Sensory Overload

All it takes is for her to duck into the lounge room where I’m resting, completely nude, in all her mesmerising glory, to grab a head band for her bath —
And my mind is transported away.
She is chained to the bedroom, completely naked, her arms and legs spread apart.

There’s a bag over her head. Something new. Me being sadistic by toying sensory deprivation. She won’t be able to see. She won’t be able to quell any concern with a kiss. How long should I leave her with the bag on? Perhaps when the air runs low, when her mind is dazed, I could bring her to the brink of her orgasm — and as my mouth rests over her cunt, my tongue teasing her clit with small licks, I can remove the bag.

And as her senses rush back to her, her body seizes with all the power of an orgasm. 
The dizziness of the air rushing back to her melds with her pleasure. Maybe it’ll catapult her senses sky high. Maybe she might be elated. Soaring high into a space that’s beyond the norm but not beyond my reach.
I could bring her back with a gentle hug, soft words – and the reminder that I am in charge of her. And all that she is. 
And then I’m back in the lounge, a grin forms across my lips. I know just what to do. 

Wild At Heart


I wore clothes to bed for the first time in a while.
It was a particularly cold night in this here middle of winter Australian season. I thought to myself, I’ll just rug up. Sleeping nude can sometimes leave a chill and the last thing I want is to catch a cold. 
So I compromised. I took off my pants and left my shirt on. I figure keeping my chest warm was more important than my legs. 
For the first moments in bed, I was restless. My body screamed. An itch would snake its way up my back, under my right shoulder blade. Around and around in circles it slithered, knowing full well it was beyond the grasp of my arms as I tried to ease the itch. 
I tossed and turned, turned and tossed. I could feel the shirt construct me. Could feel the heat off my skin cooking underneath. Something didn’t feel good. Something didn’t feel right.
And the more I rolled left and right, the more my t shirt twisted beneath me, limiting my movements further. 
Enough was enough – I sat up and tore off my shirt and threw it to the space beside my side of the bed.
The feeling of peeling off the t shirt. Revealing bare skin, the cool middle of the night air skimming every surface of my body, the fact that I was naked…
My mind was instantly transported back to my youth. I had snuck away from the house, deep into the bush where I would undress. And run through the shrubs, feeling the wind on my body and a sense of freedom. I would masturbate there after a run. Feel my bare cock grow beneath my hands.
In that moment, I wondered how other people, those who enjoy nakedness, felt when they peeled off the last layer of clothing and felt completely and utterly naked in the world. 
In that moment, I thought of how it might felt for a woman to unclasp her bra and feel her breasts freed? The gentle breeze on a nipple, the feeling of them swaying as they are released. How a man might feel the air on his bare cock, how it might feel to touch that. 
I was reminded of a moment in time again: I had put a winter jumper on my pug. Moments later, I returned to the back yard to see she had removed it. She didn’t want it.
I, too, am the animal. Wild at heart, wanting not to be bound by clothes. Wanting to feel the world around on my skin.
And I have learnt my lesson – always sleep nude. 

Do Not Be Afraid Of Who You Are

I’ve been in the lifestyle for a number of years – 12, technically. And yet, a number of those were me wandering in the dark scared of my own desire. Fearful of who I was. 
I’m much better now, with an open dialogue between the various aspects of my personality. But I still struggle. Whenever I am about to post, I am scared initially. Scared that one day, one thought will go too far. One story will be too rough. Or weird. 
I mean, I’ve written about sea creatures and vampires and sex cults and you guys are still here. But I still worry. 

And so today, I want to talk about fear.
For some, it starts at the beginning of your journey. You have a thought so effective that it scares you because of how you perceive it – that it’s weird or demented or troubling. 
Maybe it’s not just a thought, maybe it’s a mindset. A rape fantasy. A bondage fantasy. Maybe you’re a masochist and you’re trying to understand why you like sadistic concepts. 
Running from that thought won’t work. I tried. I ended back at square one face to face with the thought. And I’d feel guilty.
The trick, I think, is to begin to rewire your outlook. Day by day, steal a moment to yourself and think about what scares you. Remind yourself you’re not alone. That it’s okay to be the way you are.
For me, it was a long and slow process. I signed up to Fetlife. I challenged myself with nude photos. I dived into the local conversation. And day by day, I’d take a moment to read about it, in books, online. 
I think because I always kept the door open to learn, that eventually it became second nature to me. I felt okay being this weird mix of Daddy / Master / Primal.
Even though that’s my story and everyone is different, I feel like the keeping the door open notion is useful. Don’t run from it, keep one foot in the door and one foot in your comfort zone until you are ready to take a wander through entirely.
What we feel, who we are, is natural. It’s what makes us beautiful. Whether you’re interested in bestiality, like an old friend of mine once was, or whether you’re laying in bed married but out of sorts with your spouse. 
The first step is admitting these thoughts are okay. Are your own. The next step is up to you. You might fall or stumble but you’re stronger then you realise. You’ll be okay.
If you need help taking that initial step, if you want to run by a desire just to hear someone else let you know it’s perfectly fine, if you are confused, whatever the reason, you’re not alone. My email – my door – is always open.
Don’t be afraid to step through. 

Overactive Imagination


What does it say about my mind, if I ponder a strangers life?

In a second, my mind flashes – and I wonder about their shape, their tastes, their soul, the dark corners of their mind? 

Is it a matter of perversion? Am I THAT guy? The sleaze? Or am I just of a sexual nature, of a curious nature, pondering.
A woman behind the counter smiles, and I think about what that smile might look like years ago. And does she smile, not for me, but for herself when she is alone? 

A dad sternly tells his child to sit still, his wife and he exchange glances. What is their life like away from their kids, behind closed doors?
It isn’t a matter of being a pervert, I don’t think. I just think it’s a heightened sense of thinking. I’ve always had an overactive imagination. I’ve always thought too much and too deeply. 
People’s lives fascinate me. It’s something I love about this blog – hearing from people, getting to know them. Checking my email is exciting for me, though of late, it’s been empty, routinely cleaned. Chat to me? I’m sure I have a marble of knowledge to pass on. Maybe. 
I always feel guilty about thinking too deeply. Like it’s wrong to dig deep, to think about the raw nature of a person. To open that door. 

I’m not gawking at women left right and centre, it’s more that I watch everybody. Women, men, children, families, the middle aged woman behind the counter with the sad smile. Maybe it’s the writer in me?
I was looking at Facebook earlier. A post of a science fiction movie came my way, the image featured a woman, nude, knees bent hiding her breasts and vagina, and my mind skipped to the intensely erotic: 
What if she was held in a pod full of water, breathing through a tube connected from the device to her mouth.
What if there were machines, pulling at her legs, testing her desire, exploiting it. Like she was a pet to an unseen scientist. 

Does my mind always go to the sexual? Sometimes. My wandering mind tends to cross over into my high sex drive. But I guess what it comes down to is that I think too deeply.
And what I wanted to write, as the night heads into the witching hour, was that it’s okay to think deeply, about the people around you, about their minds, dreams, fears, relationships, desires and more. 
I wouldn’t advise going too far down the rabbit hole – unless you’ve got a guide to help you come back to Earth. But is it something you should hide from? Try to repress? 
No. Absolutely not. 

This Couple In A M/s relationship made Australian News?! 

For the original story, click here

So, hang on a minute. Hold the phone. Or go to press, whatever you’d like. 

I mean, yes hi it’s me. I’ve suffered a cold and have been reborn, but just look at this. 

This article, written by a Danielle Colley, about a middle-aged couple in a M/s just popped up in my NEWS section of my phone and….huh? What? This is news? Where did this come from? Why? And why now?

I’m baffled, really. You don’t see this sort of thing happening – and it’s in my home state as well so extra wow factor – it’s always nice seeing people so close to you in this life –  but good curly fries, what a surprise that this made news at all. I opened the article expecting to have a giggle at the way the person documented it, and does get a giggle for sounding a bit distanced from the subject, but it’s still here. Someone signed off on this, someone thought of reporting it. Why? I have no idea? Because of click bait?  No, let’s not be cynical. It’s about love. It’s about love in all the different places. 

While we may not grasp this kind of lifestyle, there is no doubt that this duo of kinksters are deeply in love. Kim says, “i am safe, i am loved, i am cared for, i am protected, and i am complete.”

All anyone can ask is to feel secure, protected and happy in a relationship, and we all get there in different ways.”
This, ladies and gents, is just sweet. It’s the perfect tonic for the night! Kim Debron, Master Joe! My hats off to you all! Especially you, miss Colley, for writing or wanting to write something about this. 

What a lovely little sentiment! Ole! 

Goddess’ Come In All Shapes And Sizes


It’s never really been something that I have held onto, this perfect idea of the perfect woman. I hear a lot of guys talk about it and I just sit back and think deeply on perfection itself. What does that really mean? Is imperfection perfection? I mean, no one’s perfect. Are they? And then it comes down to the idea that is — is perfection subjective or objective? Or both? 

I guess, for me, it’s the age old thought – if I love you, if I care about you, I don’t care if your slender or curvy. I don’t care about your race. I don’t care about looks.
If anything, any of these ideas opens new doors for me – I can think on a person’s backgrounds and something like that that is mentally charged is quite a turn on. I’m actually attracted to difference, and the great thing here is that everybody is different. You guys don’t know how excited I am when I see people from other countries visiting my blog. I get all excited thinking about your mysterious lives and what kind of devious things you might be up to. 
I’m glad that today in modern society, things are becoming alternative. You have rockabilly ladies, 50s pin-ups, suicide girls. There’s this whole sub culture that’s devoted to and promotes differences. And that is great. 
Since meeting my kitten, I’ve been introduced to the rockabilly idea and I’ve had a blast. These ladies are warm and generous and inviting and accepting. And I think this is what I love most.
Every curvy lady I have known has had the biggest heart. The biggest. These have been the sweetest people I’ve had the pleasure of being acquainted with. Not only that, I guess curvy ladies are immensely attractive to me. 
Why? I think it’s because I love to see a lady be herself, to not be afraid. I’m drawn to that personality, that strength. But also I’m drawn to that warm personality. 
It also probably has something to do with the fact that for the better part of my life I lived in a household full of women as the only brother / son. I don’t know. 
But see, here’s difference again because size doesn’t automatically make you sweet. Not at all. I’ve also met a lot of slender ladies and they’ve been beautiful to me in my time with them. Just like I’ve met attractive but nasty people. It all comes down to personal development. But I digress. 

You see, goddess’ come in all shapes and sizes. What’s important is their heart and soul and their devious minds. Especially their devious minds!
Am I making sense? I’m going to stop now because I’m rambling and I’m tired and I’m rambling tired and that is sometimes a drag. You guys are beautiful! 

What You Need To Understand If you are emailing me…

I wanted to write a follow up to an earlier post in which I talked about how it was becoming more difficult to keep track of every follower that deemed me worthy enough to follow. 
While that’s true, I wanted to reiterate to you all that no matter what my personal occasion is, excluding a situation if I’m with my kitten, as I want my full focus on being with her and only her, I’ll write back to you.

If you just want advice, I’ll write back to you within that day or, at the very very latest, that week.
If you just want a chat, I’ll be more than happy to write back to you.
You decide if you want to keep emailing to me, to pick my brain, ask me questions about my life, or continuous journey. 
This is not one sided either. The other reason I started this blog was because the lives of people who are different or similar to me fascinate me. Endlessly. So I love to connect with others. And you can expect me to ask questions that pick your brain. 
But the reason I wanted to write this now, in my AM on a cool Friday morning, is because sometimes someone writing in worries they’re stealing me away from my life. 
And while I appreciate the concern, That’s never the case. 
As I’ve stated earlier in this post, unless I’m doing uni work or being with my kitten, you’re not taking my time. Whenever I respond or check my email, know that I have chosen a time for me where I am free. It’s not borrowed time, it’s free time. Or I’m up late because I’m a night owl.
I am fortunate enough to be in a position where things align for me: I can work on my uni from home and live in a beautiful rewarding relationship where kitten comes home from work and we share our evening together from the moment she walks in the door to the moment I tuck her into bed all cute-like.

So writing to me doesn’t steal me away from her, because I’m already there at that point in time. I’ve made my mind up – she has my undivided total attention when she’s home up Until the time we dig into bed for a story. This is why you might not hear from me over the weekend. My relationship comes first before anything.

I hope this clears up any confusion that you may have.