A Peek Back 9-8

200 posts.

Hard to believe that, as of last night, we reached this milestone so quickly. Still hasn’t sunk in. It does not seem like just over four months ago that I came to Leigh with a crazy idea and a single blog post introducing myself. If memory serves me I believe our first day we had 8 views. We went over 30,000 total earlier this week.

So in honor of this momentous occasion I am sleeping in Saturday. The words you read right now are, with the assistance of a celebratory 24oz Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, being keystroked Friday evening.

Its been an amazing ride so far. And its only going to get better. Thank you all.

If you’re a first time Peeker™, welcome!  You are invited to peek through the keyhole. We strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps a drink (the 24oz Pale Ale may need to wait until later in the day) sit back and enjoy.

So saluté!  It’s time to Peek Back!

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.15 – Longtime Peeker™ Ms. D wanted to know if moments like Breaking Leigh were life altering.

A Coffee, Cricket And A Dom Walk Into A Monday – A very laid back, touching Labor Day induced Monday musing.

The Butterfly Chains Act IV – In short, I fuck Leigh fast and hard. One of the most well received Acts of any story I’ve written. Peekers™ went gonzo over this one.

I Had No Idea – My stunned reaction to the above, plus an announcement about a new blog feature. It involves me coming.

The Looking Glass Act II – A very special memory begins, complete with soundtrack. This one is personal on many levels.

Butterfly Chains Are Making Noise – The aforementioned Act IV that everyone freaked out over got republished!

Seek And Go Hyde Act VI – The final Act in this story. Hyde takes over. It gets intense, a bit wild…and very messy.

WII Is WII – Has nothing to do with video games and everything to do with defining WIITWD. Curious? Read on.

Chain Of Rules Act VII – After two Acts of nipple abuse, it’s time to add spanking to Leigh’s chained misfortune…or is that fortune?

Pretty – A poem because sometimes you just want to fuck the pretty girl you wake up to.

For My Leigh – For the 200th post on The Dom Next Door™ I wanted to do something special. I did.

Just tiptoe on the way out…..ZZZZZZZZZZ.

– Scot

The Looking Glass Act II

(Note – If you wish, you can listen to the same song that Leigh & I did while the following occurred. Just open the link in a new window)

To read The Looking Glass Act I

“So when the sun goes down
And those nights grow colder,
I will be there
Looking over your shoulder. “

– The Deeper The Love, Whitesnake

I couldn’t help but hear David Coverdale’s voice as I looked over Leigh’s shoulder. The sun had gone done, and the nights had grown colder. And there I was behind her.

Our eyes gazed into one another’s through the mirror’s reflection, a precursor of what the next fifteen or so minutes held for us. My face, only partially visible, floated above her left shoulder. There was a macabre quality to the way the candle illuminated my features with drama, some areas almost void. My right arm draped across her chest, the left around her stomach. Candlelight makes my forearms damn impressive, if I say so myself. It looked like a muscular snake had coiled around her nude form.

Leigh, on the other hand, looked like a goddess.

If you have read any of the stories I’ve shared, you know that candles are de facto to our play. The sputter and hiss of wicks singing anew are often the first part of the ritual, usually followed by the bedroom door being shut. Leigh and candlelight go together like peanut butter and jelly. They were made for one another, the sum greater than their parts. She glows under their flickering gaze. The blank canvas that is her alabaster skin becomes a masterpiece of erotic theater. Hues of pale tangerine and warm cream hint at its texture. Aside from the pale blue of the first light of day, she never looks sexier than she does when awash in candlelight.

Having a candle not even arm’s length from where we stood made her skin torturous. I wanted to devour her. The mmmmmmmmmmm of the vibrator’s RPMs would more than sufficiently do the same. In time.

“You,” I said trailing a kiss down her nape, “look incredible.” More dry bites, my eyes on hers in the mirror, my hands on each breast in the reflection. To feel her nipples harden under my touch, but see her whole body’s reaction to the same, was exquisite.

“So,” scraping my teeth across her arched neck, “fucking,” taking the opportunity to use my tongue on the same, ” beautiful.”

“Look at yourself” I exclaimed. It wasn’t an order, nor begging. It was shared excitement at the vision in the mirror, and I wanted to share it.

She looked into my eyes, not the reflection as a whole. The vibrator constantly hummed while a soulful melody filled the room.

“Not at me,” I said, “at you. Us. Look at how fucking beautiful you are.”

Her eyes left mine and joined her own in the mirror. She finally saw herself. Us. It.

Standing with legs slightly spread, her hand moved in slow, steady circles, each one a lap of her clit with the mini-vibe. Again and again the mmmmmmm faded slightly, each echo another tease. From behind, thick forearms enveloped her torso, their hands kneading each breast.

Leigh’s face was angelic in its slow surrender to her own manipulations. The music haunting us from across the room seemed all too perfect. Delicate, drawn out, the repetitious melody grew in intensity as the minutes passed. Her eyes closed as she sank back into my chest, each breath an escape. It was more prayer than seduction.

I really hope you chose to listen to the audio option provided to you. Perhaps you’ll get a small taste, a fleeting glimpse, a faint echo of what I was privy to as the first moans escaped her throat. If you chose not to, that’s your right and I respect it. I think you’re a fool, but at least a respected one.

The gestalt of the scene enveloped me in a hypnotic spell. Just as Leigh seduced her body with her hand, I succumbed to her siren’s song. Not one of lyrics or verse, but rather of spells and hints.

Leigh exhaled in drawn out sighs, indicating she was becoming aroused. It wouldn’t be long until they were replaced with moans or purring.

My eyes played leap frog. Mirror. Over her shoulder. My hands. Back to the mirror. Her breasts. My hands on them. Back on her face. Now at her face. Down to her hand on her clit. Then her arm using the oak dresser as support.

“Be careful,” I said, while moving the candle mere inches from where she gripped the dresser’s edge, “we don’t need to be explaining the kinky burn pattern to the EMTs when they arrive.”

She laughed, drawing some much needed levity.

“Yeah, it would be difficult to explain how I got burnt there…and there…and there” she replied, all the while the mmmmmmmmm of the mini-vibe kept perfect time.

Now it was my turn to laugh. We both smiled at each other’s reflection. Our eyes met.

Her moan brought us both back to the matter at hand. Literally.

I trailed my fingers down the length of her left arm, with which she held the dresser. Goosebumps leapt from her skin, their shadows easily discernible in the candle’s glow. As my fingertips danced across the thin flesh of her inner forearm she purred loudly. The vibe purred louder as well.

A nipple grew rigid between my fingers. My lips greeted her offered throat. We danced as lovers, not moving a single step, yet completely in time to the rhythm of the moment, a vibrator steadily agitating her clitoris. By her own hand. At that moment neither of us could imagine the lengths to which we were going to need to go to get to where she needed to be.

We were about to find out just how far that was.

I Had No Idea

You love me!  You really love me! (with apologies to Sally Field)

To say I am a wee bit overwhelmed by the response to Act IV of The Butterfly Chains is a gross understatement. It’s not that this particular Act (meaning part of a story, not action) has received more Comments that others. Many stories and musings have far more. No, it’s what everyone seems to be reacting to.

My orgasm, specifically my account of it.

Really?

Between here and Twitter the theme appears to be that this is not your everyday low hanging fruit (stop it, not funny…actually it is) but rather something exotic, seldom found and when so rarely with apparent eloquence.

It was extremely difficult for me to write that last sentence. I loathe air of pretentiousness, so to pat myself on the….back, yeah, my back…is not me at all. But I am a realist, and there is no denying that this pushed buttons. Very naughty buttons.

Buttons are often how people turn things on. Like washing machines. Yeah, washing machines. Yeah…

What was I saying?

Anyway, your lack of breath, use of cold water and sudden nicotine cravings did not go unnoticed. If Peeker™ Nation finds this of interest, then so it will be.

Starting this week a new recurring story series will begin. Entitled Inside Out (clever, huh?) it will be an off and on (heh) series focused on one thing and one thing only: my experience with that particular orgasm.

Be it one of Leigh’s eye rolling hand jobs, an oral induced explosion, or just good ol’ fashioned fucking in any multitude of positions and/or orifices, Inside Out will give you what apparently is difficult to find elsewhere – what it’s really like for a guy to orgasm.

What I won’t do for my Peekers™…

– Scot

A Peek Back 9-1

You guys amaze me.

In the span of a week not only did the blog crush the previous single day views record but also, with month’s end, saw the one for views in a month toasted by 40%. And it’s very likely that by sundown Sunday (great, now I’m writing folk rock) the views in a single week benchmark will fall as well.

At some point this upcoming week we’ll surpass 30,000 views. It wasn’t even last month that 20,000 was crossed.

You’ll have to forgive me for all of this, but it really does make me feel very humble.

It’s cool to see that people are getting it (stop giggling). And by that I mean our purpose – to demystify the stereotypical D/s and BDSM persona and help people embrace their inner Dominant and/or submissive. With coffee.

We truly appreciate all the love, energy, honesty and general pervertedness you share with us. Things we have shared have directly impacted the lives of others for the better. Perverts, er, people we only know via bits and bytes (probably some nibbles on their end but I digress). That makes all the time, effort and coffee poured into the stories, musings, etc. worth it. To know that, out there in the dark, a couple whose sexually embers had grown dim and cold are now inferno hot. Or that someone who took a chance and listened to that voice whispering inside them. You know, the one that drives you crazy with thoughts of BDSM and D/s? Now they are the ones writing tales that inspire others.

Or questions asked either in simple curiosity or outright concern, the answers providing some assistance in their decisions. All of which, to a T (or should that be a D/s?) impacts every other aspect of their lives and for the better.

So thank you. Seriously. A 21 cake salute will be consumed in your honor. Well, not really, but any excuse for cake is a good one.

If you’re a first time Peeker™, welcome!  You are invited to peek through the keyhole. We strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps a drink (we’re big on coffee as you will find out) sit back and enjoy.

Before I get all teary eyed and want a group hug while singing Cumbaya, its time to Peek Back:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.14 – In which I answer an extremely personal question that gets asked. A lot.

A New Monday, Same Ol’ Java – Sometimes I amaze myself how cognizant I can be so early on a Monday while mainlining dark roast.

Seek And Go Hyde Act V – Things get very intense and sadistic. This Act really pushed some Peekers™ comfort level. Read at your discretion.

The Words Of Power – A BDSM musing inspired by the reaction to the above.

Soundtrack To The Looking Glass – The beautiful, ironically titled song that accompanied the magic of the moment in time that became The Looking Glass.

The Looking Glass – Possibly the most personal scene Leigh and I have shared. Not what most think of as such. You’ll see.

Our Secret – My poetic response to that which was The Looking Glass. Figured out yet that this was something special?

Chain Of Rules Act VI – Leigh’s helpless nipples continue to be a source of pleasure. And pain. Lots.

Someone Shared Our Secret – When a professional Domme/Switch thinks your erotic poem is good enough to republish, that is a compliment.

The Dom Next Door Unchained – Gina West – Peeker™ & erotic author Regina West shares what she and her husband shared as a result of reading TDND™. See? You too can play along at home!

Once again, a sincere thank you to all.

– Scot

The Dom Next Door Unchained – Gina West

Welcome to the second installment of what I hope will become a more regular feature on TDND™ –Unchained.

Unchained (not literally…geeze) is what others refer to as guest blogging, but with a twist. Rather than a blogging peer being invited to write something on or about a particular subject, Unchained has a theme:

Discourses, thoughts and reactions on any of the various offerings found on The Dom Next Door™ and how they were affected by them.

In other words, an outlet for the voice of Peeker™ Nation. Could be in regards to a story, random BDSM musing, poetry or the blog in general.

Eventually it is my hope that the entirety of all the Unchained submissions (heh) will weave a lovely quilt, each square or patch as unique and beautiful as it’s stitcher. When they are combined into a rich tapestry of experiences, thoughts and opinions, they metamorphosize into something greater than the sum of its naughty parts, their main delineator of TDND™ being the thread that makes them one common voice.

Yours.

So link by link, we are forging a chain of such tales. Stories that are at the core of what this blog is really about. No, not coffee. But rather the demystification of the stereotypical D/s persona and dynamic, as well as helping Peekers™ find their inner Dom or sub.

This Unchained link started with a simple, innocent  (stop smirking Gina) Twitter message regarding the BDSM On A Budget series. When a Peeker™ says  “About The Chains™? Um, thanks. Yeah…” it sure sounded as if someone had a positively naughty experience as a result of the blog. Which is everything Leigh and I stand (kneel? lie down? arch?) for. And it also screamed (seriously, just….stop it) potential for a perfect Unchained post.

I was right. Holy shit was I right. You’ll see.

So without further adieu The Dom Next Door™ Unchains the aspiring romance/erotica novelist, mom, wife, avid reader, student of classical guitar, seeker of knowledge and wisdom and introvert (Ha!) Regina West:

My husband and I read and discuss nearly every TDND™ post. Like Scot and Leigh, we have been married for many years and have embarked on a similar sexual journey. I won’t say what drove us to explore BDSM because it’s almost cliché at this point, but I will say that we are definitely exploring and that we are brand spanking (pun intended) new at this. So far, we’ve found ourselves adopting more of the BD aspect than the SM. Some might consider that plain old vanilla, maybe French vanilla, and that’s fine. I refuse to participate in a pissing contest about it. We like what we like.

Which leads me to the latest TDND™ post that kindled a fire in our household.

After reading Chain Of Rules Act II, I admit I was having visions of cuffs and eye bolts and chains (oh my). I found myself dreamily staring at doorways, wondering if anyone would notice if we put eye bolts at the four corners. The wooden rafters in our basement suddenly seemed like the perfect place for an entire bondage set-up leaving plenty of room for a Dom to circle his prey . . . um, I mean sub.

Then when Scot posted BDSM on a Budget – The Chains™, he mixed the two best words in the English language – chains and budget – and that was our cue. The next day, my husband went to Lowes and came back with a variety of chain lengths and a pack of snap hooks, all for around $30.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t launch into kinky home remodeling right away, nor could we use our BDSM-unfriendly bed. Years ago when we bought it for its minimalist look, we weren’t considering its bondage possibilities. The headboard is one huge slab of wood with no legs around which one might wrap a chain, and even the mattress, a Tempur-Pedic which is fantabulous for sleeping, doesn’t have handles on the sides. What’s a horny married couple to do? Improvise, that’s what.

By the time we could ditch the kids and have some alone time, I’d already been thinking about those damn chains for hours. Then my sadistic husband decided he needed a shower. More waiting, and worse, he ordered me to touch myself until he was done. Thank God he takes quick showers. Once he joined me, it only took maybe four nasty twists on my nipples to send me skyrocketing.

But I’d made a mistake. I hadn’t asked if I could orgasm (another thing we learned from TDND™). I swear I meant to ask, but I’d teased myself into a frenzy and then he did all the right things to my body and . . . well, you try stopping a speeding train!

After that, he ordered me to stand up, spun me to face away from him, and pushed me down onto the bed on my stomach. With my wrist and ankle cuffs already in place, it only took a moment for him to bind my hands and feet behind my back with the one-foot chain. Hog tied, boys and girls. That’s right. If you’ve never tried it, you are seriously missing out.

Flat on my stomach, arms and legs bent behind me, completely immobile.

He positioned himself between my legs and slid into me, reminding me once again that I had come without his permission. He then grabbed the flogger, and I paid for that error with several lashes. When he decided I’d had enough of that, he took hold of the chain, the handle he would use to manipulate my helpless form, and yanked. My back arched, my arms pulled up behind me. His fist wound through my hair and tugged my head back, and he pounded into me with enough force to bruise my hips.

Heaven help me, it was glorious!

I was completely at his mercy, the chain his leverage. He muttered filthy things while he doled out this most pleasurable punishment for my disobedience.

The pounding reached its peak, and we were both moaning when he gave the final push. You know the one – when he buries himself so deep in you, you wonder if you’ve become one being. With a final roar, he held himself in that place for a long moment before he collapsed over my back and pressed his cheek between my shoulder blades. Gasping for air, the chain still twisted in his fist, my husband said the first words that came to mind. “Holy shit!”

My sentiments exactly.

This is generally how it happens in our house. We read something on TDND™ and let it percolate in our minds until we have no choice but to try it. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But it’s been a blessing to have as a guide the blog of two regular married folks who approach this with caution and knowledge but without brutality. I look forward to many, many new adventures.

– Gina West

Anyone else need some fresh air or a cooling shower? Damn! And to think the blog played a role in this? (does that make this role play?) Humbling.

Thank you Gina for sharing that very personal and extremely erotic moment, one I hope is just the first of many more for you and your Sir.

– Scot

Someone Shared Our Secret

And it wasn’t me.

What?

Since we are talking about secrets, I do not make it one that of all I write my poetry is the most special to me. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the stories or the musings, but the poems are about, for and meant for an audience of one.

My Leigh.

So when others appreciate my very neophyte (I am extremely new to any form of writing) prose it heartens me. And if they deem it worthy to feature it in their own digital publishing? Well, that is humbling.

I know, I know, I know. I use the “h’ word a lot. But it’s true.

So when I found out that Athame Morrigan thought that my poem Our Secret was good enough to be featured in the latest issue of her ePaper The Switch Daily I was extremely H Word™.

So imagine how I felt when I discovered that she is also a professional Domme AND Switch! That’s right. She gets paid to play.

I’m very glad I tidied up around the blog before going to bed last night and didn’t leave any unwashed posts in the sink. Whew, that was close!

Thank you Miss Athame.

– Scot

Our Secret

Rather than vainly fumble at

the obviousness of it all

seemed so dreamlike to be

in the shadows watching

your arousal feeding my

thirst for the moment when

the words flow from your

mouth like a waterfall pouring

your secret

no longer kept

my secret

shared with the floor and

the night flowed down

your legs rigid eyes wide mouth

hungry for more and

the puddle a testament to

how fucking beautiful you

really are you know

that I love you

pour into my eyes through

the looking glass the

silent witness to

our secret

– Scot (recalling what it was like to embrace Leigh from behind while she masturbated to our reflection in a candlelit mirror)

The Looking Glass

(Note – If you wish, you can listen to the same song that Leigh & I did while the following occurred. Just open the link in a new window)

“I have an idea.”

And with that simple statement by Leigh so began one of the most amazing sexual experiences of my life.

Odds are that the majority of you will find the following downright vanilla, to which I will think no less of your thinking “Really Scot? This was a Top 10 moment?”

It was.

But allow me to let you decide for yourself as I dim the houselights, raise the curtain and close the bedroom door.

The scene began in a darkened bedroom, illuminated only by a few select candles, two sets of burning eyes and one heartbeat. Our heroine, Leigh, was in the midst of a challenge proposed to her by her husband and Sir, Scot. Her objective? To masturbate to orgasm in front of him once a night for seven consecutive evenings.

At first she was a bit apprehensive. For all her sexual prowess and adventures Leigh, like so many other women, does not see herself the same way I do. She is always quick to notice flaws. A bulge here, a not as dramatic curve as she wishes there. And regardless of how excited at the sight of her nude form I become, no matter how often I profess to her in no uncertain terms that no woman has ever been more beautiful, in spite of all that we have shared romantically and sexually, she still all too often sees the half empty Leigh instead of the one full with my erection.

So I came up with a challenge to her. Not only would it be fun as hell but, hopefully, it would allow her to witness first hand (bad masturbation joke) how magnificent she really is by sharing with me and for me the one aspect of her sexuality that is her most private – her own satisfaction. Literally.

We fuck and role play and use cuffs and collars with chains. I can spank her exposed ass to a cherry red, abuse her nipples to the point of hysteria, even flog her into subspace. Anal sex, ejaculating in her mouth, half a hundred squirting orgasms in a single evening? Done all that.

But when a woman masturbates just for you, that’s fucking special. It’s the sexual equivalent of meeting her parents. Its as personal as it gets.

Not only is she baring her flesh but herself. There’s a difference. Big fucking difference. She is sharing with you something that, most likely, was her first way of exploring her sexuality. She probably discovered that women get wet when aroused while masturbating. And its a safe bet that this was how she discovered the ability to orgasm. Its extremely private and intensely personal.

Sure, many women grow the confidence and security in themselves, their sexuality and their abilities to not just share this secret from teen years gone, but use and employ it in their partnered sexual lives. No better way to make sure that everyone has fun than to bring your own.

But at its most basic it is still hers. Which is why I thought it would be a special way to share something erotic with Leigh. She would be forced to be at her most naked. No chains, no cuffs, no spanking, and so on. Just her and her sexuality.

The first evening she propped herself up on her side of the bed as I lay across the bottom of it. With Papa Smurf™ (aka a mini-vibe) as her preferred method of arousal she spread her legs wide and, over the course of about ten minutes, teased herself to the brink of asking me my favorite question:

“May I please come, Sir?”

The almost two minute long orgasm that racked her body rigid with lust was exquisite. The primal fucking session that followed produced a second one for her as well as my own.

And a side note for all you fellows – you can learn a LOT about your lady by watching her get herself off. Which hand? Where? How? Clockwise? Back and forth? Insertions? Speed or lack thereof? Direct contact or not? Did her torso tighten? What sounds did she make, and when? Her breathing patterns? You’ll save yourself a lot of time, grief and both of your’s frustration if you ask her to do this for you.

And for the ladies? Ditto on your guy. Just sayin’.

But back to our challenge. The second evening Leigh had me sit in the Pingback Chair™ in the sunroom while her naked form draped over our large recliner. A single candle she brought from the bedroom flickered on a nearby plant stand, just allowing me to make out the faintest outlines of her face as it contorted under Papa Smurf’s buzzing of her clit. Now I got to savor more of the non-physical. The sounds she made when becoming aroused, how her mouth contorted, the way her breathing changed. And once again she begged to come. Once again she spasmed for well over a minute. And yes, once again we fucked like wild animals afterward. That chair is big enough for two to lie across we found out. And her rug burns from finishing violently on the floor weren’t too severe.

How wild did it get? I left my socks on (no rookie to toe top rug burn here) and spun one around 180 degrees! As in the bottom was on the top of my foot!

The third evening she got creative and, while astride me, used Papa Smurf to make herself come with me inside her. I think the head of my cock was somewhere around her larynx from how deep I was. I know she was having trouble breathing during it all.

Which brought us to her saying “I have an idea” on the fourth night. And with that she stood up, got out of bed, moved a candle to the dresser in the adjoining open frame closet and stood in front of the 3/4 length mirror hanging inside it.

“Come stand behind me” she whispered as her pajamas hit the floor, leaving her in all her nude splendor.

Still fully dressed I complied. The view over her shoulder was exquisite. My arms coiled around her, hugging her tight. Our eyes met  in the mirror.

The click of the vibrator in her hand coming to life told me what her idea was.

The Looking Glass Act II

Soundtrack To The Looking Glass

On Monday’s coffee infused ramblings I made allusion to the fact that, over the weekend, magic happened within the candlelit confines of our bedroom.

One of the most amazing experiences of my sexual life transpired.

Tomorrow I will write the opening Act to it entitled The Looking Glass. Read into that what you will.

Anyway, as part of this slightly atypical scene I asked Leigh if she would like some music, an offer that was eagerly accepted. In that we still do not have a playlist  we both agree with, I’ll often cue up Pandora’s Ambient feed. Aside from the possibility of the occasional sounds of bird chirping and surf breaking on the shore (which apparently is a Pavlovian sound to Leigh’s lentil sized bladder) the music very often fits both our tastes.

At the height of the aftermath of the scene, right as we finished (do the math) a particularly haunting song played mournfully in the background. It fit perfectly to what had just transpired over the course of the evening.

So as I attended to a completely exhausted and spent Leigh (meaning I fetched the sex towels) I glanced at the screen to see what song had just serenaded us with soulful, beautifully seductive sounds that dovetailed so lovely with our lust filled activities.

And I about fell over from shock.

“You are not going to fucking believe the name of this song and the album it’s from!” I exclaimed to Leigh.

Can you believe that? Seriously?

So I share this with all of you this evening in that, for the first time in the blog’s short history, there will be a soundtrack to a story. As you read each Act of The Looking Glass I’ll ask that you play this so you too can share what we did.

Until tomorrow.

– Scot

A New Monday, Same Ol’ Java

It’s fan quiet here.

Leigh and I awake early. Not by choice but still we are up with the sun. And before you all smirk yes, very often that means three of us if you count a certain appendage of mine.

It’s a chance to groan, stretch, snap and crack, snuggle, doze, grope, mumble, giggle, sometimes fuck, occasionally be manually or orally uncramped. Very often a hour passes as we delay the inevitable reality of the day.

But, either post snuggle or after cleaning up the mess with hand towels, the sound of coffee beans being ground, egg shells cracking, butter sizzling and smart ass commentary being made fills the house. JD will stagger in from the couch (not too spoiled) looking as if he could use a cup of java himself. Scones (the cat) has already been in the bed with us and now wants breakfast as well.

Cabinet doors squeak, voices strain as sttttrreeettcchhhhh the day’s first stumbled steps occur, lunches made, plans for dinner discussed, random topics bantered about.

Often I will sing. Badly. Off key. Flatter than last week’s root beer. And with a zeal that makes Leigh wince yet smile, all the while thinking to herself “WHY did I choose this one? WHY???”

In other words, the same morning that I will bet happens in countless millions of households every Monday. When the coffee and its life-giving fix of caffeine become demigods worthy of sacrifices. Or at least that’s what I say to Leigh. “But the coffee gods would be pleased if we fucked!” I mean, what self-respecting religion doesn’t require the giving of something precious as an appeasement to its deities?

After that some alone time. And it’s so quiet right now. As I said, “fan quiet.”

Enjoying a second cup of religion in the calm of The Pingback Chair™ located in our sunroom. A reading nook now offers it safe harbor. Tucked away in the corner of the room, a wall mounted light directly over my shoulder to read by, a nearby antique plant stand serving as the altar for the magic elixir we both worship, or in the evenings a stem or pint of liquid I like. The only sounds discernible are the grasshoppers singing to the new day as the heat rises with the whirl of the blades of a ceiling fan on percussion. It may be like this for hours.

When we first moved here the silence was so deafening at night I couldn’t sleep from the tympani of my own eardrums pounding along with my heart. But now I adore the silence, a rare treat in today’s world. And its even better with coffee.

And with it some musings:

– The growth (stop it) of the blog continues to amaze me. August has seen us crack 10,000+ page views in a single month for the first time. I believe it took us May, June & part of July to reach our first 10,000 views. Now we have received that many in three weeks. I cannot even begin to thank you all for the love, support, comments and overall debauched pervertedness you bring.

– Along those lines I also cannot express how much we both appreciated the reactions and comments to the latest Interview. To be honest I fully expected the potential for backlash as well as people choosing to no longer peek through the keyhole, which would be fine in that’s their right and own choice. Your positive and even heart-warming comments (especially you Mrs. Soft Bottom) made what could have been an awkward exchange a pleasant one. Again we thank you for understanding and respecting our choice.

– Leigh bought me a copy of Screw The Roses Give Me The Thorns as a gift. From just flipping through its pages I can assure you all that it will be a gift that keeps on giving. And taking. And flogging.

– Is anyone else been enjoying the height of summer’s harvest at their local farmer’s market as well?

– If you have access to locally grown produce and still buy your vegetables and fruit at some Super Duper Mart…bad Peeker™! Bad!

– I Unfollowed a number of Twitter accounts this past week. If you are one of them it’s because having three Tweets in a month isn’t  going to make the cut, nor is constantly shilling, RTing or posting quotes not yours. And don’t get me started on people who lives exist to collect Followers.

– This week my second attempt at erotic fiction will begin. I’m going to submit (no, not like that) to Avon for their New Year’s Eve anthology. The storyline is set, characters are talking to me (this is why you writers are all batty, huh?) and even doing some research (not what you think). Leigh likes the storyline a lot, and thinks it may not be able to to be told in novella (<20K words) length. We’ll see.

– Leigh has undertaken a unique challenge from me. She is just over halfway through it and if the first four evenings were any indication it will be make for great reading. So much so that…

– …Leigh & I shared magic a few nights ago. Almost beyond description for me. I was honored to be a part of it. So you will be reading the first Act of The Looking Glass this week, as well as additional acts for Chain Of Rules, Seek And Go Hyde and The Butterfly Chains. We received more blogging awards so, yes, more Scot Trivia. I should be finished rereading The New Topping Book and have a review, Leigh will get a poem, the flogger should make an appearance, probably a random kinky musing and, last but certainly not least, a new Unchained is in the works for the end of the week.

And the sounds I mentioned earlier? The only ones I heard while writing this, aside from the emptying of my coffee mug. So cue the sounds of footsteps on hardwood to remedy that.

– Scot