Rules, labels and no "true way"

So much of what we may read, suggests that there should be a "right" or "wrong" way of doing things.

It seems that certain (and very often self-labelled) "authorities" (and I use that word loosely because in reality some can only be an authority on the way things are for them ~ for their relationships and their interests and not everyone elses!) anyway ~ "some authorities" on BDSM so often suggest their way is the right way, that there is one true way.

There isn't.

They try to suggest that everyone should follow what they put forward.  Their way, may to them be the true way; the only way.  What it is in fact is the right way for them. It doesn't by any means make it right for anyone else or anyone else's dynamic or relationship.

Just as what works for me, may not work for another.  I get that. I just wish others would.  It seems that so many are intent in placing themselves into boxes, placing themselves under "labels" that in reality don't fit, but maybe the closest thing.  It is impossible to place everyone into boxes, or to place everyone under the same label.

There really are no hard and fast rules when it comes to Female Led Relationships or Femdom, or any type of relationship for that matter.  There is no "template" as to what is right, what is wrong and how that relationship should be established or developed.  There isn't anything which says that a relationship must have X, Y or Z.  The important thing is the people within it communicate openly and honestly.  Such communication is an important part of any type of relationship, not just D/s, not just FLRs, but every type of relationship where people are involved. Where a power exchange takes place, where one person has control over another, that communication is entirely necessary. In fact, it really is vital.

Some subscribe to the thinking that D/s relationships as a whole (whether they be male led, female led, Femdom, D/s, M/s etc) are deeper, involve more attachment, require more trust, communication, openness than “traditional” relationships. I don’t subscribe to that in the slightest as I think that all relationships regardless of their dynamic, regardless of whether they include “vanilla” or not require those things. They need trust and honesty, they need communication, they involve intimacy and attachment and emotions, but just because they may be different than what society deems as "traditional" doesn't make them "better" or more anything over another dynamic.

One isn’t better than the other.

One isn't more involved than another.

One isn't more intimate than the other. One isn't more anything over another.

They are just as they are.

Yes of course there are differences within each relationship, differences within a Female led relationship, just as there are differences to a relationship which is Male led and these differences distinguish them from what society deems "traditional", but even though there are differences to the traditional, there are also differences within these types of dynamics according to the people within them.

One will never be the same as the other.  There will always be differences according to the wants and needs of those within it, whether it is physical, emotional, mental or sexual needs.  What works within one, won't work necessarily in another.  So there isn't a true way. There isn't "one" way.  There is just the way that we want to follow and what is right for us.  Doesn't mean it will always work, doesn't mean that it will be perfect ~ after all, nothing ever is.

Each relationship is really unique to the people within them and as such, what works for them is right for them. It certainly doesn't mean it would work for others or with others.  And this is why reading some of the writings from those who claim to be "authorities" really should be taken with an open mind, but very much a pinch of salt.

We can learn things, we can find an understanding of things, and there is a lot for us to learn, we can of course learn a lot from others and what does or doesn't work for them, but just because something is right for someone else, just because it may have worked for them, doesn't mean it will be for us or for others and it certainly doesn't make necessarily them an "authority" over anyone else or particular subjects.

I came across some writings recently, which was looking at FLRs and Femdom and the supposed "guidelines" that must be present for these type of relationships to work.  I find it frustrating that people suggest what must be present within anyone’s relationship for it to work.

If I don’t want something to happen within my relationship, it won’t. If I do, then it will. It is what works for me, what I want to do, certainly not what someone tells me to do. After all, I am in control of myself and my relationship, not some claimed “authority”.

Anyway, it suggested that one of the guidelines is the control and denial of the male orgasm and that it should “always be present” within an FLR.

Should it? Does it have to be?

No. Of course not.

Not if it isn’t what is wanted or required. It does play a big part of many relationships, but it doesn't have to be in every relationship.  It does or would in mine, for me chastity, control and denial is a very important part of such a relationship, but that's a personal choice for me.  Because it works for me. Not because I am told it should be a part of such a dynamic.

There are many who do not want it, many women who do not want that control.  There was a comment on a blog I read only yesterday where a male sub was talking about trying to persuade his very "vanilla wife" to take control and how she was "freaked" out by such suggestions and he asked why?

Why?

Well perhaps it has something to do with the fact that she isn't dominant, she doesn't want to dominate you and she has no desire to do so. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she isn’t interested in wanting to control your cock and your orgasm?

Some people don’t “get it”, for some people TTWD isn’t the things they want to do. And that’s not wrong; it is just how it is. There are many in this situation trying to "persuade" but there is only so much you can do.  You cannot make someone dominant. You cannot make someone dominate, yes you can “lead” or “guide”, but ultimately, we can only be who we are and want to do the things that we want or need to.

I also saw someone ask within a blog if a certain type of relationship were possible.  Someone had answered with a point blank "No". And who are they to say that a certain type of relationship isn't possible?

There are people living the type of relationship that this person claimed couldn't exist.  And it is this which really pisses me off.  It may not be able to exist for them, it doesn't mean that it cannot exist for anyone else.  I wish at times people would say, that "no, for me it doesn't or couldn't work" rather than a "no its not possible".

It is possible.


People live it. 


Just because it doesn't work for that person, doesn't mean it doesn't for others. There are no hard and fast rules.  Anything in reality can exist and probably does for someone somewhere.

There is no one correct way. There isn't a "true" way, and one label doesn't fit all.  In fact, labels can define too much who we are and people then find that they do things to "fit" under that label, trying or forcing themselves to change, to fit under that label instead of being true to who they are.

It is important that we can be who we are, follow the path that we want to, not defined by labels, or being told that what we do is wrong. 

If it works for us it isn't wrong. 

And if something is wrong, if it doesn't work, then you find a way to deal with that and do something else.  Someone else can never be an "authority" on your own needs and wants apart from you. Nobody can ever be an "authority" on your relationship apart from those within it. 

Follow your mind, your heart and what is right for you, because at the end of the day, this is what matters.

My response I ~ "apply"

Welcome to "My response" ~ my responses to contact, whether it be emails, via profiles on IC, CM, FL or others, or via my blog.

Dear how_do_i_apply

You don't! 

Surely you can clearly see from the effort I have put into my profile, of the things I have taken the time to describe and explain of what I would seek and of who I may or may not be compatible with.  And surely, because you have taken the time to carefully read the profile, you would then be able to see that it is far from a case of "applying".

Does my profile suggest that I have a "vacant position" that I am looking to fill? There isn't a "position". 

There is no application.

There is no interview.

There is nothing to apply for. 

Such to me is cold, heartless and empty. Void of anything personal.  We are talking about something which is a potential relationship, something which shares deep commitment, attachment and emotion. Something deeply personal.   Would you upon meeting someone out and about in the bar then turn round and ask them "how do you apply?".  I would hope not. So this is no different!  Although if this is how you do approach things, I can see why you are still searching!

I do not approach an FLR with such thoughts, such coldness or such emptiness.  My initial contact or even contact further down the line will not involve applications or interviews like some formal business arrangement. It starts with getting to know someone, my getting to know you and vice versa.  Just as it would in any other type of environment or any type of relationship.  It starts with someone opening themselves up, as we delve into their depths, and the more we get to know, the more we interact, a submissiveness reacting to my dominance and vice versa again. It develops with both wanting more, a building of interest, desire, hunger.

It builds to much more than that, it becomes so much more than that. It IS so much more than that!!!

So, do how_do_i_apply.  There is nothing to apply for.

Good luck!

(you may need it)

Reflections

Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest.
Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence.
I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.

~Rabindranath Tagore

Sunday just gone would have been my youngest brother's 21st Birthday.  I say would have been because he died when he was just 5 years old. 

It is hard to believe it is that long since he was here, it is even harder to imagine how he would have been as a 21 year old, although due to the illnesses etc that he had, it would never have been likely that he would have lived to that age anyway.  But even then, it is still hard to imagine.

He is buried, just across from where my Mum was laid to rest a couple of years ago.  And we made a visit to the cemetery (as I do most weeks) but particularly on this day to place flowers and to remember.  I talked about him to mini man, of how someone so small, so precious, but touched the lives of so many, in so many different ways. Of his smile, his infectious laugh, but also of the struggles that he faced in the short time that he lived.

I will always remember as we made the journey in the funeral car from home to the cemetery to lay my brother to rest, the old man who was walking along the road, who stood, removed his hat and bowed to the cars as we passed.  I have certain memories in a similar way from the day we laid my mum to rest.  It is strange the things that we remember on days such as this. 

My brother suffered so much physically within his short life.  Medical intervention at times left a lot to be desired.  The ongoing medical negligence case was something that never reached conclusion and was put to rest along with my Mum.  It was something she had fought with and battled for so very long but something that was ended when her own fight against her cancer was lost.

Most people, take for granted the journey they have through life, prepare little,  consider it even less, and most do not think of where that road will ultimately lead.  What makes us take note however of that journey that we make is the people we meet along the way.  Those we live with, work with, those we love and those we lose, those we share times with; good or bad. Family, friends, colleagues, strangers.

It is these people who shape the way we are, they teach us about love, about trust, about joy, they also teach us about loss, about pain and about hurt. 

We learn many of life's lessons from the people who are a part of our lives and often, it is through them that we discover our own strengths, our own weaknesses and all of the things that make us who we are.

Remembering J.
Your love. Your smile.
Beautiful Memories.

You closed the door . . .

So why do you think that it is ok to re-open it when it was your choice to walk out of it in the first place?  What makes you think that?

I wrote a short time ago "live with the door wide open"  about being open to whatever the future may bring, the things it may hold, of allowing that door to be open . . .but I also wrote about how sometimes the doors once they have been shut, should never be re-opened. 

I wonder what makes people think that they should re-open them instead . . .they made the choice of what to do. . . what has changed since then for it to be any different?

So what gives you the right to think that out of the blue, without a by your leave that you come barging right in . . . into a place where they chose not to be .. .where they chose to walk away from. 

Realised what is missing? Realised the what if's or what could have beens? The reality is, nothing has changed.  Not from my part.  THe choice was made, you did what you wanted, so don't come back with "I wish this . . ." or "I wish that . . ."

I really do wonder at times. 

It seems that people can think that they can pick and choose what they do and when they do it, they give absolutely NO thought to the other person, only to their own selfish needs.  

It's like putting something on a shelf, leaving it there gathering dust and then every so often trying to take it down again for a look, just to see, "just in case"

Well don't. 

You had a chance.  You had more than a chance.  You chose to walk away from it.  

And if you read this . . .if you think that this could apply to you . . .then yes, for once . . .it probably does.  The door closed behind you on your way out. It isn't going to re-open.

Fact.

Held

Held in a way . . .we never thought we would.

Felt it in a way . . .we never thought it could.

A perfect moment . . . which we never thought would be.

but knowing that it was . . .

yet knowing that it cannot be . . .

is the hardest thing in the world . . .



Teasing.

He is knelt.

Naked. 

Blindfolded. 

His hands restrained behind his back.  She sits there watching him, taking in every inch of him.  Her mind is drifting to thoughts of hurting him, torturing his beautiful body, tormenting his cock, his nipples; his lips.

She traces in her mind the muscles in his thighs, his chest.  The images of all she wants to do charging through her mind. He moves his head trying to decide where she is, what she is doing.  He has been there for only a short time but his senses are already heightened due to the lack of sight.

She makes him stand and unties his hands before leading him across the room. He has no idea where to, or what his fate is going to be.  The blindfold is still firmly in place and as he stumbles along he grabs onto her as if his life depends on it.  She brings him to a standstill places his arms down to his sides and leaves him standing there.  Even with the blindfold in place she can picture the fear in his eyes, the fear of the unknown.  Something she has seen before when he has been allowed sight.  His cock twitches, his body betraying the desire that the fear brings to him.

She knows he is nervous, she knows that he is unsure, but she also knows that he trusts her, that he places himself safely into her hands, whatever those hands may do to him.

He is left standing there for what seems like eternity, but is minutes only. She smiles at his discomfort, his vulnerability and drinks in the nakedness of his body, imagining herself hurting it, hurting him and knowing that as yet, she cannot go there, that she needs to reign in her sadistic urges.  That she needs to keep the beast caged and away.  She sighs deeply at the thought however and watches as he moves his head to where the noise has come from.

She tells him to get on the bed, helping him back to the edge of it so he can get his bearings slightly.  He does so, lying on his back, and she attaches his cuffs to the top of the bed.  Moving down to secure his feet at the foot of the bed.  As she fastens each one, she takes the moment to tantalise and tease him, placing her mouth gently above his own, yet not quite touching, pulling away if he moves to meet her lips. She traces her tongue and her lips over his over his chin, his neck, his ears, with each gentle touch he shivers, gentle moans come from within him, and his hardening cock is begging to be touched.

She moves over him, sliding her own body across his, enjoying the feel of his skin, of his body beneath hers.  She traces down his body with her nail, digging it and dragging it into the skin, a reddening mark coming to the surface as she moves down the length of his naked body.

He is spread-eagled.

Restrained.

Blindfolded.

And she takes a moment to drink him in, watching his body reacting to the thoughts that are running through his mind, watching him drift, watching him aroused, watching him respond.  And he looks helpless and vulnerable yet strong.  And his vulnerability is breathtaking and beautiful, and his cock is hard and perfect.  And she wants to take him there and then, she wants to hurt him, use him.

But she doesn't.

She moves back over his body, sliding over him, allowing her tongue to trail tenderly over his warm skin, trailing up his inner thighs, along his stomach, but always avoiding his cock which is screaming to be touched.  He tries to manoeuvre so that he can place himself under her tongue and mouth, but she moves quickly away, bringing her hand down as she slaps him, not a slap with force, but one which makes him cry out with surprise. The slap is not enough to hurt him, and neither is it enough to prevent his cock from being hard and erect and longing to be touched.

She moves towards him, bringing her mouth closer to his.  She smiles as he anticipates the kiss that he thinks is coming his way. He knows how much she loves to kiss, of how much she takes with just one kiss, and he loves that she loves it, and he loves to feel the passion growing within her as her lips make contact with his own.  Even though blindfolded he senses where she is, tilting his head to meet her, making his mouth available to her; never knowing if it will be a gentle probing kiss, or one which makes him wince with the pain as her teeth take hold. 

Except this time, she avoids his anticipation, moving her mouth away from him, trailing her nails into his skin, across the tips of his hardened nipples. She flicks them gently at first and then harder, feeling him flinch as the tips of her nails catch the tips of his nipples.  They are red, engorged, and she places her mouth over them as she teases them with her tongue, he was not expecting this and the groan of pleasure escapes from his mouth, reaching up she twists the other nipple between her fingers, his groans of pleasure mixing with groans of pain as she bites and twists and hurts him gently.

She still trails her fingers from her other hand across his body and leaves his nipples wet which harden further when the coolness of the air touches them after she moves her mouth away.  She traces his body with her tongue, down over his chest, across his ribs, over his stomach, his hips.  His cock, just as before, screaming to be touched.

She stops and admires it.

Keeping her eyes upon him watching and gauging his reactions.  She stops tracing her tongue over his hips and without warning licks his cock hard from the head to the base and back to the head again.  His body bucks with surprise, his back arching up to meet her mouth that is firmly around his cock.  The groan that escapes from his mouth clearly audible.  Pressing her self against his legs, grinding upon him, he feels her arousal against his skin, her own arousal and wetness clearly felt. 

She teases him gently with her tongue, watching his arousal build, the pleasure coursing through his body, and as she watches him, she allows her own orgasm to wash over her.  She takes him in her mouth, deep into the back of her throat, her tongue teasing around the shaft and head of the cock as he moans.  She thought about biting him, hurting him, twisting his cock and balls with her hands, but at this moment, she is gentle, tender and soft. 

She lightens her touch further still; holding his cock in one hand, her tongue gently swirling around the head of his hardness, featherlike touches that can only just be felt, and she watches as he tries to arch himself even more to feel more force from her mouth and her tongue. 

She is watching him.

Teasing him. 

Frustrating him. 

Watching the arousal building in his body, his mind floating, the whole of his body sensitive to the lightest of touches.  And he is pleading and begging, and he is moaning and groaning and his breathing is fast and shallow, and his cock is twitching as its close to orgasm.

"It's not all about hurting and pain now is it?" she comments to him.

"No, but you want to hurt me don't you?" he asks tentatively.

She smiles. Returning to the teasing and tormenting of his body, with her tongue and her fingers, thinking that this is going to be fun, she simply says

"Maybe JoJo.  Maybe."

.

Sweet moments

She sits there and watches him, taking a moment to catch her breath before leaning in to kiss him.  Tasting herself on him, watching him as he closes his eyes, gently parting his lips as he moves to accept the kiss that she is awarding to him.

It is soft, tender and gentle and she holds him there for a moment, locked in a kiss and in a moment of gentle intimacy. 

Communicating to him her feelings through the softhearted warmth that she feels toward him, a heartwarming moment of sweetness and tenderness, of love and of affection. 

She is still taking a moment to catch the breath that he has stolen from her, still tasting herself upon his lips.  Her heartbeat slowly returning to its natural rhythm, her body calming after the intensity of the orgasms he has brought to her by his mouth.

She gently traces around the outside of his face, she catches a moan trying to abscond from his mouth. His cock is still hard as she holds him within that moment of closeness.  She moves her hand to his head, gently stroking through his hair as she brings his head towards her shoulder and naked breast, he sighs deeply at each gentle stroke of her hand.  She kisses him softly, tenderly, the lightest of touches as her lips make contact with him.

She continues to stroke him, pet him even.  She wants to whisper in his ear thank you's and words of tenderness and love, a want to susurrate all that she feels; of how he makes her heart melt; of how she loves the feel of him next to her, close to her, deep within her. 


She wants to speak gently into his mind, except she does none of those things right now, but continues to pet him gently, kissing him with sweet tender kisses while she catches her breath.

And as she smiles at him, a smile to say all of this and more.

She still remains silent. 

But he smiles back. Because he knows.

.

In a second

According to one encyclopedia, a 'second' is defined as the

"duration of 9,192,631,770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the caesium-133 atom".


Hmmmm doesn't mean a lot to many of us I am sure LOL especially when you think, regardless of it's length, just how quickly things can change in a second ~ us, situations, life, even the world can change in a second. 

Good and bad things happen in an instant, things can change for the better or a life can be stilled. When you see it in this way, it certainly makes you think. 

It shows us how very precious time is, and how we should do all that we can, to make the most of every precious second that we may have, doing the things that we want to, with the people that we want to do it with.  And that ultimately, we can spend so much wasted time doing things that we neither want to do, or don't enjoy doing.  That when we put things off, we waste that time, time that we simply cannot have again.

When time is so precious, we should be spending it doing the things that we want to, the things that we love to do, and spending it with people that we want to spend it with.  And if there are reasons which are preventing this to happen, to make positive decisions and positive changes so we can do these things, so that we are doing what we want, how we want, but more so, with those we wish to do it with.

Those seconds are precious.  Time is precious and it is also far too short to waste. 

Why should we waste any more of it?  

It is within our hands to take positive steps to not do so, to do things which makes the most of every minute . . .every second. . . and only we can make that happen.

NSFC

I don't normally comment on the comments that people have left in response to the previous blog entries that I have written, not unless it is a point for discussion, a question that I think is best to answer in a blog or just because I want to . . .but, its not a common occurrence it has to be said.

Anyway, Her toy commented on an entry I wrote on Friday Talking . . .(while fucking) needless to say, it is rather an "erotic" based post (the title kind of gives that away in itself lol) but on reading the post Her toy commented with the following . . .

So, i think this might be entirely selfish of me to say, but You may want to consider a NSFC (Not Safe For Chastity) warning for some of Your posts. Or maybe not. :)"

Cuckold H from Lady Beautiful's Journey commented in response . . .

P.S NSFC (Not Safe for Chastity) is a good idea but really we know what blogs we read and what they contain.

And this is very true!

We do all know what type of blogs we are reading, we also know what the content is likely to be, so in that way, everyone is responsible for their own choices about what they read. 

So, why do I not use or intend to use any such warnings?

It's my blog. 

I choose to do what I do, choose to write how I write, and that is within my control and in the ways I want to, not because someone has told me to do. (See, I'd never make a good sub beyond bottoming lol)

And yes, even in blogland it comes to "control". After all, for me, it is all about control.

But here, I am in control of what I write, what I choose to write and what I don't.  I have the freedom to write what I want, how I want and to not have any limitations imposed on that (within reason of course lol)  But, I guess the main reason I do not include any warnings, particularly the "Not safe for chastity" is because, I'm a sadist.

If you read my blog and are in chastity and it makes you suffer. Good.

If you are within chastity as part of your own dynamic and end up suffering or struggling even more.  Good.

I'm a sadist. 

I like people suffering. I like the fact that people suffer and struggle.  I don't do sympathy (or very rarely!) and I enjoy the struggles and difficulties that one may face while in chastity. 

So, why would I want to warn them away?

Why would I want to make their life easier?

Hmmmmm . . .I wouldn't.

Sorry . . .what was that you muttered under your breath?  Something about Bitch?  

LOL

Yes I can be. 

Yes I am.  But then, that’s part of who I am.

So, no warnings, no NSFC at the top of my posts. Read at your peril and battle with your struggles . . .oh, and have a little self control *wink*

LOL 

One and the same.

The tremble in your chest, your eyes watering, your body shivering under touch, your cock hard and throbbing, every inch of your body receptive to touch. 

You lie there in a place where your mind, your heart, your body, your cock are all intertwined with someone and within yourself, each part feeling and expressing the love, the longings, the cravings and the desires of the other.   Your body betraying your mind, your eyes betraying your heart.

You lie there, eyes closed, breathing deep and shallow, whispering I enter into your mind with questions and words, teasing, humiliating, hurting with names that are whispered intensely and fiercely into your ear. 

The words probe you, infiltrating and penetrating, a hand finding its way around the back of your head, finding its way into a strong hold upon your hair.

I lean forward, my mouth only millimetres away from your own, teasing you with the tip of my tongue I seize your lower lip with my teeth as the grip upon your hair tightens and forces your mouth towards mine. 

I kiss you softly, watching your eyes respond, watching the resistance fade away.

One look, one word, one suggestion, one touch, makes you hard, gives you butterflies, makes you weak at the knees.

The resistance has faded, leaving surrender and trust, the love from your cock is one and the same as the love from your heart.  The feelings from your mind are one and the same from your body. 

All intertwined, all as one. 

None of it is yours anymore. 

But that's just how it should be.

Talking...(while fucking)

The hunger is restless. 

It is like a thirst that cannot be quenched; a desire that cannot be satisfied.  No amount of masturbation can satiate the feelings that rage within, nothing which can prevent the depraved thoughts from growing in the mind. 

Depraved thoughts of you. Of me. Of many things.  Two, three, more times a day, in light, in darkness and yet it still isn't enough to calm the desire and the hunger that burns in every fibre of my being.  It still leaves me unsated. The desire, the longing, the urgent need still screaming, the hunger still restless.

So I imagine him, fucking me up and down the room, the kind of animalistic fucking where furniture goes flying, as bodies fall from one wall to another; hair pulled, face slapped, bruised, battered, bitten. Forced against the table sending the contents splaying all over the floor. Thrown against the sofa and on to the floor. Frenzied and frenetic fucking all played out before your eyes. 

His voice in my ear, talking while fucking, whispering into my ear of the things he is going to do to me, the things he is going to make you watch while he does them to me. His voice reverberating through my mind, around the room as he tells you what he is going to do to me.

And this does it to me.  It opens me. 

A voice, his words, the sound of the deep and sexy voice that has such an hypnotic effect, it enters into my head and opens me up more to him.  And he is talking and fucking. 

And you are watching still.

And without him touching me further, his words are forceful and strong, commanding and compelling, they are another implement in our pleasure, another tool in a box of so many. They penetrate my body, my mind.

And I come.

To the sound of his voice. To his words.  

And I am fucked, physically, emotionally, verbally.

My body shakes. The dampness of my skin against his from the forceful way he has taken me, he runs a fingernail down my spine, it is wet, I am wet.  And I feel naked, empty, open.

And still you watch.

He whispers into my ear, moving me down to my knees before him.

"Tell me how much you like my cock" He says. His words penetrating into my mind once more, infiltrating into the depths of me.  My own body reacting to the desire and longing from his words.

I kneel before him. His cock is hard, large, thick, I love the way the veins stand out, how it stands perpendicular to his body from where it is so hard from arousal. And as I touch it, while looking at you, I smile.

"I love it . . .I want to suck it and taste it and feel it . . ." I reply, still watching you.

You know how much I like to suck cock and yet you know that it has been so long since I have done so with yours.  And as I lean forward to take his cock in my mouth, my eyes do not break from your gaze.  I can tell that your cock is hard without being able to see it. I know that you are sat there wishing this were your cock being taken into my mouth.  I know that in the depths of your mind that you wish it was your mouth the cock was forcing its way into.  I know you are desiring, lustful, fervent, and that you are invaded by the words, aroused by what you have seen played out before your eyes.

I tease you with my eyes while I tease him, touch him, taste him.

I am taken to a place of ecstasy and surrender.  He grabs my hair, forcing himself deeper into my mouth, his grip on my hair is hard and harsh but it makes me groan from desire and want him all the more.  I am gagging now as he fucks my mouth, my eyes are no longer locked on you, they are locked on this beautiful cock and the body behind it.  And it is fervent and frenzied and it is rough and hard. And there are tears in my eyes and upon my face as he forces himself deep into my mouth and my throat.  And he is fucking me deeper and harder and I am gasping, gagging, choking, struggling for breath. And your breathing is shallow. And in the distance I hear you moan.

His voice unlocks me. Breaking the hold that he has on me.  Taking me away from the place I had drifted to. I do not hear what he says, but know that he has spoken to you.  You are blushing, humiliated at the words that he has thrown at you.  Seeing you there, like that, arouses me deeply.  I feel the hunger rising, the desire building at your discomfort, at your humiliation, yet knowing that will go straight to your cock.  Just as it goes straight to the depths of me.

He pulls me to my feet by my hair.

"Do you know how wet she is?" He asks you.  You nod, your eyes glazed with longing, with your own desire and arousal.

"I am going to turn her around and I am going to slam my cock deep into her. Hard. You love the sound of my balls slapping against her ass, don't you?"

His words, his voice and your reaction goes straight to my cunt. His words alone orchestrating the build up of another orgasm. 

And he pushes me over to the chair, where he fucks me hard, and I hear your moan as I groan at him entering me.  You are sat there watching him, watching his cock, watching me.  And I cannot get enough of him, and I want him to come in me and on me so he is there for longer, so I can feel him long after he has taken me. So you can taste him upon me long after he has gone.  And his words reverberate around inside me, and his cock is pounding into me.

And he is talking and fucking.  And you are watching. And longing. And wishing.

And I come at his words. And I come as he comes.  And as he comes he is still talking. Still fucking. And you’re still watching.

And he talked. And he fucked. And he talked while he fucked.  His voice, his words, echoing around inside the mind as he continues to whisper in my ear.  

And I beckon to you with a glance.  

There is no talking. 

There is no fucking.  

It's your turn now.

Sleeping with . . .

“I like sleeping with somebody”
- Anon, 12th century AD

I like sleeping with somebody
New
Special
But often.
Taboos broken down.
In exploration.

I like sleeping with somebody
Kinky
Animalistic
With you
With others
With both, all together.

I like sleeping with somebody
Raw
Passionate
Erotic
With devotion
With spontaneity.

I like sleeping with somebody
Sensual
Concupiscent
And salacious
Raunchy but romantic
Loving but lascivious

I like sleeping with somebody
You
Him
Together
Whether here or there
Anywhere or everywhere.

I like sleeping with somebody.

.

What is this . . .

what is this thing inside me that yearns, burns when i am near you
what is this thing that shakes me up and calms me down and makes me smile, laugh, cry, die a little bit inside when you’re away
what makes YOU so special that you get to crawl around inside me,
touch me in places i’ve never been touched before
intimate places, deep, dark and secret places
places pale from lack of light of day
who gave you the right to steal my thoughts at any moment you so desire
to make me smile unexpectedly at a remembered word, an unexpected kindness
why do you get to be the one to scale my wall, peek over,
smiling wickedly at what you find inside,
even my darkness, that hidden ugly, i expect you to judge
why don’t you
where’s that tail tucking, bucking, i expected as my due
why do you have to be so original
so fucking unstereotypical
so lyrical
so beautifully damaged and patched back together,
scarred and maimed
exquisite in your pain
yet still able to love
what makes you
tick?
and how did i so quickly succumb to your throbbing beat

~Elonna



*I* love this!

I lost you.

"It" affected us both.

"It" infected us both.

And because of "it" we have ended up walking a path that no longer runs parallel.

A path that no longer crosses or meets and yet, it does not seem right that we walk along such separate and distant paths; walking (although I know that you are stumbling along) and that you are lost, licking the wounds that the infection has entered into so deeply.

I know that you walk away, in silence and in solitude. But to do so was your choice.

It wasn't what I wanted for us, for you or for me.  I always said I would be your friend . . .no matter what.

I miss you more than you know.

We shared so much, you and I. It is hard at times to know that we no longer share any of what was. I know as I walk along the path without you, I remember the good times.  

I look and remember fondly on all that was, even when what "was" was at times, endured.  I always said I would be your friend, that I would always endure anything for you. 

I miss you more than you know.

I have no idea what you remember as you flounder along the path, unsure of the direction or where you are heading, and not knowing which way to turn now that you choose to walk it alone.  You don't need to be walking it as a solitary person, alone . . .lost.

I know so much was lost.
I know that I lost you.
But I also know you have lost yourself. 

But that in losing you, but also in trying to find. . .I came so close to losing myself.  I miss you more than you know.