I slept over at The Bunny’s place last night. It was quite lovely.
He had recently ordered me a garter belt and four pairs of stockings online, and even had them sent to my address, which made me feel like a sugarbaby in the most delightful way. The package arrived a couple of days ago and I kept that fact a secret; I brought the goods over and quickly changed in The Bunny’s bathroom while he was making us a late dinner.
(Tangent: garter belts with six or more straps and metal – not plastic – clasp thingies are THE SHIT. I am a total convert.)
The Bunny and I ate dinner yin-yanged on his bed, me in garter belt, stockings, and bra, and him stripped down to his boxers. He would tentatively reach over and pet one of my legs from time to time, but didn’t get too caught up in it, presumably because he felt it would be rude to get all up in my business while I was trying to eat (and I agree; it would have been).
After dinner we kinda tentatively started heading toward sexytimes, but then got waylaid looking at some stuff on the internet. He showed me his OKCupid profile, because I’d been curious about it and also offered to fine-tune it if necessary so that he gets more positive attention. I noticed that he lists himself as “single” (not poly/”available”/whatever) on OKC. Similarly, he lists himself as “single” on FetLife (while still listing me as his lover – FetLife allows for seemingly contradictory relationship listings). His “single” status on FetLife had been bugging me for a while; when I see someone who has some kind of partner listed but still calls themselves single, I tend to assume they’re just banging that person while looking for Twu Wuv elsewhere, and that when Twu Wuv presents itself the fuckbuddy is gonna get dumped.
Seeing The Bunny’s OKC profile gave me an opportunity to talk to him about this: “You list yourself as ‘single’ on your profiles. What does that mean to you?”
The Bunny said “Well, it means that I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“What am I?” I asked.
“You’re my lover,” he said, with a shrug and a smile.
I told him what I think of when I see someone call themselves single when they do in fact have some kind of partner. I said I don’t actually care if he wants to call himself single, but I wanted to verify what his headspace is. Is he looking around for a serious relationship, and I’m not it? He said no, he’s not looking to replace me or anything like that; he wants to keep on just seeing multiple people (or at least having the option to; I don’t think he does have any other partners right now). He said he doesn’t call himself poly because he’s not in love with multiple people. I was like “I don’t see that as a requirement for calling yourself poly, though. That’s like saying a gay guy can’t call himself gay unless he’s actually fucking a dude.” I think The Bunny got what I was saying, but for whatever reason he still doesn’t want to call himself poly (which confuses me, but it’s his prerogative). He said maybe the closest thing to what he’s thinking of is a player, but then quickly backed off that word because it has such douchey connotations. Then he said maybe he could identify as a slut, except he doesn’t figure sluts make their partners dinner and stuff. I said some of ’em probably do, and anyway he can reclaim the word and make it mean whatever he wants.
So for now, I guess The Bunny is a slut. 🙂
After that conversation, he mentioned that he’d gone to a munch recently and a woman was there who used to be a top of his (but he didn’t feel a connection so he ended things). The Bunny and I are going to a rope bondage practice thingy sometime soon, and so he checked FetLife’s event page for this thing to see if this woman had RSVP’d. She had. It’s not a big deal – apparently at the munch she just totally ignored him as though they’d never met, so that’s what she’ll probably do at the rope thing too – but yeah. The Bunny then, for some reason, felt compelled to go to her FetLife profile and call up a photo from a scene she’d apparently bragged about – the pic was a close-up of a dick ‘n balls with some clothespins on them. The Bunny said she’d talked about that like it was the most hardcore thing in the world.
“Huh,” I scoffed, “she only put like ten clothespins on that guy. I used almost 30 on you.” And then I felt inspired and went and got The Bunny’s stash of clothespins out of his dresser drawer, which may have been his goal all along.
I didn’t end up using thirty-odd clothespins, this time. I used one to clamp his foreskin shut (hoping that when he got hard it would shoot across the room, but it didn’t, *sadface*) and gave his nutsack a cute little mohawk. Then I spent quite a long time alternately doing nice and not-nice things to The Bunny’s genitals. Or, well, sometimes I didn’t alternate. Sometimes I’d suck his cock and twist a couple of his clothespins at the same time. He already seems to enjoy pain at least a little bit, but if I can give him pain and pleasure simultaneously so that he begins to associate the two on a Pavlovian level, I think that could be super interesting.
When The Bunny experiences intense sensations – be they painful or pleasurable – his starts shaking uncontrollably, mostly in his thighs. It’s so very hot to see him slowly unravel. The faraway look in his eyes, the gorgeous sounds he makes, and then the shaking…RAWR. My goal, in these sorts of scenes, is to get up to the very edge of what my partner will tolerate and ride it – to push his limits a bit without actually making him safeword. And indeed, The Bunny did not safeword that day; in my experience, he usually starts moaning at a particular pitch and shaking his head “no” right before things get to be too much and he tells me to please stop; so, as soon as I saw him get the “no” look, I always backed down immediately. But I when texted him today asking about it, he said I could’ve gone a bit harder if I’d wanted to. Hmmm. 🙂
Eventually, The Bunny told me that he needed the clothespins taken off, so I did this (and considerately slapped him in the balls a few times to get the blood flowing again. :D). Then we had sex missionary style with the Hitachi Magic Wand sandwiched between us, which is my new favourite sex position ever. Oddly, at one point I kind of got vertigo while he was fucking me – I felt as though we were spinning/floating in space together rather than actually anchored to the bed by gravity. The sensation was pleasant at the time, but less so when it happened again later, and yet again after that, during random non-sexy moments. Now that I’m home and have had a long nap, the vertigo attacks seem to have gone away; I hope it stays that way. I can’t afford to be dealing with that shit at work.
My body’s responses were all wonky during the sex (something is up with my libido these past few years…I really should get my hormone levels checked) but I did eventually have an orgasm, and it was decent if not spectacular. The Bunny came, too…eventually. I’m fairly sure he prefers getting off through masturbation – it’s less effort to shuffle his hand for 20 minutes than it is to thrust his whole body for that long. Sex, to The Bunny, is a means of satisfying his partner more than anything, I think. To be honest I’m kinda glad he’s not super hung up on the act of penetration, because increasingly it is not a thing I want all that often.
For whatever reason, I have not historically slept very well next to The Bunny – but last night I did. I guess maybe I just had to get used to him. I’m glad I’ve apparently learned to sleep with him; it’ll come handy if I ever want to crash with him on a work night. He lives pretty close to one or two places where I work, so there’s a convenience factor.
In the morning, I woke up to the jiggle and rustle of him jerking off beside me. Once again, I debated reminding him that his orgasms are supposed to belong to me and he should ask before doing that. Then again, what I’d actually said to him in the past was that he can play around if he wants to but just not come, and I did not yet know whether he was touching himself with the intention of going all the way with it. So technically he wasn’t violating any rules. And then when his noises started getting good I reached over and started playing with his taint, which probably conveyed to him that I was okay with him going ahead and orgasming, so he did. I still wish he’d asked me, though. I often feel as though I want a bit more structure and a bit more D/s in our relationship and I don’t know how to go about getting it. Even times that I’ve tried to ask him where his limits are/whether I can boss him around in this area or that one/etc., his answers are infuriatingly inconclusive and I don’t end up any more sure of things than I was before.
As he jerked off, The Bunny also reached over with his free hand and started kinda giving me a hand job. His fingers were a little too high up at first, so I scooted up a bit so he’d land in the right place (and later turned to kiss him and realized his head was like a foot below mine on the bed; dude has short arms!). His ministrations were pleasant, but ineffectual. Once he came, I had him put his full attention on the task of giving me a hand job, but it just. Wasn’t. Working. I even tried to take over myself, and nothing – my clitoris wasn’t numb per se, but it had no more sensation to it than, say, my arm or face. It’s like I was on Prozac again, except I’m not on Prozac. WTF, body?!?
Eventually I gave up on getting myself off, and started lavishing attention on The Bunny, who was clearly ready for Round Two. I used my mouth and hands on his cock until he asked to take over, and the sights and sounds of him touching himself got me going enough that I decided to retrieve the Hitachi and try again to get myself off. Where my own hand had failed, the Hitachi succeeded: I came four times before The Bunny was anywhere near finishing. I win! 😀
The Bunny fixed me breakfast; he was meeting friends for brunch in a couple of hours and so refrained from eating anything, himself. I was a little disappointed to learn he had daytime plans; if he were spending the night with me, I’d keep my schedule clear so we could spend lots of time together the next day and I wouldn’t have to rush him out. Or else maybe I’d be working the next day and the sleepover would be a way of squeezing him into my busy schedule, but I’d always give him the heads up beforehand. But whatever, I never made my expectation of together-time clear so it’s not his fault he didn’t live up to it. We still had a lovely unhurried morning with more than one orgasm apiece, a nice breakfast, and a shower together.
It was really good to top The Bunny again. I haven’t been in the mood for a while – I think all the general life-stress I’ve been having lately kinda kills my mojo. I know from decades of experience that my dominant/toppy side never goes away for too long – it’ll always, always be back. Still, life is a bit hollow when that side of me goes AWOL. I feel like myself again, finally, for the first time in weeks.