What’s Your Apartment’s Safeword?

Some­times sex has to be mea­sured on the Richter Scale.

Lily and I have been switch­ing a lit­tle bit late­ly, just to try on each oth­ers’ roles for size. She asked me to tie her up and spank her pussy until it made her come, which I very reluc­tant­ly did.

I mean, eager­ly. Which I EAGERLY did.

(She had texted me ear­li­er and said “I want you to tie me up and force me to come.” I find this quite amus­ing — “Please! PLEASE don’t make me have an orgasm!” Riiiiight.)

Any­way, after a while we went back to our nor­mal roles: Lily tied me down to the bed and whipped my stom­ach and chest into ham­burg­er. After a few oth­er painful things, she decid­ed to ride Mr. Stu­pid­head a while. Again, I reluc­tant­ly com­plied (I was tied down, so I could hard­ly resist).

Now, you will occa­sion­al­ly hear some­one say that an orgasm made them see fire­works, or made the earth move, or oth­er dra­mat­ic things like that.

None of those things hap­pened to me, but just as I reached the moment of truth, I did hear an enor­mous crash from the liv­ing room.

Efari was at the apart­ment too, sit­ting out on the bal­cony with her sketch­book. When she heard the noise she ini­tial­ly thought Lily and I had got­ten a lit­tle too ram­bunc­tious, but when she looked into the liv­ing room she saw bro­ken glass all over the floor.

Mean­while, Lily dis­mount­ed and dashed out to the liv­ing room, say­ing some­thing about how what if some­one was break­ing in. Which left me behind in the bed­room, still very tight­ly tied to the bed, call­ing out that maybe it would be a great idea to untie me if there was indeed a home intruder.

For­tu­nate­ly, there wasn’t.

My liv­ing room is dec­o­rat­ed with var­i­ous weapons I’ve trained with (hey, I’m a guy), although not any of my firearms (hey, I’m a guy but I’m not that stu­pid). The noise we’d all heard was a rapi­er falling off the wall, which in turn knocked a man­ji-sai off the wall, which smashed a glass vase sit­ting on my TV stand. For­tu­nate­ly it did­n’t kill the glass shelf the TV was on or the TV itself.

That’s right: We played so hard my apart­ment called red, and then I came so hard it knocked weapons off the wall.

Not bad for the lit­tle old ego.

Yes, my weapons wall is two rooms away from my bed­room. But don’t go telling me it’s more like­ly the rapier’s hang­er just came undone. You’ll harsh my mel­low, dude.