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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Wednesday, 29 October 2008

Depending on your interpretation

I've been running my fingers down The Photographer's back, he's leaning his face into my shoulder and making little noises. It's easy to tell when he's switched because his entire demeanour changes: the calmness becomes passivity, the quiet becomes anticipation. His body softens a little, relaxing against me, waiting for me to move or speak to direct him. Maybe you couldn't see it from the outside, but I can tell. It's as if there are invisible strings, hanging loose over his skin waiting for me to pick them up, pull them taut and bring my puppet to life.

I've started to put in a few more physical requirements when I top him, gradually taking a bit more control of the minutae of his comportment, honing and refining until he is just so. I like detail. I especially like precise and specific details. For now, whenever he is in a position to do so, he must place his hands palm down, fingers spread. No gripping the edge of the bed when being fucked or moving those hands to touch anything other than that which I let him touch. I like pressing my own hands on his, running my nails over them as they lie, immobile but responsive. Waiting.

We have a balance of power, built on words and tiny little actions like this. Points of view. When I top, I fuck him, or play with my cock (that just so happens to be attached to him). When I sub to him, he fucks me, I play with his cock. It probably looks the same to the outsider. Not to us. My topping is still a game we both play, but very much a game leastways that's how I view it. In all seriousness, I am his, sometimes we switch, but mostly, I'm his. That's how I feel and I am very happy. The balance of power is not very balanced, truth be told and I quite like that, I certainly couldn't top all the time, or even half. Although the inbalance can create some interesting situations in play.

I'm fucking him, his hands are palm down, flat and fingers spread. He's being a good boy. I give him 30 more seconds, and count down (slowly) letting him know that if he comes, all well and good, but if he doesn't, well, that's it. He moves faster, more agitated, but in the end doesn't make it. I slide out from under him and push him over on to his side, holding him close and stroking his back for a while, then make him play with my clit for a bit before turning over to go to sleep. He starts to run his fingers on my throat, soft and pleasant at first, a submissive flirtation, but then sharper and harder. He's switched. He pushes me over roughly and fucks me, hand over my mouth.
He doesn't say anything, he just takes what he wants. The sensation of his cock inside my cunt is very different even though the position is the same, the physicality is the same. But it isn't the same, we can both feel it.

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