Who’s In Control?

Colin kneeled down in front of me, unbutton my jeans and let out a rather heavy breath upon seeing my cock falling out. I just looked into his beautiful blue eyes with lots of passion. He had a beautiful face, probably one that belonged to the most handsome man I’ve ever met. That eye connection didn’t last long since he wasted no time with my cock also staring. I told him to get to the window where I could fuck him under the street lights from the 16th floor and he said: “Yes, sir”.

—————–

I usually think of myself as a person who likes that word, “sir”, or to be more exact, likes to be called by that word. Ever since the whole sexual escapade happened, my to go characters in the game range from masculine guy with wit, the talkative and brutally blunt brat with fuck-yeah attitude, or this scholar man surrounded by a mysterious layer of melancholy. I didn’t form them. They just surged, along with certain situation & subjects. No matter how different they might seem, there’s only one thing in common: control.

To be in control was usually associated with be on top, be the top, the dominant one. Maybe that’s why I let myself play that part in a sexual relationship and never want to be seen as otherwise. Sometimes I think about trying it the other way around, to see if it’s enjoyable or not, but then history has concreted the conclusion that had been drawn long before. The night when tears endlessly fell and I felt like it couldn’t be stopped, with Ben hugging me tight in fright, was still like yesterday, along with the other night with the other man I thought I loved. It was like a fire, you tried touching once, and then retreated being aware of the disdain, you told yourself not to do it ever again.

Unfortunately, one doesn’t have to go down that road and still be able to gain the momentum. I’ve seen the way Connor lured me into his maze, tickled my weakness to provoke the aggressiveness and instead of having a dominant me, he had experienced a powerless & clueless dominant me. He was fucked, but he was willing to be fucked, and fucked in the way he wanted to be fucked, with toys, with spit, with slap, with spanking and all of the things that weren’t my cup of tea. By allowing himself to be controlled, he actually was the one in control. And that’s just one case, and also what I realized long after the deed had been done.

—————–

Colin gave me a final kiss before I headed out. He came twice while I needed his hand and oral support to do just one. On the way to the airport, I received a message from him. “Thank you for such great sex” with that little smiley icon at the end. That one reminded me of his beautiful face, his freckled back, his slightly hairy chest and curly hair, his head lying on my chest when I was sleeping. And at that moment, it came to my sense who was really in control and who messed up the rule of hookup and left too much behind.

 

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This entry was published on March 16, 2016 at 12:25 am. It’s filed under Colin, sex and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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