The Perfect Formula

Aftercare is a subject of much discussion and debate in any community which involves intense, extreme, or emotional situations. I believe I have the answer, the solution, which will bring unity and harmony to the world. 


The Recipe:
One screen (bigger is better but we're going for cozy, not cinema)
Near unlimited episodes of transformers playing (sequential is preferable but not essential)
One sofa (for him to sit on)
One floor (for me)
One cushion (the floor gets uncomfy after a while)
One comforter (we all need warmth after all)
Him on the sofa
Me on the floor at his feet.


Put all the ingredients together in a living room or similar situation, probably with something to eat and drink on hand, and sit back and relax, no deep and meaningful conversations required that can't be found on the screen, entertainment not too heavy or too light, robots that turn into cars, or cars that turn into robots, heroes and villains,  saving the world from the clutches of evil and certain destruction in every episode. What more could you need from your aftercare?


It's funny, unless I've got the raging horn, in which case all I can think of is the violence, the rough, wild sex, the tight rope, the hard ties, the impact of his fists on my soul; what I think of when I'm missing him is resting my head on his lap while he strokes my hair and Optimus Prime leads the Autobots to another victory in their eternal battle against the evil forces of the Decepticons. I sigh my whistful sigh and wish to be there. Perhaps because it's a simple, easy place to be, it's safe, and happy, and time slips away and doesn't matter any more. The rest of the world is worlds away, and all its troubles with it. 


Oh to be at his feet again.

The Lover, the Sadist

There are many sides to every person, two such sides of my Sir are the Lover and the Sadist, sometimes they argue, sometimes they are one.

The Lover wants to hold me close and tell me that he loves me. He wants to care for me, wrap me in his arms and watch transformers with me. 

The Sadist wants to hurt me, wants to make me cry, wants to wrap me tight in his rope and kiss the tears he put there from my cheek. 

The Lover would never want to hurt me, would never want to make me cry, wants to wipe away my tears, to tell me that everything's going to be ok, that he loves me, that I'm safe in his arms. 

The Sadist knows that I am safe with him, but sometimes wants to make me forget it while he hurts me more than I think I can take, gives me more and more until he gets to hear me begging, for more, for mercy, for permission. 

The Lover wants only for me to beg for permission to cum, wants to make me orgasm until I can't any more. 

The Sadist wants to deny me until I can't take it any more, wants to drive me to higher levels of intensity, wants me to go further than I have before, wants to show me how strong I am by breaking me a little every time to help me know myself. 

The Lover wants to nurture me and protect me, wants to take me higher, wants to show me how strong I am, tell me I'm wonderful, and help me to know myself. 

The Sadist and the Lover realise how much they have in common, they want the same things for me, they both love me, they just show it in different ways. 

They talk, they resolve their differences, the Lover realises that he can show his love for me by letting the Sadist take over sometimes, he realises that the Sadist would not hurt me if he did not love me, he realises that the hurting doesn't mean he doesn't love me. The Sadist hurts me because he loves me, he realises that he doesn't have to fight with the Lover, he can give in and love me with all his heart. The pain he gives me can come from the love he has for me. 

The Lover and the Sadist hold hands, they kiss, they walk off, hand in hand, into the sunset, to live happily ever after. 

The End.