Tag Archives: love

Moment of Change – Part Two

Seismic movement happens in waves.  The same can be said of us.  In the first Moment of Change, I prepared to shed you like a skin that no longer fit me.  But now, the earth beneath me has undulated once again.  Where once there was a valley, now a mountain has formed…

Moment of Change – Part Two

I talk a great game.

About living fearlessly; about living with intent.

I pride myself on facing my fears; not letting those fears hold me back.

I am lying to myself.

Your caress has awakened more than just my body.

Your smile has shined light into darkened corners.

As I feel my vulnerability rise up to meet your kiss

So too the fear rises up to meet you.

Still reddened where the wounds of last November flayed me open,

My desperate instinct was to protect my heart from another blood-letting.

And my fear nearly drove me away.

Nearly.

But I am not the same woman I was before.

And I am not beholden to make the same frightened choices I have made in my past.

I can own my feelings.

Voice my emotions.

Face the monster in the darkness.

Expose my vulnerability to the light.

Regardless of what you say or do after you see it.

In the end, what you do with that knowledge is your decision.

What happens next is in the future, beyond our reach.

But right now,

There is another moment whose time has come…

 

The moment I let you in.

 

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Moment of Change

When did it happen?

When did that moment occur when you stopped fucking me and started making love to me?

I didn’t see it happen, I didn’t feel the shifting of your emotional tide.  I just know at some point it changed.

You stopped spanking me.  You stopped pulling my hair.  You stopped tying me up, clamping me down.  You stopped the punishments.

You started caressing my skin.  You began stroking my hair.  You put away your tethers and devices.  You stopped trying to leash me.

When I asked you about the change, you said you didn’t need those things.  That you liked us just the way we are.

And I knew.

The shift had taken place.

The tide had changed.

You are invested.

I can see it in the subtle depth of colors in your eyes.

I can feel it in the loving way your mouth moves over mine.

Your feelings are silently present in the quiet moments lying naked with my head against your shoulder.

They are on the tip of the tongue you use to kiss me.

We laugh about it.  Joke about how it isn’t happening.  You assure me you are staying in your box.

But you are lying – and so am I.

There is a subtle depth of color in my eyes too.

There is something on the tip of the tongue I use to kiss you.

We aren’t fucking any more.

We are making love.

And now there is only one course left to take.

There is one more moment whose time has come…

 

The moment I let you go.

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Filed under Erotica, Poetry

Unbefitting

There is no argument among the members of the jury:  I fucked up.

My mistake, a boundary somewhere on the path, blown past in my haste to understand. Sometimes, I rush to communicate and it backfires on me.

I am guilty.

Guilty of showing my insecurity.  Guilty of applying pressure, something I promised never to do.  Guilty of lashing out and not taking time to choose my words with care.

Guilty. As. Charged.

But the punishment Your Honor, was too severe.

The harsh degree of punishment did not befit the crime.

And in the face of these blows, I throw my hands up in defense and silently scream:  This doesn’t fit my crime!!!

I can’t change the judgment.  I can’t defend against this.  I can’t undo the crime itself.  I can’t get through to you.

I

Can’t

Stop

Missing

You.

I have moved on already.  Multiple times and in a variety of positions.  I have felt the tingling of emotion trying to blossom in my chest. And then I think of you.

And our friendship.

And our victory laps untaken.

And the dreams we confessed to each other.

And the sins we committed.

And the parting.

And the distance.

And my crime.

And the sheer void you left behind.

And the punishment that is still hurting.

And how it never fit the crime.

I pull back hard on the reigns of my heart.  I pull into myself like a snail recoiling from unexpected touch. I push that tiny blossom down under a weighty cloak of boundless cynicism.

I could try to argue.  But it would be pointless.  In the end I have to accept my punishment.  In the end, I have to submit to the Judge and Jury.  In the end, it is just another end – I’ve survived enough of them to know I’ll get through this one too.

But you were to ask me, Your Honor, how I feel about my life sentence I would raise my voice and say: “THIS PUNISHMENT SUCKS!”

And it did not fit the crime.

 

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Filed under Erotica, Poetry, Tasty Morsels, Tender

From the Vagina Vault: My Man

Originally published on February 19, 2013, this piece is as relevant today as it was the day I wrote it.  (And no, I haven’t found him yet.)

My Man

Are you my man?

Are you the one who can harness this flame?

Can you dance me to the end of love

And back again?

Do you have the strength

To hold me together when I shatter?

Do you see my beauty

Even with my imperfections?

When you look into my eyes

Do you see the Angel-courtesan within?

Can you feel the heat from the glow of her red halo?

Will you give heart and soul to me

Without fear or reservation?

Cherish our bond above any other?

Can you unleash the beast within

Brave the teeth and claws, the animal desire

And revel in the fact you’ll never tame her?

Are you strong enough to handle my love?

When I unleash it with both barrels?

Will you sanctify me

Pleasure me

Satisfy me

Forgive me

As I will You?

Don’t stand on my doorstep roses in hand,

Making honeyed promises you’ll never keep.

Don’t promise me forever.

Or say you’ll never hurt me.

For if you truly love me

You will hurt me.

And forever is just a myth.

Instead promise me that

You will love me in this moment

With everything you are.

Promise me that when you hurt me

You will nurse that hurt until it’s gone.

Promise me that you will treat

The gift of my love

With diligent reverence.

Show me you will give these things to me

And let me give them to you.

Now that you know what that question really means

Let me ask it again:

Are you my man?

Copyright 2014 CJ Riordan

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Filed under Erotica

Ghost Fucking

I am brimming with vital energy.  I laugh, make animated gestures, sigh, whisper, moan.  I give my body again and again like an offering being impaled upon an altar.  Upon many altars.

I am the very essence of life-force.  Stand close to me and you will feel my warm vitality envelope you.  Kiss me and you will taste it on my sweet lips.  Fuck me and you may savor the salty mist from the Fountain of Youth between my thighs.

I can make you feel alive.

I can give you sensations from shivers to spasms, from tingles to orgasms. I can elicit feelings from your body and your heart.

But you can’t do the same for me.

You can make me writhe and moan, cum and shudder, scream and thrust back against you like the dirtiest of whores.  But you can’t reach beyond my body to the sanctuary within.  You can’t reach the fire inside of me.

Someone once commented that it would be difficult to fuck and keep my heart from becoming entangled.

I disagree.

The answer is simple.  Love a ghost.  Fuck a man.

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Filed under Erotica, Pussy's Jukebox

Memory of a Kiss

 

What is on my mind tonight, you ask?

I am thinking of how I miss the feel of skin against mine.  I am pondering my craving for a silky caress that is laced with salacious reverence.  I want to feel fingertips stroke my face from the curve of my cheekbone to the line of my jaw, while lips dance across mine.  I miss the heat of another body pressing closer to me, trapping me against a wall, a kitchen counter, a door jamb, preventing my retreat.

I miss being kissed in sweet slow-motion, long and purposeful.  A kiss that leaves me breathless, my eyelids fluttering as desire washes over me in salty waves and I go under. I miss long, graceful fingers threading into my hair and pulling me gently forward for the next wave.

The kiss is not just the introduction.  It is the refrain that the symphony returns to; playing it again and again as our bodies crash and weave.  The kiss is the melody that lingers in my mind the following day.  I miss the feeling of true passion being given and taken, desire and yearning, lust and love all colliding in one moment in time that will remain forever.  Long after the owner of those lips has gone.

A memory imprinted on the cells of my body, on my mind and heart.  The memory of his kiss.

 

 

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Look Out Cupid…

Valentine Panties

Look out, Cupid, you fat little fuck.  I am coming for you!!!

Happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies. 

xxo Pussy

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Filed under Love Notes, Pussy's Jukebox

Longing

I yearn for you.

My body swells at the thought of you; blood rushing to delicate places, heartbeat racing in my ear.

You ignite me.  Like a flame to dry tinder you set me ablaze in seconds. With a smile, with a look, with a word.

But your distance keeps you from the warm, sensual circle of my arms.  Your distance separates you from the hot longing that flows from me like salty rain.  You may be aware of my desire, or you may not.  But I can assure you, darling, it is there.  Like the sunrise, like the return of the moon every 28 days, my desire is ever-present.

I cannot slake this thirst.  I am not able to drive away this need.  The need for your body; your strong hands on my skin, your mouth in my moist, secret places.  This need will surely drive me mad.

Where are you my lover?

And why have you left me alone in this dark spiral of lust?  Without light, without touch, I am alone in a prison cell that has no walls.  Just skin and bones, muscle and sinew, and longing so vast it rivals the sea.

Please my lover, my lord, my one and only.   Won’t you please come set me free?

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Erotica, Love Notes, Tasty Morsels

Casting Off

The art of letting go.

Why is it that I find it so much easier to let go of the ledge and fall into the void they call love, and so goddamned difficult to let go of that swirling ghost ride when it is over?

It’s a good question.  One I do not have the answer to.

I had thoughts today. Dark, dangerous, impulsive thoughts.  Thoughts that, while they swirled through my mind in an angry I buzz, revealed to me the fact that I have still not let go.  I have not disengaged where I really need to most.  Where it matters most.

And I need to.

In boating, there is always one last rope that you must cast off before you are free of the dock.  My rope is still tethered to the dock, my boat bobbing in the water, waiting to ride the currents.  If only I could cast off that line, I could be free to begin the journey I am meant to travel.

It creates a sense of frustration, a feeling of impotent rage.  The struggling within myself to accept what is not going to change, to accept the things that have changed, and to accept that the twists and turns of fate have brought me here, to this point of being that feels so unfamiliar to me.  My life itself feels unfamiliar to me.  Like I have put brand new shoes on the wrong feet and I am running in a marathon, trying to figure out why I am struggling and everyone else is breezing past me.  The answer is so clear.  Let go.  Let go of the anger.  Let go of the pain.  Let go of the people who didn’t value me enough to stay present in my life.  Let go of the transients that were just passing through.  Just let fucking go.

Let go of the emotions that are stuffed down so deep inside my immune system is fighting against itself.  Let go of the hurt and the doubt.  Let go of the blackness that is swirling around me, sucking me into a vortex of darkness.  Let go of the guilt.  Let go of the blame.  Let go of the versions of myself that are not true to who I am.  Stop trying to be the fantasy and just be me.  Let go of the past so I can see the woman staring back at me in the mirror clearly.  Maybe for the first time in my life.

I need to swap those running shoes, grab that bitch of a rope and cast off.  Let this journey begin before my time runs out.

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Insomniac’s Lament

The fog is gathering outside the bedroom window of my apartment.  A nearby traffic light splashes colors in sequence on my bedroom wall, red, green, yellow, red.  I should be sleeping but the oblivion of sleep is not mine to be had on this cold night.  I am being kept awake by the clanging of memories in my head.

Moments from a not-too-distant past come back to me, tiny snippets return home to nest in my mind.  The sound of your laugh. The feel of your long fingers as they touched my face.  I still sigh when I think of your touch.  The only person I have ever known who could make me feel fragile and beautiful, utterly revered, with simply a touch.

I find myself searching to recreate some of those moments.  A good meal, even better conversation and the story of my life spinning on the CD player.  Laughter and companionship.  Open wounds examined and analyzed,  carefully tended to and healed.  Freedom and expression.  Romance and redemption.  Rebirth.

I search in vain.

It is easy to go back in my mind, and paint over the painful parts.  To cover the awkward moments, ignore the signs and signals that you flashed along the way.  You left a bread-crumb trail for me to follow – and in my haste to reach you, in my rush to be by your side, I missed them all.

I see them now, thanks to the benefit of my old friend: 20/20 hindsight.  I hear the messages you carefully wove in your words; the cautions, the warnings that this was indeed a temporary state of bliss.  My foolish optimism knew no bounds and I hoped, I believed.  All the while, the realist in me knew that with each step, as it grew into something far beyond its humble beginnings, that it would not – it could not – last.

But when I close my eyes and rest my head on my pillow at night I can feel your hands on my face.  While it is the memory of your touch that haunts me, it is the friendship I miss the most.

You tried to tell me.  I just didn’t want to hear it.  There is no way this could have been a lasting thing.  Rebounds are like snowflakes – fragile, unique and never meant to stand the test of time.

 

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Filed under Love Notes