Tag Archives: Marriage

Turkey and Misogyny

blissfullyinequal

I woke up this Thanksgiving morning to a hard cock parting my plush rounded ass cheeks.  As the length of him submerged between them, he trailed the head of his cock through my velvet flesh, parting my pink pussy lips with the thickness of him.  His cock immediately slicked with his cum trickling from inside of me where he released hours before.  Reaching around my body, he took his thick, calloused hand and wrapped it around my neck, squeezing.  His vascular forearm nestled between my ample breasts, pulling my body into his as he thrusts his solid cock inside of me.  His thrust forces the concoction of our cum to trail down his length and pool around the base of his shaft.  I feel his coarse body hair against my back and his thick beard brushing the back of my neck. His breath is heavy, and his moans are deliciously low, a primal rumble from deep inside his chest. I could swear I absorb every drop of his masculinity through all of my senses, permeating the very pores of my skin.

I get high off of his masculinity, the opposite that makes me whole.  In nearly every moment of the day, I am reminded about how grateful I am to have a man who fearlessly embraces his masculinity, and not in a way that mainstream society would find acceptable.  My man is a devout believer in patriarchy and as ironic as it sounds, a loving misogynist.  Although this may not work for many women in today’s society, I thrive off of his belief in being superior to me in most ways.  I am not his equal, a belief we both share, and that belief is in no way a threat to me or my sense of self.  Conversely, his embracing his masculinity apart and separate from the feminine is exactly what heightens my sense of femininity in myself.  You see, my personal belief is that a man that embraces feminism, or routinely touts gender equality, is simultaneously diminishing his own masculinity.  I appreciate the more traditional aspects of how relationships and marriage used to be.  Men are being demonized daily; meanwhile, many women are sitting back, spectating or even supporting such movements whilst chanting, “We don’t need a man!”

Well, I do.

I don’t just want my man. I mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically and in every way imaginable NEED my man.  He is the counterpart to my greatest attributes, ones in which he cannot embody nor desires to embody.  I am the perfect counterpart to his greatest attributes, ones in which I cannot and do not wish to embody.  By embracing our inequality we cultivate a organic equilibrium within our bond.  Power struggles do not find life in our home.  My husband and I do not fight over who gets to wear the pants.  He does.  Give me the dress and heels.  I want absolutely nothing to do with those pants; I couldn’t possibly fill them as perfectly as he does, and thus, suit him so much better than they ever could me.

I feel the modern day woman is doing a disservice to both themselves and men that women will soon (if they are not already) live to regret.  For every time a woman chants, “I don’t need a man”, are they not also acknowledging that men don’t need THEM?  As women preoccupy themselves with raising fists in opposition of the patriarchy, how could men not begin to disassociate themselves from women?  Why would a man choose the limp embrace of a woman who (admittedly) doesn’t need him, when he could find comfort in the arms of a woman who does?  Why would a man appreciate and value a woman for her femininity if he is not validated, acknowledged, and respected for what makes him naturally different?  In modern day, heterosexual relationships*, our quests for equality is perpetuating a divide between the couple and dissolves intimacy.  Viewing themselves as “equal” does not guarantee a more fair, loving, and nurturing relationship; On the contrary, by not embracing what makes us so beautifully different and complementary, we are neglecting the validation of such admirable qualities in our partner.  Sameness is boring.  While equality may be seen as more “fair”, it certainly is not more balanced.  The balance exists when two people can accept where their partner far surpasses their capabilities, is acknowledged for those gifts, and by association, acknowledges the converse of such gifts in their partner.

This morning, as my glorious husband pushed his thick cock inside of my tight pussy, two uniquely different bodies were made whole.  His strong, masculine body pressed against the smooth, healthy, feminine shape of mine leaves me in revere of our differences.  His grasp leaves me feeling secure and safe.  He would risk his life for me and I dedicate mine to his.  I admire him, and in such admiration, I find him to be my BETTER half.  I do not see him as my equal and I am grateful for my position.  In my position I am treasured, taken care of, and admired in a way that no “strong, independent” woman could be.  Yes, I absolutely need my man.

Now, I’m going to go bake a cake in all my domestic goddess femininity and enjoy him devouring my “cake” later.

*I emphasize this because I have no knowledge or personal experience to reflect upon any other kind of relationship; thus, have no business making assumptions about them.


Seed and Swallow

swal·low1
ˈswälō
verb
 1.
  1. cause or allow (something, especially ejaculate) to pass down the throat.
    “she swallowed a mouthful slowly”
    noun
  1. 1.
    an act of swallowing something, especially ejaculate.
    “she downed his ejaculate in one swallow”

    ShowLove

    I took a long and lazy break away from writing that I am not proud of.  However, it is the nature of me to wax and wane on things that require my attention outside of my King.  A particular topic has ignited my passion to write this post, even though the clutches of laziness for writing had a grip on me with great strength.

    What topic could inspire me from such depths, you ask?

    The topic of SWALLOWING.

    I have recently come to a shocking social discovery amongst my peers.  Many of the females I know, either rather well or just by brief acquaintance, do not swallow their man’s cum.  But, this isn’t just a matter of not swallowing, no.  These women express that they don’t like his cum and find it “disgusting”. Now, this discovery bothers me on so many levels and I feel the need to address each one; not only because it does my psyche well to express things that frustrate me, but because maybe this will resonate with the very few people who will actually read this post.

    My King is a fantastic pussy eater.  He is passionate, aggressive, and will quite literally devour me.  He is very complementary of my taste, and hearing the rumblings of, “You taste so fucking good” escape his muffled (get it?) mouth generates a fire within me that ignites my femininity from the most dormant recesses of my body.  He never hesitates, never waits, and never progresses toward my pussy with caution.  I never go long without being exceptionally eaten.  My King insists upon making me cum, using his muscular strength to lock down my hips as they buck energetically in anticipation of my orgasm.  When I do cum, I flood.  He will proceed to press harder into my flesh, lapping more and more with each twitch of my body.  As his moans grow deeper, he usually thrusts a finger or two inside of me, only to lick them clean after pulling them from my body.  I feel like a goddess.  I feel beautiful, desired, owned, and utterly appreciated for being a woman.  His woman.

    I cannot imagine if, upon the first signs of my impending orgasm, my King pulled away from my pussy and proceeded to rub my clit to finish the deed.  I cannot fathom how I would feel if his mouth stayed on my cunt long enough to finish my orgasm, only to spit out whatever saliva he had in his mouth that still tasted of me.  I would be devastated if my husband asked that I cum on his chest, and after my orgasm, he took a towel and wiped me off him while making a face akin to a face one would make while wiping off a bird shit from their t-shirt.

    Yet, this appears to be commonplace behind closed doors.  I can’t understand, for the life of me, why a man would accept any of these behaviors from a woman, especially a woman you are committed to monogamously.  Why are men so tolerant of a woman viewing their seed in such a way, when a woman would never be as tolerant?  Is this another reflection of our cultures growing inequality and demasculinization of men in the name of “feminism”?  Are men starting to feel like that’s “just the way it is” and cum swallowing women are saved for viewing porn?  And what about in a marriage, where you have promised to spend the rest of your lives together in a monogamous relationship, and you have a lifetime of feeling the cold air hit your cock just prior to orgasm.  If your wife is reluctant, or downright refuses to swallow your cum, what other doors will be shut in the realm of your sexual experiences together?  How does this not frighten these men straight into the arms of a receptive woman?  Perhaps this is sometimes the reason for affairs, and if so, I don’t blame the men for wanting to put their cocks in a welcoming mouth.

    Yet, it would still be the man’s fault.  He would still be labeled a “dog” and scorned by the vast majority of those around him.  He would still go to sleep feeling the tinge of guilt on his conscious for acting on desires that went unmet…

    For wanting to be WANTED.

    I’m not saying a woman needs to love cum.  I’m not saying that she must get on her knees before her man, mouth agape, batting her eyelashes, parched and desperate for his cum.  I’m not saying a woman needs to scoop her man’s cum into her hands and devour it like a toddler does with a slice of birthday cake.  I am suggesting that a woman should swallow a man’s cum when he wants to leave his cock in her mouth to orgasm.  I am suggesting a woman should show appreciation for her man’s cum as if it’s her pleasure to please him.  I am suggesting that when sharing your bodies, there should be very few things you find distasteful about one another and cum should NOT be one of them.

    I would argue that the taste of orgasm should be seen as a reward.  Brining your loved one to orgasm should be something of an accomplishment to be cherished and valued.  Most common arguments from women for not swallowing cum can easily be resolved:  If you don’t particularly like the taste of his cum, use flavored organic lube.  If you don’t like the feeling of his cum hitting you in the back of the throat, deep throat him.  If you can’t deep throat because it makes you gag, use a product that numbs the back of your throat temporarily.  Or better yet, practice deep throating.  You can significantly improve your gag reflux by practicing, and I’m fairly confident your man would be a willing participant as you practice.  Bottom line, there is no excuse for not swallowing.  It is inexcusable to treat the product of your man’s orgasm as intolerable.  Step outside of yourself and imagine how that rejection would feel.

    And if, as a man, you feel guilty when holding the opinion that a woman should swallow…Don’t.  Women don’t struggle gulping down ridiculous drinks to lose 10 lbs; swallow smelly, bad tasting herbs to improve their hair and skin.  Women will eat certain foods that are disgusting to improve their beauty and health without hesitation.  If she’s unwilling to swallow your cum, you should find it insulting.  She is basically saying that your pleasure isn’t worth her discomfort, and by accepting that, you are saying that her opinion is okay.  You are rewarding her pettiness, and that is unacceptable.

    I find it tragic that so many women will treat their men in a way that would make them feel rejected.  A man who tolerates this behavior perpetuates this double standard.  Just because we have been cultured to feel that a man’s emotions and need to feel appreciated is an afterthought doesn’t make it true.  Just because we often place men into roles with a purpose meanwhile quickly dismissing their need to feel like a man, doesn’t mean they aren’t longing to feel like a man.  Just because you may not WANT to doesn’t ultimately make it unnecessary.

    If it’s true that actions speak louder than words…

    SWALLOW.


Breath of Surrender

“With the fingers of my dearest ally, passionate lover and forever King both wrapped snugly around my throat and thrust deep inside of me, I breathe in His Dominance.”

This morning, I was pinned against a wall in my bathroom with a hand to my throat.  The strong fingers of his right hand were wrapped tightly around my neck, while the digits of his left hand were penetrating deeply into the plush flesh of my vagina.  My nipples were aching, erect, and the beautifully metal bars that adorned through my flesh glistened in the bathroom light as I thrust them higher into the air.  Weak at the knees, a slight bend caused the length of his fingers to breach me deeper.  I relaxed into his hand’s embrace around my throat.  I allowed my breath to grow shallow as I reveled in the sound of my lusty heartbeat in my temples.  A steady, beautiful beat of surrender.  A seductive paradox: a hard, cold wall pressed to my back; a temperate and utterly satisfied soul lies encapsulated within a sweltering and lascivious body.  His asphyxiation is a warm blanket to my sexuality in which I find complete comfort.  His restraint is my rapture.

I was once pressed against a wall with a forearm to my throat.  I felt little fear in this instance, however, I was not safe.  I looked into the shallow eyes of a man in which dominance was something feigned.  The increasing pressure at my throat was an act of desperation intended to quell my protest.  Yet, my protest persisted.  Raising my chin higher, I looked down my nose to the spineless man and uttered in a hoarse voice, “You are an embarrassment to real men.  You are nothing but a little pussy.”  In this moment, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.  Keep in mind, we were not operating within any type of BDSM dynamic.  We were simply a toxic couple whereby his abusive behavior was his way of attempting to control me, and my antagonistic attitude was my method for establishing my inability to be controlled.

I have always had a thirst for dominance from the time I was young.  Dominance was something enigmatic to me.  A specter in the night whilst I traipsed in the shadows of insecure men’s souls.  My quest for dominance was akin to a hunger pang where you can’t quite pin exactly what would satisfy your craving, but you know you must have that certain, “something”.  I would later learn that a little “something” was actually a whole dynamic that I needed to center my sexuality around.  I identify as closely with being a submissive to Him as one would identify as being gay, straight, bisexual etc.  My sexuality is interwoven with my submissiveness; but, I had no idea I needed this dynamic until I met my King.

Prior to Him I was destroying men in their vain attempts to control me.  A free spirit “firefly” whereby they would temporarily trap me within their glass jars until my spark would no longer ignite.  A lioness in a mesh net.  A pit viper in a shoebox.  A siren to a slew of hopeless seamen.  No man could possess me.  No man could turn me to a kept pet.  No man solidified my commitment.  Until Him.

With the fingers of my ally, passionate lover and forever King both wrapped snugly around my throat and thrust deep inside of me, I breathe in His Dominance.  I relax into the embrace that never harms me.  I relinquish control to the Man who never forced my surrender.  I give full ownership to the only man able to possess me.  The only Alpha to trump my own.  My King.

His warm breath exhaled against the lobe of my ear as he moans, “mine”.  His kiss upon my lips.  His body pressed against my skin.  Hunger satiated.

His.


Interlude 1

My diamonds are at home. He cleverly hid them from me as punishment for leaving the house sans wedding rings yesterday. Yet, my collar graces my neck in a way more personal than a wedding band surrounds the finger…

People put so much stock in marriage – the crux of commitment, intimacy and trust; yet, so many marriages are without all three. I have never cared for marriage much, finding little connection to the union.  Being married never made me feel committed. In fact, I have only been able to commit to one man, no matter what my marital status had suggested.

I feel my marriage is an afterthought by comparison to the commitment I have to serve and obey my King, who is also my husband. My marriage has been reinforced by our lifestyle. Our marriage enhanced by my servitude and his personal conviction to cherish what is His. His because we choose, regardless of the piece of paper between us.

Society recognizes the rings on my finger as a symbol for marriage. The same metal and stone combination that grace the finger of the vast majority of women. Only a few people would recognize my collar as my commitment to serve. Both bring me great pride to wear. Both are a symbol of my devotion, eternally.

However, I prefer the “weight” of my collar.


Children, Not The First Priority

In celebration of the New Year, I’d like to wish you all a happy and prosperous 2015!  I thought I would throw that little “feel good” energy before I go on about my regular writing.

As I’ve indicated before, I don’t really concern myself much with marriage or the condition of the institution within society.  I believe marriage should be a beautiful expression of love; but, as love has many layers of intensity and can be fleeting in nature, I am left untroubled by the crumbling of unions.  I do feel there is a significant contributor to the disintegration of marital bliss, despite the numerous messages culturally programmed into us suggesting the contrary…

Putting the kids first.

I know many dedicated parents who subscribe to the cultural kid-centric groupthink, and I can hear them shaming me in my head for the words I previously typed.  I could not care less.  I feel with great passion that we have deviated far from lifestyles that encourage lasting monogamy, a difficult practice to maintain to begin with.  I also speak often of how marriage and monogamy is particularly juxtaposed against male evolutionary development.  Worse, we have relatively abolished adult right and welcomed children to participate in an authoritative position within the household.  We wonder why society suffers from an unruly and dysfunctional family life.  We wonder why the majority of the populace suffers gravely from a false sense of entitlement.  But, we keep treating little Johnny and baby Janie like they should be the center of our universe, the sole reason for living, and our only source of enjoyment as adults.  I feel the sex most slighted from this misappropriation of importance are men.

A mother will often care for her boys with tenderness, providing a feminine love much different than the love a boy experiences from their father.  Boys learn that they are to be valued as a contributor, a provider and the “head of household”.  Society sends a similar message to boys, encouraging strength, competitiveness, emotional hardiness, power, and success.  These messages cultivate a mission within boys to behave a certain way, and by the time they become men, they associate an expectation upon those they are romantically involved with:  They assume they will be valued for their contributions to the home and to the relationship.  But, conversely, we are teaching women quite the opposite.  An emphasis on importance is being directed away from the wife, and pointing toward the “mother”.  At one time, it appeared that “wife” and “mother” were in agreement.  Now, it appears that it’s all “mother” and a big middle finger is being given toward men and being a good “wife” – Unless we need the men to contribute their sperm, of course.

I have seen women quickly neglect men from the moment their eyes gaze upon their child.  Sure, a woman can say that it’s because a baby requires more, a man is self-sufficient, and he should not need to be cared for.  A woman could argue because of the baby time is scarce, and because of this, there is little time left for the husband.  A woman could uphold that both she and her husband agree that the children should always come first.  I am just going to step out there and call bullshit:  You got the greatest contribution from the man – his seed and his money – Therefore, you hold little regard for him after.  He becomes a side note, a hindrance, and a nuisance.  Women cluck among each other, “I have three babies; two children and a husband.” I have heard women say, “My biggest child is my husband.”  I have never heard a woman say among female gatherings how much they value their husband as a man, as an individual, apart from what he does for her and the children.  To most women, men are a vessel of production; their value does not extend beyond what they can provide.  Sadly, they often won’t complain and suffer in silence, because they were taught not to be needy.  This is a disgrace.  Men need tenderness, appreciation and love for their contributions.  They need to be acknowledged.  But, women are often too busy bitching or making bracelets on their daughter’s rainbow loom to care.  No wonder porn is more comforting…

Children should not understand their place of value is greater than that of the parents.  Children should understand that they do not have the power to dictate every day decisions made in the household.  Children should not be requested to be more adult than they are by allowing them to make decisions that affect the well-being of the entire household.  I will go on further to state that I appreciate that my household is headed by a man who assumes all of the decision making.  Certainly, we take things to an added extreme while operating within our 24/7 Master/slave relationship; but, that dynamic only encourages a power hierarchy that enables the children to understand their place.  They do not get to make decisions that impact the adults, especially my Husband.  My husband places the greatest of priority upon the health and well-being of his wife.  We both understand that the children are our first responsibility; however, they do not get to occupy the place of household priority. They are valued above the relationship maintained by the adults.  They have consequences for their actions and how they impact the household.  They have expectations that are akin to those reasonable for a child.  Everyone has their place.

You cannot show your appreciation for your man in the same ways you wish to be appreciated.  Men need to be shown appreciation in ways more tangible.  They need to be fucked.  They need to be loved.  They need to feel appreciated by drawing their dick into your mouth and selflessly pleasuring them.  I realize I sound exceedingly cliché, but I believe men should be provided delicious meals and a loving touch along with kind words.  Men need you to remember they are visual, and present yourself in a way that show you value yourself for your own feminine allure.  He needs you and your love as desperately as your child, he just won’t scream and cry until he gets it.  His lack of vocal outcry does not make his needs less important; on the contrary, his reluctance to ask for doting affection and attention shall serve as a warning sign that he is growing despondent.

I am merely arguing that women need to acknowledge that children are the first responsibility, not the first priority.  A distinct differences lies between responsibility and priority.  You can tend to something else, such as a child; meanwhile, you can acknowledge that your husband is the priority.  I believe that the adults in the household need to maintain that the two of them, and the health of their relationship, should be the first priority.  As children are deliriously needy, allow them to be your number one responsibility – understand the difference.  Hopefully you will raise your children to be self-sufficient, well rounded, and independent adults.  You will not achieve this by allowing them constant priority and attention.  They will grow up and build homes of their own.  Once the dust settles on raising your little family, you may see the only person left to stand beside you is that man you devalued – if you are lucky.  Make him your first priority, and your children your first responsibility, and you may just be holding hands to watch the dust settle together.