Author: helpfulhub

Eight Days In

……. The following Monday, 8 days in.   As he walked back into the bedroom, he paused by her dresser to admire her body laid out on the bed, a pillow propped under her hips, legs dangling off the edge akimbo. Only one tiny rivulet of his semen leaked from her, glistening her perfectly presentable asshole. Looking past me sitting naked in the corner, he smiled to himself upon seeing her like this. She had been holding him inside her body for the moments he was away from her. Something made her want to retain his cum while he washed himself in the bathroom. Maybe she loved him already. He noticed a pile of pigtail rubber bands sitting on her dresser and almost without a thought, he picked up two and slid them down to the base of his still semi-hard cock. Purple and yellow, her two favorite colors   Now it is time to say something about Stephans cock. For lack of a better word, it is gnarly. In contrast to my perfectly average, circumcised, seven inch unit, his looks like a one pound yam. It is assymmettrical, with lumps and bumps and a wicked twist to the right when erect. It is veiny. The head end of it, which is blunt and broad with a deep uretheral crease,  is larger in girth than the base by a...

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Our Blog begins: Onions and Olive Oil.

As a new Dom enters our life, it has been suggested that I create and share a journal  as it unfolds, to create an ongoing Blog . I have humbly agreed to do so. This is the first submission. I hope that our experiences encourage others, too. helpfulhub …… When the chopped onions first hit the hot olive oil, the frying pan is pandemonium. The little bits of onion buck and dance wildly as their cell walls rupture, spilling their essential oils into red hot olive oil, filling the room with a promise of something good to eat. For a few seconds, it is pure chaos in that pan. The pieces of onion look as if they want to jump clean out of the skillet. Then, slowly, the hot oil penetrates the cell walls of the onion bits, rupturing them until a resolution sweeps over the pan- a sort of resignation to the inevitable- and the onion bits settle down to simmer together in the oil, grateful to disgorge themselves into the flavor of the roux. It happens all over again, in much the same way, when a cold can of diced tomatoes is introduced to the oil and caramelized onion mixture: a great furor and much frantic boiling around the edges, and then acquiescence, resolution, red sauce. And so it is when she takes on a new lover....

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