Tag Archives: lover



I have pushed boundaries for you.

Driven myself like a hostage way beyond my comfort zones to be with you.

Faced down inner demons who would deny my passage to the safe circle of your arms.

I have fought my doubts, wrestled my anxiety, laid siege to my crazy, hyperanalytical brain.

I have accepted circumstances.



Said too much. Not said enough. Played it cool.

Stuffed down my feelings.

Denied the truth in my heart.

I have been wounded.  I have bled tears.

I have walked away only to run back to you.

I have changed my way of being not to please you, but as a result of my experience knowing you.

And you have broken similar ground with me.

You keep your thoughts locked inside that quiet mind.  Your voice is found in action. Or inaction.

Your will stands toe to toe with mine. Unyielding. Both of us wanting something.

Not entirely sure what that something is.  But unable to let go until we find out.

At least, I’m unable to let go.  Are you?

I have stopped hiding. Behind the cool girl facade and ambivalent responses.  I am no longer hiding behind my cynicism, my past or my fears.

I have removed my mask.

Do you have the courage to step out from behind your mask?

Do you have the courage to love me completely? Unabashedly? Fearlessly?

I believe you do. I hope you try.

You will not find a controlling thumb once you let the defenses around your heart down for me.

You will find freedom. Adventure. Sanctuary.  Loyalty that has no rival.

But it takes a tremendous leap of faith.

Does the Lion himself possess the courage to place his hand inside the mouth of the Lioness?

If you do not, then walk away.

If you can not love me as I do, every bit my equal, then you must let go.  Set me free so I can find my pride.

For I have no use for a kitten beside me.

I need a Lion.



Filed under Erotica

Five Men

I was at the market tonight, standing in the alcohol aisle clutching my little basket of chicken breast and whole wheat bread.  I was staring at a bottle of Macallan 12 year.  I wondered…if I bought it and showed up one night on your doorstep with that bottle, an aged olive branch in my hand…would you invite me in? Would you pour us a drink? Would we sit together awkward at first, then rediscovering that easy rhythm we once shared? Would you be glad to see me? Would we talk into the wee hours, sipping our drinks and hoping the night lasted long enough for a conversation that never truly had an end?


I checked my email seven times today.  Hoping to hear from you and being disappointed seven times.  This was not how I pictured this going.  This feels like a recurring nightmare –  it hurts like a pain in my past.   Are you going to be the next in line to try to bring me to my knees? Are you going to say that I brought you to yours?  If I showed up in Ontario, my heart wide open for you to see, would you tell me I was too late? Would you shake your head and tell me to turn around and go home? Would you take me in your arms and kiss me like you’ve always said you would? Was this all just a terrible illusion or was the love we believed in for the last 18 months real?


I reached out to you today about a trivial thing, a mere matter of logistics.  You struck like a viper, injecting your poison straight from your soul and into my heart.  How can it be possible that I knew you intimately for 17 years and never saw what a petty, vindictive little child you can be?  I reacted in anger, my buttons perfectly pushed.  And yet now, in the chill of the night, I see your pain.  I feel the pain you still carry – fresh as it was the day I flayed your heart open by saying yes to your question. But you don’t get to punish me for that any longer.  You don’t get to bully me or control me ever again.  You say I wasted ten grand and gained nothing more than what you were offering two years ago.  But the truth is, I spent what I needed to buy my freedom.  I did what was best for me and my children.  I stood up to you and refused to let you bully me.  I learned to fight and built up the stamina I need to go as many rounds as it takes to keep you in your corner.  This is my life now so…would you please fuck off?


You thought my Christmas present was over the top.  And to some people’s perspectives, I agree it looks that way.  But your gift was as much a present to me as it was to you.  Yes, I gave you the Mancala set.  With 48 stones, lovingly and thoughtfully, purposefully and intentionally picked for you.  Yes, I spent about 10 hours total time compiling a 20 page list detailing each stone and its physical and metaphysical properties.  But that part of the gift was for my benefit, not yours.  It brought me in touch with my hopes and dreams, and made me acknowledge my unnamed fears.  It gave shape, color, texture, and a name for the feeling I have for you.  It helped me reignite my love of the Earth and brought me back to my Mother’s bosom.  That was for MY benefit, Slappy.  While yes, the gesture was absolutely one of the most tender love, it was directed at both of us – not just you.  So don’t get too blown over backwards by it.  It was just a Mancala set. 😉


You are the faceless, nameless man of my future. Would you please approach me with a degree of intelligence, a hint of compassion, more than a little patience?  Would you be forgiving when I am socially awkward? Would you be honest with me, give me real human interaction, and drop this Game-Face Bullshit game everyone seems to play? Would you please fuck me hard enough to make me cum from my head to my toes? I hope you and I mesh well.  I hope we treat each other like a gift.  I hope we behave like a couple of conspiratorial partners in crime. Would you be the greatest adventure of my life and please, may I be yours?  I hope so.  I hope we never stop having fun together – even if there are rough times in between.  I don’t know it right now, but some day I will look at this and see your face, maybe even reach across the couch and take your hand.  I will read these words and know I was talking about you.  I just want to say: I love you.


Filed under Tender

Son and Consort

A crisp lavender expanse of down and fluff.

Warmed by body heat and scented like my skin.

A 54×75 sanctuary where my two worlds dream.

Side by side in unwitting repose.

They will never meet here,

Merely know the feel of resting here with me.

I bear lone witness to this strange changing of the guard.

I am the treasure they share.

They each claim a place in my lilac-colored world.

The warm void between sheets the tender turf,

Where my intimacy runs free with Son and Consort.

I am the constant.

I am the Mother-Mistress.

I am the gravity that draws them here.

I am their common ground.


You climb into my bed in the wee hours of the morning.

Your warmth seeps into me as you snuggle close.

I can feel a sense of safety fill you as you settle in next to me.

I can feel the pull of my love,

like the gravity of the sun holding my universe together.

I stroke your hair and watch as you breathe deeper, relaxing into my touch.

Remembering many nights together.

The texture of your hair is coarser now.

Not the baby fine silk you had when you were three.

But the feel of it transports me back in time.

To every moment I rocked you to sleep in my arms or held you close to me.

You are my reason, my sanity, my tether to this world.

You are the reason I fight, I strive, I grow.

You are my heart and soul, the definition of my love.

You are my son.


I leave the door unlocked for you and climb between scented sheets.

My body tingling, anticipating your touch.

I try to sleep, knowing you are on your way to me.

But I think of your caress and abandon thoughts of rest.

My hands roam my body too hungry to wait for you.

I lose myself in the sea of my own desire.

You open the door and find me in passion’s throes.

A wolfish smile upon your face as your hand replaces mine.

I am shocked back to reality by your kiss.

And delivered to passion once again.

You are the one who stokes my fires, who drives me beyond my brink.

You are my balance, my motivation, my laughter, my release.

You are the visitor that drinks from the wellspring of my heart.

You are my lover.

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Filed under Poetry


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

Morning Kiss – Part Two

“I want to lie down next to you.”

His words were like litmus paper.  In an instant my entire nervous system was on fire. I had a moment of gratitude that I took the time to make my bed that morning.  I stood from the couch, grabbed the glass of cold water that we were sharing, took his hand and led him to my bed.

It had been weeks since our last visit.  He had been traveling for work, our only contact the occasional carefully worded email that gave just a hint of the animal desire we were both feeling.

There was a moment of awkwardness.  The first man to set foot in my room with the intent of lying next to me in my bed.  Which side? We laughed at our nerves and quickly settled in, our mouths joining fast and exploring in that slow sensual way we had discovered on the couch.

His large hand explored the curve of my hip, running over me and down towards the length of my thigh. I knew he could feel the muscles beneath my pants, the lean strength of my legs.  I know the feel of it so well, having run my own hands over those same lines a thousand times before.  It got me hot as hell to know what he was feeling. I could feel his response pressing into me, his body’s hunger belied by the slow pace of his exploration.  I loved that.  The fact that we both held ourselves in check.  Keeping the pace slow and exploratory, without yielding to the impulses of our bodies.  Without giving in to the urge to rip clothing aside and mate like animals.

He spooned me, his hardness pressing into the curve of my ass as his mouth brushed the skin at my back.  “Your skin tastes so good,” he told me breathlessly, “I can’t get enough of it.”  His words made my pulse race and his lips all but guaranteed I’d need to change my panties before heading into the office that morning.

His hands were under my blouse and I quickly offered to remove it.  He didn’t take me up on it at first, but then changed his mind.  Off came the blouse and he pushed me gently to my stomach and straddled me carefully.  He caressed me from shoulders to ass, his finger tracing the line of my panties to the point where it disappeared between my legs.  He kissed every inch of my back, his mouth drawing patterns that left my skin singing with lust.  My need to feel that sweet caress on my breasts won out and I confessed it to him like a guilty sinner.

He removed my bra, turned me over and soon I was fighting the urge to mount him again.  His kisses were like a slow motion caress that formed an endless loop of sensation – bringing my nipples to stiff peaks that begged for his touch.

By now, I could feel the prodigious bulge in his pants brushing against me.  For the life of me, I don’t know how I resisted the urge to run my hand down the front of his jeans, to feel the outline of him and squeeze in the hopes of driving him past his breaking point.  I simultaneously loved and hated the restraint we were showing. It was the most exquisite torture.

For over an hour we lay there together, caressing and kissing.  Never removing more than our shirts.  At one point, we took a break.  It was the only thing that would keep us from fucking like starving fiends.  And we wanted to continue the torturous exploration; to keep the sweet anticipation building.

So we rested together, hands entwined, his heart thumping strong and steady beneath my ear.  How I love that sound.  As much as I love the moan a man makes when the head of his cock is nestled deep inside my throat.  Or the whimper when my tongue traces his ass.  Love the sound of a man’s heart.  Strong, steady, seemingly timeless. With my head resting against the curve of his shoulder, his arm around me and my lips against his skin, I felt safe.

It didn’t last long.  We regained our control and pushed the envelope again.  My tongue circling his nipples this time.  His sounds of pleasure in my ears spurring me on.

He held my breasts in his palms, marveling at the weight of them in his hands, reaching up with his mouth to suck at me and kiss my soft, scented skin.

We had trouble parting, deciding next time with a laugh that we would set an alarm so as not to lose track of time.

We were both late to work.  But we arrived smiling.

I am looking forward to our next visit…

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Filed under Erotica

Morning Kiss

I emailed him back almost immediately when I read his request.  A morning meeting at my place? I couldn’t think of a better way to start my day than with strong arms around me and hot lips pressed passionately to my skin.  Only a fool would say no to that kind of invitation.  And I am no fool.

I prepared carefully, shaving in the shower, running my hands over my legs, testing the silky factor of my skin and making sure it was as perfect as possible.  I wanted my skin to unhinge him.  To make him want, no, need to touch more.  I scented my body, a light floral scent that blended well with my natural smell.  As I went about my ablutions, my clit tingled like an antenna receiving a distant signal.  I watched the minutes tick by, marveling at my own chutzpah.  I barely know this guy.  By the end of our morning tryst, I will know him far better.

He arrived a bit late, having gotten lost and sending me an apologetic text.  He was chilled from the cold November air.  He took off his coat and settled himself, watching with amusement as I fumbled nervously with ice trays, trying to fix him a drink.  He laughed at me and I laughed at myself. How could I not? I was all thumbs just from the intense stare of his icy blue gaze – he hadn’t even touched me yet.

He took his drink and settled comfortably on my sofa, all long legs and confidence.  I prayed I looked cooler than I felt.  I was like a teenage girl on prom night.  And like prom night, I took a deep breath and dove right in.  I sat next to him and immediately he reached out for me.  There would be no time wasted with small talk.  He was there to press his lips against me, to taste my mouth and touch my body, and he was not going to wait for my girlish shyness to subside.  Rather than let my nerves settle on their own, he kissed me senseless instead.

When was the last time you just sat and kissed someone?  Not kissing as means toward fucking, but kissing for the sake of connecting intimately with another person? I am a big fan of the kiss.  A dying art, and something that when done skillfully, will vault a man to the top of my fuckable list.  He was skillful.  He absolutely vaulted.

I had to pull myself back more than once. Pull hard on the reins of my desire to keep myself from tearing off his clothes and mounting him like a thoroughbred about to be put through his paces.  At one point, his large hand was lingering above my breast, teasing the soft skin of my chest where it peeked out of my blouse.  I tried to hold back.  I really did.  But I broke down with a moan, grasping his hand and sliding it down lower, filling his palm with my breast.  He smiled at that.  By that point he knew enough of me to recognize the hunger I kept barely in check.

He paused, pulling away from me with a breathless whoosh of air and a mischievous grin.  He reached for his drink, eyes alight with a hunger of his own.  When he returned to my mouth his tongue was cold from the ice in his drink and I took great pleasure in warming it again.  As I licked and kissed his mouth, it was all I could do not to demand that cold mouth on my nipples.  Oh god.  I wanted to fuck him so badly it hurt.

He went down on his knees, spreading my legs and wrapping his arms around my torso, lifting me to his kiss.  I heard my pulse pounding in my ears and I pressed my breasts eagerly into his chest, my legs wrapping instinctively around his middle.  My hands roamed his back, taking in the sheer size of him, wondering what he would feel like, naked and buried balls-deep inside of me.  My pussy was drenched by this point.  He pressed his lips to the skin at the base of my throat, his hands sliding up the legs of my jeans.  He groaned into my chest as his fingers grazed the silky softness of my calves.  I smiled at the ceiling, a jolt of sensual victory that went straight to my dripping cunt.

He started pulling away at 7:30, telling me he needed to get to work.  But he kept coming back for more.  Another kiss led to another.  His hands roaming my body, still not touching the primal parts of me I knew he craved the most.  It was sweet torture and we were happy, captive participants.

As he took his last kisses, drinking in my mouth like a fine wine, he told me the next time he came over, he wanted to push me against the wall and frisk me.  His voice was husky as he told me how much it turned him on to think of touching me wherever and however he wanted.  I readily agreed.  Then he surprised me.  “Tonight when you are lying in bed,” he said thickly as he pressed kisses to my neck, “I want you to think about me frisking you, and I want you to touch yourself.”  I don’t even know if I said yes.  I think I just groaned a little and nodded.  It was enough for him.  He left for work late and smiling, adjusting his jeans as he walked out the door.

I came like a freight train on downhill track that night, shuddering and soaking the blanket beneath me as I thought of his hands on my most intimate parts.

I can’t wait until he visits me again.



Filed under Erotica