Expanding Whorizons

Standing in front of me, naked, all I could think was ‘WOW!’ Gorgeous, head to toe.  Muscles, solid, rock hard.  Amazing, what his body felt like under my hands, my finger tips.  The room was quiet, everything we said between us was quiet, hushed. We’d started kissing, gently, lips touching lips.  Tentatively lips parted, tongues intertwined.  He tasted good.  Soft lips, light dusting of beard, smooth skin.  I enfolded him in my arms, feeling the hard muscles of his back with my hands, caressing his skin, amazed at the muscles of his ass.  Lips went to his neck, I breathed in the scent of him.  I’d watched him strip, the room fully lit, trying to take it all in.  Now that he was naked, he padded over the the bed – I watched his muscles play under his skin, felt how hard my dick was.  I’d stripped down as well, and as he sat – back against the pillows, legs spread – I moved to join him.  I slid my arms through the spaces u...

Worshipping takes on many forms, tactile, oral, and other.  It was my privilege to start while He was still dressed.  He lead me from the living room to a large bedroom.  At the end of a king sized bed sat a bench – ordinary enough in appearance, though leather clad.  The leather about my neck now attached to a short expanse of chain, more a lead than a leash.  The links were small, and light.  The leash, and the collar, both more symbol than practical restraint.  i am naked, He is fully clothed. “Where shall we begin?” His voice, again low, rumbles through his chest.  It’s not, I realize, a rhetorical question.  Then it dawns on me, what good is worship that is driven by commands?  He wants, i hope, for me to enjoy his body as i hope, breathlessly, that he will take and enjoy mine.  “May i undress You, Sir?” my voice trembles slightly, afraid to misinterpret what is going on.  He hears that tremble, places a hand on my nec...

Everyone worships in a different way.  Sacrileges as it sounds, I prefer to worship a man’s body.  In its way, it’s perfection – one could say that the hand of god made it, why would it not be something to worship. Walking into a quiet room, low lights.  Seated in a chair I find him.  He’s not naked, not yet.  If I’m fortunate, he’ll let me remove his clothes.  I have come here with the full understanding that I’m here for his pleasure.  I walk across the room, silently, reverently, and kneel beside his chair.  I wait to be spoken to, because that is the role we’ve agreed I’ll play.  Yet, it’s more than a role – I want this.  It’s not merely a play, acting out.  I volunteer myself to his service. He’s watched me walk across the room, and submit to him on my knees.  I kneel, with my head bowed, knowing he’s looking at me.  My heart beats fast, and hard, in my chest.  I force myself to kneel, not fidget, not look up...

I haven’t touched myself in weeks.  Not sure why, what I’m waiting for.  Trying to hold back, for some reason?  Trying to avoid letting myself go, letting myself feel that rush.  More likely, I’ve not wanted to let go… of control.  Sex, even the kind by myself, has always been about getting out of my own head.  If I want to cum, I have to let go of all the control I try to exert on a daily basis.  Years of trying to forcibly keep myself, and my world, in check.  Rarely has sex been that all consuming.  And when it has, it’s been amazingly memorable.  More often, I’ve been in a position of trying to please another.  Gaining from that, I suppose, a sense of acceptance and approval.  In short, the past few weeks have left me feeling exhausted and not particularly sexy.  So what changed? Short answer, porn.  Not just porn, no.  Porn showing a guy I’ve whacked off to innumerable times in the past.  Why now?...