long quiet weekend away
visiting friends
gracious home…beautiful grounds
mango cocktail--lovingly made by my host
now nearly gone
liquor deliciously warming my chest and belly
me
supine on my chaise
intoxicating cornflower blue sky
summer sun blazing
hot
thoughts of her drifting in
my girl
missing her so
bent knees...soles of my feet rest on sizzling canvas cushion
legs parting slightly
allowing sun's rays
to creep quietly between my thighs
aaaaaahhhh
shock of warmth
there
fuck me, sunshine
daydreaming
her full soft lips on mine
pulling my bottom lip into her mouth
open legs wider
pussy drinking in sunshine
hot
wet
hungry
wanting
she
serious eyes turn mischievous
kissing me
feasts on my mouth hungrily
my neck
pink nipples
a sigh escapes her lips
tip my hips skyward
reaching for the sun
seeking her mouth
fuck me, sunshine
ease legs open a bit more
sun burning sweetness between my thighs
ablaze now
audible moan slips out of my throat
recalling her mouth on me
there
her lips
tongue
wrapped around my clit
suckling… pulling… teasing… relentless
then her teeth.. Mmmmmmmm… the teeth!
siiiigh
open legs the widest
rays reach inside me
warmth radiates deep
hips rocking slow
her tongue thick
soft
warm
seeking my center
me...panting now
fuck me, sunshine
my host returns
smiling
standing over me
pitcher in hand
to mercifully refill my glass.
When was the last time someone had you as hot as the summer sun?
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Caretaking
Trust is not something that is given. Trust is something that you earn.
So much of the poly lifestyle is about trusting. Do I trust my partner to be honest with me? Do I trust my lover to respect the boundaries of our relationship? Do I trust myself to not become jealous? Do I trust myself to not love too hard, too soft, too blind, too broad?
What does it mean…to take care of someone you love? I used to know the answer to that question. It came in the form of selfless devotion - acquiescence without regard for self. A level of giving and gift that could not be matched or likely returned ever. That is to a large degree simply who I know myself to be, and so the doing was not hard, it was an extension of my best self. It was the only way I knew.
But what happens when self is reborn? When needs change, when devotion takes on a new tenor? How to take care when the caring seems in part to require losing? A bit of you.
If I am honest I will admit to having failed a bit miserably the last few months. Failed to be the version of me I know. The version I like and respect. The lover I prided myself in being. To have been selfish. To have mistreated. To have violated trust. To have hurt deep and repeatedly.
So where is the corner? And how can I make the turn? Not to go back, but to move ahead in some new direction. To find a space where all possible. I am looking, nearly every moment it seems. For somewhere other than here. More certain. More clear. More sustainable.
I don’t have directions, or even so much as a compass. There is no map. How to find my way then?
Have you ever wanted to be somewhere else but had no idea how to get there?
So much of the poly lifestyle is about trusting. Do I trust my partner to be honest with me? Do I trust my lover to respect the boundaries of our relationship? Do I trust myself to not become jealous? Do I trust myself to not love too hard, too soft, too blind, too broad?
What does it mean…to take care of someone you love? I used to know the answer to that question. It came in the form of selfless devotion - acquiescence without regard for self. A level of giving and gift that could not be matched or likely returned ever. That is to a large degree simply who I know myself to be, and so the doing was not hard, it was an extension of my best self. It was the only way I knew.
But what happens when self is reborn? When needs change, when devotion takes on a new tenor? How to take care when the caring seems in part to require losing? A bit of you.
If I am honest I will admit to having failed a bit miserably the last few months. Failed to be the version of me I know. The version I like and respect. The lover I prided myself in being. To have been selfish. To have mistreated. To have violated trust. To have hurt deep and repeatedly.
So where is the corner? And how can I make the turn? Not to go back, but to move ahead in some new direction. To find a space where all possible. I am looking, nearly every moment it seems. For somewhere other than here. More certain. More clear. More sustainable.
I don’t have directions, or even so much as a compass. There is no map. How to find my way then?
Have you ever wanted to be somewhere else but had no idea how to get there?
Labels:
relationships,
Sheba
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Feeling the Charge
You've denied this part of yourself for a long time...so long it hurts to think about it, and not the good kind of hurting. Not the pain you're looking for tonight.
Everything has happened so fast these last few weeks. Max would disagree, would look at you and remind you of how very patient he's been, waiting until you were ready for him. Ready for this.
Ready to give up control.
It is still new between the two of you. Only one previous date, but a lot of talking and texting and some phone sex and real sex and a deep connection and this....this other connection. This need and trust and knowing. When his beast meets yours.
Later, you'll send him a poem by a friend, with the refrain "I am the beast beneath fair skin."
But now, you're watching, waiting. Taking your cues from him. You've played before of course, but again, it has been a long time. And you've never ever tried this before.
He's already stripped off your skirt and top, and seemed pleased at the little lacy thing you picked up this weekend. You're still wearing it. And the fishnet stockings.
He puts on music, and you're thankful for it, sure that otherwise he could hear your heart beat.
He plugs in the toy, and at first its just a kind of glowing ball of electricity, like the ones at children's museums you remember.
He walks...no...no he stalks you, his prey. You know he can feel your apprehension, and you hope he can feel the excitement as well.
*ZZZZZZZZZZZZAP* The little ball of electricity makes contact with your arm. You jolt, more in surprise than anything else, and then you lie down again, quietly, watching. You haven't had time to think about what you're feeling.
*ZZZZZZZZZZZAP* down your side, and its like this wispy little lace teddy isn't even there at all. Its a biting, pinching, needle-feeling. It feels like getting shocked. Of course it does. And shockingly enough, you like it.
*ZAP* again. Again. Again. Down your thighs, between your legs, just not close enough... and the current is running through you, warm and welcome and punishing and pulsing, and sooner than you know it your pussy is soaking and your hips are thrusting....you'd ride that damn bulb if he'd let you.
And he stops. You gasp, and look up, trying not to make eye contact, trying to be a good submissive, but you want to know what's going on.
He speaks....and his voice is different. You've always liked his voice, from the beginning, from before, but this is different. Soft but firm....velvet wrapped around iron, or like a Ferrari tire running over fine gravel.
"Just wait."
You'd wait years. He pulls off the bulb, and adds a different attachment, a long ...probe. This will focus the electricity a bit more, you realize.
After he sends electricity running through you with the long shaft, you're panting. And he isn't done. Out comes something that looks...that IS...a small glass rake. You gasp, and realize you're nowhere near apprehensive. You're needy and wanting and wet and ready for whatever he wants.
Again he starts with your arms, raking your skin, sending hotwhitepurplesharp sparking all the way through you...all the way to You, your core, the part you've hidden so long you sometimes pretended it wasn't there. He's raking down your stomach now, teasing your shaved pussy area, and you can't help it anymore, you arch and gasp and cum, riding this beautiful lightning streaking through your body.
And he isn't done.
The next attachment comes out. Is that...tinsel? It looks like a duster made out of tinsel and you stifle a giggle and then OH SHIT. A thousand tiny fingers of hot white electric lust shoot through you, and you cry out, a wordless aching cry.
He smiles. Like a jackal.
You'd told him your safeword before this all started, and you haven't said it yet. Truth be told, you've never said it (though later...not much later...this would change with Max.)
"More?"
Oh yes. Yes please. Yes Sir.
At some point the teddy is gone, but you leave the stockings on, and the garter.
There's a tiny metal wheel attachment next. You look closer, and see there are tiny spikes all over the wheel.
OH. SHIT.
In the five seconds it takes for him to attach the wheel to the charger and start working you over, you realize this is It. You've found your match, someone who doesn't play around with playing. Someone who is able to give you as much pain as you can handle, at long last. Someone who may be able to give you more than you can handle, and oh, you've ached for this.
And then all your thoughts are gone and he's running that wheel over your pale tender skin, causing your blood to boil and your breath to cease and your mind to start floating away on pure sensation. There are hot angry red trails running across your arms, your breasts, your belly and thighs, but you don't care....your body arches and you come again and again.
And he's not done.
He takes off the wheel, and he does something and then tucks the charger into the back of his jeans. He spreads your legs apart, and there's that Ferrari voice again...
"Don't arch."
And you realize a second too late what he's doing. Not that you'd stop him. Oh, not ever.
His tongue laps at your shining clit, and you can see the blue arch of electricity a second before you feel it and OH OH OH you're cumming and shaking from trying not to move too much and oh gods he's doing it again.
The endorphins are kicked up so high you really do feel like you're floating away, and you don't even register it when he carries you into the bedroom and strips off his clothes, but you come down enough to arch and thrust and push and clench when and cum, again and again and again, until one final time, when he looks you in the eye and growls, and you haven't said it yet, and you're still the same kick ass woman you've always been, but you're also irreversibly, His.
And for months, you can't stop telling people about the wonders of the violet wand.
When was the last time you were jolted into a new experience?
Labels:
electricity,
kink,
play,
S/M,
sex,
shadowclit,
submissive
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