My Girl, GentleSpirit

GentleSpirit is my girl. She is beautiful, vibrant, complex, and magnificent, and a pretty Irish lass to boot. She is funny and makes me laugh so much that my stomach is hurting, and she has the biggest, most all-encompassing heart I have ever seen.

All this and she has a great butt too. Grins.

She is an incredibly gifted writer although she will snort and tell you that what she does isn’t writing, that all she does is expressing her thoughts. I invite you to make up your own mind by reading her blog: http://gentlespirit.dreamwalker.com

You will find her on FetLife here.

Love let­ters: The third day (Or the calm before the storm)

This con­tin­ues from where we left off in Love let­ters: The sec­ond day. Dreamwalker: The email I sent you last night was still in the out­box of my email pro­gram this morn­ing. It sent as soon as I quit the pro­gram and restarted it. I’m sorry, sweet Gen­tle­Spirit, for being a klutz and not ver­i­fy­ing that it actually sent. […]

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Love let­ters: The sec­ond day

Gen­tle­Spirit is a study in girl­ish­ness, next to me; there are ran­dom gasps and squeaks and, yes, some tears, as she gets all emo reliv­ing our get­ting to know each other. Can’t say that I mind; girly is good in my book.

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Love let­ters: The first day

Last night, Gen­tle­Spirit asked if it would be okay for her to pub­lish some of our ear­li­est cor­re­spon­dence. Mag­nan­i­mously I waved my hand in a royal ges­ture of indul­gence. Read­ing it, I lost myself in the past as her post took me back in time and I decided to share it here as well.

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Gen­tle­Spirit: I Pray

Gen­tle­Spirit asked me to read some­thing she wrote this morn­ing. I did so while she looked at me intently. Once I was done, she asked what I thought. My response: “You fuck­ing made me cry.”

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Wait­ing for noth­ing to happen

She looked at me intently, no sign at all of eyes glass­ing over. Encour­aged, I could see that she was intensely con­sid­er­ing the finan­cial impli­ca­tions of trad­ing in not only bull­ish and bear­ish mar­kets but even in non-​trending markets.

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A Quiet Pinch

Unre­spon­sive to exter­nal stim­uli, save for what was hap­pen­ing to her nip­ple, her body rigid in my embrace, her head thrown back against my arm, she never even made a move to escape from what I was doing to her.

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It’s My Nature

Her green eyes rested on mine for sev­eral breaths, breaths of hers that I could feel through my grip of her throat.

“Why do you need to hurt me?”

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I Want To Get Lost With You

The most impor­tant thing is that we take this jour­ney together, hold­ing hands until we finally reach our ulti­mate destination.

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Hum­mer

GentleSpirit’s first hum­ming per­for­mance was like a dream come true.

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Brat­tySpirit

With­out tak­ing my eyes off the road, I flung out my right arm across her chest and found her right nip­ple and tweaked it hard. A sur­prised yelp and squeal later, I had almost a whole minute of blessed silence. After that, she was much more soft and pliant.

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No Pres­sure

That day, the girl with the smil­ing green eyes walked around with my seed on her breath, smug like the cat that had swal­lowed the prover­bial canary.

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Q: How Do You Process Mak­ing a Con­sen­sual, Will­ing Part­ner Really, Truly Suffer?

We are danc­ing on the edge of rea­son here; the deeper she sinks into the pri­mal and the ele­men­tal, the deeper she draws me in as well. And I don’t want to push her off the ledge. I want to leap into the void and pull her along with me, hold­ing hands as we descend.

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Wine­glass Make-​Out

Blush­ing and ring­ing laugh­ter in response to com­ment on mak­ing out with wineglass.

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Cut­ting off Con­tact as Pun­ish­ment Method

A fun­da­men­tal respon­si­bil­ity for us, the dom­i­nants in our rela­tion­ships, is to exer­cise judg­ment and to do The Right Thing even if it might go against our own preferences.

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Enter the Sadist

“I feel like I’m rap­ing you,” I growled/​sighed into her ear. She responded by becom­ing com­pletely limp for a few heart­beats until I resumed stab­bing her, rain­ing white-​hot sparks of pain over her ass and in her mind.

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Damn Endor­phins; Where Are They?

“What do you mean? Does that hurt?”

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This Is Not An Equal Relationship

This is not an equal rela­tion­ship. We are not the same. You belong to me and I belong with you.

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Crazy Meanie

“You’re a… you’re a crazy meanie,” she whined incred­u­lously while pro­tec­tively clutch­ing her breasts. And then she gig­gled, her green eyes sparkling with delight.

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Hurted

She said in a lit­tle voice, “That hurted. You hurted me…”

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