I ‘m trapped in a lingering haze today,
Spellbound, thoughts in flight, stuck on replay

Your captivating lure, a mist upon my skin,
As achy reminders echo last night’s din

Whispers hovering in fevered clouds,
My inner voice howling, remembering how

Your stringed pins gripped fiery flesh, trapping desire,
And your hands drew salacious wings, stoking the fire

Until your commanding words set my wanton spirit free,
My body your vessel, aching to please

How the air abruptly changed when your flesh merged with mine,
And our breath became one, how there was no time

Then our hearts became fluid, melting from within,
One consumous puddle, an ocean of sin


Behind the soft brown scarf, she could see nothing but blackness. The precise squeeze on her nipples and the pinpointed pinch on her clit were just the right amount of pain-pleasure to keep her on edge. Arms cuffed above her head and legs tied with the prickly jute, calf to thigh, she was completely exposed to him, in more than flesh. Butterflies swirling in her belly, she folded into her smallness, anticipating him.

Her hearing hyper-aware, she picked up on the slight tinking of the metal pulls being lifted, then the gritty slide of wood against wood as he opened the red wood drawer. She knew which drawer it was as soon as she heard its uneven slide – it was the drawer of impact implements, and her heart began to race.

As she lay there waiting, breathing already a bit labored, the mini clothespins on her nipples were quickly becoming the center of her world, so much so that she forgot about the impact until she felt the whoosh of air, followed by the first landing. His releasing of the clothespin from her clit had caused a surge of blissful agony, followed by an engorged ache which thumped to the beat of her heart. It was so sensitive, she could feel even the slightest shift in the air, so the crop’s swift strike brought about a guttural, almost panicky scream. Oh, God. She knew there’d be more. And more.

The strikes came, in a quick rhythm, one after the other while he watched her face contort and her back arch in love-hate of every single strike. In that moment, her entire being focused on the sound of the crop on her tender, swollen skin, on the delicious, rhythmic pain on her clit and the glorious pinching of her nipples. 

Landing harder and harder, the strikes came in rapid succession, until he stopped, abruptly, leaving a silence that was just as loud as noise.

In her stillness, she heard the click of a button and a simultaneous buzz – she knew that noise! Oh, God, she knew. 

Strike, buzz, strike, buzz. Over and over. Again and again. 

There was nothing else, only he and her, the pinch and the strike and the buzz.

Layers of pain-pleasure flowed, one on top of the other, like conflicting currents, flooding her brain. Feeling the overwhelming evidence of her arousal, cool against the heat of each landing, she could even hear her wetness with each strike of the crop and pressing of the buzz.

Desperate for release, the humming in her center flowed outward to her surface, consuming her. It was all she could taste, all she could smell. She felt like she needed it more than she needed to breathe. The coil he had wound so deeply in her core was so tight, it pulled at her skin. It clenched every muscle and clamped shut her eyelids. She was afraid of its impending intensity; she was afraid of letting it go. 

But, it wasn’t a choice.

Ripping and slicing through her entire body, her orgasm took over. It was viscous and glorious and painfully heavenly, causing her to writhe and struggle against the restraints. The grunting and moaning sounds coming from the back of her throat didn’t even sound like her.

When she finally began to float back to earth, he pushed inside her, grinding and slamming into the puffy ache, pain-pleasure rocketing her body right back to the same heightened state from which she thought she’d returned, and then beyond. And further. Until he’d taken all he wanted from her.

Removing the scarf, he looked her in the eyes. All she saw was his dominance reflecting her surrender. Infinite love.

She saw home.

-image found on Tumblr, source unknown; included in Matsurbation Monday, week 130


Today, I’m grateful.

There used to be this angst that surrounded a lot of what M and I did, and how we did it. It was angst built of words unspoken, expectations which were unrealistic and unfulfilled, feelings unexpressed. It was made of regret and grudgery. Left unresolved, those feelings and issues remained, a pool from which we drew upon, or even added to, when something else popped up. We tried to resolve them, but sometimes we couldn’t always, so we’d agree to move on. 

Sometimes, things felt like a competition, as if we each were keeping a running tally of what the other did or didn’t do, and then measuring it against our personal list of our own dids and didn’ts. There was always a winner and a loser. Someone didn’t measure up. 

There was a layer of hurt feelings which we were too scared or too immature to tackle. Yet, we never gave up on the tackling, or on one another. We never gave up on us.

Things are much different these days. Unspoken doesn’t happen. There’s no more fear of speaking and expressing, on either end. Expectations are much more realistic. Emotions, all of them, have a safe place in which to live and thrive, and we constantly clarify with one another to understand. 

As a result, that angst is gone. It’s been replaced with a genuine understanding of the other person’s intentions, a knowing that we are operating with the other’s best interest at heart, no matter what. We count on it. Believe it. 

That’s been absolutely foundational. It gets us through everything, with fewer hurt feelings and less residual negative impact. In fact, it helps us move forward with new skills and information, because we can get to the heart of an issue more quickly and talk it through. We learn from and with one another.

Another amazing result has been that we appreciate so deeply all that the other does to help, both individuals and the family as a whole. We see the intentions, the effort, the impact. It’s not a competition; it’s exactly the opposite. We each know what we bring to the table and want more than anything to use those skills to help one another, and the family. We need to. And we’ve built a structure that allows for those skills to be capitalized upon. 

Above all, I need to see him happy. I need to be a part of the reason he is happy. I need to do all I can in order to see that happen. He needs the same thing. Except now, we each truly see and feel that. We appreciate.

As we prepare for his surgery Wednesday, and we each continue to express ourselves so freely about it all, make plans, and talk about the future, I am overwhelmed by the positivity of it all, of the impact this renewal has had in our lives. I’m emotional and afraid and a million other things all at once. So is he. But, the anxiety that used to plague me has diminished so much because of this thing between us. M has expressed his feelings openly like never before. We know we can count on one another. 

I’m hopeful, even amidst the fear. So is he. 

Today, I’m grateful. 

Hot Guy

There’s this really handsome guy sitting in my living room. Lounged back in the chair, he’s sort of off-center, one leg swung over the arm and the other propped up on the ottoman. He’s wearing a really soft looking, gray, four button polo shirt and Levi’s that hug his ass just right. My eyes are drawn to the curve of his ass nestled on the edge of the cushion. I wish I could touch it – start at the top near his back and run my hand over that curve, feeling the muscled firmness against my palm. Maybe keep going, down his thigh, traveling to the inside, up to that bulge that seems to be taunting me from across the room.

Brow furrowed, his attention is focused on the new game he’s playing on the TV. Fingers swiftly moving over the white remote, pushing and gliding, his hands periodically shaking it with an abrupt up and down motion, and my mind begins to wonder….what else might those fingers and hands be good at, right now? They look so strong and able…

Every so often, the tip of his tongue pushes on his bottom lip until he unconsciously moves his lip down, making his tongue pop out to rest on top of it, his teeth clenching down, holding it in place. Ahhh, like he’s doing, right now. It’s so damn sexy. Glistening and slightly wet, it’s a dark shade of pink. I bet it’s so warm and nimble. I imagine his mouth is just as talented as his hands. I bet he tastes amazing.

I think he sees me watching him, but I can’t help it. My cheeks are flush, I’ve shifted in my seat at least a dozen times, and even crossed my legs, trying to give myself a bit of relief. He’s driving me crazy.

Oh, my. He just beat the level he was playing and turned to look at me, with a smile. Meeting my gaze, the room fell away. His eyes, oh, wow. What an entrancing shade of deep green, and so happy. And that smile! He smiles and I melt. I could look at that smile for the rest of my life.

“I love you,” he says.

Instantly, I’m reminded that I know all about that handsome man with the perfect ass and yummy thighs. I know what lies beneath those Levi’s. I know his strong, able hands, and all about that talented tongue. I know just how he tastes and smells, I know just how he feels about me. I know exactly how his body feels with mine. It fits. We fit.

And I’m reminded that I get to – I get see that smile, for the rest of my life.

I’m smiling, too.

*Happy Father’s Day to my M… thank you for making babies with me!

*ass pic credit Pinterest

Ignite Me

I am your wick
A thread through your core
Thirsting for your touch
Ignited by whispered words
The heat of your gaze taking hold
Radiating, encompassing warmth
By your hand, your instruments
Melting inhibition
Drawing my soul to the surface
Fueling your smoldering need
Defying all external forces
Except you, I burn
And I burn, for you
One surrendered flame
Dancing, free flowing
A fiery, lascivious glow
Of wanton desire
I am your wick
Ignite me

-photo credit

Half Empty?

M has often said that I have a knack for focusing easily on the negative in a situation, especially if it has to do with the two of us. I can’t say that isn’t true, because it is, and sometimes it’s pretty frustrating. 

But I don’t focus on the negative because I’m a pessimist or because I enjoy wallowing in misery. I do not enjoy creating my own misery or conjuring anxiety for the sake of feeling crappy. I have a deep need to understand things, especially when it has to do with us. I need to know the why’s and how’s, especially when it comes to his thinking, and he is not an especially verbal person, so I ask. 

Our relationship is the foundation on which I stand every day. It’s woven into my backbone, and I count on it, I count on us, and this structure we’ve built. So when I feel unsure about a situation, or something has left me feeling off, I need to talk it through with M so I can understand. Sometimes I just need reassurance, because I’m fighting old habits or ways of thinking, and I’m left feeling vulnerable. 

Either way, when I’m focusing on the negative, I’m focusing on what I cannot understand or explain on my own, and I’m desperately trying to NOT make poor assumptions or speculations. I’m looking to him for clarification and assurance. Instead of allowing my mind to create a negative space that hurts us both, I’m leaning on him and placing confidence in him to guide us in the direction that suits us. 

That’s progress, I think. I’m not seeing the cup as half empty or doubting his abilities. I’m saying to him – our cup is not half empty or half full, but together we are the pitcher that can constantly refill the glass. I’m asking him to help me tip the pitcher. And, luckily, he is very patient, and we’ve talked it through so many times, he usually understands. 

The Infinite Playlist

Some time ago, as I sat at M’s feet, he put some music on, one of his favorite playlists. I’ve heard it many times before, but this night it was much more than just listening to music in the background.

As we listened to a few songs and talked about our days, a particular song came on, and I described to M an exact moment I remember that song being played, a happy, romantic moment from long, long ago. Yet, it doesn’t seem like so long ago! It was so lucid – I remembered what we were wearing, how the candles were lit, and our surroundings. I remembered how he touched me and how his body felt against mine as we danced. And the words he said, I’ll never forget those.

Lying his iPad on the living room floor, M pulled me down to lie with him. That’s when he told me something that melted my heart……this playlist, his favorite, is one he created with all the songs that remind him of us. Of specific times and places and things we’ve done together, over the past 21 years.

We scrolled through that playlist and relived our history, surprising one another with some of the tiniest of details in our rembrances. The design on the blanket we laid upon. The time, stuck and blinking on the clock, the smell of the flowers in the air, the spoken words of a stranger next to us. We felt as we felt, we saw as we saw, experiencing all those moments again, and again, together.

M and I love music. It is more than just words and sound; music marks the passage of time. It’s alive that way – it can take us on a journey, keeping vivid  bits of our histories, preserving them so purely. Each lyric and melody evoking a response from all of our senses. Summoning emotion, sometimes so strong it’s difficult to listen. Inspiring strength and planting seeds of hope.

Every playlist is a song after a song, but it’s also a memory after a memory. An endless reel of reminiscence and aspiration.

You want to know the best part? Every day, we are creating a new playlist. And I get to keep making them with my soulmate.

Rock on.

*A spruced up oldie, as I sit here making a new ‘us’ playlist.


the day is done

meet me at home

no more masks

imagination can roam 

open the door 

screw the lights

against the wall

pin me tight

tangle your fingers

in my hair 

tug it downward

hold me there

kiss me fierce 

no “how was your day”

let your hungry mouth

steal my words away

take my hand 

lead me down the stairs

give me that look

that tells me….beware

lock the door 

and in the moonlight 

let’s get lost in one another

lost in the night

Exposed (limerick)


At first, it struck her as quite absurd,

Body responding to every word,

But his words always guiding,

Coaxing desires from hiding,

Revealed their true selves, no longer blurred

-Tumblr image