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I am a divorced male submissive, masochist with a distinct QUEENING fetish....I live alone in St Paul.
It's hard enough just to face the challenge of prohibitive odds as far as the m sub/F Dom ratio goes, but to also realize that one's desirability is at best very low due to age and financial status.
hope springs eternal though...I just need a woman who enjoys sitting on me....a LOT.
UPDATE
How it sorta developed:
Lawn Games
Consciousness returns, as once again you begin a new day from the warmth of your bed. Morning always seems so fresh, so full of promise; another in a long series of new beginnings full of hope and anticipation.
Yet as it was with so many other mornings, I felt that pleasant urge emanating from my groin. So compelling it is! Almost involuntarily I turn back the calendar almost half a century, to the grassy back yard in suburbia. For that too signaled a beginning of sorts. Exhausted from a vigorous foot chase during an impromptu game of hide-and-seek, I had collapsed on my back to regain my
stamina and purge the fatigue from my body.
I found myself amazed that the memory is still so vivid, as though it had become deeply engraved in my mind, which of course, it had. I had no hesitation in recalling her name, Vicky Schonwetter, or her striking defined eyebrows and dark hair framing a face that only hours before had it's compelling attractiveness hidden from me somehow, even though it had always been there in plain sight.
Almost casually she approached me as I lay on my back in the grass trying to catch my breath; then she sat on me. She was as innocent as I was, both our ages still numbering in the single digits. As she straddled me, she peered into my face with those razor sharp dark eyes housed by those beautiful, full eyebrows.
"You are tired too, the grass is wet, can I sit on you?"
The weight of her body on my tummy was triggering a stirring of a sensation that was foreign to me. It was beyond pleasant, it was assuming control of not only my thoughts, but my whole being. It was almost irritating that I had to answer her, as I only wanted to savor the moment, yet at the same time I realized that prolonging that moment may be even more important.
" I don't mind...are you comfortable?"
A wave of warm sensations seemed to wash over my whole body before I can identify it's origin. But then I realize, this is something very new, very exciting, and very powerful. Mom had always warned me about touching my penis, and leaving me with the impression that that curious appendage between my legs had the potential for evil and danger. And now suddenly it had taken on a life of it's own, not unlike the mummy coming to life after centuries in the crypt.
The initial fear I felt quickly turned into awe, as pleasure and fulfillment seemed to overtake everything else that I was feeling. Amazingly, the curious appendage had grown rigid. The lessons learned regarding it's potential for some sort of vague yet sinister evil remained, and had to be overcome for my hand to wander down, unnoticed, to explore this new development. Amazement seems a shallow word to describe the wonder I felt as I realized it had taken on the consistency of wood. What had been malleable floppy flesh only minutes before, was now a bone. But unlike all your other bones, this one was alive with the need to be touched, manipulated, and squeezed, or somehow engaged in physical contact.
Vicky had made herself quite comfortable straddling my tummy, yet for some reason, she lifted herself off of me and slid back across my body. Ecstasy, nirvana and bliss raced though me as her weight settled down over that curious, now rigid appendage. Nothing had ever felt so good, so satisfying.
"What's that?" She asked with all the unguarded innocence of a girl her age.
Panic was immediate. Although I did not understand it, I was overcome by guilt and a fear of being discovered. Being physically larger than her, I had little trouble dislodging her body from on top me.
"Let's go play some more" I respond, leaving her question unanswered.
How could you answer even if you wanted to? I realized that overwhelmingly pleasant sensation was fading fast, as Vicky ran off to rejoin her friends. But I lingered there on the damp grass.Something has taken place that for all it's newness and mystery, on some level, made me think things would never be quite the same.
Softball
I suppose all little boys realize there is a major difference between themselves and little girls, but other than all those curious behavioral peculiarities, the fundamental departure from themselves is always a murky curiosity for most little boys.
In the middle of summer vacation, most little guys My age were able to offset their boredom by anticipating the excitement of the upcoming fourth of July festivities. Yet this late June, so many years ago, I wandered from my home with no clear plan for enjoying this bright and pleasant Saturday. I had hoped to spend the afternoon with my best friend and next door neighbor, Kenny, but unfortunately Ken had been invited to a weekend at some lake cabin. I ambled my way behind the schoolhouse, where I came upon a group of older kids playing a softball game. I was attracted to the gathering mostly by the small crowd of spectators, rather than the game itself.
I found a decent vantage point about 25 feet from the first base line, and made myself comfortable on the lush green grass. Sitting cross-legged, I peered out at the ongoing ball game. I recognized a few of the older boys in my neighborhood playing for the team without any real uniforms, settling for an impromptu outfit of denim jeans and white tee shirts. The opposing team, obviously better financed, sported an impressive white with green trim uniform. I had no idea who they were, so I automatically found myself feeling an allegiance to the team in the white T-shirts.
While sitting on the lush green grass, My attention was strangely drawn away from the game to the girl standing a few feet away from where I sat cross-legged. She was a few years older than me, probably thirteen or fourteen, wearing a pair of very snug white jeans and a green windbreaker. her very blond hair was cut shoulder length, and seemed attractive in spite of the unmistakeably unnatural color. This was not the first time I had ever found a girl attractive. There was Marylyn, a girl he knew from the old house before his parents moved. But that was way back in third grade, a good three years, and almost a third of my life ago. At the time, spending time with her instead of his buddies seemed to offer a sort of fullness that was missing with them. It felt so grown up to walk to the drug store with her and share a couple of flavored cokes before returning home.
Today something much different was happening. The girl in his line of sight stood gazing out at the ball game, her feet apart on the grass, forming a sort of upside down V with her legs. I had no real stake in the game, still, on some unconscious level, it surprised me that my eyes were being constantly drawn to the gentle curves and bulges of this mystery girl's bottom. The more I tried to focus on the action on the field, the more I seemed drawn to staring at this girl's ass.
"Ass" had always been a fairly naughty word in my days as a child. Yet as I continued to absorb the strange attraction I was feeling for the very outline and curves I had seen so many times before. The word seemed to force it's way into my mind, but not as some crass curse word, but rather as something profoundly enticing and mesmerizing.
About the time I had become almost hypnotized by this mystery girl's form, she fumbled with a lighter she had taken from her pocket. Smoking was a shady sign of rebellion and naughtiness for any underage kid, but for a girl like herself, it was especially sinister. She dropped her lighter on the ground, and when she bent over to retrieve it, her jeans tightened around her ass, exposing the full outline and curve pattern that had been so strangely irresistible that day. I was blatantly staring at her, when she noticed me through her spead legs as she picked up her wayward lighter. She looked into my eyes, she understood far better than I exactly the dynamics of the situation. She was fourteen, and still exploring the power her sexuality seemed to have over boys, and even men for that matter. She waited until full eye contact was made, then smiled at me in way that I had never experienced before. It was as if somehow she had managed to share my thoughts, even though I was at a loss to understand them.
Once eye contact with this girl was established, I felt sheer panic, afraid she would see what I was up to and become very angry or disgusted. After all, I was starring at her ass, and enjoying the odd feeling it gave me. But the girl, Denise, was in the early stages of discovery herself. She had become aware that her body had been attracting the attention of all men, from those older than her father, and now, to those Dan's age. And she enjoyed this very much.
In embarrassment I looked away quickly, Denise retrieved her lighter and lit her cigarette. I suddenly felt very awkward and uncomfortable. I laid on the grass on my stomach, only to find the rain that had passed by earlier that morning and the grass was still wet. Already feeling embarrassment, I ignored this, and turned my attention toward the game. Denise however, was now focusing her attention on that eleven year old kid she had just caught staring at her ass.
I did feel a bit of a disappointment as Denise walked out of his field of view, but a relief that the tension I was feeling had dissipated.
A fourteen year old rebellious girl finds herself free from the usual decorum most of us abide by. Denise had walked behind me, and was now standing over me, before I was even aware of her proximity, she sat down on my back, straddling me on the grass.
"Hi, I'm Denise. You know, the grass is so wet. and I have these new white jeans on, so I'm just going sit on you for a while.
I could only summon enough fortitude to answer meekly, "ok".
What I was really feeling defies description . The very object of my fascination and near obsession was now sitting ontop of me. The impulses and energy surging through my body was new and exciting, yet their intensity was alarming. Denise had an inkling of what was taking place, yet I was a pure novice. Denise took a measure of satisfaction knowing she had a power over this boy far beyond the small gap in their ages.
Denise sat on my back, smoking her cigarettes and casually watching the ball game. But Denise did not just sit still. She was experimenting. She would focus her weight onto my back, and squirm, rotating her hips, pressing into my body. She was determined to maximize the experience. She wanted me to feel every dimension of having a female on top of him.
I had become totally under her control, yet the energy fueling this control came from deep within me. The sensation of those intoxicating curves and engaging mounds of flesh were now driving me to near nirvana. As much as Denise was enjoying the feeling of having a willing male under her physically, she somehow seemed to sense she had me at her mercy on many levels.
For me, the experience was beyond any conscious thought.
Throughout my body I felt a warmth unlike any other. The sensation of Denise squirming on top of me had delivered me to a place I had not visited before. Her weight on my back pressed me into the ground, while lifting him out of his innocence.
My penis had become rock hard, my whole body was reacting to the girl sitting on my back. I began to hope she would never get off of me. Denise had made herself comfortable, straitening her legs over my shoulders, her weight focused on the small of my back. Denise was amusing herself, but I had reached a milestone in my life. As Denise teasingly moved her butt back and forth on my back, I had an orgasm.
The ball game drew to a close, and Denise finally got off of my back, An extraordinary June day from my point of view. It would take so many years for me to appreciate just how extraordinary, and how precious it was.
Sitting on the Beach
I had my first erotic notion before I was three. I know this because of the location, in my small bedroom, in a small house, in Rosemeade California. I had my third birthday living in Minnesota, so I am certain of my age. In any case, I was day dreaming, or perhaps drifting in and out of consciousness, entertaining visions of railroad crossing arms, as you might expect a toddler to do. But my vision morphed into a woman's leg wearing thigh-high stockings and heels, not only replacing the crossing arm, but extended across my chest and forcibly holding me down. The experience was more than arousing, it was as if an unexpected notion had materialized from some void deep inside me, and had immediately taken full control of my total consciousness.
Many years would go by before anything matched the erotic intensity I remember from that day.
I was on a week-long family vacation in a rented lake cabin in Northern minnesota, on the same lake as where some of my parent's friends had built a lake home. I'm not sure if I had experienced puberty quite yet, but it was getting close. The family in question consisted of one boy my age, and his younger brother, and I'm guessing it was assumed the three of us would keep each other occupied with all the stuff you do by lake. But the family in question also had two girls, one my older sister's age,and another a couple years younger. Once again I believe it was assumed the three girls would find things to do together also. In any case, both sets of parents had taken to going off to pursue their own idea of a good time, leaving the kids to fend for ourselves.
The younger sister, Jessica, was fourteen, I was eleven. The older girls had abandoned Jessica on the beach with us boys. Her brothers eagerly commandeered the speedboat to which they now had rare unrestricted access, but I was hesitant. Jessica and I stood together on the beach watching the speedboat roar away and soon out of sight. Not knowing when they would return, I laid down on my tummy, on the soft green lawn abutting the sandy beach. I'm thinking that may have been my final moment as a child.
With no prior discussion, or any hesitation, Jessica sat down on my back, straddling me. Her weight on my back immediately brought on the same sexual intensity I remembered from that time in California. I loved the way her ass seemed to be a natural fit for the small of my back, and how it seemed to allign itself along my spine. Jessica was not a small girl by any means, and she seemed to be alternately supporting herself on her knees, and then focussing her full weight on my back. She would slide back and forth on me also. It soon became apparent that she was enjoying the sensation of sitting on me at least as much as I was enjoying being sat on. What followed was a full week of us taking every possible opportunity to assume similar physical allignments. We would spend entire afternoons watching TV in the house while the others busied themselves, always with Jessica sitting on me...using her weight to masturbate on my body.
It was the final weekend of out stay there, our family would be driving back to the cities Sunday morning. Our sisters had just left the house to ride horses, making them the last group ot interfere with our privacy. I cannot recall either of us discussing what we were doing, just automatically assuming these erotic positions while pretending to be totally unaware of them. Sometimes I would be laying on my back while she sat on my groin, sometimes I'd lay on my tummy so she could hump my butt and spine. This last Saturday, she sat squarely on my face. I had been lying on a leather couch on a screen porch with a view of the lake. Jessica casually walked in, climbed onto my chest , facing my feet, and carefully arranged herself so that when she sat down on me, my nose would go up her panty-covered ass. Then she simply sat on me, motionless. I could feel her body relax over me, as her full weight settled down on my head, her ass enveloping my face,
I can't be certain how long she sat on me like that, it seemed a very long time. I can't remember anything about her ever getting off of me, and in a sense, she never did.
Amanda
It was the autumn of '76, that magical time between the pill and HIV, when we all felt free to pursue our erotic adventures with little regard to any consequences more serious than a shot of penicillin or the wrath of a jaded spouse.
All that was required to join the party was a partner, and in my case, she was a widow I met quite by accident a few months earlier. Ten years my senior, her libido was at least as strong as mine, as was her willingness to experiment and enjoy all the pleasures our flesh could provide. I felt very fortunate to know her, as she rescued me from an agonizing period of celibacy which had threatened to grow to nearly a year in duration.
Ours was nearly a total sexual relationship, each of us on call to relieve the other should our desires became a nuisance. We were fairly compatible in many ways, not the least of which was my longing to be on the bottom dovetailed nicely with her fondness to "ride".
If I recall correctly, I was on my way home from work one Friday evening, when my eye caught sight of a discarded men's magazine, a Penthouse. I never could justify actually paying for a copy, but I certainly was not above pulling over and retrieving a free one.
Later that night , after I had eaten dinner, I began leafing through the revealing pictures of gorgeous naked women in provocative poses. While certainly interesting, even my reptilian brain seemed to recognize the fact that these were but illustrations and images, and not worthy of any sort of arousal response. It wasn't until I got to the section containing letters from readers sharing their erotic adventures that my imagination was set in motion.
Some fellow from Connecticut was relaying times he had spent with his lover, Amanda. Apparently Amanda was very fond of restraining him, then proceeding to have her way with his immobilized body. He went on to describe one particular episode in which he found himself naked and hopelessly bound spread-eagle style on Amanda's bed. Amanda proceeded to tease him mercilessly, toying with his genitals while being seated on his chest. having his field of vision reduced to where most of what he saw was the unmistakably feminine form of Amanda's ass comfortably resting on his chest, just far enough away so any desire to make physical contact was out of the question. His wrists and ankles were firmly bound to the corner of the bed, and she was just far enough forward on his body to make it impossible for him to even kiss her ass if he felt compelled to do so.
She caressed and stroked him, and eventually made oral contact, immediately sending him into ecstasy. Then she withdrew, and silently and slowly slid backwards over his body. To his surprise, she stopped inches short of his expectations. With her anus aligned with his mouth, she suddenly sat bolt upright, parting her cheeks. Without so much of a single word exchanged, he proceeded to orally impart whatever pleasure he could to her alternate erogenous zone.
It was at this point I realized that I had become so transfixed by his story, that my own organ had responded in way so intense, I scarcely recognized the sensation. The remainder of the story dealt with a return to more conventional love making, and an eventual cataclysmic orgasm simultaneously enjoyed. I sat stunned by my own response. I realized that I was risking near madness if I failed to take action. Soon I was on the phone with my lover, asking if she would like to meet me for drinks later on that very evening. To my delight and relief, she agreed. On my way to the bar, I was saddled with apprehension as to how to go about making any sort of obviously deviant proposal similar to what had recently mesmerized me. I was unable to summon the courage required at the bar, but managed to invite her to my place to share some wine. While drinking a bottle of cabernet, I asked her if she would mind giving me her opinion of an article I had come across. I retrieved the magazine that had sent me to distraction only hours beforehand, and pointed out the letter in question. The tension I felt as she began reading was beyond anything I could remember. Up until then, we had only engaged in rather conventional sex. it was exciting and satisfying, but could only be described as normal lovemaking. She seemed interested in the subject, but had yet to get to the part that had inflamed my own imagination. The tension became too much for me, and I left the room under some made up premise.
Upon my return, I nervously asked her what she thought.
" Do you have anything I can tie you up with?" she asked.
My mind began to race as I could scarcely relate to any such fantastic activity ever transforming itself into reality. With a collection of eyescrews, clothesline, and retired belts, I was soon able to fashion a suitably effective method of restraining myself. To my delight and fascination, she proceeded to improve on my design, taking up a lot of the slack I had allowed, and making any sort of escape impossible without her consent. Soon I was hopelessly bound, naked, and helpless; looking up at her as she admired her own efforts. She stood there for some time, lingering and seemingly enjoying the situation she saw laid out before her.
Soon she was kneeling over me, her breasts in my face obliging me to lick and suck them. Before long, her panty covered pubic bone was pressed against my upper lip as she straddled my head. Then it was apparent she wanted me to perform orally on the essences of her womanhood. her contented moans and satisfied murmurs let me know she was enjoying herself.
It was then when she got off of me, turned around, and kneeled astride me. I gazed up at the now formidable outline of her ass, with all it's mind-numbing beauty. She seemed to have assumed an awesome sort of power drawn from the natural feminine curves of her body. Time itself seemed to have stopped, as she purposely lingered above me, letting me both savor and fear what was about to happen. like the man who wrote the letter, my world was suddenly reduced to the vision of her ass positioned over me.
Then her hands appeared, separating the gorgeous mounds of flesh, exposing her most private of all body parts. I felt her body shift over me as she looked back and down in order to make eye contact. The half smile, half smirk on her face may have been the most exciting vision I had ever experienced. There was no longer any way for this to be reversed, as each of us was longing to experience this new sensation. We were no longer two separate people anymore, but rather one entity intent on carrying out what was at once so naughty, so dirty, yet so irresistibly erotic.
Then came what to this day, was the most exciting experience of my life. My consciousness seemed to be ingested my the sensation of her weight settling over me, enveloping me in way I had never known before. As her weight on my head increased, my tongue seemed to slide so effortlessly into her anus, ever more deeply as her body came to rest over my face. I sensed that she was in no way reluctant to spare me any possible discomfort she might cause me, but rather comfortable with the notion of sitting on my head as if it were there solely for her pleasure.
But more than anything else,I remember the sound she uttered. To describe it in words is a bit of a problem, yet I can so vividly recall it to this day. It was at first an expression of delighted surprise, as if the pleasure she experienced was exceeding her expectations. What followed was deep throaty moan of such strength and satisfaction, that I was lost in notion of being an accessory to her gratification. She sat on me motionless, savoring the movements of my tongue deep inside her, seemingly oblivious to my presence . I had become an extension of her own body, a mere purveyor of pleasure, and she felt no urgency to release me until she was satisfied.
I am now the exclusive property of my Mistress, Owner, and Wife.
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