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😈✨🍺MrTenant's Tavern and Dungeon

Advice for All of Us on Lit
Because sometimes, what someone needs isn't sex - it's to feel seen.

It’s easy to forget, in a place like this, that there’s a real person behind the screen. A person with longing. A person with history. A person who might be carrying silence heavier than words can hold.

I’ve come to realize that many who reach out - especially those in sexless marriages - aren’t just here for sin or flirtation. They’re here because they ache to be touched - not just physically, but emotionally. They want to be seen. Heard. Chosen. Even for a moment.

So when someone messages you, pause before you dismiss or judge.

There might be desperation in their tone - but also vulnerability.
There might be innuendo - but also hope.
There might be a sexual request - but underneath, a human asking, “Am I still desirable? Am I still worth connection?”

And maybe your reply doesn’t have to be an invitation.
Maybe it can be a kindness. A boundary held with gentleness. A reminder that they’re not invisible.

And if you choose not to continue, let your silence not be cruel.
Because ghosting isn’t just absence - it’s an echo.
It leaves the other person questioning, doubting, unraveling the threads of what they shared with you.
Sometimes a gentle word of parting carries more kindness than a vanishing act.

Here on Lit, we play, we tease, we write - but we also carry each other, sometimes without even knowing.

So let’s be mindful. Let’s be kind.
Let’s remember: every message is a heartbeat trying not to disappear.

(Posted with MrT's permission)
 
Feeling a bit reflective.

Tomorrow I turn 63. Not a big deal in the scheme of things but I will now be the age of my father when he died. I'm in decent health so nothing to worry about, but when you reach the age of your primary role model's last year it gets you thinking.

Has anyone else been in a similar situation?
 
Trubbycat said:
Feeling a bit reflective.

Tomorrow I turn 63. Not a big deal in the scheme of things but I will now be the age of my father when he died. I'm in decent health so nothing to worry about, but when you reach the age of your primary role model's last year it gets you thinking.

Has anyone else been in a similar situation?
Click to expand...
That kind of thing does make you really reflect on how short life is and compare and contrast your lives across generations.

Happy bday Tkitty.
 
Trubbycat said:
Feeling a bit reflective.

Tomorrow I turn 63. Not a big deal in the scheme of things but I will now be the age of my father when he died. I'm in decent health so nothing to worry about, but when you reach the age of your primary role model's last year it gets you thinking.

Has anyone else been in a similar situation?
Click to expand...
Happy birthday!

And yes, I have. It was a bit disconcerting at first, but, what can you do? I chose not to dwell on it overly much.

Mom was shot when I was 18. When I turned 37, I saw that I was alive longer without her than I ever was with her. At 55, it was twice as long without her. She was 43 when she died. My last conversation with her was an arguement over the phone- her in California, me in Texas. I've been a father to my children longer than my mom ever was a mother to me. Its all very strange to me. So many other things I could say in relation to all that.

What I encourage anyone, is to find some peace for yourself concerning your parents. I hope your relationship with them was much better and longer than I had with mine.
 
Trubbycat said:
Feeling a bit reflective.

Tomorrow I turn 63. Not a big deal in the scheme of things but I will now be the age of my father when he died. I'm in decent health so nothing to worry about, but when you reach the age of your primary role model's last year it gets you thinking.

Has anyone else been in a similar situation?
Click to expand...
Happy Birthday @Trubbycat 🫂🫂
Totally understand. I've just turned the same age as my Mum was when she passed. Certainly get's one thinking right?🫂🫂
 
Trubbycat said:
Feeling a bit reflective.

Tomorrow I turn 63. Not a big deal in the scheme of things but I will now be the age of my father when he died. I'm in decent health so nothing to worry about, but when you reach the age of your primary role model's last year it gets you thinking.

Has anyone else been in a similar situation?
Click to expand...
Not me, not regarding living - my parents are still alive. I've just compared myself and when they have done things like having kids or got married. Never had either of those happenings myself.

But I know mom really paused to think when she reached the age her mother died. My grandmother diet at 67. Mom reached 80 yesterday, and at this rate will see 100, as she's very fit and what health issues she has don't really affect length of life (like arthritis). Also my dad has outlived his dad by years already.

So happy birthday, Trubby, and many happy decades to come!
 
Trubbycat said:
Feeling a bit reflective.

Tomorrow I turn 63. Not a big deal in the scheme of things but I will now be the age of my father when he died. I'm in decent health so nothing to worry about, but when you reach the age of your primary role model's last year it gets you thinking.

Has anyone else been in a similar situation?
Click to expand...
Happy Birthday @Trubbycat
 
Trubbycat said:
Feeling a bit reflective.

Tomorrow I turn 63. Not a big deal in the scheme of things but I will now be the age of my father when he died. I'm in decent health so nothing to worry about, but when you reach the age of your primary role model's last year it gets you thinking.

Has anyone else been in a similar situation?
Click to expand...

I have not but wish you a peaceful day of reflection. With cake and friends for good company and comfort.

1756248351119.png

https://www.shutterstock.com/shutterstock/photos/37732285/display_1500/stock-photo-group-of-people-celebrate-happy-birthday-with-cake-isolated-37732285.jpg
 
The Ruin in His Kneeling

Yes, he kneels for me. But the meaning runs deeper than the act of submission. His knees touch the ground not because he is lesser - but because he trusts me to strip him bare and build him again.

Yes, my name is branded on his body. But that mark is more than ownership. It is a warning and a promise. A scar that says: he is mine to protect, mine to destroy, mine to resurrect.

To lead is not to take.
To command is not to consume.
To be a Domme - at least as I live it - is to cradle his surrender in one hand and press my hunger into his skin with the other.

He gives me his surrender, and I give him my responsibility.
He gives me his obedience, and I give him my hunger.
He gives me his heart, and I give him mine - fierce, relentless, unmerciful in its devotion.

And so when he kneels, the world may see submission -
but what I see is a man quivering in the heat of my gaze,
aching for the graze of my nails,
burning for the drag of my lips,
a man undone, ruined, and remade in the fire of my touch.

(Reposted from: The Art of Getting Lit Laid)
 
Carmina24 said:
The Ruin in His Kneeling

Yes, he kneels for me. But the meaning runs deeper than the act of submission. His knees touch the ground not because he is lesser - but because he trusts me to strip him bare and build him again.

Yes, my name is branded on his body. But that mark is more than ownership. It is a warning and a promise. A scar that says: he is mine to protect, mine to destroy, mine to resurrect.

To lead is not to take.
To command is not to consume.
To be a Domme - at least as I live it - is to cradle his surrender in one hand and press my hunger into his skin with the other.

He gives me his surrender, and I give him my responsibility.
He gives me his obedience, and I give him my hunger.
He gives me his heart, and I give him mine - fierce, relentless, unmerciful in its devotion.

And so when he kneels, the world may see submission -
but what I see is a man quivering in the heat of my gaze,
aching for the graze of my nails,
burning for the drag of my lips,
a man undone, ruined, and remade in the fire of my touch.

(Reposted from: The Art of Getting Lit Laid)
Click to expand...
Well, do you want a cocktail with that?
 
Carmina24 said:
The Ruin in His Kneeling

Yes, he kneels for me. But the meaning runs deeper than the act of submission. His knees touch the ground not because he is lesser - but because he trusts me to strip him bare and build him again.

Yes, my name is branded on his body. But that mark is more than ownership. It is a warning and a promise. A scar that says: he is mine to protect, mine to destroy, mine to resurrect.

To lead is not to take.
To command is not to consume.
To be a Domme - at least as I live it - is to cradle his surrender in one hand and press my hunger into his skin with the other.

He gives me his surrender, and I give him my responsibility.
He gives me his obedience, and I give him my hunger.
He gives me his heart, and I give him mine - fierce, relentless, unmerciful in its devotion.

And so when he kneels, the world may see submission -
but what I see is a man quivering in the heat of my gaze,
aching for the graze of my nails,
burning for the drag of my lips,
a man undone, ruined, and remade in the fire of my touch.

(Reposted from: The Art of Getting Lit Laid)
Click to expand...
OMG @Carmina24, what an amazing writing. I can see people I know in this...
 
Carmina24 said:
The Ruin in His Kneeling

Yes, he kneels for me. But the meaning runs deeper than the act of submission. His knees touch the ground not because he is lesser - but because he trusts me to strip him bare and build him again.

Yes, my name is branded on his body. But that mark is more than ownership. It is a warning and a promise. A scar that says: he is mine to protect, mine to destroy, mine to resurrect.

To lead is not to take.
To command is not to consume.
To be a Domme - at least as I live it - is to cradle his surrender in one hand and press my hunger into his skin with the other.

He gives me his surrender, and I give him my responsibility.
He gives me his obedience, and I give him my hunger.
He gives me his heart, and I give him mine - fierce, relentless, unmerciful in its devotion.

And so when he kneels, the world may see submission -
but what I see is a man quivering in the heat of my gaze,
aching for the graze of my nails,
burning for the drag of my lips,
a man undone, ruined, and remade in the fire of my touch.

(Reposted from: The Art of Getting Lit Laid)
Click to expand...
I keep coming back to this............
 
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