Colourmekinky - Untitled

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

The adjective for metal is metallic, but that’s not the case for iron, which by the virtue of the situation is ironic.

The most unrealistic thing about movies and tv shows Is that nobody makes any mistakes while talking.

What a pleasing situation to be in

(face down over their lap, cheeks reddening, crying out after the first solid swat)

“Count.”

“To what?” Fearful at the answer, already stinging from just one.

“I’ll tell you when we get there.”

Love this perspective

Male Chastity. What’s in it for me, his wife?

Do you mean besides the obvious? Like all the sexy fun & laughter between us, the more intimate connection we have, the kisses & cuddles we share, the loving attention he gives me, the many things he does for me, and of course all the orgasms I have. Those are just the obvious things. Our frequent chastity games deliver more, far more in fact.

I adore the power rush I get when I tell him to “lock it on” and I’m amazed every time he does as I say. I find it extremely flattering that he is wearing a cage for me. I know it can impinge on his normal daily life, especially when we go out places with him still locked in it (like having to sit to pee for example.) But he copes with it, for me, because he loves me.

I know I can’t see it, under his clothes, but I like how the cage is a constant reminder of me. It cradles his manhood, holds him tight, just like the grip of my hand. I’m well aware he likes looking at other women (he’s a man, it’s normal) but it’s me he is thinking of, and I know this from the things he says, and the things he shows me. It’s comforting to know I’m frequently on his mind.

Most of all I love the fact that he willingly gives up playing with what most men, in their youth, think defines a man - his penis. Think about it, he willingly gives up the ability to get erect, to masturbate, to have sex, and to even have a proper orgasm, all because I’m more important to him than any brief moment of self pleasure.

In exchange, despite my shyness and inhibitions, I make sure he sees, touches, kisses, licks and always enjoys a lot more of me, my underwear, my flesh and my private parts, than he ever did before. I also ensure the orgasms I share with him are more frequent, more visual, more audible and more enjoyable. Last but not least I help him learn how to pleasure me in so many different ways. I show him all the things I like best, and encourage him to practice them over and over again.

I enjoy thanking him properly, leaving him in no doubt that I’m well aware the cage makes our sex life much better. I also enjoy sharing the truth, with each lovely orgasm he gives me, it gets a tiny bit harder to release him afterwards.

soft chuckle ..

A Porn Video Played Backwards is About a Man Who Has Premature Ejaculation But the Girl Feels Sorry for Him so They Continue Going on. The Man Then Buys Her Pizza to Thank Her