My Grey Reveals his True Self

Tuesday the 20th

And for your reading enjoyment this blog is best read to this song;

https://soundcloud.com/manilakilla/blue-jeans-manila-killa-remix

I'm packing frantically before I hop on a plane in the morning back to Los Angeles. My phone is blowing up, I'm not taking calls, and I'm just trying to eat some food before my stomach implodes.

I'm upset with My Grey... in our last email correspondence, he signed off with his real name,

"Jackson"

Wait.. I thought his name was something else, and now he's Jackson. He has a whole professional life he has to keep from me, as if he's not a free man. Mr. Jackson Grey is probably married...or at least in a relationship. This is only one piece of himself that he’s hiding from me. There’s so much more under the surface of “Ian” than he lets out to be. If he's been living in the barren mountains, I am his tropical paradise.

I tell him I'm over it, and part of me is over it, because honesty is important to me, and I don't like being the Scarlett Letter in someone's life that they have to hide from everyone else. Why can't someone meet a stranger, fuck them... and parade them around the town to for all their colleagues to see? Why, as his greatest inspiration am I his most hidden secret? There are things that we hide, even from ourselves.

I was pissed at him for telling me he "loved me" and didn't even share his real name with me. In my head, pronouns should become before subjective expressions such as "love." Seems so fake and disingenuous to me. But I'm learning Daddy's soft spots, and he needs to know that his little girl cares about him.

Despite me being upset at my Grey, I want to see him; badly, yet I keep pushing him out of my schedule as if somehow denying my feelings would make them go away.

My reluctance and pissed-off, hurt demeanor somehow draws him closer in; Daddy came over for one more rendezvous before his kitten took off from DC.

He walks into my apartment at 5:30pm without a knock. I have been running around all day from errands, I'm high on coffee and little food. I'm annoyed that my laundry isn't done and everything isn't packed for me. It's so annoyed at wasting my time on these little tasks called life.

I tease him for just walking in. And it's the first time I've seen him since he lied to me.

He's dressed in a blue dress shirt, a tie and his trademark blue scarf and no hat despite the crisp January weather. His cocky stance and entrance fit his Dom personality well. He doesn't ask permission, he just walks in. Despite his cockiness, he's vulnerable with his heart.

"Don't go," are his first words to me. This hits me, but it's an unrealistic request.

"Don't go?!" I laugh in his face. If he wants his kitty to stay he's going to have to make a much more grand gesture than just to ask me to stay without any sense of security.

He sees a part of me that I haven't shown him yet; confident, self-assured and independent.

"So you don't knock any more do you,?" I say chewing the first bite of my salad. I'm starving and I don't care if I kiss him with a mouth full of food.

His presence is big, and he makes my heart race, despite his 5 foot 8 frame. He kisses me, passionately, like long lost lovers meeting again after a long separation; of two days.

"How do I make you feel?" He says, hovering over me, his cold blue eyes staring into mine, demanding an answer.

"Scared.... and turned on."

"No. How do I make you FEEL... " it rolls off his mouth with power and passion, his voice gets quieter when he really wants me to listen

"Vulnerable... tender... soft.....?" He asks again.

"Yes exactly, that's why I'm scared." There aren't many men who make me want to squirm and run away, despite the magnetism drawing me closer in.

I try to push him away, I try to deny the fact that he makes me dripping wet.

"Daddy has been stroking his cock all day at his desk thinking of you." He says while his cock is bulging out of his suit pants, staring deep into my eyes, burning his desire into me.

I've been too busy to be stroking cock all day...

We get comfortable on the bed, and he is already raging hard for me.

"I want to lick your cock." He still hasn't let me...it makes me think there's some weird hidden reason. His cock is bulging so close to me and I want it to be pressing closer to my face. 

Instead he pears over me, stands above me on the bed, and pulls his drawers down and starts stroking it. It's pure torture, and he knows it; making me stare at his eyes, and not his cock that is dripping pre-come. I'm begging for it to land in my mouth.

I'm touching my pussy now, it's juicy and wet, I'm shaking out of control just wanting a drop to fall on my tongue. I'm begging to have his cock in my face, but he never gives it to me. It's just hovering over me, like a phallic symbol of dominance, of his power over me, I, as sacred site he can conquer any time he wishes.

He comes down closer, his cock still a foot away, and teases me with it.

"Please fuck me Daddy."

"I don't want to just be another one of your men... a pronoun.. a sugar daddy."

Clearly he is something different to me, but maybe he doesn't' know that yet.

I beg until he is about to come, hovering over me, drips of nectar hitting my face..... and he finally breaks..

"What do you want?" He says in a domineering voice

"I want to sit on your cock."

He hovers for quite some more time before saying,

"Do you have a condom?'

"YES!" I jump up like a giddy girl that gets to go to the candy store.

I know it's rushed, and we want to be all romantic... and really I would love to be able to be fluid with him and not have to use a condom.. but ... we do. He puts it on, and despite his previous tease of how he would put his cock in me so slowly, just the tip, and then slowly pull it out, only to then put it in a little deeper, and pull out, then deeper again, causing divine torture inside my pussy. Instead of the tease, he just puts it in, nervously almost, like my pussy is the Bermuda Triangle and he is never to return the same again.

After a few awkward pulses, he realizes he wants to surrender, and he pulls me on top of him.  Finally I get to have him the way that I would like; on top, ravishing my Daddy, feeling his cock and orgasm, the moment of intensity, of him bursting inside of me like the most perfect light... if you could see what we were feeling.. it would be the most shimmering radiant golden light. We just hold each other here in this perfect moment, my pussy throbbing in his post orgasmic bliss, riding him every so slowly now, feeling him quiver beneath me, merging with him, kissing his neck, I could devour him completely, but he has to go.

He gets up too soon.. I could cuddle him for hours, his pants are on before I know it and we are saying good-bye. He has a business dinner to get to, and I need to finish packing.

Later, much later I find out he is married. Yet another older married man that has fallen for me. I am not sure what the responsible thing to do is now. But in some ways it doesn't matter because we live across the country from each other, yet I still crave the feeling of floating with him; on a cloud, being seen by him completely, penetrated with presence, and teased and denied because a man wants to be in control of me. I miss his voice, his domineering me into innocence, I miss his palms slapping my face and hitting my thighs. I miss the wonderment I see in his eyes when he looks at me and tells me how beautiful I am. 

Yet he forgot to mention yet another small detail.. he’s not Australian either. 

3 Months Later 

Daddy and I don’t see each other until I return to the East Coast back from California. We have one Skype session in between those long months, with spotty reception and I barely make out his blue eyes, yet his presence still burns into me. His communications are short, although I know he’s constantly thinking of me, and in another time and place maybe he could be mine.

But not in this one. 

As soon as I land he asks if he can come over. I tell him Thursday, even though I arrive on Monday night… there’s another relationship I am tending to, a heart even more tender and pure… but that is another story. 

Thursday it is. 

He walks in the door again, firmly, in a blue suit of course, without the scarf and jacket since it’s April now. I am just out of the bath, and don’t feel like getting dressed despite his request for me to be in stockings; so I’m completely naked under a simple dress. I figure that can be more seductive than having extra layers on. 

I don’t want to have an orgasm although I am completely turned on and would love to fuck my Daddy. He doesn’t let me.

“That not what this is about.. it’s not all about sex you know.”

“Then what is it about, darling?”

“It’s about you,” he says, his accent starting to sound a bit more British than Aussie. 

“I want you to feel taken care of,” so Daddy has a nurturing side.

Despite our intentions to cuddle, his tongue is down my throat and his fingers are inside of me pretty fast. Yet he smells different; he’s acting different, not as domineering, like I have softened him, and he really does just want to spend time with me. 

He draws back, sensing my apprehension, and just studies me. His eyes wander down in between my legs, and he spreads my lips and gazes upon me, 

“It’s like a Georgia O’Keefe painting. The most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen. You couldn’t make it any better.”

While I’m flattered of course, we are all our own self-critics about our little roses… yet he is completely taken back by my beauty which is quite a magical thing to watch as a woman.

We have our moment together.. the chemistry is less intense, as he is not as determined to completely obliterate me with his seduction, he’s showing me a side of him that is less fantasy, and somehow more real. He’s showing me he doesn't’ just want to fuck me, that he wants to have a piece of my heart.

“We live such different lives,” It’s like the Montagues and the Capulets; the married businessman and the freedom loving hippy who has no real responsibilities other than herself in the world. He is much more tied down than me; literally. He lives the white-picket fence American Dream, in which I can never partake with him.

And to top it off.. he’s not even Australian. He’s from Mississippi. Of all places.

..................................................................................................................................................................

A few Days Later

I have my first conversation with him, as him, Southern accent and all, and it’s normal, comforting, his voice deeper than usual, as it’s late and he’s had a few drinks. His wife is out of town and he’s at home with his son all weekend so I can’t even see him; I can’t meet him out at a park, or go anywhere with him because his son will see us together. I find out he’s local to this area for the last 20 years, so going into public with him is not an option.

My 1,000 square foot apartment is the only place we can exist together at the moment, and that’s not a great existence for a relationship, even if it is a make believe one.

I text him tonight,

“I don’t even really remember what your real name is. I am completely confused about you.”

I met my Grey as an Australian man, dominant, piercing, intimidating with his presence. Now he is softening, turning more into a southern gentleman, from the South of all places, and he has a life; people to take care of and responsibilities to handle. He can’t just get up and go to Burningman if he wants to. 

Instead of responding in some kind of consolidating way, he just says, dryly,

“wanna name me?” 

I smile, “Daddy….It’s just strange to meet someone and they’re not who you met them as. It’s as if I have to re-learn you in so many ways. And yet even then I can never have you.”

“want me to leave you alone?” These weren’t the words of comfort I was fishing for.

“That’s too easy.” My heart sinks at the thought of saying good-bye to my Daddy right now. 

“your call” 

We go on for a while, I demand an apology for lying to me. He doesn’t have much of a conscience around it because he knows how safe he make me feel in person. It’s perfection. It’s strong, it’s solid; it’s as if I can completely relax as a woman because he is in the room. I don’t want him to disappear. I want him closer and I can’t have it so I’m upset at him for even beginning this whole rendezvous which definitely can’t end well.

“Tell me something sweet.” I ask tenderly, as I want to know how he wants me; and I know that he does.

“I wish I were 30, and you were sitting in a college classroom with me. And I could just ask you out. I wish I could just drive over and pick you up.”

But none of these things can happen. He’s in his bed, at home, and I am in mine, vying for him and his presence next to me. 

My heart is slightly shrunken, at least I know how I feel about him. 

That he’s made his way into my life, into my heart, being my “Grey” or “Daddy” or whatever the fuck he is. He’s here. And I don’t want him to go away. 

My Grey; A Tale of Sensual Submission

My Grey. 

He came into my life, just as my sex drive was beginning to re-awaken. Dry spells happen, and it had felt like my pussy was frozen over with the winter months, and I lost sensitivity and feeling. I hadn't been deeply touched by a man (as opposed to a boy) in what felt like months (a week can feel like a month for me), and just as a super sex crazed goddess was beginning to doubt man-kind, My Grey delivered me deep soul-satisfaction. I didn't know how much I needed the deep comfort of a man; even if it was temporary. 

He didn't ask permission, we didn't make pre-planned agreements about boundaries or limits, or tell past stories about love and lust. He simply walked in my door, and through desire, claimed me. An unsuspecting stranger, and came waltzing into my life, unannounced, uninvited, and certainly didn't play by other people's rules. There are some encounters where you skip over the shallow end, and dive head first for the deepest waters. 

"So you're a Domme," he asks over the phone, incomplete in his statement, for he has already seen into my true nature of wanting to be submissive. "But you're really just a sweet little girl wanting to give yourself over to a strong man," he says in a steady and firm voice with a steamy Aussie accent,  but with so much passion and fullness behind his stern exterior. He warms me immediately, which is I also find to be deeply threatening.  

"Yes I like to be more submissive in my personal life." I say with a light heart, not realizing he would be emotionally and sexually ruling over me the next day. 

A few missed emails here and there, but we finally meet on a cold afternoon in DC. I've only seen pictures of him from the face down on a kinky online dating site... so I wasn't sure what to expect from my New Grey. I'm comforted by his his classy demeanor which comes off more British then Aussie. 

He leads on that he's been thinking of me ... Profusely... And can't get me out of his mind... The muse has stricken him.

We arrange a loose time to meet, and he gets buzzed up to my door, and walks in as if he owns the place. He's dressed in a nice preppy blue suit and graphic red tie, a pinstriped shirt and a blue scarf, tied tightly around his neck, making him appear taller than he really is. 

This is what my Grey did to me; pierced me with his slate blue eyes, erect stance, undyingly seductive scent from his neck... and his heart was mine from the first embrace

My lights have gone out in half the apartment while I was using the blow dryer, and I needed a man to locate the fuse box... he scans the entire apartment and we can't find it, until we recline on the couch, and it pops off the wall and the fuse box catches my eye. He doesn't allow me to have to have the pleasure of fixing the problem; he needs to be the man and do it himself.

Now we can relax... then.. we touch ...

I am completely over-taken by the power in my Grey's embrace. The smell from his collar floats into soul... My heart is helpless against his valor and strength. I'm butter in is hands, and I recline on the bed. him on top of me, still in his suit, and he never gets completely naked.  

He is now the seducer, not I, and morality and boundaries go out the window ... For me. 

"I'm not going to have sex with you." I say, jokingly, trying to uphold my original intention of meeting him. 

"I'm not going to have sex with YOU," he replies sharply back with serious cold blue eyes. Shit my head is under water and he's the only source of oxygen. 

He presses his lips against mine, his saliva intentionally dripping into my mouth... And I become wild at the purity of it; it's like morning honey dew. 

He presses me onto the bed, his hands firm but never too hard... And he starts to go for my pussy. 

I'm doomed at this point, my juices running over, his force growing stronger ... I have trained myself to feel more pleasure with my eyes closed. He forces them open; I cannot enjoy the moment purely for my own pleasure. Grey's fingers are fucking me so he can see the look in my eyes as I come. 

"Look at me," Grey demands, and I am scared not too. 

I forget his request, the pressure building inside of me, deeply, him pressing into my pussy, I close my eyes again.

"LOOK at me," stating again his wishes for eye contact. 

He drives me wild, but I want to feel his cock against me, against my bare skin, in any which way I can, even though he's not fucking me. Dammit. 

My naked Ass in the air, and he still has his suit on. 

He pounds my wet kitty with his hands, I'm making sounds as if he's fucking me ... He gets me until I turn over, face up again even more vulnerable to his masculine power, he leans in,

"You are intoxicating," he leans up and whispers into my ear, driving the hot knife even deeper into me. 

His cock is now taking the stage; it's popping out of his pants, rock hard, bulging with desire for me. 

"Who did that to me?" he asks in his intimidating voice, piercing my eyes again.  

"I did," I say in a soft voice, him still penetrating me with his hands. 

"Who did that to me?" he demands a better answer.  

"I did," my voice can't help but quiver

"Say it with confidence"

"I did?"

"Who did that to me?" 

"You're little girl did." 

He likes that answer better and says I am his favorite little girl ... 

We're both working my juices this time, making sure no part of my internal system is untouched. 

"Come for Daddy. Daddy wants you to come," he says sternly again, demanding my orgasm for him. We work it up slowly, then more quickly.... until I completely release, staring into Grey's eyes, pushing my pleasure into him, I know he's feeling it too. 

He stands up after this, his cock inches away from my face, and touches himself. This drives me absolutely wild, for he doesn't let me suck it, he doesn't' allow me to taste his come, and he doesn't allow me to sit on it either. I am denied cock rights. I've never met a man with such self-control, but it also makes me think he's hiding something. 

He keeps stroking his cock, and he is so built up from our encounter, that he quickly squirts all over me, my face, and belly and all over the bed. 

He comes in for a cuddle before he says good-bye, and drives his domineering presence even deeper into me. 

His mouth is right by my ear, his words aren't processed through my brain, they are first felt in my heart, and then tell my head what to think. They drip out of him like warm golden honey, hitting every fiber of my being, playing me like a delicate violin, staking his territory.  

"Tomorrow you are to lay in bed, and forget the way my lips feel on yours." My heart sinks.. I don't want to forget. But this is precisely why he is saying it. 

"You are to not remember the way my two fingers feel in your pussy, or the wetness of my come," his eyes burning into me, 

He's burning straight into my retinas, not allowing any other thought in my body. Driving the memorable impression deeper, I quiver underneath him, he pierces me so deep into me I want to cry. 

Despite his request to forget, I can do nothing but remember. 

LoveAngel goes to the City of Lights!

What else would happen when the LoveAngel rides a plane to the city of lights but have the most indulgent and delightfully sex-charged chariot of Eros escort her? My entire body illuminated and played by the strings of Cupid's harp, my entire body became an instrument of hummingbird bliss. 

What am I if I am not a creature of Love? Who am I if not to be Aphrodite; a receptive encasing for Him; to feel his hand in mine, butterflies in my stomach, a force so strong it shakes me to the core?  The entirety of His heart is holding me, so what am I but a chalice of the infinite potential of His power? 

Two people, destined to meet, are placed side-by-side on a Trans-Atlantic plane ride to a city that has been calling me home for over 5 years, and finally my soul has listened. After talking about our lives, and where we are from, I sense a deeper urging inside of him... and when he reached out his hand, I accepted it. 

The masculine; I am ever amazed and reverent towards He. The witness behind his eyes brings forth my beauty, the heat in his groins melts my delicate sheath, I become butter, all defenses have dissolved; the love from his heart has pierced all crevices, some unknown even to me. 

I am Woman but less than half of what I am then when I'm without Him--my refectory counterpart which shows me all the aspects and possibilities of myself, and they are infinite.

Each human's sexual imprint is a super-imposed snowflake of electrical impulses, no one can ever be the same as the last, and the thrill of each new lover in my soul lights up new neural highways, connecting me with the super nova of space. When we are engaged into this erotic frequency, we are suspended between the dimensions,  transcending all. We are fully awake and alive, pulsating with the energy of creation itself. 

When he touched me I felt like his fingertips brought fractal universes onto my nipples, spinning a new power of light into me. I became completely entranced, my eyes rolling into the back of my head, resting on his shoulder, feeling his lips one millimeter away from mine, breathing heat into my spine. 

Our palms met, after an hour or two of conversation on the plane. A stranger turned familiar in one second flat. Not all the words in the English dictionary could describe or replace or encompass the blueprint of Him on my soul. He touched me, all of me, a fire that ignited in my womb and burned into my heart, a Symbol of perfection, of perfect peace, an imprint that said,

  

"You are safe. You can relax now. I am here for you and will never let you go."

His Love melted my entire being. My whole body became orgasmic. I could feel the pulsation pumping through his veins, his spine, his groins. Fantasies start rolling over in my head; I want to kiss him, I want to feel his wetness on my tongue, I want to reach down into his pants and just hold his cock, to feel the texture of it on my palms. I want him. 

The airline stewardesses walk by and asks if we need any tea, coffee or water... People are still shuffling in their seats, and  the cabin lights are still on. I don't want anything but to fully merge with him.. which Airline is this again?? Oh Air France doesn't accommodate those who want to join the mile high club. 

The two lovers on Row 29 were anxiously awaiting for the cabin to calm, the stewardesses to disappear, the lights to dim, and the passion between us to engulfe our soul. 

"I want you. But in a soft melting kind of way...." He whispers into my ear. Eric is in his early to mid-fifties, probably married, and we have no chance of making anything of this connection in the real world. 

He pulls me even closer into him, his chest pounding, his heart an offering to my inner softness. Finally I turn my head, my lips calling towards mine, our tongues meeting for the first time, one of those first kisses that gives you chills... A Kiss of the Soul, that offers the full depth of that person, their emotional imprint, a chemical reaction more than just hormones in my body ... Love is not just some chemical produced in the body ... It is the matrix that births us. 

This sensational energy lasts for a couple hours while we are sinking into our seats, flying over the Atlantic Ocean awaiting our final destination from Seattle. I was visiting my mother, and he had just recently moved to Seattle, and is an avid boater, needing to be by the water. His oceanic pulse filled the waterways of my veins. 

I know I have to sleep or I'll be toast when I arrive to France, so I take a sleeping pill and cover my eyes and release into slumber into his arms. He holds me, for thousands of miles until we touch down, and made my trans-Atlantic flight seem like a short hop into a new dimension of Palatial Grandeur.

The spell ended there, and we had to act cordial de-boarding the plane, groggy, and mostly sleepless. We walked through the airport together, finding our bags and going through customs.... I found my driver outside, and my new found air-panes crush departed ways, but our hearts will always remember. 

But my Parisian adventure have just begun.... 

A Fairy Vampire is Seduced by the DANDY ... A Tale of Astral-Gasms

Rarely does one seduce me.. yet dare I say I still have the upper hand. He contains and reflects little remnants of the magic that I had once shared with Bunny...the nuances in his accent, the way that his jewelry flashes when he flicks his wrist, the mischievous charm behind his smile. Yet there's a sincerity, a delicate and subtle innocence to the Dandy, like a boy who you chase around on the playground because you like him. Running and giggling on the playground, flashing your eyes, but dare not either of you confess your secret liking. He is that one, that gets my butterfly wings fluttering; for he sees an alternate color within me, he sees my most saturated self.

Some men get my pastels, my more muted grays, or a faded version of myself. Some cannot perceive the full spectrum that I am; they're color blind to my Majesty. Some men are lucky enough to get my deep velvet red, my pink splendor, and flirtatious yellow. But it's those that get into my imagination, whom are revealed the invisible nuances of my personality.

The lamp that shines forth from his eyes brings out my luminescence, the kind that flickers and changes every time he peers into me. With every glance another pathway is revealed, another opening, another gateway presents itself. His observant mind shines forth this laser of perception into me, and I prismatically illuminate a fickle magic that only shines with his perception. 

To say that he showed up at the right place at the right time is an understatement. His stance, firm but not cocky, dressed in black leather, next to my ex, the Bunny, they look like two European renegades. 

They're laughing at me, and flash a charming deviance, for I had just been heavily flirting with a Greek God at the Halloween masquerade party my friends were putting on in Hollywood. I had the most physically perfect specimen in front of me, and we were getting hot and heavy, until I turn around, and Bunny is there, laughing because he found me gyrating all over this man in my pink sequin dress, huge feather headdress complete with a riding crop. Properly dressed as a Fairy Vampire Domme, I arose from my meaty prey on the couch, and greeted the Dandy newcomer.

Although I was rudely interrupted by Bunny who pulled me out of this juicy make out session, I quickly ditched the most physically perfect man of muscle I think I have ever touched, and sprung into Bunny's arms to say hello. That's just what you do for old friends.

Timing is absolutely everything when you meet a potential lover...if they come into your life too early, the connection hasn't matured, the magnetism is dull, and the attraction is just a curiosity. When you meet someone too late, you see parts of their past which haunt them, and you're forever chasing a fleeting moment, or perhaps the wine has turned to vinegar and every sip of them is sour.

The Dandy entered my vortex at just the right time. The air in LA had just changed, it became more crisp, reflecting the Autumn season, for it was almost Halloween, where the gouls come out at night to meet the Fairy Domme Vampires.

I dare to try to name him, because his true name is so Iconic, soulful, and rare. In Hebrew it means the Island of Palms... but the air in him is much more rare than the oceanic oxygen.

He's a fashion designer from Berlin, and obviously dresses himself, which is the most seductive thing about him, and he does it very well. In my eyes, a man can kill a woman when dapperly outfitted. He uses sharp tailored lines, dark colors and angular collars as his bate to draw me in; an ode to Victorian Vampires and the sexy deviants of the night, his understated style says so much more than a bold color or flashy garnish. He chooses decorative simplicity, an art form that is difficult to master... and masterful he is.

Apparently he fits my stereotypical weakness; a sexy man from Europe who is well dressed, well educated and well-traveled, and speaking a few languages doesn't hurt. 

We flirt a little bit throughout the night, and get cozy at the after party.  We talk and giggle and lightly flirt, but I don't think anything of it.

I get a spur of the moment inspiration to run out of this apartment at 4am and chase the approaching Sun; it's near dawn and I want to feel the Sun penetrating me. I have to silence my mind that used to think that I wouldn't survive the next day if I stayed up to watch the sunrise, but now I have a newfound energy and charge from these sacred and rare moments. We gather a few disco-cops, puppies, and werewolves and leave the after-party so that we can get the most epic view over Los Angeles. These are the hills that I would be moving to in one short week's time, and didn't even realize it yet. These are the hills where I fell in and out of love with Bunny. These are the hills where I will start and launch my dreams and musings.

 This is the beginning of a new era, a new opening, a new creation phase for me. I am beginning to step into my true power as a woman. 

He, the Dandy, sits back as a quiet witness; sweetly reflecting my magic, and the rising of the sun. No words, just a few smiles and notions of his arm brushing mine, his body pressed up against me for our morning photographs, truly a deviant innocence about him.

After we snuffed the clouds and become rainbows and mooned the sun (yes it's possible) we hiked down the hill with our colorful costumed friends, and the hikers from the morning cross our paths. The absurdity of the moment is palpable, and I cannot help but laugh at them, and them at us. There is shared absurdity; them for living perceivably normal lives. And for us; well my friends and I aren't cut from sterile white bread, and don't fit into anyone's box. We stand out to say the least!

We return to the car, and I have to take the new posse home; Bunny, who's passing out in the back seat, and has since completely lost his mind; and my new Dandy is in the front seat, who is still somewhat cognitively aware. His hand, gently brushing against mine, suggests the pull closer to him. It's strange to have my exe's friend flirt with me right in front of him. On some level I justify it because I had just told Bunny that I could never be romantic with him ever again. And no we can't "make love." I have finally rejected him for the last and final time. Saying no has been feeling really good lately.

Yes that Bunny. The Bunny that I thought I would always love, always adore, always cherish... the magical love that I could never kill, that haunted me obsessively , that I ached for, and would do anything to have. And now, here he is in front of me, telling me he wants to make love to me (funny words coming from him now,) and I have absolutely zero attraction for him anymore. None. So I had to break it down to Bunny that night;

"Ummmm soooooo I can't really make love to you because I killed you. You're dead to me. I can't be with you, and you can't be with me. I'm sorry this is what I had to do to protect myself from ever being hurt by you again."

Bunny's eyes swell up in tears, and some of the pain hits him. Perhaps he always thought that I would be there for him, in that way, that he could come around every 6 months then leave again. I'm sure he has a girlfriend at home and 5 other girls he's lying to. I just refuse to be one of them ever again.

I let Bunny have his reaction, he'll come around, he always does. I just sink back into my Dandy, trying to explain the complexity of the Bunny and I, and it's impossible to state. The important thing is it's over.

I drop Bunny off at his house that morning, and the Dandy stays with me. We drive him to Beverly Hills, in a nice tucked away location in the hills. I can tell that he wants me to go upstairs with him, badly. A part of me wants to as well. But what kind of man goes after his best friend's ex, right under his nose... ugh. I just couldn't bare it, to sleep with him and come off as hurtful. I take his hands, he leans in and kisses me.

It's a good-bye kiss. The lingering ones that don't want to end... but it does and he leaves the car. I just sit there for a while, looking at my phone probably, not in any rush to leave.
When I finally turn around, I look up and those eyes are still penetrating me, staring into me and calling me closer to his magnetic center. He's standing on the stair case looking at me, hovering into me, a gaze that says everything.

I stop and roll down the window, delighted in his gesture. But alas I say goodbye for the final time that night (err morning), and drive off into the Sunny LA day.

A week passes before we can meet again. In the duration of one week's time, I view a house in the Hollywood Hills, love it, sign the lease, and move in that week. I thought I would be set up by Wednesday, and which was when I invited the Dandy to come over and enjoy my new pad in the hills. It just so happens to be a near full moon that night, and we watch the beautiful luna blanca above our heads, as I joke about calling in my soul mate on the full-moon.

I tell him I would rather have a Sugar Daddy than a soul-mate, and that I'm not calling in a relationship right now. Heh.. as if I get to decide my future...

The majestic entrance, gardens, green space, outdoor fountains and open air seduce us in the night.

We share a few smokes outside, I'm completely crashed out from the move, and he relaxes with me. I don't remember him being nervous before, but it takes a few moments for us to feel comfortable with one another, and remember the ease and comfort of each other.

I take him downstairs into what will be my future Dakini dungeon, and sit him on the couch, the only piece of furniture there. I cuddle up to his small frame, and my ass hovers all the way up to his face. I explain about my sensual sensitivities, how I can have different kinds of orgasms, like a laugh gasm, taste gasm, or even an astral gasm.

"What's and Astral Gasm?" He asks unknowingly and curious.

"You've never had an Astral Gasm?" I reply surprised, I just think it's common knowledge now, but I guess not everyone thinks sex is the last frontier.

"Hmmm maybe if you're lucky you'll have an Astral Gasm with me sometime."

We continue the flirtation, with my ass still near his face, my body feels at least twice the size of his, but he owns my body well, and allows me to melt into him. I'm not shy about my curves, and flaunt them for his touch to access. He grabs my flesh firmly and squeezes the skin around my waste, my hips, my thighs, and my back. He tugs at it, and I can tell they're love tugs on my love handles. Just when I thought I needed to loose a little weight, this one affirms that I don't, and he revels in my womanly tissue.

We make out a little while longer on the couch, before I want to take him upstairs so I can lie down.

I don't really remember what we did first, I just remember his energy being translucent, electrical light...I remember the lustrous expansiveness I had when I was with him... I remember the energy shooting out the crown of his head when he came.

Somehow I got the clothing designer to take off all his clothes, and leave his outside persona at the door. Now I just had him, his bare white flesh dressed on a thin frame, and no more Dandy qualities to produce smoke and mirrors. Just our two naked bodies making contact in the sheets, just my mouth against his, his hands on me, our flesh is our only protection now against the darkness of the night.

His delicate features are somewhat effeminate, and the skin on his cock is something unlike I have ever experienced. I suppose that is saying a lot for a sensualist who touches a lot of cock. It is another world of sensory wonder, and I begin to get lost in it.

At first glance, it's nothing special, not particularly large or bulging, but it has a different quality to it, a silky sensitivity that I couldn't get enough of. I enjoy having cock in my mouth, taking it in and teasing it for a long time. I think it builds the arousal in both partners. I know what most cock feels like in my mouth and I enjoy it a lot.. but this... this.. was.. extraordinary. I felt like I had this magical sensory computer communication system between my mouth and his most delicate skin; every inflection of my tongue sent shivers through his whole body, and I gain more and more of a turn on by relishing in this power of seduction. I take delight in all the ways in which I danced on his skin, and his skin was filling the saliva on my palette, making my whole being entirely, uncontrollably ecstatic, and even more excited by his turn on.

There is nothing that I admire more then when a man gets into a deep state of sensual surrender, where his body turns into a snake's body of undulating rhythmic bliss, and their moans reward my efforts. The moon is full that night, and highlights euphoria upon his face, and smoothed head. Whenever I look up from this cock worship, he is tilting his head back with his eyes pulling upwards, he can't control the moaning and grinding ecstasy which is pulsating through his body, and even a foot or two outside of him. There is electricity in the air, and the electrons keep dancing through our neurons...firing quicksilver orgasms everywhere. I fucking work him. I work him up hard.

The tension builds in his groins, his eyes rolling back in his head, his moans growing, his contractions getting larger...my mouth sucking even more fervently, I am screaming louder, I am a turned on hot mess, about to be blessed in his come. I can barely keep him on the bed from the orgasm, screaming moaning.. writhing ecstasy of a man. Our crowns somehow travel outside the confines of the room, and confirm our connection to something outside of ourselves. This sexploration opened up a portal of cosmic potential within us, and deep affirmative bliss inside of our beings.

I told him about Astral gasms a few hours earlier, and now I am confident that I don't have to explain the difference of how it feels between a regular orgasm. Now he knows by experience how to be completley blown open both physically and spiritually by an orgasm.

We lay there covered in come, dead, killed by the Devil's Seduction, except the Angels are singing in the heavens, the fairies are writhing in euphoria. and the Vampires have awoken in the night. The Fairy Vamp has found a Deviant Dandy, and the Dandy caught an LA Fairy by her wings.

Before he leaves, I ask him to tell me a bedtime story, and he improvises a tale of me in my first days in Paris... a dream that I have had for 6 years and haven't gone... a dream that haunts my soul.

I fall asleep to the sound of his Dandy voice, his German-Israeli whatever the fuck European accent, describing to me in detail, what I am to do once I touch down in the City of Lights. Parisian bedtime stories are a wet dream come true; and his Dandy qualities come out in is loving detail of my Parisian adventures. He tells me about how I have to order a croissant and espresso at the same cafe 3 days in a row so they get to know me there. I can't keep switching cafes. He tours me around the city, the day time, the nighttime, the art and architecture until my eyes gently close, and I fall asleep having toured Paris in my mind and he leaves me to my slumber. The Dandy has a fashion meeting to go to with some Goth Rocker that desires his threads in LA.

When my mind drifts off, I just release into the Dandy's gaze, his simple smile, a caress on the face, the kind that makes me feel so sweetly protected, like a child, and that there's no more effort to be had. My only job is complete surrender back into the night.

He shares his simple adoration and attention with a caress to make a woman swoon.

This Fairy Vamp has many games of seduction until she is caught in her own game of cat and mouse, and I am unknowingly caught; I have just been seduced by this man who's leaving back to Europe in a week that left me with Parisian lullabies. I am rarely seduced to this extent by a man... and dare I say I hope I still have the upper hand.