Apple for Teacher?

As a submissive in all things, it’s contrary to my spirit to be assertive. I’m far more comfortable serving others and being led. You teased that I should be your teacher, and although others have long said that I might be a natural, it’s an assignment I don’t feel worthy of. We have much to learn and teach each other. So long as we can switch off whenever the urge strikes, I’m in.

The yearnings we share are deep, some so mundane that others would scoff. Time together to just be us, intwining fingers as we listen to music, laughing at silly antics from childhood or college, everyday stuff that transforms to memories over time that illicit a silly grin. Those simple touches will always ignite a consuming spark that arcs betweeen us– distance holds no power over raw electricity.

Homework for tonight is vocabulary. With each word I give you, embrace it, visualize me facing you nude and open to your definition. Know that I’m there to enact each fantasy your body divines, moaning and lost in the arousal you create. Tonight’s words are: twist, pummel, strength and lollipop. Betcha smiled!

Teacher’s turn to offer the apple tonight.

From the inside out…

I wonder if you were left scratching your head a few weeks back, after an almost-cliched confession of sexual abuse by me. Sure, we’ve always promised each other honesty, but were my revelations too honest? I really hadn’t given you a heads-up about it, prefering just to spurt out decades-out details and vulnerabilities. Fuck it, let the chips fall where they may. Seemingly, there wasn’t a context then, but it’s slowly becoming unveiled as I grow to trust you, and us, more.

Telling you that I willingly give all of myself to you is a celebration of sorts, because I have reclaimed the power to do that, a little more each day. The toxicity that once ate at healthy sexuality has been extinguished over time; authenticity is OK at long last because the demons are dead. It’s astonishing to want and need you, to surrender– you’ve got me, and I you. As the evening winds down, I hold you virtually close, kiss you deeply and open my body to your love. Sweet dreams, baby!

Deeper and Darker

Will you push 

Your horny bitch

Against the wall

Growl your want in her ear

Mount her hungry hand upon 

Your Rock?

“Please…”
Twist her hair as

You feast upon

Aching nipples

Heaving breasts

Quivering lips?

“P-ppppp-lll-eeeee…”
Stroking and pulsing

Torn silk falling

Feverish rhythm

Plundering whorish cunt

“PLEASE!”
Volcanic eruptions

Gift her body and

His love

The Whole Package…

Those precious words you speak to me, about me, were once disquieting. Not because of anything you’ve done, but I’ve heard them a few times before and they were used like a hammer to pulverize my soul later. Actions betrayed loving words, so to say that I’ve accepted your words as cautiously as a skittish kitten reacts to a stranger’s stroke is true. Passion flows and we both love hard. Chemistry, attraction and physical craving are instinctual, but so are pleasing my love with time together doing absolutely nothing but enjoying the other’s company; offering your favorite meal; quaffing a newly discovered microbrew; cheering or berating our favorite boys of summer and celebrating a new job. I know that I could share my adopted Florida hometown with you. Everything there that brings me joy– friends, new restaurants, the waterfront, the blues joint, and bars and brewpubs would keep us laughing and happy. I’ve done it before solo, but the pride I’d feel on your arm, by your side swells my heart. 

Babe, YOU are my total package!

Simple Intimacies

A quiet Sunday evening, your presence has permeated my space since I awoke writhing on the sheets, your breath heavy in my ear, “I want you, baby. So bad.” The stubble on your chin tickles as my lips graze to meet yours. Lost in our kiss, my hands reach lower, finding you rock hard and throbbing. For me. Still amazed that it’s me you crave, I break from you, tease your head with a lazy lick and a purposeful kiss and begin to stroke your thick, meaty cock. Your moans are a song– encouraging my hand to pump and twist as your eyes close in ecstasy. Cupping your balls, taking you deep in my mouth again and again, you tremble and cry out as you come volcanically down my breasts, marking me with your love.

As you return to yourself, an “I love you, baby” escapes as you collapse and rest your head gently upon my chest, my heartbeat still racing from your pleasure. My smile is yours, blissful and content as you wrap your arms around me and pull me close.