Posts tagged hot
The Reciprocity of Trust: Rope Journaling 6-2

Somewhere along the way while sharing my rope stories I noticed something I wasn’t expecting started was happening. People kept saying “I trust you.” Or “I know from your reputation that you’re a safe person to explore this.” Or, and this blows my mind every time: “I really want you to be the first one to tie me up.  Like, really tie me up.”

And holy fuck if I don’t smile and beam and giggle and say “oh my god yes I’d be flattered, please come to me and my rope.” But on the inside I’m ugly crying as that broken, hurt part of me that’s been raped and violated and had her trust tattered again and again by shitty rope tops melts.  She gets smaller and less prickly every time someone tells me I’m trustworthy.  That means I’ve done everything right, I’m nothing like that monster who raped me. 

So I gladly put people in my rope and blast them out of this world with intimacy and happy brain chemicals as I wrap them up in my rope and my arms.  But they probably don’t notice me planted firmly on the ground, processing the experience and working every second to make sure they’re safe while they aren’t fully in control of their body.  That’s a heady experience and a lot of work.  But so worth it to show people how beautiful rope and kink can be when there’s trust and a connection. 

The problem with being the safe safest very most safe rope lady is I often can’t mix rope and sex, it gets so confusing since consent is something I never want to violate. I mean I’m all about people feeling pleasantly used and abused at the end of our time together if that’s what they’re into. I like providing that.  Fuck yeah!  But it takes me a long while to believe the person I’m tying up when they say sexy stuff is welcome along with rope, it isn’t something I can do casually. 

Jump to last weekend where I spent a blissfully large amount of time with the new fellow

I’ve been smooching on. Dear reader, it was our third date and we were out in daylight hiking, sharing food and drinks in the sun, then snuggled up in my bed all night participating in the holy and oh so rare for me trinity of rope/sex/cuddling. I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve shared that with!  So I was swooning with happiness.

On our first date he too said some variety of “I’m super curious to experience real rope, from you especially.”  And I almost died of delight. I’ve been looking for someone I like in life and in kink at the same time for a long while…and here he was.  So I was more than happy to tie him up during our second date, adoring the way he melted into the rope and against my body as I timidly bound him and touched and kissed him but not much else before releasing him so we could explore one another as equals.

And during that hike it was him that kept bringing up rope, the cheeky boy. Which made getting through dinner a multi hour tease, during which I was already picturing him naked. In my bedroom it was me that was nervous while I bound him and he calmly rolled around in my lines as I experimented with sensations to see what he might like.  Though his body let me know he was enjoying himself, practically yelling at me to take him, I couldn’t, he was too quiet and I’m too cautious.

So I untied him and we were back to the awkward but sexy fumble of trying to figure one another out with hands, and mouths and eventually merging body parts.  But not finding satisfaction we were at the odd moment of “now what?”

“I liked being in the blindfold while I was tied up.”  He demurred. As in, hint, hint lady tie me up again!

This was new, I’d (no hyperbole) never ever been in bed with someone and had them request more thorough or more frequent rope.  Nope, I’ve always been the one begging for rope time. So you better bet I got up and untangled that mess of rope on the floor and bound him up tight and vulnerable and naked at the center of my bed.  And instantly his body was alert and willing where it had been soft and lovely at rest seconds before.

And this time I trusted him (because that’s a big thing rarely talked about isn’t it, that the trust goes both ways, because I need to trust that my bottom actually wants or can handle what they’ve asked for in addition to them trusting me to not cross boundaries) and tied him so that he was exposed and there for the taking.  It took my breath way to see him there.

So oh did I take! Taking pleasure in pleasuring him, lapping at his body as if he were the cure to something, so tempted to ride that which was exposed to me but deciding to wait until later.  But the knowing I could trust that he would enjoy that taking, that riding, that shared vulnerability was heady.  I trust him in so many ways, rewarding his trust of me by returning it. 

He’s not a monster (not even close) and neither am I.  So it’s okay (more than okay!) if sex and rope and more all happen at the same time.  Now to remind myself of that next time I have him in my rope…

Living the Dream: Rope Journaling 12-14

He just has three loops of rope around my chest, practicing a simple harness when he sighs, kissing the crook of my shoulder and half whispers, “Why is this so hot?  Rope on skin?”

We kiss over my shoulder, me trying to hold back the smile threatening to part my face from ear to ear, just long enough to feel his tongue on mine for a moment.  Then I turn away from him so he can finish the tying and so I can blush in secret; embarrassed to be this easily turned on. I’m unpracticed at giving in to someone else.  I’m so recently accustomed to playing at being self sufficient.  So it surprises me to lean into his chest, to long for his touch so thoroughly.

He’s fully clothed, large, warm and comfortable behind me.  And damn he feels good. I trust him not because its erotic to give power over to someone, but because he’s earned it by asking, “May I?” or “Do you want this?” while looking me in the eye.

Why is this so hot?  It’s just a chest harness. One little piece of rope.  I’ve done much more complicated or decorative or sadistic rope with others.  But sometimes it just takes the one piece of rope applied in just the right way by the right person. 

I have to remind myself to silence the sarcasm and mouthyness I use to keep people at a distance.  Reminding myself that he’s invited in. That vulnerability is the necessary and delicious evil required for intimacy.  That this man is an adult, capable of closeness without the mind games, gas lighting, and narcissism I’ve recently allowed myself to become accustomed to.  So I let my guard down and let go of controlling the moment. Quiet, I just lean into him and coo at his touch waiting for him to proceed. 

He wants to learn how to bind my wrists behind my back the way he’s seen in photos so I teach him and he gets it right off, such a quick study.  And I think that will be that, he’ll untie me and we’ll move along.  Instead he reaches for my mouth with his again, reaches for my body with curious fingers.  Finishing undressing me, he thoroughly emphasizes the power dynamic.  His clothes rubbing against my nudity, a reminder that he’s in control as I dance my hands over whatever parts of him I can reach.  Feeling him under the layers of fabric, everything I want but can’t yet have.

Soon he tugs at his shirt, removing it so that our skin can touch.  The heat of him, of being only able to press my fingers against his belly but not return is caress, maddening in the best possible way.  The tease is my favorite part after all.  Our mouths keep finding one another, that’s all that matters in this moment.

Then he’s guiding me into the bed still turned away from him so I’m face down in the bed.  He can see and control my everything from here. And I feel him taking me in before joining me on the bed, hands and fingers and mouths everywhere. The taste of me on his fingers. That shocked and delighted look in his eyes.  Both of us panting.

Then the moment I thought would never come, he steps out of his pants and presents himself to me.  I’m so hungry for him and desperate to return the favor of boundless pleasure. And he lets me. My turn to listen to him sigh and gasp.  To look up his body and see his mouth open around nonsense words, eyes rolled back into his own world.

And I’m surprised again when he doesn’t untie me for the next step either, our bodies intertwining. Our moans and movements in rhythm.  Oh how I’ve missed this. For too long I’ve been teaching rather than experiencing rope.  The celibate rope slut.  Now here I am, thanks to him, experiencing everything I enjoy. I lean into the bed, angling myself into him, bound so simply and thoroughly by one piece of rope.

Why is this so hot?  It just is.