The True Perfection

[Another contribution from JW: both art and poetry.]

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The true perfection of humanity,
in a sense,
lies within our imperfections.
And vice-versa:
Beauty can be an imperfection.
Doubtless, not the common-thread
we would’ve selected
for ourselves.
Yet a bond, never-the-less,
binding us together.
Humans are equally yoked
in imperfection.
Alas, perfection is merely a state
of mind: often misconceived.
Humanity is a state of being:
a state where we each reside.
Neighbors.
Who then, when equally yoked,
has the right to condemn?
Yes, beauty has its appeal,
but it’s still a façade.
After all, today’s beauty
is tomorrow’s has been;
like today’s wannabe
is tomorrow’s never was.
Attempting to uplift oneself
by degrading another,
especially when unable to prove
one’s own perfection, is, sadly,
more than a waste of breath.
It’s a prevailing symptom
of an epidemic.
An ever-increasing pastime…
An ill-inspired comedy of errors…
With but one fate…
a Greek tragedy.

Know when to hold—Know when to fold

Anyone that has ever played poker has probably heard the phrase, “You’ve got to know when to hold, and know when to fold.” And we’ve all heard stories of people who don’t follow that advice and end up losing a lot.

Knowing when to hold and when to fold is also good advice for relationships. In fact, it’s crucial in D/s—BDSM relationships, because of the communication and trust levels required since there are many activities that can cause mental, physical, and emotional harm if the partners are not in tune with each other.

I have shown in prior posts that, statistically speaking, individuals involved in loving relationships before transitioning into D/s—BDSM have a far greater success rate than individuals attempting to find the right mate while they explore the kink world at munches, play parties, dungeons, online hook-ups, etc.

It is just so much easier to begin and build a D/s dynamic into a relationship when you already have a loving foundation, good communication, mutual respect, and trust. That is why, from a psychological standpoint, I always encourage individuals to find a loving mate that is compatible with them in as many areas as possible prior to transitioning to a D/s dynamic. It allows them the best of both worlds while giving them the best chance for a successful D/s relationship. And, as previously stated, all available data that I’ve researched confirms that perspective.

However, that does not mean successful D/s relationships cannot be attained in other ways. Sure, they can. But there will usually be more obstacles to overcome; particularly when trying to find a loving, compatible mate simultaneously while starting a D/s dynamic.

It is hard enough for long-term loving couples to transition into a D/s dynamic. So, you can imagine the additional strain placed on individuals attempting to begin a D/s dynamic when they do not even know important things about their mate; like how much they like or love each other, what areas they may or may not have compatibility, can they communicate well together, do they have mutual respect, and have they had time to earn each other’s trust.

Individuals who begin under such circumstances with so many obstacles ahead of them must remain focused and keep a level head. If they allow themselves to get carried away in the newness of it all, and succumb to the physical cravings and satisfactions instead of keeping a mature perspective, they can and will run headlong into problems that could have easily been avoided.

ZL: After reading about D/s—BDSM she became fascinated with the prospect of being a sub to a loving dom. Never one to wait for what she wants, she plunged into the kink community: both local and online. She communicated with over fifty prospective doms in a two-week period…and made her choice. She then foolishly signed a contract with him during their first meeting/session; and was conned into believing it was a legal document.

He moved in with her, took control, and slowly brought her into a state of seclusion. With very limited contact with family and friends, and trying to be a good sub to a dom that was never satisfied, she became miserable. A situation that would last nearly six-months. She finally told a brother returning from military duty overseas, and he immediately threw the guy and his meager possessions out of her place.

Sadly, while still yearning to be a sub, she was traumatized so much by her first mistake that she has not been able to commit to another dom since. She’s had sessions with over forty doms since that episode—including a few fem-doms—and hasn’t been able to even do a trial commitment.

For anyone considering a jump into the D/s—BDSM world, especially those that do not presently have a loving mate, make sure your head is where it should be. Find out as much about the D/s—BDSM world as you can. Make some online friends, and maybe friends in the local kink community that you can question. And take time to make a plan, one that you intend to stick with and will not alter unless you have a very good reason. And when you spend time with a prospective partner remember the advice: know when to hold, and know when to fold.

Who am I?

[Another contribution from JW: both art and poem.]

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Who am I?
I am the interpretation of my scars – seen and unseen.
I’m told everyone has a story.
I do not know but mine.
The beauty of youth once graced the cover,
but scars have always been the text.
Twas’ once… and only once… I bore no scars.
That was the time I had yet to live.
The first scar to my name
came at the point of birth.
Had I known what was coming
I might’ve curled back up inside.
I have several scars through child’s play.
Then another here, and two more there,
from adults who misbehaved.
With skin to asphalt I learned
that road, like skin, does have a rash.
O’ fighting scars, my history holds,
three-hundredfold, no jest partake:
though more within than out remain.
Till off I’m sent for our common uncle,
signed-up five days past seventeen.
I’m told adventure will be mine,
a man I will become.

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Stepped on soil in foreign places:
learned a truth I want to forget,
a truth no recruiter will tell a child.
In order to put away childish things,
a step taken to manhood,
it merely cost the lives of others –
and my blood staining the sand.
My skin did part like the Red Sea
as Moses held hands high.
First once… twice… than twice again,
so many surgeries past.
Uncle Sam, he did disown me.
His promises were dust.
Though it was he who set the policy,
it was I who paid with pain.
Pain to me is life…
my daily diet.
Scars now live… inside and out,
these scars I know so well.
The unseen ones are just as real,
and oft-times they bear more honor.
I pity those whose visible scars
were self-inflicted.
All beauty is not appealing.
All scars are not unappealing.
Beauty forges vanity,
scars forge character.
It is the “beautiful” people who shun me the most.
Their character has never been tempered.
My scars testify to my courage.
Scars from heroism trump the beauty
so common on the model runway.
I’ll take my battle scars
over your beauty awards – any day.
Maturity understands
why battle scars are beauty marks.
There’s a reason pretty boys die in battle,
while this junkyard dog survived.
Beauty on the battlefield is merely cannon fodder.
Battle scars: a clearer fashion statement
than scarification, body piercing, or tattoos.

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Every masterpiece appears scarred
when still a work in progress.
Yet when it scars with age
it becomes no less a masterpiece.
Society urges me to bare my medals,
yet hide my scars.
While shunned by others
I’ve learned to cherish myself – scars and all.
“Vet” now rolls off my tongue,
no longer caught in my throat.
I am scarred for life,
yet feel no shame.
Who am I?
I am the interpretation of my scars – seen and unseen.

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[JW has become closer than a brother. We’re both disabled Vets and compatible in many other ways. And kat and I wish to thank him again for all he’s done during this bad period we’re going thru.— AJT]

One good turn deserves another

Eager, her beaver, to be touched and tongued. My lips
explored her adorable feminine tits. My eyes
assessed her breasts. I caressed the curvaceous hips,
the slim limbs, and admired with desire the smooth thighs.

Fingers often lingered upon cheek and neck. I sniffed
the subtle whiff of perfume. I lapped up the taste
of crook and nape. My fingers continued to drift
along ribs and tummy: goosebumps aroused along the waist.

Expanding and contracting trails that lazily strayed,
descending upon her mons veneris like predators. Felt arousal of prick,
but denial with a smile, more arousal, wait awhile: self-betrayed.
Penis pleading for juicy pussy: rock hard, a throb, a kick.

“I will tease to please,” I said. She shifted her legs in ascent.
Rolled to her side, spread her legs wide, allowed me to pass.
Alas, no gas! To the dark joy behind, I licked as I went
from clit to pussy to perineum to ass.

Spreading buttocks wide, arousal alive, urged me to begin.
I descend the sexy slopes and proceed to the puckered goal.
Quick flicking, tasteful licking, her crotch pressed my chin.
Her legs quivered and shivered from her tongue-wormed hole.

Her sensation afire, desired consummation. She untucked
her legs and lay waiting, panting with an expression of joy.
Arousingly charged, clit quite enlarged and aching to be sucked.
Clawing the sheets, far better than any fuck toy.

She inspected my erection. I perused her pussy with a stare
from mons level. A visual feast with eyes wide
I gazed thru the landscaped tuft of pubic hair
to the twin hills of breast beyond, sloping to opposite sides.

Returning to task, I scanned her crotch complete
from clit to anus. I relished the grace
of female genitalia. I tasted the delectable treat.
She shivered as I tongued the sliver of her clit: a slow deliberate pace.

Sucking with lips the miniscule dome or clitoral head.
With tongue’s tip I tickle the sensitive nub and groove.
She’s thrilled, I can tell. “Don’t stop!” she pleadingly said.
“More! More!” And achingly slow I did move.

Intently, but gently, my tongue trailed her pleasure place.
Inner and outer lips, enjoying the moments down
in each crook and cranny, then often would retrace
inch-by-inch to her throbbing nub-like crown.

Excitement within swelled. New desires did come
as I traveled her engorged labial walls.
I teased nerve-endings with finger and thumb
while pleasuring her pussy. I soon felt kat’s claws.

She did gyrate when I did penetrate steady and slow.
With every stroke I made a grinding twist with my cock.
Her undulation from my penetration, then she whimpered “Oh!”
She panted and moaned, elated from the pleasure shock.

Two slick fingers in her ass for multiple stimulation,
while prick pounding pussy grows hard as a rock.
She melted and swooned with euphoric sensations
and the inner sluices with her juices began to unlock.

Immeasurable pleasure urged thrusts double-quick.
Spasms, orgasms, vaginal and anal convulsing complete.
Sated lust, stress released, spunk filled and thick.
She said, “Can we take-5 Daddy, then flip me over and repeat?”

 

Compatibility of the Sexes

JW, from JW’s Creative World, is one of the few people we’ve met since beginning A&k. He has put his blog on hiatus indefinitely; which is sad, because his creative talents span a variety of mediums: writing, art, and music just to name a few. In fact, that’s what inspired us to meet, since I dabble in various creative outlets, as well.

However, he has graciously allowed kat and I full access to his work. He’s done this out of the kindness of his heart after learning about our situation, which makes it difficult to have fresh material ready to post on our twice a week schedule.

While he lives a D/s lifestyle his creative work covers many areas, and we plan on exhibiting most of them: interspersed with our posts.

Kat and I have grown to love him (and his pretty lady and sexy sub) like family in the relatively short time we’ve known them. And we thank him from the bottom of our hearts for his self-less gesture and use of his creative work.

We hope you enjoy his diverse talents as we do.

 

Compatibility of the Sexes

 

When a good girl and a bad boy get betrothed,
he glimpses heaven while she catches hell,
their sex life is fast, furious, sporadic, and fleeting,
and the only heavenly treatment she’ll ever get
is during recuperation from her injuries in Saint something-or-other Hospital.

When a bad girl and a good boy get hitched
it is heaven up front but hell in the end
when he finds out the “good” sex was only her way
of gaining financial security through divorce of another love-struck fool.

When a bad boy and bad girl get together
their marriage is hell on Earth… but
with a sex life so heavenly satisfying
it must inevitably damn them for eternity.

When a good boy and good girl join as one
their marriage is the perfect union, heaven on Earth
with a sex life so hellishly boring
it can actually earn them sainthood
unless, of course, they pretend to be bad in the bedroom.