Tag Archives: pain

Worry Box

I filled the box with my concerns.  Each written carefully on neatly lined paper.  My fears, my anxieties, my worries.  Spelled out before me in black letters.

I put them in the Worry Box and invited you to put yours there too.

Then we closed the Box and ran away together.

We rode 900 miles to escape our Worries.

But mine were never farther than the back pocket of my jeans, a denim cage that stretched taut across my ass as I straddled the seat of your motorcycle.  My Worries followed me – dogged every step of my foot through the mossy, tree-lined paradise we explored together.

I forgot them often – transported as I was by your smile, the sunshine on my face, and the laughter we shared.  The playful exchange of jokes, gentle barbs and tender kisses all provided me respite from those Worries.

But they were never really forgotten.

They would escape their cage and climb upon my shoulder, whispering in my ear as the landscape blurred past.  As the bike leaned through curves, they would dig in – holding fast to me and making sure they did not fall to the roadway as I desperately wished they would.

Fucking tenacious Worries.

You and I shared some beautiful moments over those three days.  Tranquility, companionship, intimacy.  I fearlessly drove my tongue into your most intimate spaces.  I savored your taste and smell, drinking you in and memorizing each moment. The gentle pressure of your hand reaching back to stroke my knee while riding.  The way your face looked bathed in glow from the campfire.  Watching you laugh and try not to choke on a mouthful of molten marshmallow and chocolate.  The sweep of your lips across my forehead as I rested in my snuggle spot.

In the back of my mind the refrain played over and over, “I will miss this.”

I said nothing but the words were there – gushed  across sheets, reflected in my eyes as I gazed up at you from my knees.  Clinging to the fingers that reached over as we walked and wound through yours.  I love you. Of that, there is no doubt.

In the shadow of that love I sense the pain coming at me.  Like a sharp S-curve that will tilt my world.  I don’t know how to avoid it.  I can’t seem to find a way to lessen the sting.  For all the armor I wear, I know it cannot protect me from it.  I am going to feel it.  Deep and hard.

And there is no way a box full of paper is going to save me.

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Filed under Erotica

Anniversary

The anniversary.  A measure of the passage of time, a mark on the road of life that tells you to stop, look back, take stock, be thankful, set new goals.  I have reached my one year anniversary with WordPress – one year of blogging about the fantasies in my mind, the stories in my imagination, the seductions, and the life that I wanted to live, rather than the life I had been living.

A playful writing exercise that took many twists and turns – erupting in moments of sensual bliss, the line of reality and fantasy at times blurred until they were hopelessly indistinct; like a tangle of limbs and sex-scented sheets.

What a year it has been.

Along the way strangers became friends, friends became lovers, and lovers became strangers once again.  I find myself alone on the precipice of a future that waits for me to sketch its shape, fill in its textures, colors, and details.  Pieces are still missing, elements are still being missed, benchmarks are falling short, there is much work to do.  But as I mark the passage of the last year, I remember many moments, simple and profound, that touched me.  Moments that shaped my blog, moments I recorded disguised carefully as puppets of a different color.

I think this year will be more honest.  More reality, less fantasy.  Whether or not the sex continues to pour from my keyboard remains to be seen.  There are times lately, when sex is the last thing on my mind.  When all I can feel is the pain, the drive to push myself harder, the sting of my own whip as I punish myself for mistakes.

And yet there are also times when the desires and urges that drive me to write, to touch, to feel, to fuck, are so overwhelming there is no room for anything else in my existence.

Can solace be found in the skin of a stranger?  Can emotional needs be met from a distance? Can that razor’s edge be walked without being cut to ribbons? Time will tell.  And a year from now, upon the cusp of another anniversary, we will see if the Pussy and Heart have indeed learned to exist in harmony.

Until then my loyal readers and friends I remain,

Moistly yours,

CJ

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Filed under Erotica