Pancakes

I love making people pancakes the morning after a night of filthy sex.

I don’t know quite when this tradition or this association started, but it’s now firmly entrenched in my mind that an overnight date should ideally end with a lazy, late-morning pancake breakfast.

Food is one of my love languages. I love the ritual of making a loved one a cake for their birthday (or, let’s be real, any other special occasion.) Adding flour and eggs and chocolate chips and infusing the whole thing with love. I love dashing around the kitchen whipping up a feast for a group of friends. God, I miss dinner parties. Years ago, I taught myself how to cook vegan (I wasn’t yet even vegetarian at the time) because a dear friend adopted strict veganism overnight and it seemed like a good way to show support.

And I love making pancakes the morning after the night before. Whether we’re grinning at each other across the kitchen table with filthy, hot memories still fresh in our minds, or balancing trays on our laps and trying not to spill syrup on the bed, there’s something delightfully intimate about eating breakfast together.

If I’ve let you stay over (or I’ve stayed over with you,) it means I trust you to see me at my most imperfect. It’s one thing to get dolled up and go out to a restaurant and then go home and fuck and slip out before we fall asleep. It’s another entirely to let you see me with bed hair, morning face, pre-coffee blearly eyes.

A lot of my sex is pretty casual, but I still care deeply about everyone I get naked with. Whether we’re long-term partners or friends who also fuck occasionally, I want you to know how loved and valued you are. Making breakfast is my little way of saying “I want to do all kinds of hot and dirty things with you. But I also want to hang out in our pyjamas and eat pancakes with you.”

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Masturbation Monday: “Dining Alone”

Today’s Masturbation Monday comes from a prompt by Mr CK – “write about going to a restaurant and getting it on with the hot waitress.” Well okay then!

A woman sitting alone reading at a restaurant table. For a Masturbation Monday piece called "Dining Alone". I noticed her the moment I walked in. Long waves of red hair, barely contained by the sensible ponytail, curves filling the modest-yet-sexy knee length black dress, a smattering of freckles from the summer sun across the bridge of her nose, grey-green eyes. So my type it hurts.

So straight it hurts, I tell myself as she asks me where I’d like to sit and shows me to a quiet booth at the back of the restaurant. The girls you like always are. I’ve been on this business trip ten days and I’m sick of everything this boring little town has to offer – which isn’t much. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I stepped off the plane.

I order my glass of wine, my starter, my main course, and each time she comes to take an order or bring me something I try not to stare. The shape of her breasts in that dress – not to mention the fact that I haven’t had sex or even masturbated in weeks – has my cunt dripping into my knickers. I reach into my bag for my book, the book I’ve been secretly reading at night in my hotel room. Do I actually dare read it here, in public?

Fuck it, I think. No-one here is paying attention, and even if they do, they don’t know me.

Of course, the filth on the page just has me even wetter, reading about women doing filthy things to each other and imagining the beautiful waitress in those scenarios with me.

“What are you reading?” she asks, coming over to clear my starter plate away. I jump and look up guiltily, slamming the book shut and shoving it onto my lap under the table. To my disbelief, she reaches down and grabs it to take a look.

Best Lesbian Erotica,” she reads out loud, an eyebrow raised. Her gaze moves from the book cover to my now scarlet face. “Really now?”

“Research…” I stammer.

“Sure, babe.” She hands the book back to me. “More wine?”

“What? Oh. Uh. Yes. Please.”

She takes my glass and saunters away without another word. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was swinging her hips and ass deliberately to taunt me. Not knowing what else to do, I return to my book. When she brings my wine and, a few minutes later, my main course, I dare to flash what I hope is a flirtatious smile at her.

Judge me for reading porn in public, I dare you!

“Is everything okay?” she asks, appearing by my table again as I’m half way through my spaghetti alla carbonara. I nod, my mouth full. She pulls a pen out of her breast pocket, grabs the spare napkin from the unused place setting opposite me, scrawls a quick note and shoves it towards me. This all seems to happen in a single fluid movement, and she’s walking away again.

Shift finishes in twenty. When you see me go through the door in the far left corner, follow me – code is 1013. Don’t let my colleague see you. We won’t be disturbed. 

I nearly choke on my mouthful of spaghetti. Even as I’m telling myself that this is insane, I know that I will go. After all, when a beautiful woman summons you with such calm authority, what else can you do?

I keep my eyes on my food and occasionally glance at my watch as the ten minutes ticks down. At precisely one minute past ten, I watch out of the corner of my eye as she waves goodnight to her colleague and saunters to the back of the restaurant and out of sight.

Am I really going to do this? Do I dare? In a second, I decide. I throw down enough cash to cover my meal and a generous tip – a very generous tip – and head in the same direction, one eye on the other waitress, now the only person working. As she’s ringing up another customer, I seize my moment, punch in the code, and shut the “staff only” door behind me. I just have time to take note of that fact that we’re in a large and deserted commercial kitchen, all silver and chrome, when…

“I knew you’d come.”

She’s sitting on one of the shiny counter-tops, stockinged feet now free of her high-heeled shoes, sipping from a glass of what looks like whisky on the rocks.

“I don’t really know…”

I was going to say I don’t really know why I did, but she cuts me off. “Shush. You’ve been eye-fucking me since the moment you walked in. Lucky for you, I think you’re kinda cute too.” She hops down and comes towards me. She’s shorter than me without her tall shoes, but the confidence and power she exudes leaves me in no doubt who’s in charge.

My mind starts to race. Is she toying with me? Is this some kind of joke? What if someone walks in at any second? Then she presses her perfect, red, whisky-flavoured lips to mine, and I stop thinking about anything at all.

She pushes me back against the closed door, fingers twisting their way into my hair as we kiss. I think I moan, but the sound is swallowed by the kiss. I cannot remember the last time my cunt was so wet from nothing more than kissing and feeling someone’s body pressed up against mine.

She nudges my legs apart with her hand, then brings her leg between mine, thigh pressing against my cunt. Even through my tights and knickers, I’m sure she can feel the heat and wetness. Shameless, now, I grind against her, desperate for more stimulation. God, how long has it been? Can a few short weeks of no sex really make me into such a wanton slut?

I gasp when the leg is moved and replaced by her hand, the ends of long, elegant fingers dancing ever-so-softly against my cunt through the two thin layers of clothing. She’s teasing me, because she can see how much I want it.

“Please…” I whimper against her mouth.

“Is this what you want?” she asks, slipping her hand under the waistband of my tights and into my knickers, making contact with my desperate cunt at last. My gasp of pleasure is the answer she needs. When her fingers make contact with my clit and begin to circle it, I cannot help my moaning.

“You have to be quiet,” she says. “Can’t have you getting me caught and in trouble. If you make too much noise I’ll have to stop.” Her calm dominance and her talented fingers have me weak at the knees, gladly wanting to do anything she says, anything to please her. Another rush of wetness coats my already soaked panties.

I’ve always been loud in bed. It’s just the way I am. Back in my university days, my housemates hated it when I brought this girl or that boy home for a night of passion (which was often) because it meant none of them were getting any rest that night. But I believe this beautiful woman when she tells me that she will stop fingering me if I make too much noise, and all I want in the world right now is for her fingers to keep going, keep pushing me towards bliss.

Her rubbing has changed. Faster now, and harder, my own juices providing all the lubrication we need. I bury my face in her shoulder, in her hair, to hold back my sounds. My clit feels harder than I can ever remember it being, and I’m thrusting my hips, humping her hand with my cunt. I’m so close! For some reason it comes to me to ask her permission.

“Please can I come?” I whisper frantically.

“Just from this little bit of attention? God, you really were gagging for it, weren’t you?”

The flush of embarrassment nearly pushes me over the edge. “Oh, god, please…”

“You can come if you can do it quietly.”

My mouth opens into a scream but no sound comes out. Somehow, holding the sound in makes my orgasm even more intense and I come, harder than I have ever come before, in this stranger’s hand.

As I grab at the wall to steady myself, she places a small kiss upon my lips and then withdraws her hand from my knickers and shoves her sticky fingers into my mouth.

“Clean your mess up,” she orders. I suck the fingers clean, the musky smell and taste of my own cunt making me realise how much I want to taste hers.

“Can I…?” I ask, already crouching before her and starting to push her dress up.

“No. My colleague will be in here any minute and you need to be gone by then.” I swallow my disappointment as my hopes of getting to bury my face between her perfect legs are dashed. Then, perhaps inspired by her, I have a flash of daring.

“Quick. Give me your phone.” She does. I punch in the name of my hotel and my room number. “I’m here two more nights. Come and find me and I’ll return the favour.”

It’s not until she’s kissed me once more and then shoved me out of the back door and into the night that I realise I never caught her name.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the link to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

Stop the Drop: 25 Things to Do When Subdrop Feels Overwhelming

Subdrop is real. As Kayla says in today’s 30 Days of D/s prompt, what goes up must come down. Subspace is a kind of high, fueled by adrenaline and endorphins and all kinds of happy-fuzzy brain chemicals.

Subdrop is what can happen when those chemicals wear off and reality sets back in. For some, it can be as soon as the subspace high has ended, while for others it can hit a day or even several days later. A lucky few may not experience it at all. Everyone is different. I most often drop somewhere between 12 and 24 hours after an intense play session, though it has been known to be quicker.

Drop looks different for everyone. You might feel sad or depressed. You might cry a lot. Some people report feeling really listless or now on energy/”spoons“. When you’re in the middle of it, it can be overwhelming and completely horrible.

Not everything on this list will work for everyone. Pick out just one or two that speak to you and try them. Here’s 25 things you can do to help when you’re dropping.

Amy’s Top 25 Subdrop Remedies

  1. Cuddle someone/something! Your partner, a friend, a stuffed toy, your pet.
  2. Make your favourite hot drink and sip it slowly, noticing how it tastes and letting the cup warm your hands.
  3. Eat some chocolate or whatever your favourite sweet treat is. Not enough to make you feel sick, just enough to give you those feel-good chemicals.
  4. Cook yourself a simple, healthy meal and enjoy eating it slowly. Something with protein and vegetables.
  5. Watch your favourite film or an episode of your favourite Netflix show. Something lighthearted is better.
  6. Write in your journal.
  7. Post to your blog, if you have one.
  8. Share how you’re feeling on your kinky social media of choice. Sympathy and virtual cuddles from friends who get it can be surprisingly cathartic.
  9. Listen to a comedy podcast or watch some stand-up. Laugh until your tummy hurts.
  10. Curl up under a cozy duvet with a good book or a magazine.
  11. Meditate. There are thousands of free guided meditations on Youtube, or try the Insight Timer app.
  12. Masturbate! Orgasm can perk you up no end.
  13. Go for a walk. Preferably somewhere out in nature, but to the shop at the end of the street and back will work in a pinch.
  14. Sit in your garden, if you have one, or a nearby park. Fresh air is important.
  15. Buy yourself something, if you can afford to. This could be as elaborate as that dress you’ve been lusting after for months, or as simple as a fancy coffee.
  16. Tidy up your room or work space. I always feel better and more clear-headed when my safe spaces are neat and tidy.
  17. Take a bath or shower. Spend as long as you like luxuriating in the hot water. Use your most decadent shower gel or that fancy bath bomb you’ve been saving.
  18. Play loud, upbeat music. Optional extras: sing along loudly, dance around your room for the length of a song or two.
  19. Call someone you miss. Your mum. A grandparent. Your best friend in another city. Just pick up the phone, say hi and catch up.
  20. Create something. Whatever your creative talent is, use it. Play your instrument, bake a cake, write a page of your novel, knit a few rows of your latest project.
  21. Take a nap. Even an hour of shut-eye will help recharge you a little.
  22. Exercise. Hit the gym, go for a run, or do some yoga. Moving your body releases tension and clears your mind.
  23. Get your hair cut or your nails done. No drastic changes! But a bit of pampering can really raise your mood and make you feel good about yourself.
  24. Just sit with the feeling. This is a mindfulness technique. Sit, feel, and think: I am feeling rotten right now because I am subdropping, but I know this feeling will soon pass and I will be okay.
  25. Do something for someone else. Whether it’s a chore that’s normally your partner’s but they’re super busy today, or getting shopping for an elderly neighbour, caring for others takes you out of your own head.

I hope some of these techniques are helpful to you, dear readers. How do you banish the dreaded subdrop when it hits?

Kinky item of the day: Bondage candles! Ever tried wax play? It’s one of my favourites and it doesn’t have to be painful – it can be really sensual. Please only buy candles designed for this purpose, as regular household candles can burn much hotter – especially if they have dyes or scents added. Remember to take fire safety precautions and start slowly if you’re new to wax play.

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