RTOTD #635.1

Day 635.1

I want to tell you all a story.

With the amount of talk about consent and negotiation and limits that's going on, and leading to labeling them and shaming and judging and torches and fucking pitchforks and even potentially outing them or removing any sort of anonymity that there is in this world, I just thought now would be a good time to tell you a story. It's actually fairly appropriate. And feel free to make a judgement about ME afterwards.

Before I begin though, I want to say that I've heard a lot of people talking in very black and white terms when it comes to handling situations. And in a way, it really does help for safety and clarity and all those great things. But it also makes a scene into a trip to your tax preparer. The mystery and the darkness and the chemistry and all that are what, in my opinion, really make a great scene. So while I understand saying things like "you never violate a limit that is set before a scene" and "you can't consent to changing your mind on something while in sub space" or anything else along those lines. I understand what you're saying, I just think you're wrong.

The story I'm going to tell you is actually directly on this topic. It was the greatest sexual based scene I ever had and it started with sexual contact as a limit.

Ever since the first time we even spoke about playing, we had always had a rule of no oral to genital or genital to genital contact. I was OK with this. I never pushed it. I never wanted to push it. I was perfectly happy with the play we did have and the chemistry from that. Hell, only on a handful of occasions prior to this had she had her panties moved or removed during a scene. We played a number of times. We played hard. We played intensely. And we got exactly what we wanted out of the scenes together. There was enough chemistry to most of the scenes we had together that we were drained when we were done, but with that stupid giddy smile on our faces. Sex during a scene was the furthest things from our minds. The gnashing and biting and flogging and punching and caning and everything else that often went into that scene was more than enough.

So one time, we were playing privately, as we were want to do. And that's where the story gets good.

We're playing, and we're kind of in an intense rough makeout session with hair pulling and choking and biting and scratching and everything. Animalistic. And like a lot of times, it involved ripping clothes off of each other. And I decided to really ramp it up this time. We had always kept the biting mostly on the upper half of her body with some biting lower and kept a lot of the scratching on the thighs and the ass and back. But this time, I kept going south with the biting. But I kept respectful of the limit. My mouth was not going to move to her. But I was enjoying the writhing from the biting and noticed that as I got closer with biting on the thighs and scratching of her ass and back as I moved lower, that it got more and more intense.

At this point, I decided to start mind fucking her a bit. And to play with that limit a little bit. To skirt it without crossing it. And to tease the shit out of her at the same time because it was obvious at this point that her body language and responses were absolutely loving what I was doing. And so I half-ask, half-state:

"No mouth to genital contact. But where is the line? Where does the body stop and the genitals begin? Is it here?"

And I bite a few inches away on her inner thighs.

"or here?" and a little closer but on the other thigh.

"or here?" while biting above.

I'm slowly working a circle from the inner thighs  above and around her pussy and down the other leg. Making each pass of that circle a millimeter closer to actually touching reaching that limit. All the while asking constantly "where is the line? where does the body end and the genitals begin?"

And I can see how hot she's getting. She's edging closer and closer to the promised land herself and I haven't even really touched any of her major sexual spots entirely except for her mind.

But after a few moments of this, a few moments of tormenting her to the point that she felt like she was going to explode. Without me ever violating her limit. She finally breaks. She reaches down, grabbing by the back of my head and slams her pelvis up against my face.

Within 30 seconds, she's having a god damn intense orgasm.

You know what I call that? Consent. We violated the shit out of that limit and she loved every second of it. Because while I might have "convinced her" to throw that limit out mid-scene, I only took her to the edge. She had to walk past that line. And she was the only one that could do that.

But see, the scene isn't over quite yet. It gets better.

So after coming down and continuing the make-out scene more, and my clothes having been removed as well at some point along the way, I didn't assume that just because she threw out the one limit mid-scene that all the other sexual limits had vanished as a result. One time, she changed her mind. I manipulated the shit out of her body and brain in order to get her to change her mind, but I made it her call in the end.

So as we continue with this scene, I'm about as worked up as I can be and I need to stop. Because I didn't want to violate her other limits. I stop. I pull back and jump off the bed and step away. We're both in just this animalistic headspace and my brain barely was functional enough to even do this. And I step away further and begin to pace a little. To calm myself down. To bring myself down a little bit. And to kinda ease some throbbing on my own end as well. I walk around the bed. And stand on the other side of the dresser at the foot of my bed. 

And still trying to calm down, I start trying to think of anything un-sexy to calm me down.

"baseball, baseball, ranch dressing, Bea Arthur naked, Bea Arthur naked." I'm saying out loud. We're both now laughing about it. Enjoying my own frustration.

And after calming down just a fraction of a percent, I walk along the bed where she's now kneeling and watching me.

I grab her by her hair and pull her back to me. Facing away. Biting down her neck and shoulders and scratching with one hand while still pulling her hair with the other. Keeping the intensity of the scene without being quite at the primal level we had been at only moments before.

We continue this and the intensity level begins to ramp back up. Hotter and hotter it gets. Until I am nearly back at that breaking point.

And I let go of her hair. She's panting, whining, sweaty, and spent herself. And she drops to her hands and knees with me still behind her.

We're now both panting and floating and excited and spent. And I'm still throbbing. Behind her. Standing there. Neither of us moving.

I don't know if it was intended. I don't know what exactly happened at this point to get us to the next step, but she and I both moved away from each other by only inches. And as a result, I end up positioned directly against her rear opening.

Now, we're both a little shocked by this turn of events, but not in a bad way. Neither of us move. We hold this position. Both terrified to move towards each other or away. We're right on that line. Right on that limit. Well, the spirit of the limit.

Does anal count as genital to genital contact?

Time moves on. We're staying completely still. I don't know if either of us had ever shown this amount of restraint to stand perfectly still for this long in our lives. And to be honest, I have no idea how I stayed hard this whole fucking time. A half hour passes. We haven't moved a muscle.

But apparently I'm leaking at this point. Like... a lot.

She's whining. Not in a whining protest. But in a frustrated "I don't know exactly what I want to do" kinda way. And her whining has been building for some time. Getting a little more frequent, and a little louder.

I'm at my own breaking point. I finally open my mouth and give her the ultimatum.

"You can ask me to back off or you can back up"

Hey, I thought it was clever and just a little hot. Sue me.

And this elicits a quite loud and obviously frustrated whine. Nearly a squeal. With a rising intensity and tone to it that hangs for a number of seconds before she finally goes quiet again. But we still stay standing. Not moving. A few more moments pass. She grits her teeth and looks over her shoulder at me before saying "I have never wanted to get ass fucked so badly in my life".

I stay silent. Waiting for her to move. Waiting for her to decide. We've now passed the 45 minute mark in this position. We have not moved even a half inch since we fell into this position.

And with no real warning, she begins to push back. Slowly. Back and a little forward. And back and forth. I'm still not moving. I'm letting her have this while. As if her actions of having to fuck herself onto me is the consent to the breaking of this limit as well. Before she finally sinks all the down.

Now it's my turn to join in.

And then we collapse. Spent. Finished. Both breathing incredibly heavy. We were so worked up that we didn't ever even need to grab lube. Apparently I leaked like a god damn hose.

Looking at each other, reading her reactions to make sure that everything was still good. Both of us with that thousand yard stare but that dumb grin at the same time. She's looking at me and thru me and finally opens her mouth again.

"Best..."

"Ever." I said, completing her sentence.

And we're both nodding.

While we both mildly regretted not using safer sex practices after the fact, we also both agreed that it was actually hotter because we didn't. Because doing so would have implied intent. The hotness of this whole scene was built on straddling that line with no clear intention until the moment of truth on which way we would end up going. Preparation of any sort would have removed that intensity of the unknown territory we were playing in. In the darkness and mystery.

But the point of telling this story and the way I told it was because it was to maybe let others understand that things change in a scene. That limits bend or break sometimes. That consent can be given without ever saying "yes". That in the right headspace, limits change or go away. Without regret. And that you can make the best choices in an altered state. Choices that turn a good scene into a memorable one.

I guarantee that neither of us would have ever negotiated that scene with each other before hand. It simply would never have happened. With a clear mind and no stimulation, we both would have said "that's crossing the limits of our dynamic and we don't agree to do that scene". But in the right head space, both of us changed our minds. Without regret.

But the thing you have to keep in mind with this is while you can push against limits, you can't be the one that blows past the limits of someone else. You have to allow them to decide to do so. It can never be the decision of anyone but the person with that limit to ignore that limit. That's how I work. That's how I play. I might do everything BUT cross that line, but I will not be the one to cross it.