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D.M.Dewey can be found:
Dandyland Diaries can be purchased:
Okay, I have worn them once. And it was a really funny story that I’m tempted to tell you about now. I’m trying to decide if it would be a good break for you if I were to show the other side of me—my story as a submissive that turned into a comedy of sorts. All right, here goes. It’s all part of the bigger story, so why not? Let’s just freeze on Sam for a moment. Sam, with his gnarled-up pain face and his freshly slapped dick.
Flash back to about one year earlier. It was winter and I’d been on that vanilla dating website for about two months now. All I’d come up with so far were horny weirdoes. That was actually okay, since I myself was a horny weirdo, but that wasn’t exactly what I was looking for at the time. I was looking for someone who could really turn me on.
I stumbled upon a handsome guy’s profile and began a simple conversation. We exchanged names and stats (pretty par for the course) that quickly led to more provocative suggestions. He was quick and direct and all too willing to show me what he had to work with in his nether-region, and let me just say that it was a happy and perky beast. I liked how he manhandled me with his words, and I was curious about how he would do that to me in person. I found myself behaving very submissively for the first time in my life, and I was really enjoying the thrill of relinquishing control to him. So we devised a plan.
We agreed he’d sneak into my apartment in the middle of the night and just go nuts on my big ass. I was nervous, scared, and excited all at the same time, and then the door opened. He crept into my apartment as quietly as a cat burglar and slipped into my bed. On that fateful night, he slapped me, spanked me, gagged me, choked me, and when he came on my face, I thought… I am home! This ignited in me a whole new fantasy of someone taking me completely and now I wanted to experience more. I saw that guy a few more times, but it was never quite the same after that first night. It was a very tough act to follow, even if he had been the one performing.
So I was meeting men with the forever-hopeful idea that I would find one that could really top me, and I mean REALLY top me. Not just bang away in a missionary passion until they grunted before falling into a fitful snooze. What I was hoping to find was someone to really take control of my inner dialogue and slap the shit out its dirty mouth. You know, the voice that constantly bitches at you for being a dirty whore while you try to get off? Or is that just me? I doubt it’s just me. Who cares?
Enter, John—shaved-head, earring-wearing, and pseudo-punk kind of guy. He claimed to be an energy vampire, but more importantly, he said he was a dominant in the BDSM world. I barely even knew what that meant at that point. He explained to me that he liked to totally take a woman… (DING, DING, DING, we have a winner, folks!) and fuck for hours.
I sure did like that sound of that. I was single, had no responsibilities other than myself, loved sex, always was careful to “bag the goods,” if you know what I mean, so why not? I told him I was in! I was so in I told him in an email that I would love to get some Ecstasy and roll with him. I don’t know why I wanted to do that since I hadn’t taken any drugs in pretty much a lifetime, but for some reason, I felt like going balls out on this one. Let’s do it! Let’s get high! He was so excited I think he nearly took a squirt right then and there. He was all too happy to supply the Molly if I would host the night.
We made a plan to meet that Saturday night… What is it with Saturday? Is it the go-to day for hedonists? Anyway, he slipped up and admitted he was feeling a little self-conscious about his weight. Uh-oh…
I would meet my close friend, Janet, for coffee the shameful day after a tryst and dish in great detail about the previous night. She was my sounding board throughout all of this. Since she understood my slutty shenanigans, I told her about his worries about his weight.
“He’s a fatty!” She laughed.
I showed her his picture. It was a headshot at best. “Does he look fat to you?” I asked.
“Well, he doesn’t look like he couldn’t be fat,” Janet replied.
Oh my God, she was right; there was definite fat potential in his cheeks. Fuck.