if i told you what i'm afraid to tell you, you might laugh and walk away. see, i'm not one of those people who can be casual about sex. well, i can be, but i don't get the point. i can have an orgasm all by myself, and i'm sure you can, too. for me, the point is, the fun is, the magic is, the Connection.
the risk-- not of life and limb, but of something much greater than that. the risk of it mattering. the risk that we could fall into one another in such a profound and earth-shattering way that we would fall away changed... from the inside out.
sure, there are lots of fun positions and implements to be explored, but what gets me off, what makes me hot is when our connection goes so deep that i can feel what's happening inside your body with my own. when i can see you opening, see your rolling internal landscape shift and change, see the crimson wave of your passion as it boils over and into my core. when i can feel your soul pressing down upon my hand, coming to meet me, coming for me, coming all over me.
when you have to bite down into my flesh to keep just enough of yourself here while you're sending shockwaves into the cosmos that just might change human existence, i am riding those waves into an abandon that tells me i am God-- for a minute, anyway.
see, that kind of sex, our kind of sex, i can't be casual about. and i know i'm not cool, and i know i sound crazy, and i'll even keep quiet about it, if it means i can have some more.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
belly
I. round and firm,
curving just above
my intended destination,
i must first kiss you
in reverence
II. there is nothing
more grounding,
more soothing to me
than the weight of your belly
pressed against mine
III. the fullness
of your belly,
knowing the power that
lies behind it,
can buckle my knees
IV. broad, curvy,
bearing testament to
your woman-ness,
your belly feels
like home to me
V. my hands adore you,
my lips yearn to pay homage,
my cheek longs to rest
against you
as i reach down and in
VI. ripeness, fullness
symbol of possibility,
there's a reason
goddess statues
have big bellies
VII. i can't desire
a skinny girl,
too many bones and angles
give me your curves,
let me love your big belly
VIII. press your belly
into mine--
let the fire in you
connect with the
want in me
curving just above
my intended destination,
i must first kiss you
in reverence
II. there is nothing
more grounding,
more soothing to me
than the weight of your belly
pressed against mine
III. the fullness
of your belly,
knowing the power that
lies behind it,
can buckle my knees
IV. broad, curvy,
bearing testament to
your woman-ness,
your belly feels
like home to me
V. my hands adore you,
my lips yearn to pay homage,
my cheek longs to rest
against you
as i reach down and in
VI. ripeness, fullness
symbol of possibility,
there's a reason
goddess statues
have big bellies
VII. i can't desire
a skinny girl,
too many bones and angles
give me your curves,
let me love your big belly
VIII. press your belly
into mine--
let the fire in you
connect with the
want in me
Thursday, November 4, 2010
marks
these marks i bear speak volumes. i find myself stroking them during stressful moments, and they bring calm as i am reminded of their source. i smile when i'm caught off-guard by glimpses in the mirror of their red-purple/fading to yellow message on my body.
like a child, i want to show them off. "look what she did!" "look what i felt!" never before have i wished for a bruise to just stay a little longer...hurt just a while more. they're my trophies; my evidence the you were there-- beneath me, burying your teeth into my flesh as i rocked my fist so tenderly in your cunt.
the marks you leave bear witness that the passion i feel with you is real, and the pain is a delicious antidote to the stresses of my day--my own sweet reminder that sometimes i get to be someone else. they say i'm not too old, not just somebody's mother, that i'm capable of being and doing and feeling something so raw and powerful and alive that there are marks left behind.
they whisper of all that lies beneath my flesh, the ecstasy and power that are waiting to be brought forth.
like a child, i want to show them off. "look what she did!" "look what i felt!" never before have i wished for a bruise to just stay a little longer...hurt just a while more. they're my trophies; my evidence the you were there-- beneath me, burying your teeth into my flesh as i rocked my fist so tenderly in your cunt.
the marks you leave bear witness that the passion i feel with you is real, and the pain is a delicious antidote to the stresses of my day--my own sweet reminder that sometimes i get to be someone else. they say i'm not too old, not just somebody's mother, that i'm capable of being and doing and feeling something so raw and powerful and alive that there are marks left behind.
they whisper of all that lies beneath my flesh, the ecstasy and power that are waiting to be brought forth.
Date, Part One
Our first Real Date. We'd already had sex a couple of times (a bit cart-before-the-horse, but...), so I couldn't understand why I was so nervous on my way to pick her up that night. I guess some psychic part of me knew that I was in for an evening I won't soon forget.
She buzzed me in, and I gazed up at her as she stood on the landing of her stairway. Fishnets. Wow...and they led under the hem of her dress where my fingers already begged to be. I made it to the top of the stairs and could barely look her in the eye, I was that nervous. A quick kiss "hello"; I wasn't sure if we were alone in the apartment. I couldn't breathe-- don't think I even told her how stunning she looked, from her perfectly-styled dark hair to the deep red of her lips, to the bright flash of her nails and the tantalizing cleavage that I ached to outline with my tongue. If we were to have a proper Date, we needed to get out of the house and on our way.
So out we went, thankfully to a busy restaurant with lots of noise surrounding us so that I couldn't be expected to make much clever conversation. I'm rarely clever when my cock is campaigning to be let out and into her, and tonight it was pounding insistently against my inseam. We made it through dinner, which I'm sure was tasty, and on to the next part of our Date.
Innocently, I'd wanted to treat her to something relaxing. She works hard, with few breaks, and a friend had suggested the local hot tub spa. I'd made the reservation with the idea that she'd be soothed and relaxed and feel well cared-for. I swear, I wasn't planning for sex, but the jumpy toes of my left foot as we drove to the spa gave lie to the impulses I had when I glanced over at her thighs. There they were, spread just a little on the seat next to mine, encased so beautifully in those fishnet stockings. Her skirt had inched up a bit, and it took all the restraint I could muster to keep from reaching over and into her. How I thought I was going to "behave" myself in that hot tub is now beyond me.
She asked me to undress her when we got to Room 4. Kiss, unzip her dress and pull it over her head. Kiss, reach around to unhook her bra. Oh... the garter belt. Beautiful. More kisses, and then I kneel to remove her shoes, reach up to release the stockings, my face right there. So close I could smell her, my mouth watering in its yearning for her taste. Slipping those fishnets down, folding them carefully before I reached up for her panties... and standing again for one more kiss before she turned her back and let me watch her walk up the steps and into the hot tub.
She buzzed me in, and I gazed up at her as she stood on the landing of her stairway. Fishnets. Wow...and they led under the hem of her dress where my fingers already begged to be. I made it to the top of the stairs and could barely look her in the eye, I was that nervous. A quick kiss "hello"; I wasn't sure if we were alone in the apartment. I couldn't breathe-- don't think I even told her how stunning she looked, from her perfectly-styled dark hair to the deep red of her lips, to the bright flash of her nails and the tantalizing cleavage that I ached to outline with my tongue. If we were to have a proper Date, we needed to get out of the house and on our way.
So out we went, thankfully to a busy restaurant with lots of noise surrounding us so that I couldn't be expected to make much clever conversation. I'm rarely clever when my cock is campaigning to be let out and into her, and tonight it was pounding insistently against my inseam. We made it through dinner, which I'm sure was tasty, and on to the next part of our Date.
Innocently, I'd wanted to treat her to something relaxing. She works hard, with few breaks, and a friend had suggested the local hot tub spa. I'd made the reservation with the idea that she'd be soothed and relaxed and feel well cared-for. I swear, I wasn't planning for sex, but the jumpy toes of my left foot as we drove to the spa gave lie to the impulses I had when I glanced over at her thighs. There they were, spread just a little on the seat next to mine, encased so beautifully in those fishnet stockings. Her skirt had inched up a bit, and it took all the restraint I could muster to keep from reaching over and into her. How I thought I was going to "behave" myself in that hot tub is now beyond me.
She asked me to undress her when we got to Room 4. Kiss, unzip her dress and pull it over her head. Kiss, reach around to unhook her bra. Oh... the garter belt. Beautiful. More kisses, and then I kneel to remove her shoes, reach up to release the stockings, my face right there. So close I could smell her, my mouth watering in its yearning for her taste. Slipping those fishnets down, folding them carefully before I reached up for her panties... and standing again for one more kiss before she turned her back and let me watch her walk up the steps and into the hot tub.
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