© by The Dirty Gentleman

Some days we need to play a little harder. A little rougher and a little stronger. Some days we need to push ourselves to forgetting and letting go. 

©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#745)
©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#744)
©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#743)
©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#742)
©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#716)
Sometimes we don’t need anything but hands and teeth to make each other hurt. Or come. 

©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#716)

Sometimes we don’t need anything but hands and teeth to make each other hurt. Or come. 

©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#712)
Oh dear. Did I make that too tight? Let me kick it and see if it can move.

©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#712)

Oh dear. Did I make that too tight? Let me kick it and see if it can move.

©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#675)
One more from the same shoot.

©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#675)

One more from the same shoot.

©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#674)
It’s always so difficult to find a decent tie rack.

©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#674)

It’s always so difficult to find a decent tie rack.

©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#673)
©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#669)
©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#656)
©2013 by The Dirty Gentleman (#653)

Top or Bottom

I haven’t topped anyone in a long time.


But four days on the road with an old love reminds me of things I used to do. I’m not a dom or a top or a fucking master. It’s not an identity I cling to or even want, but I miss how hard she came under my firm control.


I suspect that for some people their kink transcends their relationships: they like spankings, whips, feet, electricity, leather, latex, or gags. Many people prefer to do certain things, and they find partners who like to do those things as well. It’s the activity that turns them on and a wonderful co-conspirator is a perfect addition.


But with her it was the places we went to together. I didn’t want to slap someone. I wanted to slap her. I didn’t want to tie someone up, spank them, choke them, and whisper terrible things into their willing ears. There was no desire to tighten a collar around someone’s neck and hold them as they cried.


But with her it was the sweetest sound.


With us it was the sweetest sound, the sweetest joy, and the sweetest sorrow. We filled an empty space with every urge we had, and for some strange fucking reason we didn’t once question a thing. We didn’t say no, ask why, or stop. There was no top or bottom to the things we did.


And sometimes I miss her. Sometimes I miss us. And most often, I miss me in those glorious moments of surrender.

GNY