A Bloody Lesson

[This is not our usual type of post, and if talking about blood gets you queasy, please skip this post.]

I’m going to talk about something from the male perspective, but I found out that something similar can occur to females as well.

I went through something recently that, although I’m middle-aged, I had never heard or read about, and it was rather a rude awakening. And it is for that reason I’m telling the embarrassing tale. I truly hope it doesn’t happen to any of you, but just in case it does maybe by hearing about it before it does from someone who has gone through it might ease your mind. Just remember the key words: don’t panic.

While showering I noticed a simple spot just off-center on the head of my penis. It was very small, and looked like either a mole or the beginning of a pimple (which I thought was really weird, since I’d never even developed pimples during adolescence). And upon further investigation there were no other visible symptoms.

Having never encountered this before, and not wanting oddities popping up where I didn’t want them, I decided to rub it clean or pick it off.

Big mistake!

As soon as the tiny spot popped off blood began to pour out…and I do mean pour! In just seconds blood was pooling in the tub and both my hands were a bloody mess—which made it a bit difficult to grip things that needed to be gripped and grab things that needed to be grabbed in an effort to stop the flow.

I will spare you all the bloody details of my various attempts to squelch the flow, except to tell you that I finally accomplished the task with the medical equivalent of choking the chicken. But by the time I stopped the bleeding the place looked like a slaughter house. After all, that part of the anatomy ebbs and flows (is soft or hard) based on blood circulation. And along with the bathtub, the floor, toilet, wastebasket, and a couple towels were soaked or splattered with blood. And, of course, along with my hands I was splattered from the waist down and needed another shower.

Now you have to understand that I’ve seen a lot of violence and bloodshed in my life, so I don’t get flustered easily. I didn’t yell out or try to call anyone: no, not even kat. I simply focused my energy on stopping the blood. However, as soon as it was stopped I recall thinking the following:

“I’ve survived the barrio, military wounds, years of investigations and being shot at, along with a lifetime of seeking adrenaline rushes in activities like skydiving, scuba diving, mountain climbing, etc, and here I almost died from a pimple on my pecker.”

Well, as it turned out it wasn’t a pimple, it was similar to a blood blister, and the blood filled up inside instead of near the surface. That’s why I couldn’t see it.

I found out that males and females can develop these around their genitalia, and they can look like pimples, moles, blackheads, and even age spots. But, heaven forbid, if you ever get one please learn from my embarrassing mistake… don’t rub, scratch, or pick it.

[Please see MisterMan’s comment below for another possible explanation.]

Down and Dirty

OMG! I’m still smiling from my recent fuck session with kat. Yes, I mean “fuck session” not love session. There is always love as the foundation between us, but sometimes we’re both craving a no-holds-barred nasty as we can be fuck fest.

Sex sessions come in a wide variety, and as a playful and exploratory kind of guy I’ve definitely done my share to diversify my experiences. So I say, thank God, the sexual revolution, and finding the perfect mate.

Some days you just got to get down and dirty. Sure, kat and I enjoy caressing, cuddling, massaging, and other applications of loving touch. In fact, she learned early in our relationship that I’m a very affectionate guy (since I grew up in a non-affectionate family and swore I’d never be like that as an adult). Ahh… but I digress.

The simple fact is we are human. We are prone to a variety of moods, and the stress and cares of daily life and relationships can alter those moods. And over-and-above our basic mood swings we also have sexual needs and desires that can easily run the gamut from Vanilla to German Chocolate to Ebony Black Forest Fudge (getting hungry yet?).

Simply put, some days a traditional roll-in-the-hay just isn’t good enough. Perhaps you had a stressful day at work, or the kids broke their all-time record for getting on your nerves, or your Monster-in-law lived up to her title with a two-hour bitch session. Or maybe you just woke up horny as hell, got hornier throughout the day, and by the time you get some alone time with your mate you feel like a sex-addict who just found out your mate is a nymphomaniac that develops amnesia after every orgasm…and refuses to quit until she’s satisfied.

Or maybe, if you’re like me, you’re so fucking in love, like, and lust with your mate you don’t really need a reason to want to ravish them. Or you find that any reason is as good as another. For instance, kat’s normal attire is a t-shirt and panties, cuz’ I’m not big on fancy lingerie; I like the wholesome girl-next-door-look (with one exception, of course, my girl wears a collar). And after hours of seeing her with just enough covered to keep sparking the imagination and teasing my desires, I begin to wonder if the zipper on my Wrangler jeans can withstand the growing pressure. In other words, it’s time for this Alpha to pounce.

What’s that? Did I hear someone in the peanut gallery ask, “What about foreplay?”

Unlike many couples, kat and I believe foreplay is every waking second of every day. We don’t believe in relationships that are 50/50; we believe that both mates need to give 100% at all times, and that includes our view of foreplay. To us, foreplay is showing we love, cherish, adore, and respect each other every waking second. And when we constantly treat each other with love and affection we stay in a condition of readiness for whenever the opportunities present themselves. And kat loves it this way because—unlike her prior relationships—I show her constant love and affection throughout every day, instead of only paying her compliments or playing grab ass five seconds before I want to fuck her, and calling that foreplay like so many guys that don’t know how to touch a woman’s emotions.

A guy I’ve known for years constantly complains about his wife not being very spontaneous, but when I ask him what he does to help get her in the mood, he says if he had to do something to get her in the mood it destroys the whole purpose of being spontaneous. And he wonders why she spurns his advances most the time, and just lays there like an inanimate object on the rare occasion she sheds her panties.

Kat, on the other hand, is in a constant state of readiness because of my consistently showing love and affection—which includes sharing duties so we can get them over and done with quicker, in order to have more time for ourselves—so when I decide I want to surprise her, push her against a wall, fondle her, rip her clothes off, sweep her up into my arms, carry her to the closest piece of furniture I can bend her over, and lick, suck, and fuck her brains out, not once has she ever complained. In fact, her actions, physical response, and words tell me she only wants more.

So when I told kat that we were going to get fucking nasty this time, all she did was say, “Yes, Daddy, I’ll be a very nasty girl for you.” And she was. And when our sexual urges were sated we talked and laughed for hours afterward.

Yep, some days you just got to get down and dirty. But in order for those days to work you’ve got to show each other love, affection, and respect every day, without fail, so the passion is always smoldering within you both and ready to be ignited when the opportunities arise.

Body Image

“I don’t know what you see in me.” — I’ve said this to Alpha many times —

Like most women, I struggle with body image issues. We all compare ourselves to the women we see in magazines (well-knowing they have been photoshopped and airbrushed), on television, in movies, and yes, even porn, and feel that we’re not good enough–breasts too small, butt not perky, tummy too round, icky love handles, and now, no six-pack abs. We know it’s unrealistic to think we can look like those women whose lives revolve around dieting, exercise, trainers, and plastic surgery (because their livelihood is tied to their bodies), and not around family, work, and limited finances. And if you’re a woman of “a certain age”, as I am, on top of everything else, you’re contending with gray hairs, wrinkles, and a traitorous body that is slowly creeping south.

Alpha tells me I’m beautiful in his eyes, that He could never see me as anything but beautiful, and that I’m perfectly imperfect for Him. He constantly reassures me of His love for me, and His desire for me. And I hear the sincerity in His voice, see it in His eyes. Still, I struggle.

Logically, I know what He means because I love Him, and in doing so, love His body. He has many scars from repeated surgeries that attempted, with limited results, to fix an injury He suffered in the military. And like me, He’s no longer a spring chicken…er…rooster. But I love every imperfection, every scar, every extra pound. I crave His body, love worshiping every inch of it with my fingers, lips, and tongue. I want that beautiful body sleeping beside me for the rest of my life.

He is my perfect sexy Alpha. Why is it so hard to see myself as His perfect sexy kat?


I’m sure many in the D/s lifestyle can relate to this beautiful poem written by JW and MC Clark. We feel as if it could have been written just for us.
Alpha & kat

JW's Creative World


[The is a collaboration between Mary Cathleen Clark and myself. She’s a very dear friend. Please check out her other great writing at Southern Highways and Byways .]

He is the Yang; masculine and positive, the light to guide her way

when her past or present threatens or hinders her…

or their future together.

She is the Yin; feminine and negative,

the dark that creates a harmonious balance in him

so that he does not surge to an emotional blackout.

He is the Sun that ignites her passions, lights her way,

guides her from a place of aphotic mindlessness

and initiates her growth.

She is the Moon that reflects his love, eclipses his heart,

emits an emotional gravity that pulls him close to her

and prevents him from burning out like a supernova.

He is the Sky; both spirit and wind,

made for protection and procreation…

the closest thing to salvation…

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A Dom’s sub word summary

Allow me to make one thing perfectly clear, there is nothing sub-standard about my sub.

There is no subjugation, no force of arms; she is strong-willed, intelligent, and willingly submits to me (and no other) out of love.

What we have is truly sublime from the sub-atomic level to the stratosphere of orgasmic bliss.

When I subdue her it is to fulfill her wants and needs, subjecting her to the pleasure, pain, and control she craves.

Her submission to my dominance relinquishes her responsibility into my hands to keep her protected and safe; her subservience fulfills her personality’s need to be supportive, and her subordination gives her the power of freedom to accept and enjoy her heart’s desires.

She is the sole object of my affection, and the subject of my thoughts—conscious and sub-conscious—the substance of my dreams, and I subsist and am nourished by her unconditional love for me.

For those who subscribe to the intellectually subterranean view, and wish to subvert our D/s lifestyle, or attempt to subdivide our Dominant-submissive partnership for societal substitutes, I will gladly submarine you with extreme prejudice—quite possibly with a sub-cranial wound—and permanently subtract you from every equation to do with our lives.

And I will subsequently submerge between my submissive’s thighs for a little D/s reward.