Enduring silence

Want to be warm and asleep next to you
I need you to desire me
Me, not my body, me
I want you to know that when I touch you it’s to affirm to myself that you are real
And when my hands and mouth
Arch your back in ecstasy
It’s because I need your joy to be happy

I live inside my head sometimes so deep that I don’t know how to inhabit my body and it makes me hesitant. Would you welcome a hand trailing up your spine? I don’t know. People want relationships to be easy and I am never easy.

Just want to turn to you and hold you close
Be unselfconscious and lose ourselves in each other
Want to satisfy your every carnal desire
And still boop your nose and call you my girl and see you blush

And instead, I’m alone in my bed
Room chilly
Snuggled under a blanket
Wanting sleeping oblivion
For want of the taste of you

Nightmares are also dreams, part 6: Tara

The heat void left by Pel getting up rouses me from my barely remembered dream of laying next to a fire. I snuggle into his spot. Still warm from him and close to Sara. I feel the soft muscle of Sara’s arm pull me to her, sliding me across silk to nestle close enough to feel her warm breathing tickle my still closed eyelids. I feel her feather touch. Soft fingers spread like a fan, drawing circles around my breast. My eyes open, awake now, and find the deep green of shaded forest staring into mine. I’ve seen this look before, her eyes flashing so deeply with desire they are practically black.

I lean in and devour her soft lips with mine, head tilted to the left. Pressure building to take more of her into my mouth. Tongue sliding over tongue, soft and fierce, fighting for more and more until I feel her hand squeezing and pulling my tit. I break awake, gasping for air. Gobbling breath. Her hand pulses like a heartbeat. I find myself on my back gasping, not sure how I changed positions.

Her nails graze against me sending shivers down spine and her mouth closes over my throat. Lightly biting down, claiming me as hers, her kill. I shudder needing more but she moves so slowly. Lips press their need against my chest and I gasp in surprise when her teeth close over my nipple right as her hand flicks my clit.

I fade out, almost to float, but her fingers plunging inside me shakes me loose. I panic, starting to struggle against her and my eyes fly open.

From the doorway, Pel is watching us. He’s holding two mugs in his hands, not drinking from either. He seems content to watch us forever.

I relax shocked back to reality. My girlfriend and my Sir. I’m safe and that thought gets blasted out of my head. Sara is biting and nibbling and her hand pulses inside me fingers splayed and caressing inside finding spots I never knew were there.

I fall into sensation, eyes closed against any distraction. Each time I feel teeth I whimper as a thumb drags slowly against my clit.

My lungs expand and contract, rough breathe spilling into the air, my body starts shuddering, and then soft waves of gold hammer through and out of me, again and again riding the edge of orgasm.

It’s too much and I can’t think. Lost in the float…

Some minutes later I hear water turning off, when did that happen? Sara is drinking from a cup and offers one to me.

I take the proffered gift and find it contains drinking chocolate. Pel made this…there is cayenne in it. Sara prefers to mix it with cream.

It is delicious but not what I want. I put the mug down on the nightstand with a metallic click.

I burrow beneath the covers and find the prize I’m looking for. The soft blonde sweetness of Sara. It smells of musk and vanilla with a hint of Pel from last night. I play the game Pel taught me. I lick a long slow A against the pussy lips of my…wife.

I’ll say yes. The last time they asked, I wasn’t ready. But yes, they are mine. I won’t give them up. But… Later. Now I need more and the soft moans of Sara whisper our rightness.

The only canvas I have

Only faint syllables flow silk across eardrums
Vibrating words of pleasure and pain
Tremulous touch
Uncertain
Yearning
Caress and imprint memories
Still voice raises
Speaking truths hands fear to impart
When only words can be said
They take the place of lips pressed lightly
And so are seen as inadequate
Hearing only definition and not the whisper
Of soon
You’ll have more than this

Small trace of fingertips on leg

I look at your picked image
And think
Don’t want to bother you
Think
I have nothing to say but
How are you today?
Think
Not today
Hard limit
Most hard limits, easy
This one’s hard
But I don’t have anything to say
Not really
Can’t get you out of my mouth
The touch of skin
Imprinting into my mind
Memories etching themselves into nerve endings
But hard limits
Gotta follow them all
So I sit and write
And like a acid flashback
I’m right back there
Uncomfortable in my seat
Thankfully going numb
Your head on my shoulder
Arm around you
Fingers Tracing desire
Idle
Without any pattern but the moment
The feel of your skin
Feeling awkward
Wanting to turn your attention away
To your lips
To get good at this when glasses get in the way
Rushing because we want that instant
Intense
Memory
Leaves me dreaming
Waking
Looking at your picked image
Wanting to say hello
But hard limits

Dusk falls and he wakes

Slip into the past
Drill bit eyes
Flint shaped soul
Softened by blood
Made whole by a sacrifice of self
Wake clean
Only to get dirty
But this dirty makes me free
No strings
No stress
Make things better by force of will
Touch me to wake me
Memories can’t forsake me
Remember you forever
A form of immortality
Until I lack mobility
But still I spin this story of me
Hoping for an us
And maybe an extended we
But that’s me
Always reaching for the stars
When I’ve yet to leave the earth
Last trip to anxiety
Brush lips, hands held so high
You see
Hope to live up to the hype
Or higher
I hope to deliver
For these few hours
You’re mine
Be explicit
I’m a granter of desire
But bolder in verse than in person
But shake the poet loose
I’ll trace poems across skin
Don’t believe in sin

Journeys begin and continue only with consent

You say you’re innocent
While you fumble manipulation
While you look for my attention
Saying your naive
Knowing that makes me want to protect you
Protect you and take you
Waiting on that yes
Waiting for you to speak
I’m just the freak
Waiting on consent
Before our carnival of sins begins
Yes
I want this
Build
Creative structure
Of pain and pleasure
Until all is undone
Until I’m satisfied
Never
Always wanting more
That next step
That next depravity
At the edge of your desires and back again
Watching your ecstasy
Your whimpers
Your tears
Kiss them away
Each new innocence
Each new horizon
Together
Say yes
I want this
Turn the key
Open the doors
One step away
We’ll start slow
Consent
Or
Good morning, how are you?
Only the gentleman
Only the kind Sir
You’ll never see the barbed wire
Unless you desire
And say
Yes

Love doesn’t stop

The problem with love is that it really doesn’t give a shit if the person you love is tied to another. Maybe this is a my brain thing or maybe it’s something we societaly suppress. In the latter case, it’s still a my brain thing since I’ve cast aside most societal norms, or at least the reasoning behind those norms.

In any case, my brain doesn’t give 2 figs if someone is with someone else. If I see them, if they resonate with me, then I will fall in romantic love with them. Outside of family, I literally have 3 friends who I don’t romantically love. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t have a positive desire to be with them in any kind of romantic context. But…I have more than three friends. And the rest, I do love in a romantic way. And I find myself slipping deeper into that mindset. It’s why, despite my desire, I must distance myself from some of them. Because, they don’t want to be loved romantically. They may value me and even love me, but not romantically. And I push. Anyone who knows me, knows that I push. Not in a bad way, but I will be more intimate, more caring, romantic than is comfortable. So, in accordance with their wishes and to safeguard my emotional state, I distance myself. I hate it, but I do it.

But, the point is that I don’t stop loving someone romantically because they are with another. I won’t try to split them up. I will, actually try to bolster their relationship if it makes the person I love happy. Because I do love them, and I want them happy. And if that isn’t going to be with me, then I’m going to help their relationship if I can. Maybe that seems like self sabotage. But, I can’t be honorable and harm someone I love for personal gain. That just doesn’t work. And maybe they would be happy with me, maybe happier. But that is their decision. I can’t compromise my values to bring them to my side.

Because, if I did that, I would not be the man they would love. I would be some kind of manipulator. And that is something I will not allow. Sometimes I see the cracks in a situation and it would be easy to widen those gaps. But to do so would be contrary to my code. It would be a fundamental betrayal. I’d rather die alone and unloved than to betray.

We all must live by the standards we set. Failure to do so is evil. It’s a manipulation of our own stated truths and it destroys the people who do it. One compromise leads to another until all that we are lays in ruins. We may have all that we wanted, but it’s ashes.

Valentine’s day 25

I watch the swaying roll of hips. My wife crawling to the first soft puddle. The sheen of wet on hard wood. Her mouth dips down and red full lips part. Soft pink tongue presses against the wood. She plants her knees far apart, leverage so that she can lick the wood clean. The soft hidden rose if her sex opens like the flower I have cherished and punished.

I fight myself. My cock is raw and pushes against the underwear and pants. Pain flares. There is always too much of a good thing. Still, the thought of my hardness pushing into her. Melding us together. The feel of her warmth around me. Almost, almost I give in. Though, I know it would be more pain than pleasure. Though I know, I risk damage. I still feel myself tightening. Pain and heat spreading.

I push that down. If I am not in control, this could go very badly. There is a part of me that wants to take her and hurt her and see the fear and desire war in her eyes. It’s that part that I dare not show. If we were alone, then breaking her would be a good thing. Something we both want, both need. As long as we put each other back together afterwards, as such a thing takes a toll on us both. But if Tara sees the monster…It’s too soon. Too much like her old master. It would undo everything.

It is this realization that hits me like a pitcher of ice water. It’s why it’s too soon for the handfasting. Why Tara knew that she couldn’t yet. She senses I’m holding the darkest parts of my desire back from her. She is correct. I’m an idiot. I rushed, thinking she’s seen everything that is important. But this, this part that so rarely shows. This part that wants the screams and the pain more than it wants control and pleasure. The part my Sara sees, and knows, and lusts for.

Very well. For Sara, a bit of both. But quietly. I slip out of my dress shoes and pad on naked feet to where my Sara is licking up the juices of Tara. The largest puddle before the toy chest. I kneel next to Sara. Brushing against her. Feeling the softness of her thigh, up her back to my raven, flechted into her skin. A testament to our desires.

“Make no sound,” I whisper.

She turns and looks at me, nodding her head. My good girl.

I run my fingers down her, pinching and playing. I twist her nipple until tears and the soft choke of a whimper. I pull her arm up, pushing her face against the top of the toy chest. Pulling her hand to rest on the fabric over my stiff cock. Her shoulder is at an angle that I know hurts. I unzip and put myself into her hand. I release her. From past games she knows not to let go or squirm. I slide my index finger inside her. Feeling the slick warmth suck me in.

“Only if you can make me cum do you get to orgasm,” I say, pushing another finger inside.

She grips me, trying to jack me off at this angle, but she’s unable to do much more than run her fingers over me.

I spread my fingers apart, making room for a third finger. The sounds of her whimpers making me clamp down hard. The sound of her panting and mewling. I can’t stand it. I’m weak.

I pull my fingers out of her. Reach over and pull her other arm up. I could dislocate her shoulders like this, arms held behind her wrenched back, neck muscles holding her up. Trying to maintain a balance that gives her some control. No. That won’t do. Control is mine. I pull her arms up. She’s crying and pant screaming softly but audibly. I push my cock inside of her. The rawness making me want more. I slam myself into her. The slap of flesh against flesh and her screams pulling my cum out of me. Spilling my seed into her. I keep slamming into her hoping I’ll break her. Hoping for a red. But it doesn’t come. And I’m completely spent and consumed with shame.

I let her go. I pull in great lungfuls of air. Almost hyperventilating with the violence. I see blood on my cock. Mine or hers, I can’t tell. She turns around and sucks the blood and cum and honey juices off of me. Cleaning me up, unbidden. I’m definitely the one bleeding. Her tongue probes the cut and I gasp. Her eyes meet mine. And like a jolt, the last cum in my body spills slow into her mouth. She sucks me down, her eyes never leaving mine.
Just us connected. Just us. And our foxy girl in the next room

Need is not a dirty word

 

When I say I need you, I don’t mean I need you to pick up my clothes. I don’t mean I need you to take care of me. I don’t mean I need you to make me dinner.

When I say I need you, I mean your presence in my life makes the sun shine a bit brighter. I mean your presence in my life makes my days pass easier and not quicker. I mean your presence in my life drives my passion and forces my creativity to new avenues and choices.

My need is a thing of desire and joy and change. I need because wanting is lukewarm and nothing in the context of love should be anything but the fire burning.

I need comfort and safety but I need it not as a person or place to retreat to but to strike out from. To experience the vastness of life and still know that together we are safe because with each other there is a place to be without that shifting chaos.

I need you to feed me oxygen and fire in equal measure as I feed you earth and water. Or let us not be bound by needs but feed each other golden apples plucked from an immortal tree and know that as one desires the other will provide.

I need you to disagree with me and fight me because I believe I’m right but I’m often wrong and I trust you to give me the truth. But I won’t believe it. And we’ll make up and a few months later, I’ll say “You were right.”

I need you to be vulnerable with me and let me heal the hurts that I can and hold you together while you heal the ones I can’t reach. I need you to know my insecurities and know that despite them I am strong and will not fail you when it counts.

Need is not a dirty word. It is passion coupled to desire. Put want back where it belongs. I want a salad. I want to drive. I want to have a comfortable chair.

I don’t need those things. I need you.

Rubbing the sleep from too tired eyes

The problem with hunger is that it never really goes away. We can suppress it or turn it to other things but that taste of the thing you desire is never fully satisfied. Only when satiated is it quiet. My inner Dominant sleeps. Unquiet. Distractions abound. Work, computer games, phone games, great conversations, writing, poetry, exercise. But it’s like feeding a ravenous wolf table scraps, only by shear will is it controlled, and that control is slipping. My wolf plays closer and closer to the surface and soon I will bite as soon as soothe or worse turn the beast inward. I need a person to bend for me, bow to me, call me Sir and mean it, and most importantly, stay. Life and the wheel turns. And the consequence to not being crippled by sadness is that I am awake and seeking and the wolf inside drowses lighter and lighter. If I were better at starting relationships I’d go to local munches but I hold back looking for…someone, something more than a connection by lifestyle. Instead, a connection for life and lifestyle. I could no more have one without the other. The wolf will awake. It will happen. Best to have a safe outlet when it does.