Flying

The rain started again with a vengeance at 2am... by the time one got up some of the lower roads were flooded already and making a critical decision one called work. The trouble is that if they close the road, like the other night, one has no way of getting home by public transport and there isn't so much as a motel in that area. So the day was spent doing other things...

Though He was a little miffed that one was going to get an extra day off...

After breakfast one was carted off to bed and somewhere in there He amused himself with one of the many floggers. See the trouble with collectors is that they are a compulsive breed. It doesn't matter what it is, collectors can't help themselves... though some do hone it down to a highly specialised area... the compulsion usually manifests itself in more areas than one. In His case floggers seem to be breeding at the same alarming rate as music, books, DVDs and games do.  

This time we did try it a different way... when aroused, masturbating and with endorphin levels flying... along with the flogger. In fact we even managed to grab a pic when He was just done. And that people is as pink as it gets... by the time one writes this it will all be gone L In some ways it is so sad... all that flogging and so little to show for it...

The memories of how it felt as it thumped across the skin, of how it caressed and contoured around in that rhythmic beat will linger for a little longer. And so too will the incredible orgasm with Him buried in one's arse...

But as with all things it will fade...

If only because at some stage the endorphins will stop flying and one will come back to the ground with a crashing, burning thud.

Think lunch and a visit to the gym are in order...