Thoughts on an ever-evolving life

Archive for the month “March, 2015”

Fishing Lesson – Part 2 of 2

He launched the boat, parked the truck, and walked back down to the boat. She had climbed into the passenger seat up front, and was waiting patiently. He pulled a beer out of the holder where she had set one, and drained half. He immediately felt just the barest subsiding of the flip flopping his stomach had been doing since he had arrived to find her there. “No, no” he said, “for a 5-pack, you get to start out rowing”. “You’re the teacher” she said, and slid back in between the oars. He shoved the boat out into the gentle current, climbed in and sat behind her in the rear fishing chair. “Now I’m going to sit up here behind you, help you get a feel for the boat while we are in this nice flat, smooth water. I maybe help a little when we go through the rough water in the canyon. Then after that, it’s all you”. She shot a nervous glance over her shoulder “Rough water? I’m serious – I have never rowed a boat before.” He smiled. “Oh nothing like whitewater – just some spots where you want to pull on the right oar at the right time, or you could be dancing with a rock or two. This is a solid fiberglass boat – it’s kissed a lot of rocks and you would hardly know it. I’ll get you through it.” She resumed smiling again, and said “I’m sure you will”.

The next half hour passed easily. They each drank another beer, and he gave brief instructions on the basics of pulling the oars, reading the river, and anticipating how the boat was likely to react. Amber pulled on the oars, under his direction, and had gotten to the point that the boat almost always did what he said it should do. But she was still not anticipating the pull of the river and the reaction of the boat far enough in advance. All new rowers had that problem. Occasionally the boat spun in a crazy circle, or slid backwards through a riffle when they should have been going straight through. As they approached the canyon, partially due to the impending faster water, and partly due to the bravery brought on by the beer, he stood up close behind her and took the oars, his strong, tanned hands firmly over hers. “Should I move?” she asked slightly apprehensively. He smiled down “Hey, you’re getting the full lesson here – I promise I haven’t wrecked a boat or lost a student yet”. His broad smile, and the feel of his hands on top of hers, gave her confidence. She turned back to the river and said “Bring it on”.

As the boat slid into the canyon, the water became faster and a little noisier. But for the most part she was able to turn the boat at the right moments, and keep them more or less headed downstream in full control. As they approached the exit of the canyon however, she hesitated a moment too long at the head of a crucial chute, and the current caught the tail of the boat and swung it sideways, heading directly towards a rock just a few inches under the current. “Right oar forward” he called, gently pushing her hand and the oar forward. But the boat needed further encouragement, and he called “big sweep back, left oar!”, and at the same time gave a long hard pull on the oar. The boat corrected as he wanted, but in his effort to put enough pull on the oar to turn the boat, he leaned her back, and drug his thumb straight up her torso, across her left breast, and square across her nipple. It stiffened under his finger, and he felt her lean back slightly more against his legs. He straightened up, but did not let go of her hands. “I’m so sorry…..” he began, but she was looking up over her shoulder at him with that wry smile on her face. “You know” she said “I almost believe that was an actual accident. But I don’t believe for one second you’re the least bit sorry”. They had entered quieter waters, but neither one was watching the river ahead. He started to blush, and to open his mouth in protest, when she gave a long pull on the right oar, this time guiding his hand, and causing it to drag up and across her other breast and nipple. “We wouldn’t want that side to feel left out” she said in a low voice.

At that moment he let go of the oars, and leaned down to kiss her upturned face. He wrapped one hand under her chin, and threaded his fingers into her long hair with the other. He pulled back with the same strength she had sensed in his hand when he pulled the oars, and a slightly quavering exhalation escaped her lips. He heard the thump of the oars gently banging the side of the boat, indicating she had let them go, and he felt her left hand reach around behind his head. She pulled him closer to her, the intensity of their kissing rising rapidly. He was still standing behind her, and she still sat facing forward on the rowing chair, but the upside down angle made her mouth all the more sensuous. She pulled gently away from him, and said in the same low voice “what do we learn in this part of the lesson?” He slid his hands down to her waist and straight up under her tank top in one movement, filling both hands with her beautiful breasts. “I think” he said “we find out what happens to a drift boat when nobody’s rowing it”. He squatted down behind her, and pulled her down upon his lap. He massaged her breasts and nipples for a moment, and then leaned down and took the right one in his mouth. At the first swirl of his tongue over her nipple, she let out a low moan and arched her back. As he sucked on her breast, he felt her left hand guide his left down to the button on her shorts. To his delight, she ripped the snap open, and thrust his hand inside. Beneath a very sexy pair of black lace panties, he found her incredibly warm and wet. He continued to suck, and worked her pussy juices over her clit with his fingers. She writhed slowly on the rowing seat, her left hand on top of his, and her right guiding his head as he slowly continued to suck her nipple.

He slid his hand out of her opening so suddenly she gasped, and said “ohh, don’t stop”, but it took only an instant for her to realize why he had. “The beer and the rowing has made me a little hungry” he smiled, and spun her around on the rowing seat facing him. He was very glad he had invested in the new seat swivels. “Lay back on the gunwale and watch the scenery go by” he commanded, as she felt her shorts slide down her long legs to the bottom of the boat. She lay to the side, her head on the gunwale, and drew in a sharp breath of air as he pulled his tongue in one long, slow lick from the bottom of her pussy up and over her clit. “Oh my god” she gasped “I didn’t know drift boating was so good…” Her voice trailed off in a low moan as he began to lick, suck, and massage her clit. Her back arched, and he slid his hands under her perfect ass, and pulled her closer to him. His rhythm increased gradually, punctuated by an occasional pause, after which he resumed with a sudden flick of his tongue against her clit. As the moments passed, he felt her passion rising as her breath began to quicken, her back arched harder, pressing herself against his tongue, and her hands wrapped around the back of his head. As she neared orgasm, he tilted his head slightly and looked up, just under his eyebrows, and at the moment they made eye contact, her whole body exploded in a fury of orgasm, spasms wracking her as her legs clenched hard around his head.

As the intensity of the moment began to subside, her legs relaxed, and he raised his head up. She still had her hands around the back of his head, her fingers threaded into his short hair, and she pulled him to her in a delicate kiss. After a moment, he pulled his head back and looked around. Unaware of the passage of time, they had drifted almost a mile downriver, but were still a good mile and a half away from the take-out point. He pulled the anchor rope to drop it, and the boat bumped to a gentle stop mid-stream. He looked back at her, and finally found his voice. “Well, I think you’ve mastered the basics of drift boating. Maybe now we should move on to some fly fishing basics?” He was smiling a wry smile of his own, and suddenly felt the warmth of the evening Montana sun on his back as he had never felt it before.

She placed her hand on his knee, and slid her hand slowly up his thigh, stopping at the button on his shorts. “Let me show you what I already know about handling a rod” she said smiling at the cliché innuendo. As he felt his button unsnap, and her hand slide inside to find him, he knew he would be staying in Wolf Creek just a little longer. He also knew he would be coming back to Montana, sometime, very, very soon. World-class fly fishing, indeed….

This story was written by Professor and edited by Miss Amelia.

Fishing Lesson – Part 1 of 2

He walked into the Oasis Café for some dinner, as he had done the night before, and wondered if the blonde would be there again. The night before, his waitress, a girl perhaps in her late teens, had sat with her in the corner booth until he had come in and sat down. Besides the two ladies and the cook bustling somewhere in the back, there was not another patron in the place. The young waitress immediately left the blonde and walked to where he had sat down.

“So dead you’ve got time to sit with the customers, eh” he joked, trying to break the ice easily as he always did with cute waitresses. “Oh” she commented smiling, “that’s just my sister”. Hell of a big sister, he noted in his inside voice, with extremely short denim shorts and a tank top, and long, slender legs that, along with her bare shoulders, were tan from being out in the Montana sun and not laying in a microwave somewhere. Hair that was probably light brunette but bleached from being outside spilled over her shoulders. He ordered the biggest damned burger on the menu, and turned his chair ever so slightly so that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. But before long she got up, called goodbye to her sister, and left. “I’ll see you tomorrow” she called as she walked out the door. It was then that he knew he would most likely be coming back here for dinner tomorrow.

So the next day he was slightly disappointed when he entered and neither girl was there. However his disappointment turned to a tingle of satisfaction when the blonde walked through the door from the adjoining bar, and asked if she could get him anything to drink. “Well, as a matter of fact” he said “a beer would be about the 2nd best thing in my evening right now”. She smiled and said “and what would the best thing be?” “The best would be for you to tell me you name”. This time she laughed. “Just name, and not phone number?” He smiled a little. “Hey” he began “you have no reason to know this, but I am a very loose approximation of a gentleman, and I’d rather know what to call you before we get to the phone number thing, and besides, this is Wolf Creek, Montana. I heard you don’t have phones here.” At that she laughed again, and continued to smile a bright, dazzling smile. “Hmm” she said, “let me get back to you on that name thing.” “Ok”, he said “how about a Fat Tire while you’re mulling it over”. “I can do that” she said as she turned towards the bar. “By the way, it’s Amber”. “Yes, he said, “the Fat Tire Amber is exactly what I was hoping for”. “No” she said “my name. It’s Amber”. “Ah,” he said, a slightly sheepish smile appearing along with comprehension. “Interesting coincidence I guess.” She smiled and went to retrieve the beer.

He ordered food, and washed it down with beer, which felt so incredibly good on his throat after a day of rowing the drift boat. When he had just about finished, Amber came back and asked if he needed another beer. “Well, I plan on being out on the river kinda early tomorrow, so maybe I’d better pass” he began. She stood next to him, again wearing shorts designed specifically to showcase her awesome legs, and he was overcome with a moment of boldness. “But if ordering another means I get to see you one more time in those shorts, I guess maybe one more would be alright”. He fully expected some sort of nasty retort for his comment, but to his surprise and delight, she smiled and said “I can do that, and since the bar is empty, and it’s about time for us to close, I’ll have to sit with you so you can tell me what the hell you’re doing in Wolf Creek”.

She brought the beer, and true to her word she sat with him while he talked of world class fly fishing and floating the Missouri in this wild place were the sky went on forever, and the northern lights danced in the summer night from time to time. “I figured you were here fishing, but you seemed a little different than all the others that come through here. Not so rich, not so stuffy”. He laughed. “Well I’m a long way from either of those, and damned glad it shows. Mostly I’m here to slide down the river in the drift boat, and watch the world go by without a sound, and I don’t have any place to be, and no time I have to get there.” “Sounds nice” she said, leaning back in the chair across the table from him. “I’ll have to try it sometime”. He shot her a quick glace. “You’ve never been in a drift boat?” he asked with surprise. “No, funny as it sounds. Been in lots of power boats up on Holter Lake, but since I don’t fly fish, no one’s ever taken me”. His courage level was rising as the second beer dwindled to the last swallow. “Well”, he said, pausing to drain the last of the beer, “I fish tomorrow in the morning to beat the heat, but I’ve been seriously contemplating a second float in the evening to see what happens when things start to cool off. Meet me at the boat ramp below the dam, and I’ll take you for a boat ride and teach you how to row the boat”. He finished his sentence with his heart racing at 1000 miles an hour, fully expecting a gracious decline. After all, they had known each other now for a long 30 minutes. But her face broadened into a wide grin, and she said “Well it just so happens that I’m off tomorrow, so tell me when to be there.” “6:00” he said, showing just enough of a smile to indicate he was pleased, but he somehow refrained from letting out the whoop that he could hear ringing inside his head.

On the way back to his camp, he felt a swirl of a million emotions flying through his head. What would he say? How should he behave? Would she even come? By the time he got to camp, he had pretty much talked himself into believing that she would not. She didn’t know him, and being polite and flirtatious was a key part of getting a good tip jar at the end of the night. It was not part of good waitressing to go off meeting strangers at boat ramps. It was easier for him to believe that. Then there would be no disappointment when she did not show. He slept that night trying to think about rainbows and browns gently sucking down his dry fly the following morning, but drifted off to sleep wondering what the evening rise was going to bring…..

He woke the next morning amazingly refreshed and focused on the morning fishing, and the float down to Craig passed as most of the other mornings did – just a few strong, hard fighting fish, and a lot of gorgeous scenery and time to let his mind wander. He spent the middle of the day cleaning and organizing the boat, and when he had inspected his handiwork for the 4th time, it suddenly dawned on him that he was nervous. Six o’clock approached with amazing rapidity, and he found himself doubting she would show up at all.

But he was very pleasantly surprised to see her already there, at 10 minutes to six, when he pulled up to the ramp. She was sitting on the hood of a jeep, wearing a tank top, shorts and sandals, with a six pack of Fat Tire sitting next to her. As he swung the boat around to back it down the ramp, she slid off the hood and walked up to the driver’s side window. “Hey” was all he could think of to say. “Hey” she said in return, “I hear somebody around here gives drift boat lessons for a six pack of beer”. “Well that would be me” he said, slowly edging the boat down to the ramp. She held up the beer and he noticed that one was already empty. “What do I get for a 5-pack?” she asked smiling. “Gee, I dunno…….” He began looking with mock seriousness at the corrupted six-pack “Well just have to get on the river, and we’ll see what we can do”. He smiled somewhat shyly at her, hoping his anticipation wasn’t showing.

Destined To Repeat . . .

If more people would be as thoughtful, open and loving as this, this world would be a truly beautiful place. Open your mind and your heart and help change the future.

A True Dominant

When you use the title, Dominant, the first picture that probably flashes in your mind involves a strong, confident and in control man, sexually claiming his title with a submissive. That scene would be accurate for most men claiming the name, but I want to give you a different picture to consider.

Imagine a Dominant being a man who hurts when his submissive hurts. Won’t eat because his submissive can’t have food. Cares for her when she doesn’t have the strength to care for herself. Cooks and cleans for the children, and the submissive, when she can’t move. Lifts her head to serve her water when she doesn’t have the capacity to raise her own head. Washes and cleans his submissive when she doesn’t have the power to care for herself. I have watched this man and it was the most Dominant thing I have ever experienced.

I had surgery on Monday morning and Sir has been an absolute God Send for me. I have an innate need to serve this man, yet I watched him kneel next to my bed and love me like no other person on the face of this planet could. I care for and serve him, because that is what he desires, yet, he has done nothing but serve and cater to me, for the last several days. I wish to provide a daily release for him, yet he has spent hours sitting at my feet, rubbing them, until I drifted off into peaceful slumber.

I have felt his love coursing through my veins, healing me, with every beat of my heart.

He is my Man, my Friend, my Lover, my Husband, my Sir and most definitely, my Dominant.


Thank you Miss Clark for allowing me to share your beautiful words.


I found this to be truly exquisite. I hope you will too. Thank you to Sirensong1208, for allowing me to reblogged her work.

Siren Whispers


She can hardly breathe.

With the flutter of nerves

And excitement

She is blind to all but her own thoughts.

The room is silent

But for the scratching sound of the match

Her senses are heightened

Sight and movement taken

The rich smell of leather permeates the air

She feels the comforting weight

Around her neck

Around her wrists and ankles

She knows what is to come

Yet not when.

He is a quiet presence

Watching her

Waiting for the right moment

Pleased with the sight of her

Cuffed and roped

Here for his pleasure

And hers


The first drops hit her bare skin

The burning pain

Melding into an ache

She feels down into her core

Drop after drop falls

Without end

The wax drips down her breasts

Beading upon her nipples

Dripping further upon her belly

Upon her thighs

Upon her sex

She is twisting her body…

View original post 188 more words

In My Cookie

I got one of the best fortunes in my cookie last night. Just had to share.

Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change.

Chocolate Therapy

My head has been spinning and I know I should be doing about one million other things that I have been neglecting. My entire life has been completely wrapped around and consumed by Sir, and our new adventure. We are doing things that I would have NEVER thought we would do. It’s AMAZING! I have belt marks that have been there for the last three days, and I love it. We have also been having a lot of fun just being together, talking.

My stress finally over took me on Friday. I had an Extremely difficult day at work. Toward the end of the day, I had to go to a mind numbing meeting with some of my peers. I had to leave the meeting and rush to the store so I could grab something for dinner and the ingredients for a Caprese Salad I needed to make for my daughters cast dinner, after play practice that night. Because I didn’t have time to go all the way home, I ran to Sir’s office to make the salad on his desk. It was almost impossible to be so close to him, but knowing I didn’t have a second to touch him. I got it done in just enough time to rush it to the theater. I then drove home, exhausted, overwhelmed and kind of pissed at life, knowing that I still had to make dinner. While I was at the store, I had bought Sir a German chocolate cake, because I was feeling guilty that I have been too busy to bake anything for him in over a week.

Dinner was done and we were FINALLY sitting on the couch, able to relax and talk. Sir kept commenting that he was almost ready for cake. He wanted cake. He was happy I got cake. The cake looked really good. He was glad I got the cake. FUCK, I get it! You want cake! He got up to go use the bathroom and I told him I would get him some “fucking cake.” The nasty look I got from him was completely deserved, but it REALLY set me off. Well, I know you have experienced my errant mouth. What you haven’t experienced is my little mean streak. So, when Sir came around the corner to get his cake, I grabbed a fist full, and I gave it to him, right in the face. He stood there stunned. I know it wasn’t the nicest thing, the most submissive thing or even the correct thing to do. But, by the time we were done, we were both COVERED in chocolate, laughing hard and holding each other close. What a MESS! Worth EVERY crumb!

Of course, as you can imagine, we now both needed a shower. We carefully made our way back to the master bathroom and slowly undressed each other. Then, we climbed into the shower together. Sir stepped behind me and lightly shoved me against the shower wall. He then proceeded to wash my hair and body until I was all clean. His hands covering every inch of my body. It was GLORIOUS! I returned the favor, making sure he was completely cleaned as well. We dried each other off and retreated to the bedroom, where we enthusiastically worked out any lingering aggression. It was Spectacular!

I HIGHLY recommend this as a form of stress relief. I had the best night sleep I have had in a long time. 🙂

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