The Blurb

Both ski socks and flip flops are pretty everyday objects (if you are the kind of exciting person who, like me, likes to go to snowy mountains and tropical beaches, not if you are a boring recluse). Most of what I write about will, I suspect, seem slightly crazy to your average 'vanilla'. But, to me, kink is so integrated into my life that I sometimes don't notice that it is a bit odd.

Ski socks and flip flops are also both totally contradictory to each other. This, in part, reflects the fact that I go by the online psuedonym 'Walking Oxymoron'. But it also explains me very well. I do not look like someone who you might imagine to be a sexual deviant. When out and about, I don't act any differently from anyone else. In fact, I like to think that I appear fairly innocent and demure.

This blog is about the other side of me - my dark side. Specifically, the emotional side of it. Behind the whips and canes and other fun things is a variety of very normal 'vanilla' feelings. They just choose to display themselves in some unconventional places...

Monday 8 November 2010

Just a Couple of Piddly Orgasms...

*Originally written 7th September 2010*

Anyone who knows me will know that, once I am aroused, my body becomes incredibly sensitive. This results in lots of fun, especially after sex when I am ready to curl up and sleep (yes, I am a man), and he decides its time to play with my nipples. Last night, this is exactly what happened. I was innocently lying on the bed, and suddenly I was being stroked, caressed, fingered to orgasm. Yummy. And then again. And again. I was begging for him to stop before he even started fucking me. And he can go for a while. I was pretty much dead when he pulled out, and was expecting to collapse, but no. He started playing with my nipples. Unrelentlessly. I couldn't stop cumming, it was an orgasm frenzy. It bought me to tears. My body has never been that overwhelmed before, its natural reaction seemed to be to shut down everything. I couldn't see, I couldn't talk, I couldn't move, I was crying and hyperventilating and could barely breathe. I felt totally paralysed. It was terrifying. And yet so so SO hot. 

Except for one thing. I couldn't explain how I was feeling. When he started asking me questions that I couldn't answer (really complicated ones, like 'what's two plus two?') I was unable to communicate the fact that I was completely overwhelmed and terrified and this was compounding it even more. Quite naturally, he took my feeble groans as happy ones, when really they were all that I could muster. He could see that I was out of it, but he couldn't see just how out of it I was and how scary it was for me. So, quite naturally, he said 'I'll be back in two seconds, I'm going to get you a drink.' He couldn't tell that, as thirsty and in need of sugar as I was, I was feeling isolated and terrified by the fact that I couldn't see or move. I just lay and sobbed until he got back. Not just cried, but sobbed. The kind of crying where you gulp in air, you can't focus on anything and you feel helpless as the tears keep coming. It was incredibly cathartic, but I still can't decide whether I really enjoyed it or whether it was too much. I'm leaning towards the former. But it was one hell of an over-reaction to a couple of piddly orgasms!

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