Mark and I sat on our front porch bench swing, looking out at the expanse of chaparral visible from our wrap-around porch. Land use restrictions and timely research had landed us this location that looked and felt isolated, despite being mere minutes from town. The openness always made me think back to rugged times and hearty people. A past where people often made life-forming decisions with the conviction to carry them out.
We had agreed to such a decision within our relationship, that of my dominance in our sex lives. I became the decision maker on what, when, and how we were intimate. My actions were never heartless, nor demeaning beyond the boundaries we had agreed to, but they were decisive and not to be challenged.
Our isolation gave me plenty of options for delightful fun. Our access gate was tucked behind a knoll, and there was a comfortable distance to our property fences. This meant that I could roam free without the concern of prying eyes. Make love wherever I choose. And be playful.
When Mark varnished the porch rails last month, I had him do it with just a tool belt and boots on while I sat on the porch swing. He took great care not to get any chemicals on his rugged form while my thoughts drifted in and out of what I’d do to him later to show my gratitude. Along the way, I thanked him with food and drink breaks while edging his cock, but...