you can’t cum without my fist?”

“Mmm… yes. Maybe… yes”

I put my cock back in her mouth, pushing hard to the back of her throat. Her nose pressed against my thigh, functional breathplay at its most fun.

“I am getting close, but I don’t want to cum before you. Also, you’re not allowed to stop sucking my cock.”

She was losing track of herself, her teeth grazing my shaft. She made a noise like she wanted to talk. I pulled out.

“Sorry…”

I smacked her left cheek, again. Her eyes rolled in a mix of pleasure and pain. “I’ve told you: don’t apologize when sucking my cock.”

“I worry I hurt you with my teeth. My mouth is small.”

I leaned down and kissed her, holding her jaw firmly. “I love your mouth. Especially when stuffed with my cock.”

“I want you to fist me, but I also want you to facefuck me.”

I slapped her left cheek, again. “How do you ask?”

“Please… fist me?”

I didn’t slap her — it doesn’t seem to help her learn. “That’s still not how you ask.”

“Please, Sir?”

“‘Please, Sir…’ what?”

“Please Sir… fist my pussy?”

I leaned over and kissed her hard. My right hand rubbing her throbbing clit as hard as I could muster. With my left hand, I covered her nose, as I continued to kiss her, relenting when I felt her body flutter. Rising, I looked deep into her brilliant blue eyes.

I had her scoot down on the bed, and tried to straddle her face, in a 69 position but she choked on my cock, so I stepped off the bed, pulled a waterproof pad from the bedside chest and slid it under her. I returned the strap around her thigh to the headboard, and her bound wrists with it. I pulled on the Hitachi that so recently seemed ready to slide out of her slick, swollen pussy and found she had clenched down. I pulled harder and finally it came loose; her whole body shuddered as it passed her labia.

I lubed my right hand and pressed it against her hot, slick, throbbing pussy. Sometimes, I can slide in without even needing lube… this time, it took effort to push even four fingers inside. “Your cunt is so swollen tight, from my attention.”

“Yes, Sir.”

What a good girl.

My index, middle and ring fingers began to push against her G-spot. She arched her back, again as she squirted a little. I slid my pinky in and began to caress the ring of her cervix. As she writhed, I pushed and told her to relax and my fist pushed inside. “Ooh I’m sensitive.”

“I know.” I grinned.

I watched her chest heave and fall with each pump of my hand inside her; her warmth tightly enveloping my hand as I alternated between rubbing the spur of my thumb against her swollen g-spot, wrapping my thumb and index finger around her cervix, and pushing deep inside her, my fist in the classic ‘fig gesture’ shape. I could feel her getting close to orgasm, and then it would fall away, though her body remained tense. I put my left hand around her throat, then slid down to her left breast, squeezing hard, her skin slipping through my fingers until I had only purchase on her nipple. I relented and pressed my hand against her sternum, trying to will her to cum without saying a word, worrying that commanding her to orgasm might be too much and break the spell.

My fist worked in and out of her, her jaw clenching, her back arching, her legs looking for purchase in my sheets and her arms straining against the cuffs. I was almost certain she wouldn’t cum, asking me to stop in frustration. Instead, she rolled to her left (her involuntary tell — I knew immediately she was cumming) and moaned a deep, guttural moan. Her whole body tensed; I kept up my rhythm, her gasps becoming deeper and more pronounced.

After the waves passed, she looked at me, her gasps now sobs, as she began to cry in release. Tears welled between her eyes and nose. I fumbled — my fingers slick with lube and girlcum — with the snap hook release of the Hang-All around her left arm, eventually freeing her still-bound wrists from the headboard, guiding them around my neck as I lay atop her, my left hand cradling her head.

I stared at her eyes — wordlessly — for at least a minute, and then moved in to hold her against my chest.

She opened her eyes, her tears ebbing and I kissed her, raised my hips and slipped my achingly-hard cock inside her amazingly hot, wet, still spasming pussy. Methodically, I thrust deep and hard, brushing her cervix with my glans, gripping tight the nape of her neck with my left hand and the edge of the mattress, with my right. Working my hips in ever so slight circles, to make sure I was hitting all the right spots but not the same spots on each thrust, she arched her back, again and let out a moaning sigh. Already on the verge of orgasm before even entering her, it took all of my willpower to stay slow and present, in order to last three or four minutes. As I felt my orgasm build, I began driving my hips harder and faster, my cock deeper with more force, until I felt my body tense and shudder, almost immediately collapsing into a heap of tangled, sweaty limbs atop her.

We exchanged “‘I love you’s.”

I unbound her wrists.

She said something (I can’t remember what) and we both got the giggles and then lay, intertwined for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow and rush of neurotransmitters. I went to nibble her neck and found myself with a mouthful of Hang-All, which I promptly removed and resumed kissing her. She told me I give the most amazing orgasms that she has ever experienced. I told her it — as I have said before — is because of us. I asked what she liked best, her reply: “the collar, but all of it was yummy.”

Her thighs started to ache, so I lifted myself off of her and looked at the clock — it’d been almost 90 minutes since we started. So much for being tired and keeping it short. I untied her right leg… her right hand languidly brushed her clit and still-rosy labia… “I don’t think I’m quite done…”

I lubed her fingers and she began rubbing her clit. “There are some toys in my bag.”

“I know,” I said as I’d already begun digging through, for the fancy German rabbit I’d asked her to bring, ignoring the enormous suction cup dildo and grabbing the Lelo Sona, as well. I handed her the rabbit and said I needed a moment to recover, taking the Hitachi into the bathroom to rinse it off. Moments later, the rabbit, wholly inside her pussy, died. (The charger had stayed at my house, but the rabbit had migrated back to hers.) She handed it to me, literally dripping wet with lube and her juices, for me to charge.

I put a pump of lube on my fingers, turned on the Sona and shooed her hands away from her clit, as I applied the hypersonic toy. She jumped as it touched her, her hands pulling at her labia. “Ahhhh fuck.” I slipped four fingers of my right hand back inside her pussy and began to massage her G-spot and cervix again. My thumb followed shortly. Much more sensitive than before, she asked me to “Go slow.”

I did.

For a minute or two.

I began to push harder and deeper, pulling my hand almost all the way out, stretching her the way I know she loves. This orgasm came much more quickly, with more force, as she rolled to her left, once more, her fingers splayed on both hands. I didn’t stop. “That’s enough.”

It wasn’t.

I held the Sona against her swollen, pulsating clit and continued to pump my fist inside her, with a forceful, yet gentle, rhythm, twisting my wrist slightly with each thrust. I felt her squeeze my hand tightly and her whole body shudder again. “Now, you’re done.”

I pulled my hand out of her pussy, put down the Sona, crawled atop her for a deep kiss. I curled up against her left side, holding her and drawing the covers atop us. We lay in warm coziness; intertwined. Sleepy. Happy. We talked a little more about the fun, I asked her to share her thoughts, her feelings… she told me I could be more “demanding,” that she liked being told to crawl to the headboard, in particular… we unpacked her tears… “happysad” and I understood.

I held her tight and told her I loved her.

It was a quarter after midnight and I was begging to drift off, she left the bed for the bathroom and, upon return, we turned out the lights, holding each other.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/are8kw/mf_burritos_blindfolds_bruises_and_bareknuckle