standing as a victim

Standing as a Victim – Let’s Talk This Thru

Those who have followed me for a while or who have been on my friends’ list know that I have my own pain stories. So I won’t reiterate them. They are personal, even though common. And unless my writing is for friends, I allow it to trend. (Not that many read me, but it is in theory public) So with that in mind…

. . . .

There are aspects to healing that we often bandy about like cliches. But real people stand on both sides. So let’s try to be sensitive to that.

. . . .

the difference between a survivor and a victim

  • victim –

Someone who sits in their pain and does nothing to change or grow from their experience.

  • survivor –

Someone who seeks out education and therapy to move past the pain. To recreate their life within the new context. They have a wound, a scar that they must honour, but it doesn’t stop them from living life well. There is a variance in how well this happens. Not everyone has the same mental and social resources to do this.

. . . .

contexts
The difference between victim prototypes is varied by several factors.

Shame and blame . A child saying they have been hurt is never supposed to be blamed for what they went thru. They cannot affect change in their environment. They cannot protect themselves.
They also rarely are accused of lying if they raise it as a child. Except by those invested in continuing the abuse or neglect.
An adult who brings it up as a memory is often challenged, but is not supposed to be shamed or blamed. Is this always true in the real world? Nope.

patriarchy and entitlement
There is an assumption that the perp is a male and the victim is a female. Which esp with a child victim isn’t always true. Mother is the most common parent/carer.
It also excludes same sex relationships where domestic abuse and neglect can and do also occur.

addiction vs mental disease/defect
There is more blame given if the parent and/or victim is using drugs or alcohol. In some ways it’s almost as if the abusers are allowed to be abusive or neglectful.
And the victim must be a saint.
Yet it’s commonly linked to the path for both, so this is a severe form of ignorance.

. . . .

there are common stories
The person may change, their culture may change, their gender may change, but the basic frame is very similar. Almost like there’s a devil’s script. Yet when the victim goes thru it, and the offender acts, they feel like they’re the only ones going thru the feelings, experience and responses. It’s when they accept treatment, or join a therapeutic group that they realize what that script was. And acknowledge that though it came thru them, they had very little control over how it evolved. Once it was engaged.

. . . .

are there ways to protect yourself and prevent the next generation of abuse and neglect?

  • as a child – no. You are meant to be protected. As a parent you can protect your child by leaving them with safe(r) people. You can educate an older child about things like body privacy and secrets. You can work on their self esteem. You can believe them if they tell you something is wrong. It’s rare that a child knows the pattern and can lie about it. Exception – if they’re coached.
  • as a teen or adult –
  • yes, if it’s in the larger world. You can walk down the street knowing there are predators in the world and they look like humans. You cannot know which of those humans is the predator, so you act in a way that keeps you safe and make them jump thru hoops to get near you.
  • not as easily, if it’s domestic. – You have a social life and roles that bond you to these people and it takes chopping a limb off to leave them. Almost literally.

It’s also harder to want to prosecute and harder to prove. Because they have access to you. It’s like a rope with all kinds of threads thru it and it takes a lot of support and effort to separate those threads and put the rope back together in a sturdy form you can actually trust from then on.

  • By laws and cultural changes only. By protecting the children in the first place. By recognizing and acting when the actual abusive dynamics are in play. Vs fear mongering and bigotry. Abuse and neglect are most commonly occurring in the home of parents who are addicts. Knowing that, we can create a buffer till the parent gains sobriety and clarity. We can make more resources available for healing.

. . . .

is the abuser at fault? yes and no?
They learned how to be an abuser or neglector at the knees of someone who was very influential to them. They were prone/wired (maybe genetically?) to be an abuser or neglector. Not all victims will be, no matter how well trained or badly hurt. And most likely, they weren’t sober.
is the victim at fault?
if a child, no
But teens and adults influence, interact with their world and can control their own immediate world. Therefore they can protect themselves. It is possible. Which is why people discuss personal responsibility. Do not ever underestimate that people, esp addicts, can and will cause you harm and act accordingly to protect yourself.
Nobody is saying it’s simple or easy. But you can reduce the risks you face in your life. And you should try to do that.

. . . .

how does this relate to kink?
Well we are humans. There are victims and predators among us.
There are also people who are just fucking up and allowed to continue erring. Where most harm will occur. So maybe our best way to protect oruselves in kink is the same one as at home or on the street (since we’re adults). Make people jump thru hoops to get near us.

Advertisements

letter to an enabler parent

letter to an enabler parent

Ok so they are using and it affects them. Who they are, how aware they are, their moods and their personality, even their morality.

But you…
You were sober, you were sane supposedly. Were you?
How do you sit and watch as your child is tossed around the room? Or know that your partner just crawled into bed beside you after raping your child?
How do you clean up after them and keep their secrets? Or even try saying that you didn’t know?
Or do you tell yourself that the rest of the time we were ok because you made it possible? When actually what you did was make it possible for them to keep using and abusing/neglecting? It wouldn’t have gone on if you hadn’t made it possible.
Doesn’t that make you the primary abuser?
Which means, everytime we got in the car with someone who wasn’t sober and risked our lives, because you wouldn’t argue that you should drive.
And everytime a fist or foot flew with no real recrimination. You allowed them near the kids. Over and over again. Then soothed the bruises and coaxed the child not to tell anyone.
How many injuries did you cover up? Did they all heal right?
When you joined the addict in your badmouthing the kid for being a drain on their life, a stone around their neck, how did you live with yourself?
You cleaned up the glass, the blood, replaced the furniture, plastered the wall, and told the kids what to say while the addict was sleeping it off. Told them to be quiet and not to be such a … such a … child?
You actually started stocking the supplies so that you could quickly redo or fix anything that was broken. You kept a kit for all the things you would need to soothe bruises and cast a bone if needed.
The house and the addict were covered in cotton batting or bubble wrap. But not the kids. You were happily sitting there drinking your tea, like you were proud of your handiwork. Proud of your planning to keep it all a secret. While the addict snored and the kids cried into their pillows.
So you could go to church and play the elder. The saint. So you could be the martyr to your loved ones. So you could be monarch to your circle.
But I knew who you were then, which is why you hated me, isn’t it? And I know you even better now.
You are a liar and a hypocrite. You are an enabler. Which may be even a bigger monster than the addict you protect.
How does that make you feel? Knowing I can call you by your true name?
Look around you …All those problems you blame on the addict that you see in us kids? You made it possible for all those patterns to continue. So we all have scars.
If only you had called for help. If you had grabbed us and walked out. If you had even just told the addict they had to stop or else.
But you didn’t.
And here we are. The next gen. The ones who can’t love or live right because you made what they did possible.
Is that ok with you? Cause it’s not with me.

Signed your kid.

I Didn’t Ask to Be Born

I Didn’t Ask to Be Born

  • For whatever reason a parent had a child

They were dreaming the dream of being a parent, Or they just happened to get knocked up and stuck around.
They were feeling the pain of their own childhood and thought they could do a better job.
They were not sure they were immortal, so thought they would pass on their genes.
Or they were in love or hate, jealousy or greed ruled over common sense.

  • so they had a child. And having agreed to raise it, they owed me shelter, safety and support.
  • I wasn’t the one who needed to reparent you from your parents’ mistakes.
  • I wasn’t responsible for keeping it a secret.

. . . .

  • I didn’t offer you your first drink or hit of that wonder drug.
  • I wasn’t the one who liked it. Or what it did for you.

Whether you wanted a party,
or a medication for your mood stream, fear or rage
or to quiet the voices in your head.

  • I didn’t feed it to you, spoon by spoon, sip by sip. You did.
  • So I wasn’t responsible for your bad head, jonesing for more when you were broke or the yoyos of your life and mood while you were using.
  • I didn’t pick the people you allowed in our house and gave access to me.
  • I wasn’t responsible for the times you were passed out, or confused about where you were and just who was watching. Or who you left unsafe.
  • Nor was I responsible for the times the drug or booze made you rage and you lashed out, and I got in the way of your fist or foot. I shouldn’t have to apologize for needing medical attention. A child’s bones are fragile things.
  • I wasn’t responsible for keeping it a secret.

. . . .

  • I was not your therapist for your union,
  • I wasn’t a saviour or the glue that held you together.

So if you were having adult relationship problems, it wasn”t on me to fix them or deal with them.

  • I wasn’t your pony express, meant to carry messages between warring camps.
  • I wasn’t responsible for keeping it a secret.

. . . .

  • I was just a kid.

A baby who needed to be fed, changed, soothed. Given love and support as I was growing.
Who needed someone to watch over them. So they didn’t have an accident or get into trouble.
Given the opportunity to play and learn. And grow.
Like every child, I was allowed to test your love and authority.
Like every child, I had to learn how to become an independent, responsible, moral person in my own way and with my own dreams.

  • I wasn’t responsible for your need to have control. Or for your obsession of how you wanted things to be.
  • I had no need or desire to be your vision of perfection.
  • I wasn’t responsible for keeping it a secret.

. . . .

  • But having been born, I needed a parent who loved me and wanted me around. I needed to be shown that I was safe and loved. I needed to hear that I was loved and valued.

And when you couldn’t be bothered,

  • I wasn’t responsible for keeping it a secret.

. . . .

Do you know who asks a child to keep a secret? Hmmm?
An addict and an abuser do. Not a parent.

. . . .

  • I see you! I hear you!

You are being a manipulative, gaslighter. not a parent to me.
Yes, every parent errs. Yes you’re only human. Yes you had a hard life and it may have been harder because you were hurt too. Poor you!
Yes it was harder with me along on your journey. No you weren’t allowed to be selfish and needy, more than the baby who was lying there with no way but you to meet their needs. No one but you to be their parent.

. . . .

  • I didn’t ask to be born.

So you should have stepped up and been a parent to me. and when you didn’t/couldn’t,

  • I wasn’t responsible for keeping it a secret.

And I had every right to tell you, that you hurt me. Without you blaming me.
I have every right to heal myself and individuate. In whatever way I need. Without being expected to keep your secrets. And until I do, you are responsible for me.

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy

tiers of consent – implied and informed consent

Tiers of Consent – Implied and Informed Consent

on implied consent
is there such a thing as implied consent? I’m thinking nope.
Being in a relationship, or having purchased sexual activity in no way says the union must always provide sex.
1000 nights of having had sex with this person doesn’t mean they will again tonight.
Being in a place where sexuality is provided, doesn’t mean that person will be your partner.
Being in the middle of an orgy doesn’t imply that you can jump on top of someone.
Being a spouse doesn’t imply that you are owed sex. Real life and moods happen folks.
Being a sex worker doesn’t imply they will have sex with you.
Being nude doesn’t imply sexual freedom.
Flirting and affection do not imply sex.

. . . .

on informed consent
“I want to have sex with you…”
“What do you mean by that?”

they know the truth of what you have agreed to.
they assume they are with a partner who is available to have sex with them (single, open relationship, poly)
They assume the person is alert. aware and capable of giving consent (sober, sane/oriented x 3 -time, place, event)
They assume the person desires to have sex rather than just people pleasing. Or avoiding negative consequences
They know which sex act they are engaging in.
They assume it is healthy and safe to have sex with this person and/or take precautions. (ie STDs)
They assume it is a sex act, unless fertility planning is opted in

. . . .

Have had the kink act explained to them and understood it
have viewed and understood the kink act
have previously participated in it
have previously played with you doing that act.
have negotiated and developed the script for the activity with you.

tiers of consent – Affirmative

Tiers of Consent – Affirmative Consent.

There seems to be some difficulty. Some misunderstanding in what is tolerated as typical interactions. So I thought I would state what I presume. It is somewhat open to discussion (?). Presuming you show respect.

Social Engagement
I presume:

  • that when someone is introduced to me, they might want to shake my hand and probably won’t ask. I can refuse to put forward my hand for them to take, and politely say “I’d prefer not to thx.” My reasoning might be cultural or anxiety. I might have a cold or flu and not want to make you ill. I might have a skin condition I don’t want to pass along. But whatever my reasoning, I said no, clearly and it wasn’t up for discussion. Vanilla or kink setting.
  • that when I engage with people in a crowd, I might get brushed up against. But I hardly think that gives you consent to engage in frotteurism. If you have a hard-on (clit or penis), perhaps you need to excuse yourself and take care of that. Away from the crowd.

There is no presumption that just because I’m there, you have a right to touch me. Most crowd touches would be to lead you thru the masses or to introduce oneself. And really, that’s it. That is the only standing ground you have, as a crowd member with me.

Affection or Reassurance
I presume:

  • that you mean a pat on the shoulder, or even a hand there for a minute. Or perhaps a pat on the upper back.
  • that you mean holding my hand or forearm, while we chat.
  • that you mean a hug. Not prolonged holding me close, unless we’re lovers. But quick. Catch and release.

{There is no presumption that it will continue or having occurred once, you can continue at will. also true for intimacy and sexuality (see below)
And it presumes some level of relationship to go for a hug. (Exception might bewhen the ball drops at NYE parties). A friendship minimum.}

Intimacy
I presume:

  • kiss

I presume that means to most people a peck on the cheek or the closed lips. Unless you are a current partner/lover. It does not mean going in for that type and advancing without permission. If you are not a current lover, you are on restrictions. Pecks only! No tongue! No open mouth!

  • that there is a relationship
  • (see hugs in affection or reassurance)

sexuality
I presume:

  • that we have agreed to be lovers. When we are standing clothed. And both having a full right to say no. With no being a full sentence. No coercion, or pressure to concede. And no hard feelings or whining when no is said. No is a full sentence again. It requires no explanation. And really only needs to be said ONCE!!
  • that it is negotiated which orifice will be used and it is restricted to that orifice. (ie if you agree to oral sex, all you try for is oral sex, and all you get is oral sex)

how does kink change these?
It doesn’t.
I presume:

  • that being in a state of deshabille or restricted by rope does not reduce in any way my autonomy
  • that neither does me IDing as a bottom, masochist or a submissive.
  • that just because you see me with someone else, it now gives you rights

must I ask permission at an orgy?
yes!

must i ask permission at a play party?
yes!

And that folks is affirmative consent. It’s really not that hard, is it?

Dommie and Stable Stories

Dommie and the Pool Party

Her stable had been really well behaved recently, so she decided it was time for a treat. She called a few friends of hers with similar age dynamics and invited them over for a pool party at her place.
She did the shopping when her crew were out of range, so they didn’t know. And everything but food was stored in the pool shed, so noone knew till the day.
But a few got the idea that something was up, since she was smiling and humming more than usual. They didn’t know what she had on her brain though.
When the day arrived, she had middle be her sous chef. He chopped the veg and made the sauces and merinades by following the recipes.
Dommie made some cookie dough and had baby boy shape it. She noticed he licked his fingers a lot and was glad she had to bake this recipe. Kids will be kids though.
She had ruff clean the pool and wipe down the chairs so they’d be ready.
And she had middle give baby boy a bath and get himself clean and ready for company. Baby boy wasn’t that thrilled with the bath, but he liked that middle was giving it. They often played silly games when they were alone together. She could hear them giggling from the kitchen and she smiled.
When the company started arriving, the place was ready, the food was in progress and the boys were clean. She was ready to play hostess. Young man and tycoon came home to find everyone out at the pool. She could see they were pleasantly surprised to see friends over.
The littles stayed in the shallow end, playing ball and tag. The middles and ruffs practiced their diving. The young men laid around getting tans and keeping an eye on the kids on the pool. She had made them her life guards for the day.
The ladies and any tycoons they had came into the house for a salon. They talked about dynamic issues, listening to each other and giving advice. They practiced some knots and had an informal munch. Just the adults.
Then when they were pretty sure the kids had settled down a bit, they went out to swim and work on their tans as well.
Then Dommie had the food served by the young men, in cute little aprons, over their swimming trunks. They got a few pats on the bum as their tips. And were blushing and giggling at the attention.
Everyone was having fun. After the meal, the baby boys were laid down for a nap and the middles were sent off to read or watch telly. The young men were sent out front to shoot hoops and the adults snoozed and had a few drinks by the pool.
After one more swim time, everyone went home, happy.
It was a good day. Dommie was happy with the behaviour of her stable and made sure to give each of them a hug and thank them. It solved a lot of household issues when they knew she treated them well and let them have fun as they were. It was important to Dommie to have a peaceful home

Dommie and the Library Trip

The library was a thing that they could all do together, sort of. There was the kids’ area for baby boy. He picked up a couple loan toys and some picture books. Middle and young man liked the pop novels section and the music bios. She often found them with their heads together. Ruff enjoyed music too, but classic rock. So yes, same area of the library, but not the same shelves. And ruff preferred CDs or DVDs sooner than books. Tycoon agreed with ruff about that much, but could be found in the classics section. He preferred operettas and light classical or classical pop to listen too.
Dommie asked ruff and tycoon to pick something out for her and watched the younger ones. She ooed and ahhed over baby boy’s finds and vetted the picks of young man and middle. Just to be sure they weren’t too subversive, violent or sexual in content.
Then when they all had their picks, they went to the check out together and she let them proudly put their choices on their own library card. And smiled, when she saw that ruff and tycoon had made the right choices for her.
Next they went to the burger place across the street from the library and had a treat meal, since they had all behaved. Middle and baby boy shared a milk shake, a container of fries and each had a sleeve of nuggets. Young man usually just wanted juice and a burger. Ruff had two burgers, but took the bread off one. He was often carb lite when they went out. Tycoon and Dommie had a salad and tycoon had a fish sandwich while Dommie had a chicken filet sandwich. If baby boy and middle behaved, they got an apple pie for dessert.
The group returned home, quite happy with their day and Dommie said she was proud of their behaviour. So they got a rest hour where they could go to their rooms and read or listen to their choices.
And Dommie and tycoon had a chat about adult stuff. He often commented that he felt like they were his kids too. They laughed. Because whatever else was true, tycoon could walk away free and clear. Dommie could not. They were hers, and hers alone. When push came to shove. But she actually liked that. A lot. She was proud of her stable. They were all a good fit, a good dynamic.

Dommie Was Working from Home

Dommie found it was easier to incorporate the stable, rather than asking them to be quiet. Besides … free labour, right?
She asked her baby boy to sort the paper work by colour folders. He liked doing things by colour. You should see his blocks! Weird kid, but oh well. So she showed him the title to look for and gave him a blue folder. Then set him on the task of putting all those titles into the blue folder. Then colour by colour, he shifted her paper work into the right files. All she had to do then was flip thru them quickly to check his work. Perfect!
While they worked, they sang his new fave song . Over and over 😛
Her middle was learning computer skills, so she had him design a logo for each file. He did such a good job! They listened to a new wave radio station and sang along to the choruses. She noticed that he had a really nice voice. So it was a pleasure to listen to him. She made a note to buy him a karaoke. The others might have fun, but it would tap into his talents.
Her young man and she sat and brain stormed about the youth market and he gave her great ideas about what he and his friends were into and how it could be used to gain their business. She also made a list of them, so she knew what to get when he needed a gift.
Her ruff liked to carry and build stuff, so she had him make her a shelf and a case to store the folders. He was the house rocker. So they listened to a classic rock station and she told him stories about concerts she had been to.
And her tycoon was happy to be asked about sourcing funds for a major project down the road a bit. They listened to the Phantom of the Opera while they brainstormed.
Dommie liked sharing her work load and time with them. It made her work a bit lighter and they enjoyed what she asked them to do, genuinely. So there was no acting up and no resistance. Besides them being good at what she asked as well. No fuss that they weren’t getting her attention. Which might explain why they rarely acted up.
It worked well to have a stable, when it came to chores like this. Division of labour and resources was awesome. She was all for the cottage industry, when it came to her household.
At the end of the work day, her tycoon was happy to put together a family meal for them all. Young man was tycoon’s sous chef. And she got a foot rub from her ruff. His need for tactile activity far outweighed the others, So foot rubs really helped them both out. Middle and baby boy played a game of checkers.
Then middle and Dommie had a blast giving baby boy a tubbie. There was water everywhere and on everyone. They were never sure who actually got the bath.
Then they tucked him in, after ruff carried him to bed, like he was a plane. They left him there with a flash light and his fave picture book.
After saying goodnight to the others, Dommie went to her room and prepared for bed. It had been a long day.

Dommie Went Shopping…

She had managed to talk all her stable into waiting till the sales were on to have their xmas gathering. She had their scrubby little wish lists and was trying to remember who was most obedient and who deserved a treat.
First there was her baby boy. He liked dump trucks and fire engines. She often heard “vroom vroom” around the house when he was left to his own devices.
Then there was her middle. He liked sports, so he wanted a jersey of his fave team and an xbox game he could play with his friends.
And her young man wanted some cologne and a nice dress shirt. He liked looking spiffy.
Her tycoon wanted a book by the latest business guru.
And her ruff guy wanted a case of beer or a bottle of hooch.
By the time she got all these things, she was sick to death of the mall and feeling like punching the next person who said a holiday greeting to her. And Santa was going to get some unsolicited CBT if he came near her.
She managed to make it to her car without being arrested for assault, but just barely.
When a young guy asked if he could help her load her bags. She looked him up and down, then said, “Sure!”
She handed them to him and he started to run off. She tackled him from behind and brought him to the ground a bit too easily. He was shaking so she didn’t punch him. Just asked him what he thought he was doing.
He started to tear up and tell a tale of woe. About a daddy who had run off, a momma who was sick and young ones who hadn’t seen xmas in years.
She wasn’t sure she believed him, so she offered to drive him home. So she could see for herself.
When she got into his house, she saw that he was telling the truth.
So she took him back to the mall for a dinner and all it’s fixings, a few toys for the kids. And offered him a job at her small business as a clerk.
By the time she finally returned home, she was actually in the xmas spirit. She told the story to her stable. They thought she was just making it up till they met the young man for themselves.
Her baby boy gave him a truck for his little brothers and her middle gave him a game for them to play as well.
Her ruff went and made sure the house was solid and would keep out the cold.
And her tycoon went and bought the house so the mother wouldn’t be kicked out. And found her a good doctor to see what was wrong and fix it for her.
Dommie looked around her and was glad she had gathered these people in her life. When push came to shove, they were decent people.
They all had a heart of gold.

the making of a social marionette (a story)

instead of a person.

> I used to think the worst thing in life is to end up all alone. It’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone. – Robin Williams

**the alienation string**
When she was born, she was hugged for a whole minute by a nurse, till her father told the nurse it was just spoiling the child. She was educated by the law, but all her teachers were told she was too stupid to ever be able to use it. So they were just wasting their time.

**the expectations string**
Her mother wanted to teach her how to be a girl, but her father said all girls did was practice to be a wife and a mother or a whore. What was the point in that? Her father wanted a son, and if her parts didn’t match to that wish, he’d do all but cut them off, so he could have his will over her.

**the failure to protect string**
At school she was bullied and tortured by those who thought she should be like them. When she walked the streets, she was catcalled and pursued by men who thought she was made for their pleasure. Her father told her she was emitting whore radar. And she ought to be more chaste.

**the failure to nurture string**
If anyone ever asked her her dreams, she was laughed at for even daring. How could she be anything but a wife and mother or a whore? She was given a tea set, a doll and a make up kit. To see which she’d become.

**the sibling favouritism string**
Her sister who knitted, crocheted and baked was praised. Her sister who played the violin was praised. Her brother who built things, and repaired cars was praised. Her brother who won a math championship was praised. She was told she was a lazy misfit. Who would never amount to anything. No matter what she was good at.

**the “I told you so”, “you deserved it” double string**
When her first boyfriend dumped her without a ring or a baby, she was told now she’d be the whore they always knew she was.
When she was good at nothing her siblings were, they said she was obviously just as lazy and stupid as they always thought she was.
When she was raped and abused, they told her her whore radar had worked too well and she should have been more chaste.

**the manipulation string**
Family and friends used dark words and wishes to tell her how to be. They begged, they threatened… till she gave in just so they’d stfu!! already.

**the evil world string**
When she succeeded in the larger world, they reminded her the Bible and the church said the world was evil. When she failed, she was told she was measuring herself to the wrong standards, and had wasted her time and energy on the wrong people and things.

**the failure to individuate string**
Everywhere she went, she heard their voices in her head. Saying she had to be what they thought she should or she was a whore or a failure. No matter how many miles away they were, they still controlled her and she actually lived as their voices told her she should. She actually missed them. And found people who mistreated her as badly as them.

In the end, she was nothing but [plastic.][https://youtu.be/RD9xK9smth4] cuzz she never left the doll house.

Her Gift (Merry Christmas – erotica)

Her Gift (Merry Christmas – erotica)

Her husband had been working overtime for weeks, trying to get his desk cleared so they could have time together and relax. Rejuvenate their relationship. Tonight he hadn’t come home all night, She was half annoyed and half frightened. It was taking longer than usual, this run, and she kept close watch over the garage. Finally, she heard the door open and went to greet him. He put his gear down and swept her into his arms. And kissed her.
“Tough night, dear?”
“There was a storm, my love. It wasn’t great for driving.”
She kissed him again. Took his hand and led him to the fireplace. He sat down and she helped him take his boots off. Then she rubbed the arches of his feet, Where he had been saying that the boots didn’t support him enough. Though he didn’t think that any boot could do better. Unless they were hand made just for him. He moaned and said, “That’s the spot”. She smiled. She knew that, but it was nice to hear that she was doing a good job.
“Other than the storm, did everything else go well?”
“There were some hiccups, but nothing too bad. I had to call a worker onto the carpet. I don’t really like doing that. But it needed to be said.”
“What was the problem?” She went around behind him and rubbed his neck. He was really tense. She could feel the balls of stress. She frowned. Ok, so he had taken it badly. Probably worse than the recalcitrant worker had. Though they were a loyal bunch. Hmmm, she’d have to peek around when he was sleeping. See if everything was ok.
“Nothing major. Just sloppy work.”
While his head was lolling into her hands, she rubbed some more. “Are you in the mood for something to eat?” She knew sometimes he needed to sleep first. Or his stomach got upset. This time of year was so stressful on him.
“Maybe a cup of soup and toast?”
“I’ll get that for you.”
“Just a minute. There’s something I need more than food.”
“What’s that, dear?”
He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. “You!” And he kissed her. She could feel his need under her bottom. So she squirmed a bit to tease him. He laughed and slapped her butt cheek. “Tease!”
She giggled and said, “Not for long…” and she winked.
He lifted her higher into his arms and stood up. Carried her to the bedroom. And laid her gently on the bed. “Are you into this, darling?”
“With you? Always!” She grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it off him. As he did hers. They slipped out of their own pants then met in the middle of the bed. For some serious kissing. And feeling each other up.
When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she bumped into his groin gently. It was his cue to slip into her. One slow long sweep into her and he had to set his teeth so he didn’t cum. Not yet.
When he was ready, the rhythm began. It was like they were grooving to the same song. She always thought it was the song they first danced to, The one that they had had played at their wedding. When they were young and in love. It felt like the same one anyway. She had never asked though. She just hoped it was. It meant a lot to her.
Finally, he started to move a bit faster and she stayed with him, till they both came.
He stroked her face and hair gently.
Then he said, “I love you so much, Mrs Claus!” And buried his face into her neck. She could feel him finally relax and as she heard him start to purr-snore, she said, “I love you too, my darling Santa.”

was that really the snow queen? (xmas erotica)

Was that Really the Snow Queen?

I went skating with a few friends to spend some time with them over the holidays. It was a crispy day and we were glad we had dressed so warm. (Do people outside snow territory know what I mean by crispy?)
We had sweaters and sweaters underneath the sweaters plus our parkas and long sleeved shirts on. A couple pairs of pants, and some people wore ski pants as well. And thick boots till we got to the park’s skating rink to put on our skates. I had a couple pairs of thick socks on, and I wasn’t the only one. I even had a ski mask on under my toque. Plus the parka hood. And cloth mitts under our fur lined plastic ones. Yeah we were dressed warm.
We started to skate. Joking around and twirling each other and laughing at our pratfalls and play fights. Trying to do fancy moves and some dance steps when they played carols or classical music for the skaters.
Some of the carols were easier than others. Have you ever heard of TSO? They always put me in the right mood for Christmas.
Anyway, having fun.
Our group hadn’t known that there was to be a playlet of Hans Christian Andersen’s work “The Snow Queen”. So when people came onto the ice in costumes of flowers, crows, a boy and girl and a beautiful woman dressed in white, we were a bit surprised. So we found a place to sit down and watch. Sheltered a bit from the wind. Of course Gerda saved Kai. I think even the Snow Queen was happy about it.
Everyone else went back to skating. But I just had to find that gorgeous woman and see if she liked my flirt game.
It seems she did! More than liked it. We found a storage pod and tripped the lock on the door. And moved only what clothes we had to to feel skin a bit and access the right parts to have sex. It took quite a bit of heat from us to stay aroused and actually have sex. Only passion could have done it. Our lips practically froze together. I was wondering if she had metal in her lip gloss, the way they stuck together.
We warmed our hands on each other’s nipples and then wrapped them around each other’s groin. Then shoved our clothes aside and locked together. Pumping so we could create heat from our friction. We could see every single puff of air. And at one point I swear there were icicles in the puffs.
I asked her if she was a magical queen. She laughed and said “Maaaaybeee”. We found the energy and warmth to orgasm and quickly put our clothes to rights. Then cuddled together to get our body temperature back up.
She ran inside to change to street clothes and came skating with us for the rest of the evening.
Then back to my place to see if a warm apt would add to our passion… It did!