It seems I've been rewired (either that or I've just completely lost my mind).

Christmas came early for me this year, or maybe I should say that Hanukkah came right on time. J arrived on Tuesday morning and was able to spend a couple of days with me. It was wonderful and glorious for me, I had missed him so much and was finding it difficult to get into the holiday spirit. Our time together is sacred to me. It is a mix of sexual, spiritual, affirming and fun. While he was here, we talked, played, shopped, cooked and ate. We lit the first candle of the menorah, our first holiday together. We just lived and loved together.

Our play was not as intense as it has been in the past. I have been having a little bit of physical difficulties and, as much as I did not want it to effect this, it did. J was loving and understanding and did push me, but did not take me too far. He is always gentle and caring with me. What did occur was strange and beyond my comprehension. First, he pushed me and played with me to climax, over and over and over. He had me climax when I was certain I could not possibly cum again. I was utterly and completely sensitized. The gentlest touch, his breath on my skin, his voice, all had me quivering and pulsating. He held me close and made me safe and started it all again. I cannot even describe the feeling of innumerable orgasms exploding in my body and my mind. Constant waves of ecstasy and energy cresting and washing over me. Being held at that level of excitement and sexual tension, for literally hours, broke down my rationality and consciousness. It was not that I wasn't aware, but I could not coherently respond. I was pushed deep inside myself and was floating far outside myself at the same time. That is the best way I can describe it. It was then that it happened, I orgasmed in color. I saw nothing but colors, I could feel them. It was like looking at impressionist painting, but up close. It was seeing brush strokes, or pieces of colors, changing and shifting. Blues and greens turned to oranges and yellows, the colors became my emotions and my sensations. It was an amazing experience, certainly one I have never had before.

When I was finally able to speak again, I did not know how to tell J about it. However, I was able to and he understood and took it in stride. Yet it changed me, it left me euphoric in a way. I was peaceful and elated as he held me and we talked. When he started to play with me and tease me again, I was still jubilant and intoxicated by it all. He tickled me and I began laughing and I could not stop. I am normally not ticklish at all. He was so amused by my reactions, he began to play with me more. He reached over and spanked me, which brought forth gales of laughter. The more he spanked me, the more I laughed. It lasted the entire time he was here. Any time he spanked me I started laughing again. He was so amused by my reaction, he would test it out later. When I was cooking, he came up and spanked me, laughter again. When I was washing dishes, another spank and more laughter. I could not supress it or control it, it was an irrepresibly gleeful time. While each minute with him is always bliss, this was so light-hearted and exhilarating, I will never forget it. I have no idea if I will ever respond that way again or if it was simply a marvelous fluke. I love that we can laugh and cry and just be, when we are together. I love that he accepts me and loves me. He groks me and it makes me all the more his.

I am smiling as I write this, thinking of him and all the gifts he has given me. The gift of love. The gift of knowing myself. The gift of exploring my sexuality, freely and unabashedly. The gift of trust. The gift of being his. And now the gift of laughter and jubilation.

Tis the Season

This has been a year. A very trying year at times. Over and over I have barely eked enough to get by, yet there has always been enough. Work has been continually draining, stressful and, at times, dangerous. My oldest son is losing his home and, in September, his father-in-law killed himself. My grandchildren have been here almost every weekend and I have tried to lavish them with love and stability. I have been having some health problems, ongoing since June, and I still do not have a definite diagnosis. I now have a new doctor, who seems very knowledgeable, forthright and is working hard on finding out the problem. The good news is that my cancer has not returned. The bad news is that I still do not know what is wrong with me. The best news is that J has been my strength, my support and my confident. He has listened to me vent and cry. He has been understanding and loving. I love him and am devoted to him more than I can express in this post.

Despite all the bad and worrisome things that have occurred, I cannot say it has been a bad year. I have many things to be thankful for. I can honestly say that something good has come out of every bad thing. And through it all, my love for J has grown and grown. We have become closer and have shared even more with each other. With my love for him, my desire for him has also grown. I anticipate each visit from him as if it were the first. Only more so, because I know how wonderful it will be, how much he fulfills me and satisfies me, how perfect just sitting with him and talking is and how passionate making love with him is. It has been over a month since he has been here and tomorrow he will be here again. I have a million things to do and I am sitting here writing this, because he told me to. That is not a bad thing. His assignments, his directives capture my attention and heighten my anticipation. They let me know I am his. That is the one constant, reassuring, comforting thing in my life...I am his pet. Knowing I will be with him in less than 12 hours, warms me, gladdens me and fills me with desire. I cannot wait to feel his mouth on mine, his hands on me, his arms around me. I want to hold him, taste him, please him and surrender to him. I crave him and hunger for him. I long for his fist in my hair and his cock in my mouth. I long for the feeling I get each time I am with him. The feeling of being overwhelmed and absorbed and taken.

He has been teasing and playful and suggestive each time we have talked. It has made me floaty and very submissive feeling. Wanting to sate his desires, to give him all that he asks for, to be completely and wholly his. It is not even the marks or the control or the climaxes that I yearn for, it is his domination. Feeling small and safe and completely open and exposed. It is also being his slut and his pet. I salivate thinking about licking him, bathing him with my tongue. I hunger for the taste and feel of his skin, of his cock, of his balls. I shiver thinking of burying my face in him, sucking and gagging on his cock, licking and savoring his balls, rimming and probbing his ass. Feeling his hand on my head as he thrusts into my mouth. Wanting to drink his cum and his piss. I need his imprint upon me, whether it be physical marks from his belt or the cane or the marks on my soul that come from the completeness of my surrender. From knowing I am entirely his. Tis the season.

I am his pet, always

In the four and a half years that J and I have shared what we do, the relationship has grown and evolved. Initially, it was my exploration into D/s and my first relationship in a long time. He reawakened passion and desire in me. He afforded me healing and a safe realization and acceptance of a part of me I had denied and suppressed. It was more than that, we shared interests and passion for many things, both sexual and non-sexual. We shared a mutual respect for our professional lives and a mutual admiration for who we both were. We had an instant connection and understanding of each other. I felt I had known him my whole life. I was consumed by him, consumed by lust, comsumed by my wish to submit, consumed by my need to please him and serve him. I wanted to be his in every way. I read endlessly on the internet, trying to define submission and learn to be the best submissive I could. He was patient and diligent. He explored me, my desires, my fears. He planted seeds of fantasies and outlined scenarios. He encouraged me, he took me farther than I ever imagined I could go. He uncovered and discovered me, he knew me.

My appetite, attraction and longing for him have never cooled or abated. Yet our relationship has become more integrated, more complete, more consummate. Although, distance separates us and time limits us, we are closer and more devoted to each other than most couples in a 24/7 relationship. He is such an integral part of my life. When we are together, it seems time stands still. When we are apart, we talk, write and share. I feel his presence and his support always. I used to wonder if the newness, the excitement would wear off and we would become more mundane, more of a "old married couple". While things may not be as urgent as they once were, they are still as fervent as ever. At times, life may encroach on our play, conversations and relationship, but it only strengthens us. The depth of our love and our commitment has grown and continues to do so. We have become more transparent, more comfortable, more familiar. I am no longer inclined to define us and my submission through other's experiences or expectations. I am comfrotable with what we have defined for ourselves. Yet the dynamic still exists and I am his. I am his pet, he is in charge. I recognize his authority and it comforts me and fulfills me.

Last night, while we were talking, he was quite playful and teasing. We both are anticipating time together next week. We both miss each other and want each other greatly. He mentioned a "no touching" policy. In the past, there were times he imposed a "no touching" policy on me before his visits. I was not to touch myself or cum until he was here. He teased me with the idea for awhile and then ultimately told me to "have fun", because I may not have that chance later. His last words were, "...and write about it". So I am.

We are not together often enough, so I do masturbate frequently. Much to my dismay, this self-pleasuring is not always as pleasurable as it used to be. It lacks his presence and direction. I must focus on him and recall his touches, his voice and his nearness to cum. My solitary orgasms are seldom as explosive or prolonged as my clomaxes that are initiated by him. Last night, I climbed into bed and began to think of him. I imagined him next to me, pressed against me, touching me. I imagined his cock in my mouth. I imagined his hands on me. I imagined his voice telling me waht to do and what he was going to do. My hands were his hands. touching, rubbing, pinching and prodding. I felt him watching me, exploring me, controlling me. The heat blossomed between my legs, wetness leaked from me. I could smell the earthy scent of lust and sex. My hips rocked and reached up for him. I felt his breath in my ear and his body pressed against mine. I felt my climax swelling inside of my belly. I felt my cunt begin to twitch. I pushed my vibrator against my clit and heard his voice tell me to "cum now". My back arched and my hips thrust and my orgasm exploded inside of me. I felt him holding me tightly, as his fingers rubbed and teased my clit. My body was tight, like a bow string and my cunt pulsated and contracted, as if searching for him, needing to be filled. I heard my ragged breathing and low, gutteral, animal type noises coming from my mouth. Waves of electricity coursed through my body, I felt it rise up my spine and escape through the top of my head. I was left limp and quivering and spent, but still wanting and needing him. I need him to quench me, push me, devour me, fill me. My body is his instrument to use and to play and to compel.

Against all odds

This has been a particularly difficult few months for both J and I. Nothing serious really, but lots of minor irritations. I lived each day in anticipation of my next conversation with him. Hearing from him, even just a quick "touching base" call, strengthens, affirms and renews me. I am crazy, mad, in love with this man.

It astounds me how much we can pack into a short conversation. A recap of our days, political commentary, venting about work, friends, family and professing our love and desire for each other. During one of his calls, he told me how happy he was to have me in his life. He said he is always amazed that we found each other, considering the odds of that happening were incredibly slim. I knew what he meant, we lived in different cities, had different career paths, I was incredibly gun-shy of men, there were circumstances that could be viewed as obstacles for either of us becoming involved in a relationship, we were both extremely busy in our own lives and our only chance of meeting was online. Yet, I argued the point with him, because in my mind, the odds were all in our favor. Being the testosterone driven, left brained person he is, he said the odds were almost incalculable and then gave me the task of figuring it up. So this post is my response to that task.

I believe that J is my soul mate, my bashert. I view our relationship as metaphysical. I believe it originated before we were born and it will continue after our deaths. There is a synchronicity to our lives, the weaving of threads that prepared us and connected us to each other. Our destiny was there, in place, our whole lives. We were destined to meet, the plan, the circumstances were all set in place by powers greater than us. The entire Universe was conspired to bring us together. There was no chance that we would go through life without our paths crossing. Therefore, the odds were all in our favor that we would end up together. Until I actually met J, I rejected this whole concept. I eschewed the idea of soul mates and destiny. The experience made me a believer. There was an instant connection, a spark between us. He knew me, he understood me, it was inexplicable. It scared me and fascinated me at the same time. With anyone else, I would have pushed them away, retreated behind my walls and facade. Yet, I was drawn to J and completely trusted him from the beginning. He is my perfect man, my fantasy, my hero. He perseveres in the face of frustration and adversity. He honors his promises and responsibilities. He loves me, cares for me, worries about me and is strong for me. He is compassionate, passionate, intelligent and diligent. He knows what is good for me, better than I. He listens and empathises, while keeping me in check and giving me perspective. He understands my needs and desires, he sees into my thoughts, he encourages me to examine myself and explore the depths of my mind that I try to ignore.


There is no explanation for our story, our love and our relationship, other than it had to be. We were brought together by the gods, the universe, the powers that be. He was always my future, the paths that I took may have determined how and when we would meet, but nothing could have detered me from ultimately being his.

All is well with my soul

I feel an exhaustion and ache and hurt that permeates my entire being. There is a dull throbbing pain which goes clear to my soul. Too much, just too much has happened and I want to turn back the clock, turn away and pretend that everything is good and normal and this is a bad dream. Sadly, I can't. I can't take back my words at work that flew out of my mouth in a fit of fury and arrogance. I can't take back the day last week that my grandchildren's other grandparent, and the father of my son's wife, put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I can't dry their tears, because I can't dry my own. So I cry and I ache and I hope. Because there is always hope, even when things are hopeless.

When things are good and right, hope is unnecessary. There is little to hope for, because things are as they should be. It is in the midst of the storm that I cling to hope, to the trust that tomorrow will be better and the day after that and the day after that. How do you find rational words to describe an irrational act? How do you tell children that he never wanted to hurt them, when all they feel right now is hurt? How do you help children cope and heal and feel safe, when the adults are all acting worse than children? So I hug and I love and I listen. I listen to children's questions, ones that do not have a good answer. I listen to a daughter's pain and grief. I listen to a husband and a father who fears and hurts for his family. I listen to people I have only a cursory relationship with, as they look to me for words of understanding and comfort. I listen to the words of a man, who hurt so much he couldn't live another day. I listen for the voice of God, who seems so very far away. Yet, he is close and near. He is weeping with all of us, holding every broken person. He was there when the gun went off. He was there when a father-in-law discovered a bloody, bloated body. He was there when the children's world was shattered. He heard the wails of the survivors at the funeral.
I talk and reassure and give the right responses, the ones I learned in my counseling classes. They seem so hollow and inadequate. I feel like a fraud. They all turn to me for strength and for answers and I am short on both. I move forward as I am mired at the same time. I wait on the Lord, on the healing, on the wisdom. Yet, even as I wait, I keep taking one step at a time, praying that none of them are missteps.

In the depths of my hurt and weakness the Lord sends me comfort and wisdom and love. J is my rock and my lifeline. He pulls me out of the dark and helps me find my footing on solid ground. He tells me the truth, the things I need to hear and believe. His care and concern are humbling. His love is strengthening. He is a voice of reason, when I think reason does not exist. Scripture and poetry speak to my heart and express the feelings I cannot put into words. A friend messages me, the truest words I can imagine, given the situation. She will never know how her words are a salve to my soul. "It is senseless to us, and the only thing that made sense to him, I think that was the only thing he could see. He would never want to cause such pain for all of you. I just believe he could see nothing else. I pray he may now truly rest in the peace. Thank you for your friendship and trust. You are such a strong women and I am blessed to know you." It makes me wonder how I am a blessing. I do not feel strong or good or wise.

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful. Hebrews 10:23

I think of God's people. I think of the Jews coming out of Egypt, moving forward on their faith in the Lord's promise. I think of the Jews in the death camps, clinging to their faith and God's promises. How can anyone have faith or hold onto traditions after something like that? Yet the traditions, the ritual, are comforting, familiar and hopeful. I feel a kinship and an understanding. I feel their hope, it sustains me. So, I take up holidays that are not mine, not part of my heritage. I will embrace this new year, a fresh start. I pray for mercy to be shown to me over the next year. I will hope for better times. I am a wild branch that has been grafted in. I am an adopted child, grateful for the grace and love.

Even in pain, I am so greatly blessed. I am blessed by J. I am blessed by good friends' words. I am blessed by my faith. I am blessed by those broken survivors in the wake of a tragedy. For he is compassionate and gracious and slow to anger and abundant in loving kindness and truth.

Yahrtzeit

Psalm 91

 ¹He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
 ²I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.
 ³Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.
 ⁴He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
 ⁵Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
 ⁶Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
 ⁷A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.
 ⁸Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.
 ⁹Because thou hast made the LORD, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation;
 ¹⁰There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.
 ¹¹For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
 ¹²They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.
 ¹³Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.
 ¹⁴Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name.
 ¹⁵He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.
 ¹⁶With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.

What a tumultuous year this has been. I have not mentioned it previously, but a year ago today, J's brother died, suddenly and unexpectedly. There is much I could say about that event and the effects of it, but I am only going to write about my personal perspective on it. I would never want to infringe on J's grief and privacy by expounding upon other details here.

My relationship with J is like nothing I have experienced before. It transcends the sexual, emotional and physical. It is spiritual for me. I struggle with this classification at times, a classification by my own defining. Though I deeply feel the spiritual connection between us, it seems a bit blasphemous to call it that. At least in terms of what I mean by it. J's significance to me, and his influence on me, is a personification of my Supreme Being. It is not that I think he is perfect, though he is perfect for me. I think I have a realistic view of him, I am aware of his flaws and his frustrations. I also can honestly say that he offers me safety, security, acceptance and the most perfect love that a human being can offer.

I offer the Psalm above, as a prayer for J and his brother. Yet, when I read the words, they remind me of J. He is a refuge for me. He has delivered me from the bondage of my past. He comforts me in many ways. I feel him in me and all around me, even when we are apart. Serving him and pleasing him delights me and fulfills me. He has taught me so much about myself and the world around me. He inspires me to be a better person and to improve myself for service to him. This comparison, between J and G_d. is one I have struggled with in the past, but one I have found comfort in. It isn't a confusion on my part or a way of deifying J. It helps me to honor him and to humble myself in service to him. It defines my love and respect for him. He will always be a part of me, we are connected on a higher plane than space and time. He has, somehow, always been a part of me and we were destined to share what we do. I am grateful for that, it is a comfort to me. I am honored to have this amazing man in my life. I am blessed to experience the depths of awareness that he gives to me. I acknowledge the rarity of a love like ours.

The Change and the Constant

I do not write, because I don't know how to begin. Thoughts and images race through my head and then are gone. I cannot grab and hold them quickly enough to keep them and write them down. I am stretched and pulled in all different directions. I would like to pass the blame along, but I can only blame myself. The only constant, focused thought in my life anymore is J. My need, my desire, my adoration, my love and my submission for him is always there and always defined. However, even that I do not execute very well anymore.

I am spread thin, trying to do to much for too many. My energies and efforts are spread so thin anymore, that nothing is done well, everything just slips right through the fabric of my intent. Bits and pieces of me are floating so far out there I can't even reach them to pull them back in. Yet this has become the norm for me. I have accepted it too well. I am too used to the chaos and the loose ends that I have retreated into just allowing it to happen. Then I think about J, I think about how I want to be for Him, about what He deserves. I think about how good I used to be at juggling things and multi-tasking. Where has that organization gone?

I lack concentration and initiative. What came first, the chicken or the egg? I am trying to regroup, to step back and begin again. I have to take baby steps. I have to become comfortable and learn how to work with this body and mind of mine that is changing. I am figuring out how to adjust to a new endurance level and a new mind that flits and forgets. The hardest part is the fact that I have little patience with stupid people, and now I am becoming one. I ponder how I will feel and who I will be when this is all done and over with. When my hormones quit fluctuating, exactly where will they be? I am amazed to say I miss the flow of blood, which now occurs once in a blue moon. I remember how I hated it. It creates a slow burn in me when doctors attribute everything to "the change", eight years ago my cancer symptoms were written off to that. Yet I do the same thing myself. At least I do right after I wonder if I am losing my mind.

One thing that has developed, which I am not sure if it is a blessing or a curse, is I have become an empath. I hesitate to write those words, it makes me sound crazy and out of touch with reality. It has been a scary path and it took me a long time to figure it out. Sometimes, when I meet people, or speak to them or make eye contact, or even am just in the room with them, I am flooded with all of their feelings and fears and emotions. This has always happened to a certain extent, but it has blossomed and grown. I am still learning how to deal with it, control it and block it when I need to. Often it is a gift, but I work with sex offenders and the mentally ill. Sometimes the flash of awareness and insight is disturbing and frightening. All too often I want to fix what I am feeling, fix it for me and fix it for them. I am slowly applying filters and finding that, while I cannot really control it, I can control the effects on me.

J is my solace. When we are together and He puts His arms around me, I feel like He is gathering me up. He is summoning all the molecules of me that are floating all over the Universe. He is calling them all to Him and He is putting me back together. With Him I am centered, calm and protected. I am able to relax and focus. He anchors me and accepts me and guides me. I have never known trust like this, I never doubt Him or His intentions. With Him I am always safe and cared for, it makes me want to give Him everything. The funny thing is, I don't have to. How lucky and blessed and undeserving I am to have Him in my life. How happy I am to be His.

Today is my Birthday

J,

Never have I welcomed and embraced my birthday as I do now.  You make me happy, you make me loved, you make me smile. Happy birthday to me, because I was made for you. You are the end of my story, because from here on out, you are part of my story. I love you.



‎"Your story is your soul. The longer you're with someone, the more you trust them, the more you're willing to tell. I believe when you find your real partner, you tell them everything until there's nothing left. Then you start from the beginning, only this time it's their story as well as yours." ~ Jonathan Carroll

Tonight, I am quite possibly the most selfish person on the planet. I am pouty and covetous and petulant. What makes it worse is I hate that I feel this way and I can't seem to snap out of it. Intellectually, I know I am blessed and that nothing has really changed from when I felt blessed and peaceful. Knowing that doesn't lessen my feelings one bit, in fact it makes it worse. I know I am where I am supposed to be and the only thing wrong is my wanting what I cannot have. Normally, I can roll with things, I persevere and find a lesson in doing so. No one's life is perfect and no one gets everything they want, so why do I want to stomp my foot and cry and feel sorry for myself? I am tired, I have been stressed and not sleeping well. This seems to be a bad time of year for me. The past couple of years I have struggled during the first few months of the year. It is very rare for me to sink down and wallow in self pity, but that is where I am right now.

I have been fighting this for a while, but this weekend it all caught up with me and I lost the fight. It is greater than my desire for what I don't have (though that is much of it), it extends to a much broader situation as well. I look at the world, all the things happening, wars, earthquakes, certainly the crisis at the nuclear plant. It all makes me feel so empty and sad. It makes me think, is that all there is? Acknowledging the tragedies in the world are affecting me, makes my being self-centered even worse. Those situations should make me endlessly thankful for what I have. But I want things to be a little easier. I want some breathing room. I want, for one week, to have no one come to me with a problem or need. It is my fault, I attract those in need, I encourage it. My family, my friends, my clients at work, they all seek me out to complain, whine, vent or have me fix things. But now I have no resources left, financially, emotionally and physically, I am experiencing a deficit. I want to be redeemed and restored. I think of all the things I want, things I want to buy, places I want to travel. I know these are things I will never have and never do. Some of my desires are noble, many more are selfish. Either way, they are impossible. This is life, it is my life. Normally, I look around and I see those who have even less than I do. I see people suffering and in need, people who deserve better. Today, I am focusing on people who have more, people who are undeserving of what they have. People who have done nothing to earn an easy life, people who have hoards of useless things. Deep down I know it is not about deserving or entitlement, it just is. I know I cannot see in people's hearts. I know that those things and those desires will not bring happiness or contentment. I have been very happy and content with what I have and I will be again. I have to breathe and put one foot in front of the other and keep going. I have to see what I have rather than what I want.

My greatest selfish desire? I want to be with J. It is not about my love for him or my submission, it is about my need. I need to be with him. I know I am his and I know we will be together again soon. But I want him every day. I want to share with him the things that time constraints do not allow. I want what I cannot have. I curse the distance between us and the circumstances that aren't going to change. Okay, not really, I was the one who sought out someone further away. I wanted the safety of that distance, a buffer to keep them at bay and allow me to keep an emotional distance. I never contemplated falling in love, I never contemplated finding someone like J. Someone so perfectly suited for me, someone I could really submit and surrender to. I should be thankful he is not here right now, because I am unbearable and focused on what I want, not what he wants. However, I think he is the cure for what ails me. I need his help to quiet these thoughts and regain my focus. I need to submit and serve him. I need to surrender the control. In the meantime, I need to take a breath and keep wading through all of this. I need to focus on my blessings, of which he is the greatest one. I need to be still and feel his presence with me, inside me. I can always feel him with me, because I know that I am his.

My favorite thing

My favorite thing is to share life and love and laughter with you. To sit after dinner and watch your face as you tell me stories of your life. To be working in the kitchen and feel your arms wrap around me and pull me back to you. To open the door and welcome you home. To see your eyes sparkle when you laugh.

My favorite thing is everything about you. You give me courage to face each new week. You fill each week with the joy of loving you. You fill me with contentment when you are near me. You make the ordinary extraordinary. You know when to be gentle and when to be firm. You love me in a way that fills my mind, my body and my soul.

My favorite thing is to serve and submit and surrender to you. My favorite thing is when you take what you want from me. My favorite thing is when you give me more. My favorite thing is when you make me laugh. My favorite thing is when you make me cry. My favorite thing is that I am yours.

For you

I lie in bed and think of you.  My hands begin to move down my body and I feel your presence all around me.  Your essence surrounds me and penetrates me and I float in its comfort and safety.  I sense you watching me as my hand slides down my belly to my wet flesh.  My fingers part the lips and I smell my scent in the air.  I begin to rub little circles around my clit.  As my legs open wider and my back starts to arch, I long for your touch.  I imagine your kiss that possesses me and makes my soul succumb to you.  My nipples harden and ache to feel your fingertips clamp on them and flatten them until I wince.  My fingers rub and dip and press. My mouth opens as a moan escapes.  My cunt twitches and my whole body quivers.  I think of your teeth closing on tender flesh at my neck.  I feel your cock pressed against me, hard and glistening.  My hips are rocking in response to you.  It is urgent now, I rub faster and harder as I think of my mouth sliding over your cock.  I hunger to lick your ass and your balls and feel your cock against the back of my throat.  I think of your hand at my throat and my hips thrust up, searching for you.  I feel your gaze bore through me and hear your voice urging me to let go and cum for you.  My head tilts back, my face is contorted, low guttural moans emanate from deep inside me and escape out my mouth.  My legs draw up and my toes are curled. My back stiffens and arches so much it hurts.  My entire body shudders as my climax rolls through me in waves.  I lay spent and shaking, longing for you.  Wanting to feel you pull me close and hold me tight and though you aren't there, I rest in the nearness of you.

I am a porn star

I have been so focused on my blubbering, sobbing, crying when he was here, I failed to write about anything else that occurred while he was here.  I could go on about all the vanilla stuff, like I cooked a marvelous dinner of steak au poivre, potatoes gorgonzola gratin and sauteed asparagus.  I could tell you he brought the best wine I have ever tasted to go with it (Three Saints 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon).  I could tell you that he came bearing gifts!  I got a 10" Caphalon skillet that I have been wanting/needing.  I also got a book of erotic stories, inscribed "for the nights my favorite pet has to sleep alone."  I could tell you I also got handcuffs and clover clamps...okay, we are veering away from the vanilla now.  I could tell you that by the time I was finished cooking and we sat down to dinner I had already been bitten, spanked a bit, pinched and my nipples had been thoroughly abused (and this was BEFORE I opened my presents).  I am always amazed that anything I cook ends up edible at all, considering he absolutely delights in torturing me in delicious ways while I am chopping, stirring and sauteing.  He particularly enjoys pinching, biting and twisting my nipples, so much so that by the time I opened my presents, I was too tender and too much of a wimp to wear the clamps very long at all.  (Yes, they are heavier and a lot more evil than the clamps I already had.)  I am sure I will savor them when my nipples are "fresh" though.

After dinner we talked and played and snuggled and played and I sucked his cock (a lot) and he made me cum (a lot).  We had talked about going out the next day, to see Christmas sights and maybe take some compromising public pictures of me to post, but we never made it out of the house, hardly made it out of bed.  Sometime between breakfast (which consisted of coffee and Christmas cookies...I am a bad pet) and lunch, we were in bed and I was sucking his cock (and generally licking and pleasuring all the surrounding areas of him as well) and I noticed he had his phone out.  I knew he was on call and thought he might be checking for messages (though I thought it was an odd time to do so), then I thought, "oh, he is taking pictures of me!"  What I didn't realize, until he showed me later, was that he wasn't taking pictures, he was filming.  So, now I am a porn star.  I didn't think I would like to watch myself, but it was very sexy.  Whether it will get posted anywhere or ever be seen by anyone other than the two of us is up to J.  It is still nice to know that he is watching me even when we are apart. 

Then, after a discussion about going out to lunch, and opting to stay in and heat up leftover shredded beef for sandwiches, we ended up back in bed.  More sex, cock-sucking and orgasms mixed with more nipple torture and pussy whipping (yeah, I think that's where the crying came in).  Then, while he was fucking my mouth, he did get a phone call (I mentioned he was on call, right?), while he was talking and trouble shooting computer problems (he is sooo smart!) he motioned me to suck him.  I was surprised, because I can think about sex or think about other stuff, multi-tasking, not so much.  But I did and he did.  I love thinking about sucking his cock and serving him while he is working and now I have.  All in all, we had a wonderful time together and I love that I am a porn star.

I am afraid I may drown Him in the gift of my tears

I do not cry in front of other people.  For years I barely cried at all.  In fact my motto was: "Never let them see you cry, crying is a sign of weakness."  That stemmed from a time in my life that every weakness was used against me.  He told me early on that I would cry for him. I told him I would not.  Of course, I was wrong and he was right.  Yet I fear that he may come to regret opening those ducts.  I never know when my tears will flow or what will trigger the flood.  There are times when I know I interrupt our play by crying.  It is not intentional, I often try and hold it back.  I cannot.  It would seem akin to lying to him if I held in my tears (as if I could).  If I am crying and he knows I am okay, both physically and emotionally, he keeps it going.  He will continue with whatever play (spanking, whipping, pinching, orgasm demanding) he is doing.  If he is at all in doubt, or thinks I may have been taken to far, he stops.  He holds me, he talks to me, he asks me about the trigger.  I rarely can give him an answer, I usually do not know.  I'm not sure there is ever one thing.  Part of it is being overwhelmed, by emotion, by sensations, by him.  Part of it is holding so much in during the course of my daily life.  Part of it is being safe and loved and treasured by him.  Part of it, I am sure, is being on a hormonal thrill ride this past couple of years.

Often pain will trigger it, not because the pain is so unbearable, but because I am struck with the realization that I could not, would not trust or allow anyone other than him to do [insert whatever he is doing at the time].  When we engage in activities that used to scare me, were part of my past abuse or are things that have been a source of shame for me, I cry.  I cry because he is so loving, so respectful, so accepting of all that I am and desire.  It is strange to feel this way when he is biting me or whipping my cunt with his belt or pissing on my face, but all of those things are done lovingly and caringly.  I know he would never harm me, humiliate me or hate me.  In short, he would never abuse me, ever. 

Our play is driven by both of our desires.  Our desires are driven by each other.  We both have come to desire things that we previously did not because the other one did.  Or because  it is something we can share with each other that will never be given or shared with anyone else.  He transforms experiences for me.  Things that were scary and shameful in the past are freeing and affirming now.  Those really hard things, boundary pushing things, have a spiritual quality.  They are like a religious experience for me. 

So, I am trying to redefine sexy as puffy eyes, snotty nose and blotchy, wet face.  He tells me I am delusional when I tell him he is the sexiest man I have ever known.  Yet he thinks my crying self is sexy.  It is good to be delusional together.