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Postscript
August 2006 This Series
A funny thing happened as I was running like hell away from Vladimir. I ran back in the arms of my former lover, Xavier. Cliché you say? You betcha! But there's an interesting story in there too, because to tell you the truth, Xavier and I were only so and so lovers before Vladimir came along, and I wasn’t exactly in tears when I said goodbye to him for the glowing green pastures of Vladimir's love. We all know how things with Vladimir turned out, and so it was that I ended up at Master Xavier's house at the end of my summer vacation, sunburned and pretty beat – having spent a good month crying over that relationship gone to hell. I had called Xavier to tell him of the change in latitudes and how sad I'd been, and somehow, this changed something between us. It awakened something quiet and different that softened the rough edges of what we had before. Maybe it was the first time that he ever had the opportunity to nurture me, to be the Dominant that was sleeping quietly inside him. I began to see this different side of him and he of me I suppose. So I showed up at his place with a bright pink sunburn and the first thing he did was pull out a bottle of aloe and make me a chocolate martini, a beautiful thing with a rim of sweet chocolate to lick my lips. These small acts brought me to tears all over again, such small things that I'd been missing for months from Vladimir and I hadn't even realized it. How sad. Oh I know you're not supposed to compare people but I can't help it at the moment. It's just that after months of a Dominant who would not make love to me or dominate me, who showed so little interest in me as a person – well being with Xavier is a flood of blessings. What have I done to deserve this? Not much I know. He followed this up with new joys and sexual pleasures – things I'd never tried before: being staked to the ground by a bonfire and tickled by the nighttime air, sweet sticks of ginger tingling my nether regions, and a dark hood holding my head tight to the doorway as he ministered below. He spoils me with gourmet dinners of marinated shrimp and cappuccino cake, holds me tight in warm strong arms, and engages with me entirely about my life and thoughts. He protects me in ways that surprise me, odd and unexpected. For all this I have little to offer him in return. I pleasure him with the long, slow and sensuous cock sucking that Vladimir taught me (talk about irony). I clean up a bit before I leave. But the truth is, Xavier is taking care of me right now and it's just what I need. I can only thank God for this gift that came so late in the summer, but just in time. Most interestingly, none of this has the glamour, the drumrolls, the big news of the Big Love that I had with Vladimir. There is no commitment, no monogamy, no promises or claims to my self or mind. No drama or announcements to my friends or the community as there was before – and which eventually would embarrass me terribly as I had to retract them once and again. And yet Master Xavier is more nurturing, more kind, and has loved me (in his own way) far more than Vladimir who promised me the moon and delivered only a moon pie. Master Xavier is a gentleman in more ways than one, not
the least of which is that he would have been perfectly reasonable not to
have wanted me back, or at all, after I trumpeted to the world how I loved
Vladimir so, but Xavier isn't swayed by that kind of foolish stuff. I
can't help but wonder why is he so gentle and generous to me, or I have
just gotten used to my Submissive nature being ignored? I do know that
he's no perfect man and has his character quirks, but there is something
truly remarkable there – a gentleman's gentleman who knows how to treat a
Submissive with warmth and firmness. All this said, Master Xavier is
probably not the lifetime partner for me. He has a strong commitment to
his children which I respect more than he can know, but which is rather
not in alignment with my own lifestyle. And our life paths are far apart
in many other ways as well. Although I love him in my friendly way, it's
not romantic love although I suppose it could one day become that – you
never know. It doesn't matter though because for now, he is a warm safe
place after a summer of sadness.
Happiness is the death of a writer. The most fatuous things I have ever written were about my own happiness. Absolutely the worst things whatsoever to sit in the company of other people and eat high noble salads and sparkling water and to talk about how happy you are and how good work is nowadays and how wonderful you family is and your children. It's creepy almost. ~ Garrison Keillor
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