Lacy, Black, 30H with Spillage

I am thinking about you today. Hourly.

I know you want me to confess I feel the same.

But do I?

I believe I make things far too easy for you, my good man.

I dress and undress for you, wearing lingerie accentuating spillage, wearing nothing at all.

Yes, I am wet with desire from the moment your smile finds mine across the room, at dusk.

I send photos, texts, video, vignettes; my desires laid bare with teases and tempting commentary.

While separate,  corporate puts you to use across the continent, ever in pursuit of the next deal.

I write about you

and dream about you

and ride your beautiful cock with both my mouth and body, and lately,


my mind.

So I don’t love you like a little wanna-be wife! My heart is fully yours in the time we are together.


I love on you like a naughty temptress

and I take care of your manhood,

respect your rules,

tenderly caress your heart when we are together

and love the sweet kiss of your hunger, your hardness, your beautiful, sensual side.

With trepidation, I consent to your need for romance-

but I am unlike those you have encountered before-

and you are waiting for me to fall crazy headlong into the old traditions,

thinking if you don’t offer, I cannot fully unite with your heat.

Take me-

for the peaceful calm my time with you provides,

for the balance I offer from your hectic, driven, fucking quarterly benchmarks,

allow me the surrender from promising  a life time to the step-by-step march to decency

and altars

and regrets.

I embrace your whole giving self

and ask for more,


to my deepest point,

then slowly,


your sanity spilled in between my heart and my naughty bits.

I feel you shaking, quaking,  as you lose a little of your mind with me

and this afternoon, content with your adoring grin,

your scent running down my thigh as we part,

I plan for our next escape-

Not for a ring,

Not for a role,

Not for a white,  silken, flowing dress…

But just for this moment. this moment. this moment. THIS. MOMENTOUS SHARED. MOMENT of pleasure.

Each sunrise I’m longing for your morning-kiss on my eyelids, my face,

and your taking of my body,


and in my daily giving of flesh and fantasy and honest, sexual satisfaction

I hold back a tiny bit of my heart,

-each time-

so I know you’ll come back to collect,

to attempt to make whole what you’ve been taught is called honor.

I won’t be a part of this,

the letting you settle in, thinking,


you have conquered,

or allow you to claim ownership

to your little plaything-

some beautiful spirited fantasy

you’ve been told needs to be tethered and broken.

No, Sir, not this free and sweet winged soul.
#for Reticent Mental Property. Image Nicolian Beerens, from the web.

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