Sunday, December 14, 2003

Trust Your Gut

Perfect. This weekend with Marlboro Sir was just perfect. I had a great time.

After last weekend, it wasn't something I was looking forward to. I could not have been more desultory while I was inserting the buttplug, packing up, and heading out on the road yesterday. A Petco cage in a frigid basement was staring me right in the face. Yikes.

After taking my time (I was further delayed when my father asked me to address his Christmas cards before leaving), I got to Sir's house. The first order of business was me spending some more time in the cage, which, thankfully, had been relocated to the toasty warm second floor.

This was great. It gave me time to get into boy headspace. It's all about submission.

Sir had promised me a 'special surprise,' and after some time in the cage, in the door he came, dressed in Frye boots, a leather jock, and a leather vest. Cool!

Well, not quite so cool. "Your fucking under arrest!" he said, which would have been good, although he sounded just the way Charles Nelson Riley would sound delivering that line. I was stunned speechless. But rather than bursting out laughing, I was determined to go deeper onto boyspace.

And I did.

Charles Nelson ordered me out of the cage and to my feet. He decided to slap the cuffs on me. Alas, he couldn't quite figure out how to do this, and had obviously never done it before in his life.

Singletails Top Tip: Rehearse! Rehearse! Rehearse! Never ever do anything in a scene that you haven't done ten times before without effort, even if it means sitting in your room alone and putting handcuffs on the bedpost or your plush toy or whatever and feeling like an idiot.

But this just meant I had to go deeper. I was there not to critique, but to serve.

Then, Charles Nelson pointed to a big fat hardon and ordered me to my knees. This worked and worked well. This I could do. I could be Sir's cockslave, servicing his buddies at his request.

Then, we all went I was ordered downstairs to the sling room in the basement (brrrr). It seemed like in addition to cockslave service, I was also gonna be the sling boy. I was definitely down with that.

Charles Nelson got himself into position and prepped to fuck me. Alas, my hole was not cooperating, and Charles Nelson got exactly nowhere.

But while he was trying, Sir leaned over me, covering me with his body, keeping me warm, stroking me gently, telling me I was a good boy, and how proud he was of me. Then Sir asked me if I wanted my Dad's dick inside me.

"Yes, Sir!"

Sir took Charles Nelson's place, prepped, and slid right in. Like magic. Sir inside me. That felt really good. Sir and I locked eyes, and Sir kept the stream of verbal flowing. He gave me permission to work my dick, and pretty quickly, I shot a load that Sir and Charles Nelson agreed was the most impressive that either of them had seen in a long time.

Then, Sir got in the sling for a milking. While I worked my Sir's dick, Charles Nelson kept patter going, or tried to. Alas, it became clear to all of us that Sir wasn't gonna be giving his boy the satisfaction of his load that night. So Charles Nelson took a turn in the sling. I worked Charles Nelson's chest and nips while Sir worked his cock. Charles Nelson climaxed. Sir and I were eyelocked. We hardly noticed.

Irritatingly, while we all toweled off, Charles Nelson suggested that we 'drop all of that Sir-boy stuff.'

Nuthin' doin'. Not while I was with my Sir. We repaired to the downstairs den to chat while Charles Nelson got himself dressed. I think that Charles Nelson sensed that there was Big Energy between me and Sir, and quickly wished us both goodnight and hit the road.

After Charles Nelson left, Sir considered his options. More cage time for me? Back in the sling so Sir could get himself some satisfaction from his boy's asshole? Nope. Sir had another idea: a jacuzzi.

We went upstairs, Sir drew a bath and ordered me to strip, and we climbed into the jacuzzi. We shared a cigar while Sir told me about how he was gonna train my ass, how good he felt this week being in control of my asshole and my dick, how he was gonna get his boy marked permanently, how he was gonna take me down and make me a bottom boy, make me a cumdump sling boy, with a trained ass that I can give up whenever a man wanted a piece of it, how Sir would get me to focus on my asshole and forget about my dick, so when the day came that Sir took off my cock and balls, I wouldn't even miss them.

Oh yeah.

After the jacuzzi, it had been Sir's plan to cage me for the night. But Sir revised that. I wasn't gonna be the cage boy that night. I was gonna share Sir's bed. Sir put the next-larger-size buttplug in me, and we got into bed. I drifted off to sleep plugged with Sir's arms around me, his boy.

This morning, Sir woke me up. He wanted me to start the day by riding his dick. Better believe I was up for that.

Afterward, Sir and I headed downstairs. Sir told me to relax on the sofa with a cigar and a cup of tea and read the paper. Sir would make breakfast as a buddy of his (not Charles Nelson) was coming over.

So I did.

Sir made scrambled eggs, bacon, ham biscuits (mine are better, wait'll Sir tries'em), fresh fruit salad, sticky buns, and sausage-cheese balls with weird orange american cheese. (I was not deep enough into submission that submitted to the sausage-cheese ball challenge. Sir may succeed in making me into a dickless cumdump peg boy, but he's not gonna get me to eat things made with orange american cheese. This proto-dickless cumdump peg boy has his standards!)

Sir's buddy showed up for breakfast, and then had to leave as we were finishing up.

And then, Sir and I talked. For the next four hours. Moving to the sofa and having some of Sir's hot apple cider. Sir and I talked about life, about love and sex, relationships, the intersection of fantasy and reality, about love, about our hopes and dreams, about whipping, about being a Top, about me Topping Sir, about Sir Topping me, about ourselves, about submission, about where we had been and where we were going, about how we were gonna get there. It was beautiful. Sir is an intelligent, kind, caring, insightful man. My life is richer for knowing him and submitting to him.

After last weekend, after spending a night in a freezing basement, I was pretty much through with Sir. It hadn't worked. It was a scene gone bad. But something in my gut told me that there was something there, that there was a lesson I needed to learn, and that Sir would be able to teach me. If I hadn't been padlocked into Sir's cockcage, I'm not sure I would have gone back this weekend, but my gut told me I oughta. And I did. And I'm glad I did.

One other thing. Because this was an overnight trip, I had faithful companion along. Sir has a dog, too. A basset hound. Faithful Companion and Sir's dog were like long lost buddies. They loved each other. It made a nice leit motif to the weekend overall.

Perfect.

Trust your gut about these things.


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