Hedonist Heaven

I had my first real date with Sir, last night.

It was fun. He picked me up and made me use a vibrator on myself in the car, and then pulled off the highway halfway to the poly event. He told me to go into Starbucks, head to the bathroom, and wait for him. A few minutes later he joined me, bent me over against the wall, and fucked me from behind. Rawr. I had to be quiet, which is nearly impossible for me, and he wound up covering my mouth. Then he handed me a ten and sent me to go order him a coffee. Ha. I got sex, AND a free caramel apple spice. A pretty good start to the night in my books!

We got back into the car and drove the rest of the way to the pub in the city, where we ordered drinks and then asked the bartender where our group was located. She started us a tab and pointed us towards the back, where we were welcomed warmly and introduced to everyone.

It was comfortable and casual. We talked about relationships and sex and poly and swinging and kink, with complete openness. It was such a relief to be around people who think like me, who are not afraid to be totally out there, who do not gasp and clutch their pearls at the mere hint of deviance. So refreshing.

We hung out for a few hours, and when we could no longer keep our hands off each other (at one point Sir positioned his hand on my seat perfectly when I returned from the bar, so as to discreetly slide his finger inside me as I sat down), we hugged everyone good-bye and walked towards the car. When we got to the not-completely-empty parking lot, he opened my door for me and fingered me behind it. It was dark, and we were in no one’s direct line of vision, but I am loud. It was hot.

On the drive back I was instructed to use the vibrator on myself, and I came so hard that when I got out to enter his house, I noticed my skirt was soaked through at the back. We fucked on the bench at the foot of the bed. We fucked standing up with him behind, and me bent over at the waist, bracing myself against the floor. We fucked in his enormous, four-poster bed. I screamed and cursed as he rammed into me, filling me with his hugeness.

We both could have fallen asleep after all that, totally exhausted from the build-up and then release, but I do not live there, so he took me home.


I miss him. This bothered me, and when I tried to figure out why I miss someone I do not know that well and don’t spend that much time with, I came to the conclusion that I miss what he does for me.

I miss being able to be who I am, without apology. I miss just being out and having kinky, dirty fun. Being irresponsible and brazen and wild. Having nothing I am responsible for. Not caring.

I am a hedonist at heart. I want to soak as much pleasure out of life as I possibly can. Heaven, for me, would be cavorting on a nude beach, cooking over a fire, partying, fucking, just being, without any of the crap that comes with real life. But of course, unless one is independently wealthy and has zero meaningful relationships, it is impossible to live this way. People, by very nature of being people, will complicate things. They will cause pain. I know that so well. I have even suffered at Sir’s hands, haven’t I?

So, I will continue to do what I need to do and be who I am depended upon to be–with my family and in the professional sphere. But there is no way I am giving up my little slice of heaven.


I met D.F. today. I don’t think I’m going to recount the details, because frankly, I just did not get off on it that much. By that I don’t mean that I didn’t come–I did, a lot.

What I mean is, it didn’t do the thing it usually does, which is get me so high I basically escape consciousness. I was thinking. I did not want to be present–that is why I do this. But it didn’t shut off my brain.

Maybe I knew it would be this way today. Maybe that is why, after him fingering me on the drive over for a good twenty minutes, I squeezed my legs shut. When he told me to spread them, I said “No.”

He pried my legs open, and shoved his fingers deep inside me, making me moan.

“Say ‘Thank you, Sir,” he commanded.

“No,” I said again.

“Am I going to have to punish you?” he asked. “Is that what you’re after?”

“No,” I said again, but this time, “No” meant “Yes.” I think I knew I needed something extreme. I wanted to be punished. I have been told that for a submissive, S&M helps manage “the burn.” It’s hard to crave your next encounter when your pussy’s still swollen and your ass is covered in welts.  I wanted him to hurt me.

But he didn’t. We fucked in our usual manner, and instead of whipping me,  he forced me to get on top. He knows I hate that. I am self-conscious about my body, and despite being an exhibitionist when it comes to some things, I just don’t like being on top like that. I feel like I’m on display, and not in a good way. I’m sure my extraordinarily lame attempt at topping from the bottom was recognized by him, and that he was trying to teach me that I cannot manipulate him into giving me what I want.

When he came on my chest, I had another orgasm, just from the erotic nature of being covered with hot cum.

But, the entire time we were screwing, I just had this sense that. . .I didn’t want to be there.

I wanted to be home watching TV with my husband. I wanted to draw the blinds and join my daughter in our bed for her afternoon nap. I had the strongest desire to devour a plate of hot-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies. I wanted to be comforted.

I do not know what is up with me. Maybe I am just tired–I’ve had a lot of early mornings lately. Maybe I am getting my period. Maybe, despite being horny, I wasn’t really in the mood. Or maybe, I’m done with distractions, and I want something real.

I’m not going to say that I am finished feeding my sexual hunger with meaningless hook-ups. Obviously, you’ve heard that one before. I am just going to say, that for the moment, I am enjoying yoga pants, hot apple cider, and the laughter of my children–real comfort.

P.S., He is my *Dominant now. Think whatever you want about that one.


*Edited to replace the word “Master” with “Dominant.”