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Male Switch, 51, wilmington, North Carolina
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Male Dominant, 49, Ohio
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Male Switch, 55
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About JPaulhan
Like many, back after a hiatus when I attempted to deny my true nature. D/s is an inseparable part of my being and thus, the search for a partner within it begins again.
The litany of what I seek is brief, but important.
Intelligence
Honesty
Trust
Humor
I enjoy someone willing to learn, believe, experience, and doesn't take themselves too seriously.
A favorite written work...
-- written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s --
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
LOL I would simple add, be kinky.
Interesting quotes by a favorite, Anais Nin...
I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.
I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.
More about me? In law enforcement, writer, sinfully sweet while simultaneously cruel. Travel often along the east coast . Recently entertaining the idea of topping a couple.
A little of my own, rough edit written work...
I meet you at work, downstairs near the revolving
doors. We embrace, and the scent of your perfume,
fruity smell of your hair, and feel of your breasts
against my chest conspire, as always, to arouse and
captivate me, and I begin to consider possible places
where I can satiate my desire.
I whisper into your ear as we embrace, questioning
your obedience, as I requested that you have no
panties on when we meet tonight. You stammer an
excuse, citing work, and claim to have made it up to
me by wearing your favorite lacy thong. I give you the
impression that all is fine and we depart.
Hand in hand we walk, heading for the subway. I watch
as you go in front of me, down the narrow stairwell
and I can just make out the sensual curve of your
thong high on your hip, making a slight impression
against the fabric of your slacks, which is snug
across your shapely bottom.
As we go through the turnstile, and onto the platform,
I am surprised at the lack of people around. But it is
nearing a holiday weekend, and most people probably
have taken the entire week off. We go to the far end
of the platform and embrace once again, kissing this
time. As our tongues intertwine in a wet, seductive
dance, my hands travel down to your hips, and cup your
cheeks, kneading the full, firm, soft round flesh. You
moan softy into my mouth, pressing into me, and your
warmth radiates throughout me. I reach under your
blouse, furrowing my hand into the elastic waistband
of your slacks, until I reach the desired goal, the
waistband of your thong. I pull up on it, quickly and
tightly, until the crotch-band digs into the tender
flesh of your vagina, parting the full lips, and
applies firm, unceasing pressure to your clitoris. You
gasp, and bite into my bottom lip in shock and
surprise, moaning softly.
Our activity is interrupted, however, as the sound of
a train grows progressively louder and soon it comes
into view, and stops, a giant, silvery worm here in
its subterranean, concrete tunnel. We enter the
crowded train and stand, my back against the door
facing the next car, you directly in front, facing me.
We are pushed together as the train departs the
station, by accident, not design, and I seize the
opportunity given to me by fate and the trains
engineers. My hand travels upward, to your right
breast, and I begin to feel you up, there on the
crowded train New York City Train. Your nipples
respond instantaneously, growing hard and hot under my
touch. They begin to show through your bra and your
blouse, and I am glad that I am achieving the desired
affect. We maintain eye contact, as I work, reveling
in the ironic privacy that a crowded train can
sometimes give.
The train stops, and a large number of people depart,
and I sit in the only available seat, puling you onto
my lap. The surrounding people that notice smile and
laugh at our antics and grin as I feign to be upset as
you wiggle off and I stand to allow you the seat. What
is not a laughing matter, however, is the bulge that
you see within my slacks as I stand in front of you,
swaying with the train, inches from your face. It is
evident that I did not wear underpants. My throbbing
erection is a direct result of your lovely, full
breasts, swaying in unison with the motions of the
train, erect nipples pushing forward against confining
fabric.
You attempt to maintain composure as we stop yet
again, and the train nearly empties, save for a
sleeping, older gentleman, at the other end of the
car. I take the momentary privacy to convey my
disapproval of your choice to wear panties, however
sexy they might be.
I ask that you stand, which you do, curiously. Once
you do, I undo your slacks as you mummer a protest,
glancing nervously towards our sleeping companion. I
ignore your complaints and your slacks slide over your
wonderfully thick hips and slide to your knees. As you
franticly scan both doorways at either end of the car,
I pull on the crotch of your thong with my index
finger. They are perfect. Nice and tight. They will
work fine I tell you, as you stare back, incredulous.
I produce a slim, shiny, gleaming silver object from
the bag I am holding. It takes you a second to realize
what it is. A vibrator. You gasp in disbelief as I
turn it on low speed, an insert the small, cold, metal
toy into you fully, about four inches. As the
conductors voice crackles intelligibly over the
antiquated speaker system that a stop is approaching,
I tuck it neatly in, and pull your tight thong back
into place, securing it inside you. You almost pass
out right there from the sensation, the pleasure, and
the thought of standing there, slacks around your
ankles, vagina stuffed with a vibrator, speeding along
in a train.
I pull up your slacks, and sit us down, facing each
other across the aisle. I watch in delight as you
squirm in your seat, legs tightly pressed together,
your breathing increasing, slight beads of sweating
forming on your temples as you fight to control your
convulsing vagina as it attempts to deal with its
intruder. As the train comes to a stop, momentary
silence fills the car, and I can just make out a faint
hum, coming from the small motor, emanating from
within your moist insides.
You fight climaxing as the doors open and people flood
in, scrambling for seats. My eyes maintain contact
with yours as we pull off again, chugging along.
Suddenly, you almost cry out, as you feel the
vibrating increase in intensity. You shift in your
seat, praying that your fellow passengers cannot smell
your wetness and slick crotch. You spot me grinning,
as you struggle to understand why it sped up, and then
spot, in my hand, and small, wireless, remote control.
Your eyes widen, and you shake your head as I play
with the speed, raising and lowering the intensity,
watching you squirm, cross and uncross your legs, and
shift in the seat, trying not to climax here on the
train. A young kid asks if you are ok as he notices
you sweating and gripping the rail tightly. You nod
nervously that you are fine, offering an excuse of the
flu as justification for your abnormal behavior.
We stop again, and again most people exit, save the
same sleeping elderly gentleman. You slide to the seat
next to me, and beg me to remove it. I tell you fine,
and you stand. Once you do, I stand, reach behind on
my belt and retrieve a shiny pair of handcuffs. Before
you can refuse, I have you shackled to the overhead
bar, facing the window. Your protests fall on deaf
ears as I again quickly lower your slacks and thong,
exposing those beautiful cheeks. I spread the, growing
painfully hard as I spy the seeping juices running
down your inner thigh in creamy wetness. You beg me to
stop, and to remove the toy, as you have climaxed four
times already as I played with its tempo. I whisper
into your ear that I am not listening, as you did, by
wearing underwear when I told you not too. I undo my
pants, and use my fingers to spread your unbelievable
wetness up to your anus, saturating the little tight,
puckered hole. I push into you gentle, squeezing past
the tight inner rim of your rectum, throbbing in the
incredible hot and tight, most intimate of places. I
have left the vibrator in your vagina, and can feel
its motion and hardness inside you, through the thin
wall separating us. You cry out in passion and
disbelief of the double penetration, thrusting back
onto my viciously, driving me into you full, causing
you cheeks to shake and wobble wickedly.
As I stroke, I reach over, into your handbag, and
locate your cellular phone. I look at the display, and
recognize the last number as your "other -half". As
the train raises up from the tunnel, up onto the
elevated tracks a turns express, daylight streams
through the windows, as well as the abandonment of our
privacy. Shocked faces watch as we sped past them, to
fast for and quick true recognition of exactly what we
are doing, but enough for them to know it is sex. I
smile, I feel your anal muscles contract around me,
nearing climax, and it returns my thoughts to the task
at hand. I hit send on the cell, placing a call to
"him". Once he answers I place the phone against your
face, and your moans echo into the handset. Tell him
what you are doing, I say firmly but sexily, and you
are to close to orgasm to care or refuse. You stammer
that you have a vibrator up your pussy, a dick up your
ass, all while handcuffed to the rail in the number
four train.
You climax after thinking about what I have you doing,
the hardest you have ever, and slump down as I do as
well, spurting semen onto your quivering, sweaty ass.
I uncuff you, exhausted, and remove the vibrator. We
dress just as the train makes its first of the express
stops, and laugh as we spot the elderly gentlemen, who
we thought was sleeping, struggling to zip up and wipe
the semen from his hands.
We get off and exit the subway, my mind already
planing our next adventure.
Have some of your own to share?
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