Capitulation

i saw the Irishman this morning.

at the house.

i doubt any of you are surprised. it was inevitable. he had cast a spell on me. no. not even that. nothing that deliberate. it just was. it had to be.

i was thinking about it afterwards. how i have dinner with a perfectly nice guy, who could give me the companionship i'm looking for, who could have given me a very nice sex life, including spankings and nipple clamps albeit without the clear dominance i need and want, who would have come home with me that very night right after dinner and licked me to as many orgasms as i could possibly desire... i had dinner with this nice guy and said no. no sex on the first date.

and then this man, his words dripping with honey and desire, intensity and dominance sending flames shooting out of the edges of my laptop, this man e-mails me at 9 am on a Saturday morning to ask about my plans for the day and i'm up and scurrying and feeding cats and eating breakfast and washing the fleece blanket that was matted with cat hair and jumping in the shower and washing my curls and washing out the sink and cleaning out the toilet and going so far as to put the bedspread on the bed which i almost never do and he turns up right on time and spanks me and fucks my mouth and holds my head in his lap and departs after 35 minutes leaving me sighing and smiling with a slightly sore butt and totally at peace.

he is a lovely man. and if he were really available, i'll bet i'd run the other way. i can't seem to want the ones i can really have. but let them be married, let them live far away, let them be emotionally unavailable, and i'm pulled by some sadistic magnet to a state of satisfaction crossed with frustration.

i think i have a crush on him. so i suppose i'm better off than most people with crushes because i actually get to have a bit of him, even if it's just in half hour segments and mouthfuls of cum.

i do think i have a crush on him. he's charmingly good looking, in a relaxed delicious Irish sort of way. if i ever have to post another ad, i will specify Only Irish Need Apply. he's not that much taller than me, he's not a large guy, he's just the sort that i would normally want. and he has this lovely smile that lights up his face, lights up the room and the street and the entire neighborhood. it lights up his eyes, his sweet and tender eyes... eyes that in an instant can turn cold and hard or insistent and demanding... that can burn into me, that remind me that there can be no resistance.

i've missed this. oh God how i've missed this. and i love having his unhidden sweetness along with the dominance. as he got ready to go, he laughed tenderly, appreciatively, at my cute purple "sockies" with the cats on them.

his sweetness is a danger.

he arrived right on time. he brought in the paper from the walk. he held me to him, firmly and comfortably, and i melted into him. he knew i wanted him there. i sat on the couch and babbled, thinking - hoping - he would sit down and talk a bit. but this was not his intent. he looked out the dining room picture window at the backyard and commented on the invasion of bamboo from my neighbor's yard. then he pulled me to him again, and asked where i wanted to be.

my housemate was home.

i took him to the bedroom.

did he kiss me then? i can't remember. he turned me away from him so i was facing the bed. and he smacked my ass. his hand felt slightly cupped, and the impact was firm and controlled. it didn't hurt all that much as i felt it through one layer each of corduroy pants and pink panties. but it was a spanking and inside i sighed with relief.

in his messages he had characterized himself as a "kind Dom." after the first smack or two, he asked "is this ok?" i said "yes. it focuses me." he said "good. i want you to focus."

the spanking continued for a bit. i relished every firm landing of his hand. then he pulled me back against him, he pressed himself into my clothed ass as he pulled me back against him. he brought his arm around to my front and became acquainted with my nipples through the protection of bra and sweater, he brought his arm up to my neck, brought his hand to my chin, he pulled my head back and did things to my nipples... at some point i ended up face down on the bed... maybe that was right after he had me remove my pants. i was face down over the end of the bed, my ass hanging over the edge, and he spanked me through my pink panties, and then he pushed them into the crack of my ass, and he spanked me more.

and then the catechism began. he must have gone to the same school for Irish Catholic doms that the philosopher attended. he asked who owned each part of me and i promised him everything.

and we both knew he owned them only while he was there.

eventually he brought me back up.
he had me kneel before him.
he wanted me to serve him with my mouth.
and with gratitude, i did.
he has a lovely cock, and i took it lovingly.
i gave him pleasure happily.
and then he took my head
and pushed me down on his beautiful cock
and fucked himself with my head
and it didn't take too long
he was greatly in need
and he came in my mouth
and he tasted gentle.
it was gentle-tasting cum.
and i swallowed it happily.

and then...
ah then...
he sat down on the edge of the bed, and i stayed on the floor by his side, and he took my head in his lap, and put his right arm over my back and i'm not sure what he did with his left arm, but i was his baby girl and i was happy and we were peaceful together for a long time.

there were no words.
just this sweet silent communion
and breaths that flowed in and out together.

and then he had to go.

and then he had to go, and he had to tell me that this wouldn't happen all that often, and i told him i knew and i reassured him that i had no desire and no intention of threatening or disrupting the security of his life. and he said he knew that, he wasn't worried.

so.

so what have i gained?
yet one more unavailable Irish guy.
occasional short visits
occasional poetic exchanges of e-mails
a welcome supply of masturbatory fantasies
and reassurance for the philosopher that
some of my needs are being met.
sometimes.

plus there's the other one.

how many married men does it take to make up one full-time dom?

the man with the disabled wife, whom i will now call the director. because that's the way he exercises his dominance. these little directions, very small impositions of his will, so easy to follow but so satisfying for me to obey and for him to command. i think my submission to him, my training, will be a more ongoing thing than my interludes with the Irishman, limited by his various responsibilities but still a steady project. and while he would need to be subtle in scheduling his time with me, out of consideration for his family, our relationship would not be illicit.

he finally sent me a picture. he is not at all as good looking as either the Irishman or my philosopher. but the fiend wasn't good looking either - or not that i could tell what with his being so fat. it didn't matter. and it won't matter here. he is already giving me a lot of what i need.

in a way, it would be nice to have a third guy. i still haven't satisfied the need to have someone to "date." to hang out with. to go to dinner with, to the movies, to the theatre... but in another way, that's ok. i won't be placing any more ads. not for now. i was exhausted by all the dating and phone calls. i'll appreciate being able to collapse at home after work, though an occasional night out would be lovely... i wonder if that is allowed under the director's don't-ask-don't-tell agreement?

at the very least, 2 doms should keep me out of the philosopher's beautiful long red hair, while frustrating his desire to find some truly available guy to palm me off on.