How to Love a Driven Woman

Hold me without weighing me down.
Lift me up without letting me fall.
Cover me without blocking my air.
Invade me without forcing my surrender.
Fill me without making me explode.

Be my center.

Wait for me while I go and do.
Pursue me so I know I am missed.
Open your arms and give me a safe retreat.
Laugh with me over silly things.
Brag on me to those you revere.

Be my axis.

Kiss me so I know mine are the only lips you want.
Touch me and feed our desire.
Understand when the pressure I put on myself breaks me down.
Shelter me from loneliness.
Love me with all of your being.

Be my heart.

I’ve Been Hooked

The notorious bellman, Robert Hookey, (known throughout the blogging community as The Hook) has been doing a neat feature on his blog called the 5 x 5. There he asks five well thought out questions to the bloggers he chooses to spotlight. And it’s a pretty impressive list. So I was beyond honored when he asked me to be a part of it.

Read The Hook’s post here.

I feel like I hover on that line between creative blogger and sex blogger, and because I do write sexy sometimes (ok… a lot) some of the more mainstream bloggers shy away. But he didn’t. And that means a lot. 

For those of you who’ve landed here because of Hooks post… Hi! Thanks for stopping by! And so just so you know, though some of what I write can get a tad steamy, all the photography I include is tasteful, safe-for-work imagery. So please, kill some time digging through my archives, which is basically just peeking into the most private corners of my soul. 

And Robert, thank you again. You have a true gift for making people feel special. 

 

Shut Down

Meg lay curled on the bed turned away from him, trying to gather her thoughts. He had twisted her words again. It didn’t matter what she said. He had a better parry for it. This was why she hated arguments with him. Her feelings didn’t seem to matter. As long as he won. He made her feel… less than. But that wasn’t right. Her counselor had said no one had the power to make you feel a certain way.

So why did he always seem to know exactly what to say to shut her down? A dull ache just beneath her collarbone began. It constricted, making forming words difficult. She wanted to hit him. Lashing out would feel good. But only make her look childish. As if curling up in a half-formed fetal position didn’t.

She really couldn’t win.

shut down

My Orgasms Are Making My Head Explode

His mouth worked at my nipple. The hard tug combined with the flick of his tongue… nirvana. He lay on his back, while I rode him, both his hands around my full breast while his mouth continued to suck. My middle finger rubbed rapidly on my clit and at the same time his cock thrust against my g-spot. All of my pleasure sensors were being stimulated at once bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

The general term for a sudden pain that radiates through one's head during orgasm is simply called a sexual headache. Way to mild a term in my opinion.

The general term for a sudden pain that radiates through one’s head during orgasm is simply called a sexual headache. Way too mild a term in my opinion.

So close. A low moan built inside me, bubbling up into my throat. Almost. There. Continue reading

Ebb and Flow

Told in Tandem with the Woodsman

He comes in like the tide. Steady and strong. Crashing upon my shore in a beautiful rhythm. The warmth of his love coats all my grains, soaking in before flowing back into the ocean of depth that is him.

With each return he carries a little of me back with him. My tiny crystals of love. I see them swirling in his waters, twisting and turning with his churning. Until there is a calm. And they settle, slowly creating a foundation.

Sand isn’t the best metaphor for a foundation. But sand turns to rock given enough time and pressure.

Lovers on the steady rock of each other's passion.

Lovers on the steady rock of each other’s passion.

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A rock of my being; she’s there. Not getting worn down by my tidal inner self, but standing strongly, quietly, boldly accepting my nature. And feeling how that nature of my being isn’t a harsh clash against her, but a warm glow of envelopment. Protective in ways, but mostly to feel that envelopment of her. With her. Because without both parts – the rock and the ocean, there would be no enveloping. 

There would be two individual things. Continue reading

Feeling Sexy and Brightening Things Up (pic included)

While standing in line at the grocery store the other day I looked over at the young twenty-something woman in front of me clad in t-shirt, jeans, and flip flops. Her light shopping put her in the rapid checkout lane just like me, and I too was dressed casually, toes showing. But where mine were a chic, neutral nude tone, hers were a vibrant hot pink. And I have to say… hers were ten times as sexy! Continue reading

The Search – needing to not be one of many

Told in Tandem with the Woodsman

There are some days when I should not allowed around sharp objects. Not because I would intentionally cause harm to myself or others, but because I simply have no business wielding a tool that could slice flesh.

Today is like that.

I’m in a fog. A dreamy fog. Even as I peck out these sentences, the words swim across the page, separating so I see two sets. Until I give up and just begin to type without seeing. Like a blind person.

When I picked up the box cutter knife to open the package at my desk, I stared at the blade and watched my disembodied hand. And I realized that’s how I felt for so long. Disembodied. I would see myself from the outside, watching my actions curiously, to see if the script in my head would actually play out. It often did.

I was blind for so long. I see that now. For years I went through life blindly bumping into people, hoping they were what I sought. Or worse, doing things just to feel alive, even for a moment.

So I would touch. And be touched. And that would help. For a little while. And then… it wouldn’t. And the search would continue, even though I didn’t realize I was actively searching. Because I didn’t believe what I desired existed. It’s odd to look back and understand I was on my own blind quest, not realizing it.

In the same realm, but separate.

In the same realm, but separate.

Continue reading

The Ethics of Masturbating at Work

As I sit primly at my desk, physically edging, plotting ways to have a release, it occurred to me… Is it ethical to masturbate at work?

Is it ethical to masturbate at work? I bite my pen and wonder.

Is it ethical to masturbate at work? I bite my pen and wonder.

I use the term ethical loosely, for I’m no philosopher. But really… wouldn’t it benefit employers to approve of getting one’s self off during business hours? Given the right stimuli, it only takes a few minutes and the stress-reducing aftereffects last for hours.

And when the need is raw and exposed… like now. And I am not able to focus on work because of it, surely the right thing to do is take matters into my own fingers. Flicking quickly, enjoying the silky wetness I produce, feeling my arousal go from warm to searing, I take myself to the brink. Yes. This is ethical.

Afterwards, the perfume of my sex lingers on my fingers. And I’m calmer, but not sated. No… it takes more than masturbation for that.

 

Emotional Helix

Told in Tandem with the Woodsman

When she and I first started this change in our journey, we were in ready agreement. Our nature… no, what we had grown accustomed to being, with others, made us understand our individual limits and needs.

Those limits always included limited exposure between self and others. If it wasn’t conscious, there would be some… spark… that withered and would be extinguished. Rather quickly. I had seen it in my past; I knew exactly what she meant when she described it.

That agreement was to proactively prevent that spark from dying. We both understood that if we faced the maelstrom we were starting together, and then would pull back from each other after a couple of brief days, we would have that chance to rekindle that maelstrom down the road. It wouldn’t be that ember going black, it would just smolder until the time was right again.

We were quick to agree that it would be that way. For both of us. Just a joining of intersecting waves that would cause a bright blip. Then the waves would bounce into their individual pattern again. And, if lucky, would intersect again.

But the blip apart hasn’t happened. At all.

I don’t know how he and I don’t smother each other. When I do the math on the amount of time we are in touch, in some way, it boggles my mind. And it’s still not enough. Maybe in time I will say ‘when’ and it won’t mean I-can-talk-now-please-call-me, but instead it will mean I-have-reached-my-limit-and-need-some-space. Or perhaps his introverted nature will catch up to us and say ‘enough already you crazy kids!’ and demand some time to regroup.

I keep waiting. Expecting it. But it hasn’t come. Not yet. And quite frankly the seemly limitless saturation has concerned me. Surely we have a limit. Surely! But we carry on, burning brighter. Hotter. Steady. Stable. Strong. Continue reading

I Should Post

I should post. I should write. I should capture in black and white the memories from his visit. I should let you all know whether or not my ass was deflowered. I should.

But not tonight. I miss him too much for that tonight.

He flew away from me this morning, sailing in the sky. And I’m painfully lonely. The distance feels greater than before.

I can still smell him on my skin.

But his touch is just a memory.