Dear Diary

I don't know why I tell you these things. I guess it's because you are someone else's and not mine. You understand what she goes through and, in a way, what I go through as well. Maybe it helps you in your own relationship. I like to think so and you tell me it does.

For me, I get to talk with someone who understands, even approves. It's not everyday I get that. As I tell everyone, I am a special needs person. I need this in my life. It's not a passing fancy or something I'll get over or through.

So I get to tell you about it. You knew we were going on the date. I told you what I had planned for the build up. That I would get to her house early and fuck her mouth before sending her off to work. I would do it again at lunch. By nighttime, she would be so worked up that pushing her over the edge would be simple. Your chats started sounding a bit jealous, so I broke off, telling you I had to work.

Just like that. She was barely out of the shower when I got there in the morning. It didn't take much prodding for her to fall on her knees, open my fly and stuff my cock between her lips. I was hard so fast she hadn't even gotten time to adjust to having it in her mouth before it was banging the back of her throat. I grabbed her hair and thrust. I'd really been looking forward to it. Since talking with you the night before I'd been semi hard and wanting. Now I was going to get some release.

I pumped and thrust. The noises she made with her throat, humming and moaning, adjusting to a hard shove and whimpering for more were making me crazed. It came up so fast, she got the first spurt deep in her throat. I pulled away for the next one and sprayed it across her lips and cheeks. She was struggling to get her lips back down on my rod and pulling at the hair I had wound in my hand.

She was still working to get at it when I pinched and twisted her nipple, making her jump and squeal. I slapped the side of her heavy breast just to see the hand print there in red and feel the pleasant heft. "Can't wait for tonight." I told her. "I'll be there for lunch." I wiped my dick against her cheek before I put it away. There was cum on both of our skin, so it just smeared. I like it when it goes like that. Barely any talk. I just walk in and fuck her and walk out. Leave her gasping and panting. Unable to get a handle on what just happened.

Other times I talk her through everything. Step by step. Anticipation is an undervalued emotion. It can carry tension or heighten it. It can make a simple conversation unbearable. She is so plan oriented that she literally will start crawling out of her skin if I tell her too much too soon. I try to use it sparingly but effectively. Knowing what comes next for her and having me take my own time to get there drives her beyond tears.

I showed up at her office at lunch time. She'd already sent the secretary and bookkeeper off. Her assistant was in another part of the state and that left herself in the corner office. I stumbled at the threshold. She was absolutely stunning. She had on a grey dress with maroon stockings.

Several years ago, she'd had a rough time. She woke up one day, 35 and overweight. She had what she wanted, administrator of a successful organization, but she wasn't who she wished she saw in the mirror. She went to weight watchers and began paying their fees by the week. At the same time she started at a gym and with a walking club.

Her goal was 30 pounds. That was the weight she'd been in high school and wanted back to. She made that goal the first six months and kept it. That was almost three years and sixty pounds ago. It's hard to imagine her as that much larger, though she could use ten of it back now. Her doctor told her at one point that she wasn't being reasonable, but she's kept to weight watchers and follows their plan. She's at the gym three times a week and walks five miles a day five times a week.

I truly enjoy her tied to the bed in her underwear. Seeing her writhe and struggle makes me so hard I could fuck her for hours. Her tits are huge and they were bursting out of this dress. She'd done this on purpose. The little tease! She wanted to drive me out of control.

She tells me often that she dreams about the times I lose it with her. Get so wound up that I pound her. Fuck her with a fury and without any idea where I am. Sometimes this happens when she's sucking me and if I'm whipping her at the same time, well, she's suffered some wounds that took some care to get them to heal well. She has some faint thin lines on her ass and breasts that I can catch her rubbing or tracing with her fingers while she's distracted or thinking. Nearly every time I've lost control like this, it's put a crimp on sex for a few days.

She says she dreams about the pounding and the way I throb with an inner power and force -- she calls it rage. She says she wakes up and the dream will have been so real that she thinks she'll move and feel me leaking out of her.

So there she is in that dress, with her tits half spilling out and my cock got so hard so fast that I finished the plan for her I'd begun while chatting with you the night before. Don't bullshit a bullshitter and don't tease a teaser. That little wench was going to know agony. I walked around the desk and she'd already fallen to her knees before I even got there. She's so willing! What a prize!

I grabbed her hair and held her head at the end of my dick. She could just gobble at the head and she did! Went at it! Sucking and nibbling until I moaned and shoved the back of her head into my balls. I reached down with both hands and grabbed her boobs and fucked her while squeezing and pulling them up around my pole. It didn't take much for me to explode again. So fast and hard it made me yell. I nearly fell over as my knees gave out and I shook. She cleaned me slow and catlike. Little licks and slurps.

I tucked myself back in and enjoyed looking at her for a moment. She had little dribbles spotting the tops of her mounds where they puffed out of their containment and threatened to jump from the silk of her sheath dress.

As she rose from the floor I could truly appreciate the slit running up the side and the garters. Knowing her as I do, I knew there were no panties. Her juices would just soak them anyway. The anticipation of our meetings keeps her juices steadily flowing. I let her settle into her chair and massaged her shoulders.

Oh, if she thinks too much she gets scared. So scared, she starts trying to back out. She can't. I'll tell her when she's doing that: "go ahead. We don't have to do this. I don't mind. We can do something else. I can do this with someone else, some other time. There are many options. You know me (and she does), I am not tied to any one thing."

It is part of the freedom of being who you are and who you want to be that you have the world available to you. I've worked so hard to teach her that. She's starting to get it. Subs really are a lot of work. I hope you appreciate that in your own master. I think one day she might leave all this behind and be free. That day is not today, however, and she does enjoy being the boss here at her petty job. She is good at it as well.

I told her as I kneaded her shoulders that she was going to be punished for her teasing. That I certainly do enjoy it and am delighted at her audacity. I'm absolutely thrilled at her outfit and I hope that she'll follow it up with a thoroughly vamp performance. I want to see the guys panting around her in the restaurant. I want to see them trying to separate the two of us, get a private word or glance in to her. It is fun and I appreciate it.

I've told you I prefer a sub with intelligence and capability. I can't handle cringey or clingy. I truly enjoy an independent partner. Fully capable and culpable. Willing by design and means. It's part of my history with women that the bold, daring, upper two percent are the only ones with enough creativity and wherewithal to give me what I need. She's no exception. It's also true that most of my subs have never imagined that from themselves before our time together. This is so true now. I told her what she can expect tonight. She will fret the rest of the day. By tonight she will be in tears calling me to cancel. Oh, don't worry. She'll be at the restaurant and she'll give an incredible Mae West Madonna performance. I'll love every minute of it and need her so badly by the time we leave it won't surprise me to lose it at some point, just like she wants.

I've been restoring the old barn. I haven't been here long, but nobody does that around here. In the west, I could always find an old farmhouse to restore and reconstruct. Hundred plus year old houses are my specialty. There aren't any here. Hardly.

I tell friends from elsewhere that this area must have been ignored before the 1960s. Either that or it was almost totally destroyed in the Vietnam War and rebuilt with reparation dollars (cause they didn't do a very good job of it).

I took her in there a couple months ago and showed her how I had taken all the pieces of reins and bits and spurs that had been lying around and made them into bindings. I worked them open for her and showed her how she could be suspended from the mid beam and held there. I was checking her reaction and the sex that night was voracious. She can be so transparent at times, though she fears this inner self more than she's ever feared me -- and don't get me wrong, I've had her trembling.

She trusts me really too much for a true Master relationship. She knows I'll protect her even from herself. I explained, just in general terms (I did cut her a break) what she would be doing with her night. As I told her I felt her go from total relaxation to hypertense in seconds. She really will fret all day now. You know that feeling, that's why I'm telling you.

Well, I told you I would send you a report of how my day with her went and there it is. I hope you fared as well. You know my advice. It's the same to everyone. Be who you want to be and do what you want to do. If you have to give something up to get something better, give it up. Let go of the things in your life that hold you to the way others have made you.

Thanks for being my diary.