This is not just S&M this is Damo S&M

Welcome to part two of what is probably one of the strangest blogs you have ever read. I want to start by saying a huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read my last post and even more to those who had positive things to say. As you might imagine, if you know me personally I do have one or two tales to tell and if they make people laugh a little it’s worth the embarrassment they may cause me. So, on with the stories!

Ties that bind.

I have never been afraid to experiment when it comes to the old ‘in and out’ but in my early 20’s it was difficult to be too adventurous as I was still living with my parents and you don’t want your mum hearing the cracking of a whip or the faint hum of a rampant rabbit from her special little soldiers room next door. I’m sure you have had similar frustrations, having to use a ball gag to keep the lady quiet rather than for any erotic reasons rather takes some of the magic away!
     When my sister asked me to house sit while she was away and I jumped at the chance, obviously because I am a very caring sibling and would help her in anyway I could, not because I was already imagining the Dameboy mansion with 24 hour loving for me and my current squeeze. My sister left me with simple instructions ‘clean up after yourself.’ Easy.
      The first night she was away I set about making the romance happen. I made a nice meal and a large jug of Pina Colada (good tip for you fellas, pineapple makes your baby batter taste better so more chance of getting your lady to play a few notes on the skin flute) After the meal we lay in front of the fire and things started to move towards the cheeky zone. I wanted to take advantage of the liberty we had been afforded by having a house to ourselves and moved things on a bit by grabbing the candle from the hearth and drizzled a bit of the molten wax over her chesticles and further down her body. Now its worth reminding you this was around 10 years ago and the now pretty standard full wax had not yet caught on, and even though it was not a case of looking like the back of bin laden’s head, there was still a bit of a front-bum-fro going on. As the wax landed on her lady garden I knew it was a mistake, the tears were a give away. I tried cleaning up as best as I could but it was far too mattered, scissors were the only solution. I did rather a good job if I do say so myself.
      I was desperate to rekindle her desires so I suggested retiring to the bedroom. After a bit of kissing and cuddling she was back in the game and it was her turn to request spicing things up a bit. Result! She whispered in my ear that she would like to be tied up and I duly obliged, I searched around for anything I could use as a restraint, settling on the belt from my dressing gown and the tie backs for the curtains (I’m like the a-team in the bedroom when it comes to fashioning sex aids out of everyday objects). I had her wrists tied to the corners of the bed and couldn’t help but imagine a cowboy, red Indian and a construction worker laying next to her spelling out MCA with their arms. So there I was thrusting into her like I was get it to pop out the other end. I was getting well into it and by the sounds of it she was too (my parents are so proud of me) anyway I got to the point where I was having to imagine things to slow me down, like Susan Boyle rimming a tramp. Thinking about safety first, I popped it out and she asked for it in her mouth. A couple of  head bobs and I was ready, at this point she decided to take it out and ask if I was ready. Bad timing! Before I could answer I unleashed a weeks worth of backed up jism across her shocked face. She squealed that she was blinded and it was stinging. I am nothing if not a gentleman and I leant forward to give my apologies and offer a wet wipe, as I did this I cracked my head against the headboard and I was out cold. I Came round a few minutes later to a very angry young lady, still attached to the bed and calling me things that I had to look up in the dictionary afterwards. I tried reasoning with her and promised to untie her if she stopped shouting. She didn’t, I even went down and made her a cuppa but she didn’t back down for another five minutes. No pleasing some people! after much grovelling on my part she did eventually calm down and we set about cleaning the house, getting the blood off the headboard from my head wound and getting the wax off the living room carpet.
    When my sister returned she told me off for not cleaning the grill pan but luckily never found out about this particular misadventure of a fat lad from Donny…….until now! So I’d like to apologise now to my big sis and hope she takes some comfort from the fact that I at least had the decency to use the spare room.