What Day Is It?

      Even the slightest bodily shift triggers the lingering sting to pulse on my back, my blouse grazing the tender, red spots on my flesh, pressed in place by the stiff back of my desk chair. I still, transported, remembering how those tingling spots got there, moments paused in time over the last few days. Leaning my body forward just a bit, I cause the swollen sensitivity between my legs to heighten, muscles clenching instinctively as I recall him being there many times, too. As I rest back again and stop moving, my own heartbeat flares on the surface of my red ass cheeks again, continuing the sensory chain reaction, bits of time colliding together, a delicious mix of all the touches and grasps and words and ways he brought about all those wonderful tactile reminders.

What day is it again?

6 thoughts on “What Day Is It?

    • Thanks, Robin. That was all I could manage to write. We talked so much – there is so much to write about, but I can’t quite form it into coherent posts just yet.

      I’m happy yours was fantastic too!

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