SpiritedSub4u

Again...someone who cuts and pastes a "canned pitch" to send to me as an introduction...obviously without having read my profile...**heaving big sigh**

I have been having some delightful conversations with some dominant gentlemen who are in their 50's, 60's, and 70's...I have to admit that it is a relief to find men who can carry on an intelligent conversation, have fully formed personalities, are armed with the truth about themselves, don't take anything for granted, or expect me to fit in some neatly constructed box.  The amount of life experiences we have do count for something as far as wisdom and judgment.  I am thoroughly enjoying their company.

My adventures lately have included spending time with someone who represented themselves as a "light drinker or not at all" in compliance with my preferences...hit it off wonderfully, except for the fact that he had to have 3-4 large tumblers of wine daily, in spite of my being in recovery.

 Gotta hand it to him, he saw something he wanted and went after it...but didn't quite reach the bar I had set. See...I am very cognizant of what will work for me and what won't...after living nearly sixty years, I have learned a thing or two about myself and others.  When I say I won't compromise myself, I mean it.  I will not settle for a pale reflection of the man I will worship...instead I will be overwhelmed in short order by his obvious superiority...and it won't be simply a construct of superiority in his own mind...it will be reflected in his life.

Sigh...have had a bunch of letters recently that I haven't been able to keep up with due to being under the gun to get my carpet shampooed before interviewing a new roommate Thursday...so my apologies to those who expected a reply...I WILL get to it...Spirited

Ok, time for some brutal honesty...I may be old, but I still have taste!

If you can't see your dick because of your big fat belly...you aren't a Dom!

If you think a penis picture is "sexy" you're not a Dom!

If you are under 30, you're not a Dom!

If you like a little slap and tickle sprinkled on your vanilla sex, you're not a Dom!

If you like to boss women around and treat them poorly, you're not a Dom!

If you think bdsm is just about sexual kink, you're not a Dom!

If you think women are weak and inferior creatures, you're not a Dom!

If you don't have the wherewithal to own a home, you're not a Dom!

If you haven't mastered yourself, you're not a Dom!

I can think of a million more, but this will do for a start..."as the hate mail comes rolling in."

Good lord...to dominate is a verb, and dominant is an adjective, possibly a noun...if I see one more time "I am a dominate man" I think I'll scream. How can a man use a word to describe himself and not even know how to spell it?...I'd expect it of an acne-ridden teenage geek, but not a "Master."  end of rant

The Beast

 One eye opens, he stirs.
Joined by another...his focus sharpens.
He lifts his head...responsive to the sound of little feet, pattering about.
He shifts and flexes, muscles preparing for action.  

There, there she is...a tasty morsel, perhaps a meal.
He studies her...the pattern of her movements.
Slowly he blinks, thoughtful.
Yes, he decides-she'll do.  

Decisive now he faces her.
Let her discover him.
Wiley beast, preening
but entitled to it more than most.  

Once he has her attention he begins,
to draw her inexolerably closer...
his coils winding around her crevices,
while wending his way through the labryinth of her mind.  

She realizes her danger!
Alarmed..turns to flee.
But there are no exits, just the sensation of her impending doom.
As he waits for her in silence.  

He closes his two massive claw-like hands together around her.
She is fluttering, much like a moth beats against the light.
He can feel her frantic efforts brush against his palms.
He smiles.

You seem to know my body...
   the inner landscape of my mind.
With imagination you enfold me
On this crazy majic carpet ride.

Our destination is uncertain,
You decide, you'll be my guide.
I put myself in your capable hands,
I'm unafraid, prepared to fly.

And as my body waits,
My mind contemplates.
Just how this came to be...
this "thing" called you and me.

Your touch so soft at first
your voice creates my thirst.
My body glides beneath your fingers...
Breathing quickens as they linger.

Sweet seduction-pleasure/pain.
My moans a litany, a refrain...
Background music and I bend...
As you play me like an instrument.

Langour

Domination is soo gratifyin'
Her submission is so exquisitely pleasin'
When she surrenders...and He takes,
Cacophony of sounds, oh what sweet music they make.

When she's in chains, or leather cuffs,
He wants to tell her "Babe you got the right stuff,"
When she's in pain, can't get enough,
She loves it when he's brutal, loves it when he's rough.

His nerves are frayed, just like her ropes,
She jumps and writhes with every beat and every stroke.
He's in control, she's lost her soul,
She's bound to give, He's free to take.

She moans and groans...He growls and thrusts,
She's met her match, now she craves his touch.
Please please please she cries, overwhelmed she sighs,
Too taboo to mention, way too hot, way too much.

He groans and thrusts...to slake his lust,
She gives it up, in him she trusts.
Too wild! Too Savage! Too exciting!
Her hips are cocked and she's inviting.

Well He's about...to pull her trigger,
Masterminded...she's all a quiver.
She's just about...over the edge,
He demands...and she accepts.

You Touched Me

You touched me, and the whole world wept,
Salvation/Damnation
Lust within my breast.

You touched me, and a shriek arose,
Howling winds/darkness
Blend within my soul.

You touched me, like a blinding light,
Illuminating/Culminating
Without a fight.

You touched me, and the asphalt sweats,
Liquid-streaming/barely breathing
Splashed with red.

Carrying On A Conversation

I'm sitting there,
carrying on a conversation with a friend or an acquaintance,
When a short film clip intrudes,
It's just a memory.
A memory of us together,
Of your taste, your strength, your touch.
That has me easing back into my chair,
dilates my eyes...
And sensuousness permeates my entire body,
While I'm sitting there,
carrying on a conversation with a friend or an acquaintance.

Acting as if nothing has happened,
The paradigm hasn't shifted,
My nerves aren't jangling so loud
I am afraid someone will hear them.
The wetness that courses down,
Is discreetly soaked up by layers of clothing,
Is adequately concealed.
And my suddenly pounding pulse,
and the slight shake of my hands remains undetected.
As I'm sitting there,
carrying on a conversation with a friend or an acquaintance.

There's A Fire Down Below

There's a fire down below,
Burnin' hot, burnin' slow.
I ache with unfilled needs,
And I'm down on my knees.

The ember gets fanned,
By one touch of your hand,
As my body starts to glow,
From this raging inferno.

Wanton woman, almost slut,
I wait, I'm craving your touch.
Your glance sets off my desire,
Waiting for you to take me higher

You laugh, chuckle, tease,
Until I'm beggin' you please.
I feel you taking the reins,
Granting pleasure, inflicting pain.

My will drowns and goes under,
Cymbals crashing, growl of thunder.
Shrieking, cumming, banshee wails,
You are my storm, you are the gale.

Sauntering slowly, seemingly unaware
But feeling his attention like down
                  covering every inch he can see.
Every gesture, glance and posture for
                              his benefit and delight.
Sublime spotter, her witness of one,
                              audience of cherished.

Of the billions of myriad combinations,
Like the music of the spheres,
Intangible rightness, click, recognition
    One unguarded look, one perceptive glance
Reveling in a power of her own,
That is only matched or exceeded by his.
Let the dance begin.

Down the path of dreams
    to a shadowy glade with muted colors.
Dark greens and browns, nothing glaring,
  nothing sharp, but the sense of his pursuit.
They are so cautious, yet driven;
                                hopeful, yet guarded
Determined to explore this new, this         
    panorama, this unexpected, this ambrosia.

Waiting there as he joins her...
Stepping closer he stops and lets his eyes
                                          trace her body
As his mind and discerning ear have already
    traced the outline of her essence and soul.
Holding out a hand in invitation...
Asking the age old question - Will you?
When her hand lays in his, her answer.
The first step.

The whirlwind catches them up,
      off their feet, sundered, ripped
breath stolen, bodies weightless
      thought suspended, the eternal now-
that ecstatic freedom.
Depositing them back into their skins,
      to the earth, solidly underfoot.
Where did we just go? they wonder

To the land of dreams fulfilled
To the landscape of beauty
Where one beating heart is
                        shared by two bodies
To the mingling of sweet essences
To the alchemy of transmutation
           where base metal is turned into gold.
To the land of dreams
To a universe all their own,
Where they can dance.