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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Monday, 14 July 2008

Back to back and face to face

I'm stood back to back with The Photographer, arms linked, my shoulders brush his back and his skin is warm against mine. Bare feet on wooden floors, if I move a little I can feel my calf against his. I try not to move, however, I don't want to spoil the effect, we've been placed this way for a reason.

We're in Lovely Couple's house. If I concentrate I can hear them. Enclosed within myself, I can only imagine how we look and I hope we're pleasing, to the eye and the ear. Right now, the sum of my experience is confined to restricted sounds, heightened touch. Both mine and his.

I'm wearing a soft leather hood and a thick, heavy silver collar, the contrast between the two is elegantly symmetric to it. The collar is a perfect circle, smooth and cool, it has no flex to it, immovable and precise. The leather is warm against my face and warmer with every breath, organic and supple. Opposing forces, holding me balanced between them. We're also balanced. A girl and a boy. Both semi-naked, blinded and collared, submissive and exposed. There's a mirroring of piercings, and of moans as a cane or crop perhaps, drums with increased force against bare skin.

The rhythm is seductive and I fall into it, closing my eyes behind the hood and enjoying the touches as they move up and down my chest and thighs. The flow is randomly punctuated with sharper, heavier strokes which makes me gasp, catching me unawares. The same is happening to him, and I can hear the noise of the impact a second or two before he shudders or cries out.

Later on I'm turned around and can hold him to me, arms about his shoulders in a placed embrace. He twitches against my front in response to the blows, little impulsive movements; small pained noises. I feel more connected to him this way, more aware that he's being hurt and aware to that I'm unable to do anything about it beyond holding him. I wince a little, inwardly lining up the sound and the reflected impact with a perceived pain. I anticipate his sensation as well as my own and I wonder if he's doing the same. In concert.