It is because I love him

I can easily talk to friends about the nice and romantic things that my boy and I do together.  Dinner, listening to music, seeing a comedy show.  They are mainstream things that mainstream people understand.

He says he loves her.
He takes her out to dinner.
The action proves the expression of the emotion.

I cannot easily talk to friend about my expression of love for my boy in BDSM terms.  I am not overly gone on the acronym BDSM because we really only “do” the B, and even then it is only “done” by me.

How can I put into words, that my vanilla friends will understand, that it is because I love him that I tie him up. Not because I want power or control over him (both of which I already have), not because I want to hurt him (something I actively want to avoid) or prevent him from doing things, just simply because I love him and want to share this experience with him.

I tie him up so that he can no longer be shy about his body, so that he cannot inadvertently move away from my touch. I do it so that he knows that when I touch him I am doing it to the very basic parts of him. That I accept every part of him, just as he is. No clothes protecting him, no ego to hide behind.  Just me and my boy.

Some of that I could probably vanillaise and explain it as kinky sex but how to I explain that it is because I want the best from him that I bring him to the brink of orgasm over and over but each time I tell him to wait a little bit longer, to wait for me and each time he does.  That this exchange between us is the ongoing reassurance of his acceptance of our relationship.

This weekend I tied his hands above his head, attached a 30″ spreader bar to his ankles and attached him to the doorframe.  As I watched him move, blindfolded and naked as the day he was born, I was blown away by how beautiful his body was, how fortunate I am to own all of him, how thankful I am that he has given all of himself to me.  I couldn’t help but touch him, hold him, molest him, kiss him, taste him. I wanted to be attached to him as he struggled to stay upright in his bondage, so close to him that I could feel him breathe.

It is because I love him that I did not allow him to touch me, or even to see me.  It is because I love him that in that moment, as he hung naked from the doorframe I aroused and excited him but did not allow him to orgasm. It is because I love him that at the end I released him, guided him to bed, made sure he was warm and then crawled into bed beside him.  It was in that moment that he was assured, yet again, of my love for him.