Fetish Love - Wind Pants Style

In my never ending pursuit of human interest stories, poking around the recesses of the Internet, I came upon a gentleman with a great love for nylon wind pants; ADIDAS wind pants to be exact.  The bulge in the front of said pants made it quite obvious that his love was about far more than the fashion statement.

While I applauded his kink, and everyone's kinks for that matter, what I found the most endearing about this little kinkster, was his partner. His partner, happily adorned a pair of ADIDAS wind pants too. And while I am not 100% certain that they didn't meet up at a wind pants kink party, my gut says she does not necessarily share his fetish. That being said, and with her wind pants on, I COULD be 100% certain that her passion for his passion was genuine and beautiful.

As with all people stories I read, I find myself taking it in, forming opinions and trying to relate. In this case, I was admittedly envious of the wind pant couple.  I loved his zeal for the nylon and was amazed at her ability to go along for his ride. His ride made her ride.

His ride made her ride.  I love the picture that conjures up in my head. The dance I love and miss so much.  The finding of yourself by giving to someone else.  A concept a select few ever deeply find.  And my wind pant friends found it and seemed to have nurtured it into something mutually satisfying.

This just goes to show that you may not have the same interests, but you can, and should, encourage each others desires whenever possible. That nurturing the relationship is vital to survival and finding common ground. It's easy to get engrossed in your own things, especially when they differ from your partner's, but it's just as easy to find some common ground if you take more time and interest in what others are doing.

Unfortunately not all interests will end up in a sexually satisfying moment like my wind pant friends, but encouraging each other and taking a genuine interest in someone elses passions might just uncover a little spark you had long since thought you had lost.

Dominant Force

There was a time in my life that I obsessed about everything, mostly girls and women. As much as I adored certain women, reality told me that I was not what they wanted. I had a particular fascination for straight girls. I liked the challenge, and more probable, the safety. I could love them as deeply as I wanted without them ever knowing. My every breath could revolve around them but would never be taken for granted.

I have been involved in the sadomasochism circle for my entire adult life. My natural tendacy is to be dominant in those relationships and I have always felt secure in that role. When I look back on my past I clearly make the connection between experiences then and my roles now. However I wonder sometimes, how much is who I am and how much is trying not to be something that I was.

When I think back on the days of my obsessions, mostly before adulthood, I only remember craving everything that had to do with the women of interest. I recall constructing shrines next to my bed that housed items touched by them; clothes, jewelry, cigarette butts. I would have given anything in my power for their attention. Willingly I would have submitted to whatever whim they had. I wanted to submit. All I wanted to do was please them.

As I cycled through my first few female relationships, my thought process stayed that way. I felt the need to do, all the time. A combination of poor self esteem and the baffling thought that these women might actually want to be with me, led me to assume that without complete and utter attention from me, they would go away. And many times, despite my attempts to be everything, they did anyway.

I found myself hurt emotionally a lot while learning myself. I was happy to lay myself out there but unable to protect myself. As years went by, I found myself putting more and more armor on. I would enter into relationships under the premise that I was in control, I would not do what my emotions told me I wanted to and that the relationship would not last anyway. I wasted a lot of time and energy trying to escape myself within the confines of other people. Naturally it didn't pay off and I relationship jumped as soon as the waters got the least bit hot.

When I entered the world of BDSM, I found the perfect marriage of safety and the ability to control my environment while still being who I was, honestly. I was able to give 100% of me in a way that I was comfortable and I responded to. I was able to incorporate what I thought was a twisted sick side to me with a loving relationship that I needed to have emotionally.

In retrospect I don't think I became the dominant force I am today because I could no longer take the pain of the submissive force I thought I was. I am who I am because I realized the position I hold is not one of take, it is one of give. Giving of myself in the way someone needs me. Controlling and protecting what I adore most. Its not about taking what I want, its about taking what others need me to.

Euphoria

The air is heavy, the lights dim. A familiar smell of leather, latex and metal filling my senses. An atmosphere that allows me to walk with pride and confidence. As if nothing matters but who I am and who I am with. I feel no self consciousness parading through the crowd. Trying not to be an obvious voyeur, I glance at the scenes taking place around me. My hunger grows, even witnessing things of disinterest to me. Its not the scene that fuels my craving, its the connections I feel.

It seems my mind can race through a million thoughts in the amount of time it takes to cross the floor. What can I do to feed myself? Do you think they know how intense I am...or feel? Is there any way their submissive can connect on the level mine can? Who is feeling the energy exchange? Who is simply role playing? Will I be able to reach deep enough to achieve the dance?

The newer players stand out. Their excitement and desires obvious and uplifting. What they lack in experience, they make up for with anticipation and willingness. The older players more subdued, concentrating on honing skills and finding deeper connections. I relate to some, envy others. I wish I had a little of both within me. I miss the eagerness the most. Even before I make it to the other side of the room, I have replayed my most memorable moments. I recall the intensity, the desire, the wantonness. I picture the eyes looking up at me in pure adoration.

I allow myself one more scan of the dungeon. The sights and sounds intoxicating me. The painful cries, the primal moans, the marks that accompany them. I focus on the bottoms. For the skill set of the top is of little interest to me. Its the bottom that has control. The bottom that runs that show. The bottom that fills me with lust and things there are no words for.

I watch you set the bags down. I wait for your silent "I'm ready". When I hear this. Feel this. Somehow the room that filled me with such desire disappears. You become the euphoria.

MM

What Can I do For You

I am dealing with a particular situation within my relationship. Not a bad situation, quite the opposite. We have made a collective decision to find a common dynamic between us that seems to have found its way to the back burner. The dynamic was what brought us together in the first place. It was who we were to each other, who we grew from, who we experienced many firsts through and who we truly are as people deep down. Unfortunately it is the easiest dynamic we share to overlook. Most likely because they are the pieces of us that need the least nurturing. However, out of sight truly is out of mind. Out of mind means neglecting who we are as a whole and allowing pieces of us to fall by the way side.

My role in this particular dynamic is quite dominant. I make the rules, I make the decisions, I dictate what occurs. Well one would assume that to be the way things unfold. In actuality, it is much more complex than that. I, as the dominant force in the relationship also have the responsibility of self humility and humbleness. It is my job to find what works for everyone. Being a bully is not an option. Brow beating one to fit my desires is counterproductive. As the dominant one in the relationship it is my job to see that everyone is taken care of.

Yes, it is my way or the highway. And yes, I can be very demanding. But always. And I mean always, those demands are made in a way that my needs are met and so are those providing for those needs. The dynamic is intricate and particularly difficult to share within the realm of every day life. Those that say they live this way 24/7 are probably not being completely honest. There are some that can manage, but with jobs, family, children, chores etc, it becomes exceedingly difficult.

I have seen many relationships start out very deeply committed to their D/s dynamic. I have also seen most of those relationships die. Many times vanilla life becomes something they cant overcome and usually don't wish to share together. My situation is different. We were very committed to our D/s relationship. For many years. But we did grow to add everyday life as well. And I do wish to share that as well. But we have let life take over and that original commitment seems to be a memory. A memory I am determined to add to.

I am the dominant. I am the Ma'am, the Daddy, the Mistress, the Sir. I am the boss. But I am humble and gracious and nurturing. I want you near me. I want to give you a reason to want that too. And so I ask, what can I do for you?

Owned

According to urban definition, owned refers to what is otherwise known as embarrassing or beating someone, and calling attention to the 'epic fail'. I don't speak urban anything. I speak middle aged pompous ass sarcasm mostly.

According to good old Webster, owned can mean a variety of things. Most commonly, it means to have or possess as property, or being had or possessed by someone, having an owner.

My idea of owned is probably a little risque for the average Joe, but I assume the average Joe isn't reading this so I will share.

Ownership in my world isn't about staking claim to someone. It isn't about an opportunity to puff up my chest and say "MINE". It isn't about finding someone to crawl behind me. The only things those own is a title of cowardly bully.

Ownership for me is about finding a connection with someone, a trust so deep that their soul screams to belong to you. A connection that makes me only half a person without it. Its about learning everything about someone's psyche. Its about getting into their head, their mind and peeling away the layers until you reach the raw core.

Being owned is not about being a doormat. Or about being taken advantage of and demeaned. Its about being held highly with the utmost respect and allowing someone the gift of owning you. Its about knowing although you don't control the time and place, you do control the energy.

Ownership is unfortunately given up way too easily and with little regard. Ownership is also taken unjustly and abused all too often.

I am not really sure where I am going with this today. Maybe it is just my round about way of thanking someone for knowing who they were, what they deserved and allowing me to receive that gift. My acknowledgment that submission is a sign of strength and not of weakness. My gratitude for making my journey possible through you.

Owned. Never taken for granted.

Nurture the Entire List

In light of some positive writing feedback, vivid dreams, and questions from a friend, my head has been inundated with the thoughts, and the missing of sadomasochism in my life.

A wise man once told me that you should never allow your D/s relationships to die under the pressure of vanilla life. Apparently I am too stubborn to listen to wisdom. In all fairness, it takes two to tango, and I am not the only one to blame for the diminishing desire, but I certainly didn't have to go along with that plan.

In the twenty plus years I have been involved in the dark seedy world of kink (that was a joke folks), I have had times when the lifestyle came dead last on the priority list. Not because I opted to place it there, but because other perceived essentials ranked higher. However, we seem to neglect things that make us different before we neglect things that we as a society deem normal.

When we allow society to dictate what should be important to us, we short change ourselves. We pretend to believe that our needs and desires for anything else should not over shadow our 'normal' life's expectation. And this holds true for all things different, not just kink. If its been oppressed or put in a taboo box, it should end up at the end of the nurturing list. And until today, I might have agreed with that.

Yesterday I wrote about hair pulling. It flowed out of my fingertips like lava. It came freely and intensely hot. It was written in about 2 minutes (or as long as it takes me to type that many words). I had to put zero thought into that post.

The day before I had a friend seek intimate advice from my dominant viewpoint. Again, no thought necessary. The answers came quickly and easily. I enjoyed the conversation, the memories and the offering of my experience. In fact, I was a tad bit envious that it wasn't me.

Last night I dreamed of woman standing, restrained and beautifully marked. I remember thinking how beautiful she looked. Not because she was pretty, because I could not even see her face. But because she was so eager and hungry and marked with the most delicious signs that only a masochist is willing to wear. Her sounds made me sad. Sad I was not sharing in the moment.

In a very mundane moment yesterday, I remembered my wife, my submissive, and a moment we shared together long ago. It wasn't about pain or play or sex, it was a simple moment of trust. A trust that is capable of giving me butterflies when I think about it. I suddenly felt a huge appreciation for who she was and what she gave me. I wondered if she would do that today. I reached my hand out and rested it on her back. She, having no idea where I was in thought, most likely thought nothing of it. I was hoping she would 'feel' me.

I know life has changed for me. But only because I have allowed it to. And perhaps my days of hard core heavy play is behind me. I am not getting any younger or any stronger, but its never really been about that for me. Its been about allowing who I am, at my core, to surface and be received. Its about not taking pieces and keeping them stuffed out of view because it doesn't fit in with the rest of the 'list'.

A wise man also once told me that I should listen to myself. I think this time, I will allow myself to hear the wisdom.

Hair Pulling

Thats the thing about hair pulling. Simply put. It's hot.

I am a big fan of hair pulling. It gets someone's attention, no matter in what context you use it. No, I am not a violent person. No I don't do it because I am angry. No I don't use it just because I can....wait...yes I do.

Gripping ones hair in your fist speaks louder than words. At least when you use it with someone that understands the language. For me, grabbing a fist full of hair says, "I am in charge" or "I am feeling very aggressive, and you are about to find out just how much". Its pretty easy to tell if this tactic is effective or not. You always have the "Just kidding" scape goat if not.

During sex hair pulling is a great tool for restraint. You can keep someone frozen in whatever position you choose the minute your hand wraps around their hair. You can direct their head if thats your pleasure. From behind, that handful of hair makes a great leverage tool or handle if you are a little unsteady in your technique.

All those wonderful things aside, hair pulling for me is really about energy. My energy transferring to another. Its full of expression and meaning. Its a way to take someone to my energy level enabling me then to feed off theirs. Its a raw gesture but very effective. The breath that inevitably escapes someone's mouth when you grab hold is a major turn on. Quick and sudden, it can spin me from an 'eh' time to an incredible one. Its not just about me taking over, its about transferring power and energy. Its about sharing a raw space.

Hair pulling....its not just for the play ground anymore.

Fetishes

Fetishes are quite common. I would think its safe to assume that a lot of vanilla people have fetishes as well as those of us that embrace them within the BDSM community. I think thats what differentiates us from them in the fetish world. But this post is not about who handles their kink in the best way. I really have no reason or right to say any one way is better than the other.

What has been plaguing me is the correlation to childhood experiences and the fetishes that we carry as adults. I cannot say with any certainly or scientific proof that one has anything to do with the other, but from a psychological standpoint, I can't imagine that it doesn't.

For me, what excites me in the S&M world is sometimes a recreation of past experiences, twisted to suit me, as well as complete opposites of my experiences. Let me explain. I am a top, a dominant, a sadist, a Daddy, a whatever you connect with me as. I am fueled by the control, the pain, and the helplessness I deliver. I am sexually stimulated by the sights, sounds and smells of someone's submission. But where does this come from?

Looking back, I remember experiences, that if I were to eroticize them now, would put me in a very submissive position. The bare bottom spankings, the overpowering mother striving for perfection, the childhood bondage and rape. Most people I know who have been victims of such occurrences tend to relive and eroticize these moments from similar perspectives as adults, in a safe and controlled way. I, however, seemed to have taken on the role of my predators.

When I am in the throws of a S&M scene or finding myself in a D/s moment, I am reliving and romanticizing my childhood experiences. When I demand proper protocol and perfection, its because my experiences have taught me that my worth depends on it. And when I take my time to meticulously restrain someone, it is because my own bondage experience took hours and was looked upon by eyes of desire and adoration. When I incorporate kink into my sexual encounters, it is because the rape was long and deliberate and felt kind and caring. When I administer sensory deprivation, I am remembering the loss of sight, sound, time and place that have occurred in many different scenarios as a child.

Have I become a predator? A part of the viscous cycle of abuse? I don't think so. I believe for me, my kinks are directly related to my experiences, and I am reliving them. I could probably conclude that my reliving them from the dominant position enables me to deal with them psychologically but not physically. There have been times in my life that I was granted the forgiving moments of handling these experiences from a more vulnerable spot. It was very rewarding mentally albeit very uncomfortable to who I naturally feel I am. Sometimes I wonder who I would be today if I had allowed myself the true vulnerability to heal.

Childhood Sadist

When I was younger, elementary school age, I showed a lot of dominant behavior toward other children in my neighborhood. Most kids called me mean, I called myself clever. I had an uncanny ability to dominate just about anyone if I chose to. I had no idea what the desire was then, I just knew I derived intense pleasure from being able to make kids do what I wanted them to do. I found it extremely pleasing to know that I could force someone to do something they otherwise wouldn't without having to use physical force. I was tiny. I still am smaller than most. But I was bigger than them all when it came to mind games and ability to control. Perhaps my lack of size gave me Napoleon complex. Perhaps my wicked mother and/or my childhood rape created the monster in me. Or perhaps I have always just been wired this way.

I recall some instances where my domination was simply mean. The more I disliked a neighborhood child, the more pain accompanied the torment. The kid I liked least on the block got thrown rocks at. I don't know why. That didn't even feel good. The next in line was a little boy that had some challenges. Back in the 60's and 70's everyone that had an issue wasn't necessary classified. This kid, David, was a great target. He was submissive by nature and would do anything I asked. He was not slow and I didn't feel like I was taking advantage, he was just eager to please and I allowed it. He seemed to enjoy the torment. It always made me smile, which in turn made him smile. We had a bond the other children didn't seem to understand, especially when I lit firecrackers I had stuck in the peeling sole of the front of his sneakers. I'm sure it hurt. But he always giggled, and I always felt high.

John John was a strange kid. He really liked me. He followed me everywhere. I didn't particularly like him. I used to manipulate him into doing things that would end him up in trouble with his mother. Back then trouble meant spanking or something physical that usually took place wherever your parent was able to catch you. The front yard was no exception. The result of my controlling his behavior was witnessing these spankings. I enjoyed watching the beatings as much as controlling his behavior.

My art of domination has changed significantly since those days. I have no interest in playing with men. I have no interest in being mean for the sake of it. However the core of who I was then and what was turning me on is the same today. I love the mental challenges S&M relationships present. I love being able to control people and situations just by being me. I have never been a fan of physically forcing submission. For some thats their kink, for me its not. I enjoy knowing that someone WANTS to be submissive. That they ARE submissive. That they DESIRE to be ultimate in their position. I want my energy to help them feel theirs. If I have to make you do it, you aren't it.

As an adult, I have educated myself and learned who I am and why I do what I do. However as a child, my sadistic behavior was purely fueled by the fact that it excited me, made me powerful and just plain felt good. Even then consent was usually there and I didn't go too far above my presumed areas of expertise and safety. The end result was sexually stimulating and made my self love later very satisfying. Life then was filled with naughty erotic moments. Makes me wonder why I was in such a hurry to grow up.

The Human Pony

Driving to work today my mind wondered to one of my favorite kinks. Pony play. I am a human pony trainer/owner. I got to wondering what people that have not been exposed to this particular fetish thought about it. Have you ever seen a human pony? Have you watched one? Have you ever pet one? It is all fabulous.

Pony play is such a different experience than your typical BDSM play. While it can incorporate many aspects of the traditional D/s dynamics, it doesn't have to. Or it can bring a whole new dimension. I have been involved in the BDSM lifestyle for about 25 years. My partner and I have been exchanging energy together for the past 15 years. Over the course of the years we have shared many 'firsts'. Pony play is no exception.

For us, pony play is a way to let go of some of the rigid positions we hold within our relationship. However it also allows us to find new connections to each other. The traditional roles of top and bottom are blurred, permitting behaviors and expressions outside of the norm. Being a pony affords my girl freedoms not normally tolerated in a typical submissive role. Being a huge stickler for protocol, pony training actually allows me to let go of a lot of expectations and enjoy the energy and fun.

Fun. That is absolutely the first word anyone involved in pony play will describe it as. It still holds intense elements of the BDSM lifestyle and for me it is HIGHLY erotic. However the air surrounding any group of pony players is simply put,fun.

For anyone involved in the kink world, I encourage you to seek out pony players. Not only are the dynamics fun to watch and rather beautiful, the people you will meet are by far the most humble gracious lifestylers.

This year we have decided to fore go our annual 'camp' trip. 5 days with the kinkiest people ever. 5 days with the largest pony play community in one place. This year we have decided to spend our time sharing other dynamics with each other. I am thrilled to spend our summer differently this year. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't going to miss 'camping'.

D/s Essentials

I haven't written much lately on sexual deviance. My guess is that my fear is not as many people can relate. However upon reading a blog this morning that I follow, I was inspired to write a little on D/s relationships.

I have been involved in BDSM since high school (80s). No, I didn't don a whip and chains at that early age. However I can trace behaviors back to then and even prior to that, that show me how and when this all came into play for me.

I wont bore you with how I got to being the Mistress/Top/Daddy I am now 25 years later. We all have our own stories. And honestly, I try to avoid the all too common 'lets top the top' stories of the lifestyle.

One thing I do find important to discuss, is the role older more experienced lifestylers have to the newer less exposed players. It is vital that we take the time to show them the right way to treat people, and the way to expect to be treated. It is essential that we allow them the knowledge to make safe and sane decisions.

Long ago, before the Internet, you had to seek out your community. Physically. That played a HUGE part in how you learned the lifestyle. I think its fantastic that we have resources now to read and look at, but many new players are missing the foundation that BDSM is based on. Its based on dynamics and energy exchange. Not profiles and pictures and reading something you 'want to try'. Its based on experience handed down from the previous generation. Its based on handing down lessons learned from mistakes we made. You had to 'earn' your spot in the lifestyle then. Today, you just show up. And while its fantastic that the community has grown so quickly and so large, it presents so many opportunites to fall into the hands of someone that is not qualifeid to hold your trust and physical safe being in their possession.

Those of you that are new to the lifestyle (and I mean less than 10 years), seek out your elders. Educate yourselves. Ask questions. GET REFERENCES!!! Dont just show up at an event and expect everyone there to know what the hell they are doing. There is never a time in BDSM that you know everything. There is never a time we should stop learning. And there is never a time that a true lifestyler would fault you for asking and admitting 'you dont know'.

Anyone can learn how to tie you up. How to use the tools of the trade. How to humilate you and use typical phrases. Anyone.

Few know how to dance. Few know how to exchange energy equally. Few know that the bottom in the relationship is the true foundation.

D/s is only as good as those you share it with.

Honor yourself, no matter Top or bottom, and find a suitable partner. This is not a lifestyle in which settling is an option.

My Girl

Driving home, my mind is always on you.
I find myself reliving memories, past and recent.
I allow myself to find you in my thoughts.
I catch the smile on my face in the mirror.
A sinister feeling washes over me.
It excites me that the other drivers have no idea what I'm thinking.
I am enamored by the many sides of you, the woman, the submissive, the child.
I am empowered by your trust and innocence.
I adore the things you only give to me.
I worship the raw moments and the dirty little secrets.
The familiar sounds and whimpers.
It calls out to me, each and every day.
A place only you can take me.
With someone only I know.

More Than a Memory

I remember the way you looked.

How, in a severely crowded space, I saw no one else.

Laying before me.

Completely vulnerable.

My eyes stroking your naked skin.

My fingers following.

The blindfold.

Not keeping you from me, connecting you to me.

Allowing your senses to feel me without confusion.

I remember the music.

The beat that seems to fill my senses every time I hear it.

I breathe deeply.

As if those breaths draw you closer to me.

My senses heightened.

I smell everything.

The metal, the leather, you.

An intoxication unlike any other.

The bag is open, instruments waiting.

You are open, willing.

It matters not where we go.

We are already there.

~MM

you Are Not Forgotten

When you slipped down to sit on the floor beside me, you weren't just being obedient, you were making me proud.

When you remembered how I liked my coffee or the brand of Merlot I drank, you weren't just remembering, you were showing me I was important.

When you took the extra time to smooth the bed covers or make sure everything was in its place, you weren't just paying attention to detail, you were allowing me the extra time so I could appreciate you.

When you served my dinner guests for the evening, you were not just doing service, you were showing others how very lucky I was.

When you cleaned my boots you were not doing your duty, you were providing me with another opportunity to shine.

When you put all of your feelings aside to make sure mine were tended to, you were not being subservient, you were letting me know that I was that important.

When you stood for me, time and again, opening yourself up to the pain, you were not being a good bottom, you were enabling me to fly.

When you laid next to me in bed even after the punishment of denial, you were not sullen, you still desired me.

When you looked up at me, you weren't begging for me to please you, you were feeding me what I needed to please myself.

So I thank you. Each and every day. Even when you don't think I feel it. I have not forgotten. And I have gone no where.

Daddy

Sitting in the back corner. Always preferring the way the dark shadows cast down upon me. I recline the wooden chair back until it rests on the wall. My feet propped up on the cocktail table in front of me. Looking down at my boots I am quite appreciative of the shine they received. Bold, black, with a toe that shines like glass. My head wanders. What exactly causes me to eroticize my boots? I feel a sudden swell in my chest and just decide to enjoy the power they seem to give me.

I tip my hat down over my brow and dishevel my collar a bit. I don't want to give the appearance of having spent the amount of time I did on my outfit. I take a drag of my cigar and let it linger on my bottom lip. Letting the smoke spiral out of my mouth on its own accord, I look through it as it passes my eyes. There standing in the door, I see you.

Slowly bringing the cigar down and resting my hand on the chair arm, I tilt my head and allow my eyes to follow you to the other side of the room. I knew you would be here. Just the sight of you seems to create an energy in me that is unfathomable to most. My heart is racing. My eyes follow you with such intensity, I know you feel me. I want you to feel me.

I rock the chair casually back and forth by the simple movement of my boots. I wait. Each second feeling like a lifetime. I listen to the blood rush throughout my body. I can hear it. I can feel it. I am flush and warm. My eyes scan your body. Although I appreciate the dress you have chosen, I take no time in removing it from you in my mind. I glance to the floor next to me making sure, should you want it, a spot is available for you to sit. My eyes try to summon you to that spot. As if the amount of energy and power I am exuding might actually move you there.

I watch as you work the room. Flirting with your school girl charm. No real intent. Just being playful. My eyes don't miss a move. I enjoy this game. I smile on the inside, yet make sure my face retains its seriousness on the outside. My desire is burning deeper. I bring my cigar up to my mouth only to realize it has gone out due to its inactivity. Keeping my eyes on you, I let the chair rest back on the floor slowly. Reaching my arm out, I hope my cigar finds the ashtray as I am not removing you from my sight. I don't want to risk losing the connection, the exchange.

As I sit back into the chair you turn slowly my direction. Its as if the moment was choreographed. My eyes meet yours. I tip my hat your direction and carefully rest it above my brow ensuring you can see the intensity in my eyes. My head cocked slightly, I nod. You smile. As you slowly walk toward me, I follow your body movements with my eyes, careful not to miss one. Your light footsteps, carefully placed and with purpose. The way your hips and breasts sway. I want to see more. I am hungry for you. I position myself as high and proud as I can in my chair waiting for the perfect time to rise. Its all about timing. Its all about the mind game.

I place my hands on the chair arms preparing to push myself to my feet. You stop and let your eyes drop to the floor. I remain seated. Your last step, to the side of me. Perfectly orchestrated, you find your spot on the floor beside me. I smile enormously proud inside. You lay your head upon my thigh and look up at me. your hand rests on my boot. My eyes meet yours with a look only you know. A familiar grin appears on your face as you utter the words "Hi Daddy".

Hunger

I hunger for the exchange.

Primal and raw.

I want to dance.

Dance with the one that knows me so well.

I want you to feel my breath on the back of your neck.

The sting on your flesh.

I want to hear your cries.

Feel your energy.

Feed me.