I was talking to Bad Man on Friday. Turns out he’s a top:

“One important question - marks or no marks?”
“Light marks are fine.”

Pulled out some rope. Wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, ankles to wrists.

Admired my handiwork again. Grabbing a fistful of hair, exposing a vulnerable neck, wondering what to do. We’ve only just met, but there’s a comfort that I’m quite pleased with and what appears to be trust. Sex, or any semblance thereof, isn’t on the agenda for the evening, but my self indulgence is. This complicates matters, and makes them interesting.

Slaps on the stomach and back, exploring soft places. Slaps on the inside of the thigh, the outside of the thigh, and then pushing down into a crouch. Considered getting a blindfold, but I’d rather leave room for growth.

Inspiration strikes at the strangest times. Off to the kitchen to get a chopstick. Slaps with a chopstick on the tender soles of the feet. Moans in exchange. This is going well.

(more. . . )

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