Expression

Swingers Clubs: Swing here, Swing there... #Swinger #blog #Club

2013-06-26T17:00:00.000-07:00

It’s Saturday night and again, your best mate has left you sidelined. They promised this weekend the two of you would party underneath the stars and drink until the ceiling and the floor were indistinguishable, but yet here you are home and alone.You’ve been anxious to visit a new club that recently opened downtown which has been admired for their tasteful martinis and diverse patrons. Their visitors include business professionals and entrepreneurs from all backgrounds. The lure of the club has even pulled in outside state residents. You’ve been hoping you could get out and mingle with the vibrant crowd for over three weeks!

Disappointment settles as you lay back on the plush pillow top comforter you purchased three weeks ago, the first weekend your friend cancelled on you. The weekend of the second cancellation you purchased three rental movies, two bottles of wine and Chinese takeout. This weekend you were unsure to what method you would fill your idle time.As ideas enter and exit your thoughts you decide you wouldn’t spend another weekend online shopping or catching up on newly released DVDs, you would go out tonight. Alone.You put on your best outfit, the one that flatters your physique in the color that compliments your skin tone. The outfit that’s sure to draw in modest attention from anyone whose path you cross. You depart to the exciting, sexy and sexually adventurous swingers club.

My last post challenged you to do something new and daring, unfortunately my schedule didn't allow me the satisfaction of conquering mine, but I did want to step outside my element and venture into the swingers lifestyle for a bit. I didn't make it to my destination this weekend, but who knows what tomorrow has in store.

If you didn't know... swingers clubs are everywhere. Here's a brief list:

Canada

Mexico

Europe

United Kingdom

Asia

Africa

Australia: New South Wales

United States: ALL STATES!!! ((Though I didn't see Puerto Rico....))

For more information visit swinglifestyle.com....

Sex Astrology #Blog #Astrology #Sex #Compatibility

2013-06-23T17:00:00.000-07:00

When it comes to astrology everyone seems to have an opinion, either they believe it or they don't. I believe that like most things, it provides a good foundation to learn someone or even yourself. It's not an exact assessment or dissemination of a persons character, just a helpful understanding. Some things are spot-on, while others are relatively uncertain or just plain WRONG.
I strolled a few sites this weekend and ran across a sex astrology site. It allows you to match your astrological sexual compatibility. I must say.... I was surprised at it's accuracy. The site is sexualastrology.com. Below I've attached the compatibility results between someone I dated in the past, an Aries, against myself, a Scorpio.

.....Aries looks for a challenge. Therefore, mundane conversation ends this date pronto. Scorpio will act depending on the mood of this stinger. The date could be either very good or very bad. But, when this duo clicks things get hot and heavy fast. These two zodiac signs are physical animals. But, to get off on the right foot, Aries must handle Scorpio with proper respect and Scorpio must be sincere and have patience with Aries.A long-term relationship between these two stars has great potential. Aries will believe that his Scorpio lover is a dream come true. Selfless acts toward Scorpio will be returned with trust and respect. Aries’ horoscope would advise, “…practice patience.” Scorpio’s horoscope would advise, “…practice cooperation.” A love match between these two signs will be powerful, strong and lead to incredible sex.The Aries’ and Scorpio’s love of challenge and activity will spill over into the bedroom. This initiates the acting out of fantasies and role play. Aries and Scorpio will brave sexual areas where others would never go. While Aries prefers sex that is highly physical, and fast, Scorpio prefers all over tender caressing. There’s a lot about sensuality these two lovers can teach each other.Aries and Scorpio are so intense that they could get married or just have sex and separate. When these two astrological signs have differences, Aries will shout and Scorpio will pout. Scorpio will actually bury hurt feelings to be brought out at a later date. However, both zodiac signs will use sex to resolve any conflicts.

In this situation the relationship ended exactly as suggested above.... we got into a HUGE argument, I was given all kinds of extravagant uses of the word ((fuck you)) and we ended it just as quickly as it began. :)

The site was awesome! Take a look and let me know about your experience.

Get down and dirty - I Dare You! #Blog #Challenge

2013-06-19T17:00:00.000-07:00

In the last excerpt Ms. Kelly has reached a point of indecision. Struggling like many between a force of desire on one hand and reason on the other. BUT there are many things people should experience at least once in their life, even for conservative people like Ms. Kelly and myself.

With most things, I’m very unadventurous, or pointblank unexciting. I feel secure in an environment of monotony and traditional routines. Deviations worry me.

On the other hand…… the absolute worst thing you can do is doubt my intentions or willingness to follow through. So long as I’m not a risk to myself or anyone else and I can potentially receive some sort of satisfaction out of the deal…. I’m all in. Screw the traditions.

My vices fall somewhere near and between speed limits, alcohol and sex. Not necessarily in that order. That means even unappealing A.I. Lee has had sex in ((a few... who’s counting)) public places. If you haven’t you should really live a little. Break free of your self-imposed box style livings. Consistency becomes boring after awhile. How long can worn down beds, sofas and countertops remain exciting?

This weekend I dare you to do something different. Maybe you’ll discover a part of you that you never knew. A woman named.... Ms. Jackson who enjoys role-playing and toe sucking foreplay. As encouragement I’ve challenged myself as well, if I succeed I’ll proudly post my accomplishment. If not…. I’ll pretend I did.

Swingers Code?? #blog #swingers

2013-06-16T17:00:00.000-07:00

Is there really a swingers code?? I must say I’m still surprised to know that many people have no idea what goes on around them. The topics least talked about are the exact ones that happen so frequently around us.

In the south we have a chain of grocery stores called Publix. They’re nearly everywhere and on almost every corner. They have exceptional customer service, delicious cold subs, perfectly selected fruits… the list goes on. I’m talking like I own the place, but they really are one of my favorite stores. Actually the elderly woman who won the Powerball $600 million dollar jackpot purchased her ticket from this chain at a store outside of Tampa.

About a few years ago, I was at a dinner and the host realized she was short an ingredient. Me being the sweet person I am, I made an errand run. The closest store was Publix. I believe it was as I was leaving that she told me how popular this store was… they were notorious for attracting swingers.

Entering the store, I received the customary greeting and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. I blended with the other last minute and late night shoppers who moved through the aisles with concentration. Curiously I wandered the aisles looking for the swinger’s symbol, a pineapple perched on the top basket of the cart. To my disappointment I saw nothing… no sign of a swingers code to signify "swingers on the prowl."

Now I’m not sure how factual this claim is…. A swingers grocery store? This had to be nearly 3 or 4 years ago so I’m sure by this point the standards have either changed or maybe ceased. I’m not a swinger, however I’m not opposed to swinging clubs which are populous and ((I hear)) fun. Any takers?? Would love to hear your story.

The unspoken world of SEX #Excerpt #Sex #Blog #Swingers #Exhibitionist

2013-06-12T17:00:00.000-07:00

The weight of the plastic framed mirror felt like stone. No doubt the weight was the burden of guilt. A fault induced by the spying on a couple engaged in intimate moments.

A tingling simmered from the tips of my fingers which wrapped around the mirrors frame. It was as though the mirror were warning me - correction, scolding me. What was I doing?

The awareness of Maria’s eyes staring down at me brought me realization.

I shook my head, objecting this invasion of privacy. But how private could sex be in a public bathroom? Regardless, I had no right to intrude on their moment despite how I felt about their locational choosing.

Like a car salesmen refusing to forfeit a potential deal, again she seized my hand in hers. This time leading me outside our stall to stand in front of the occupied stall.

She motioned at the hinged steel door seemingly bothered. She was impatient and frustrated that I didn’t share her fondness for voyeuristic pleasures.

She was unbelievable.

I stared at her gawkily. Tilting my head and eyeing her in disbelief. She stared onward with intensity, like she could see straight through the solid door, yearning to feel the pleasures they felt.

Following her gaze and the rhythmic thrust of a body against a solid surface, I diverted my attention to a folded strand of toilet tissue which hung over the door.

Public sex, I’ve heard, is one of the ultimate thrills. The anxiety of not knowing if you’ll get caught or if someone is watching heightens the sensation. For exhibitionists, it is the preferred sexual environment.

There are many unspoken languages is the world of sex. For example, many swingers meet other local swingers at grocery stores by way of what is in another’s cart. They peruse the aisles searching for cart contents which mirror their own. Specific items lined in the basket nearest the basket handle signifies, “We’re swingers, and we’re looking to meet and greet.”

Like swingers, the same is true for sexual exhibitionist. They too engage in conversations unspoken. A strand of toilet tissue hanging loosely over a stall door implies, “You’re free to watch, but quietly.”

Watch... you know you want to. #Excerpt #Fiction #Erotica #Erotic

2013-06-05T17:01:00.002-07:00

Curiosity lead me pass the wooden door silent and discreetly.

The restaurant ambiance carried into the narrow space. It too was dimly lit and the faint sounds of jazz streamed through the ceilings speakers. The room appeared barren, which was not what I expected considering I saw Maria disappear around the corner leading only to two room. One exclusive to males the other females.

The rattling of tissue rotating in its dispenser, or water streaming over washing hands would have been expected, but I heard none of those. For a moment, I thought I had entered the wrong bathroom. Under the influence of a tempting desire, maybe I had mistaken the ladies room for what was actually the men’s. I saw and heard no trace of Maria anywhere.

I crouched low enough to peer underneath the stalls, just enough to see a pair of black loafers.

I panicked.

Maybe she wasn’t baiting me at all, maybe she just wanted to ensure she wouldn’t be interrupted as she emptied her bowels. I basked in my embarrassment, until I realized those were brown loafers, not black and they were pointed towards the stall instead of away from it.

Startled I stood upright and turned.

To my surprise, there she stood with the widest grin behind me.

She knew I would be lured into her pursuit and she waited against the same wall which supported the doors frame for me to enter. “How devious,” I mused, yet I liked it.

I started to speak but I was silenced. Placing a finger over her lips she seized my hand in hers and we entered the vacant stall. I watched her retrieve a wallet from her back pocket and from its folds grab a small mirror.

I stared at her confused while she knelt, positioning the mirror at an angle right below the steel dividers separating each stall. Was this woman mad?

She was like a horny adolescent stealing private images the only way she could. I didn’t think I needed to tell her this was illegal. Repulsed I proceeded to exit the stall. When she grabbed my arm I broke free, pulling against the sensational flutter of my stomach. She seized me again, firmer this time. Pointing to the steel divider she urged me to listen. I did.

I heard nothing at first, only the whaling of a saxophone and a background cello. But the more I tuned out the jazz notes, the more I heard a separate and sensual tune. The melody of an oncoming orgasm. She placed the mirror in my hands.

Curves That Tempt #Excerpt #Fiction #Blog #LGBT

2013-06-02T17:11:00.003-07:00

The term civilized was created to shadow us from our animalistic instincts. Regardless of how “civilized” we become, there lies a chained beast waiting for the moment to step in to the light and take control. Aware of my public surroundings, yet craving a sensual touch, I was struggling against my civility.

When would I submit to my desires, to the longing which tugged at my inner folds. When would I let its wetness seep down my thighs. When would I allow myself freedom.

Maria waited for my response. Though I’m sure the lapse in time was more than it had appeared to me, she conveyed patience. I must have been a dismal sight, clearly engaging in an internal battle, but her gaze over me was judgment free.

Pitifully I bowed my head stating, “I actually have sanitizer.”

As proof, I reached for my bag and began sifting through its contents. Locating my small travel bottle, I flipped the top open and poured the cleansing serum into my palms.

Maria shrugged as though the decline were my loss and sought off to find the restrooms hidden in the rear of the restaurant.

My eyes trailed her retreat.

Surveying her every motion from her head to the soles of her shoes, but mostly I centered on the area below her waist. She had an ideal form, arguably the curves of a goddess herself. Womanly bends and bows tightened around her waist and expanded along her vertical frame like an hourglass. She had hips that tempted hands to touch, grab, and lift. Hips that accentuated with each step, a rhythmic step which allowed one hip to roll into the other. Her hips had form and definition like its neighbor, a round and buoyant ass.

While salivating over her lusciousness, she disappeared behind a corner and I was pulled from my curve obsession.

The observance of her retreat summoned erotic thoughts. A lewd beast bellowed me to action. It snarled low and impatient, then roaring commandingly. Ordering me out my seat and towards the darkened hallway in the rear of the restaurant. I turned the corner, lead merely by the bestial desires that pulled at me. I entered the woman’s restroom.

That ass is mine #excerpt #fiction

2013-05-29T17:12:00.001-07:00

Yikes! She was a simmering pot of frustration, but there had to be some mistake. I couldn’t be the fuel to her irritation. I couldn’t understand why I would be an outlet for her hostility. The tone didn’t bother me as much as the wording.

Regardless of how much she said and its emphasis, all I heard was “challenge.” I replied defensively, “excuse me?”

“I’m not trying to offend,” Maria defended. Trying to smooth over the rough conversation she added, “It is my hope to one day by like you, equally skilled and dedicated. I’m simply trying to understand what it is that led you here.”

Bullshit. She was just gunning for me. Now she’s an admirer?

None the less, I responded, “I worked hard. I sacrificed. That’s what got me here.” The matter-of-fact declaration was laced with self-assurance. Unlike most, I worked very hard to achieve my success. There were no handouts.

“What did you have to sacrifice?”

“Everything.” I stated crisply.

“Could you unfold that?”

I sighed, “Relationships, family, social life…”

“Sex?” She questioned.

“At times,” I admitted.

Despite my candid reply, my forwardness surprised me. I was glad for the moment to organize my thoughts while she reflected on her subsequent question.

“What is the most challenging obstacle for you?”

Again she was prying, each question becoming more invasive than its predecessor. My conscious rebuked her, we weren’t old friends drinking wine and indulging in outspoken conversations! How did I allow her to violate my thoughts? Was she my weakness?

I could still feel the impression she left on my ass, yet again I replied with candidness, “The more I fix the problems of my client’s, the less I’m able to repair my own.”

“Why do you think that is?”

I laughed. She was really sounding like a psychiatrist. My humor didn’t weaken her expression, she was peculiarly concentrated. I readjusted my expression to reflect hers, “I’m not sure. Being stretched too thin maybe?”

“Maybe you should take a vacation.” Her lip lifted at the seam and she added, “A nice beach with white sand and crabs that bite you on the ass.”

The ass comment pulled a smile from my taut expression, “Maybe one day.”

She reclined, replacing her intensity with a casual and relaxed disposition. She stretched, extending her arms in the air, then clasped her hands behind her head while simultaneously framing her legs outside of mine. “When was your last vacation?”

Her legs grazed the outside of mine as she continued to stretch.

I replied unperturbed, “I don’t think I’ve ever had one.”

She hissed, “Ms. Kelly we have got to get you out of this city.”

Her immediate exit from the booth left me deliberating whether she meant leaving promptly or if she was simply excusing herself. She stood as I stared dumbfounded.

She stated, “Excuse me; I just need to visit the restroom.”

Turning towards the back of the restaurant she searched for the restroom sign, but before she paced away from me she questioned, “Do you not need to wash your hands?”

The question wasn’t an aim at cleanly awareness, she was baiting me.

Only the Weak Submit Part 1 #Excerpt #Fiction

2013-05-22T17:09:00.003-07:00

It was nearly a week later when Maria thought to fulfill her promise. By then I had forgotten all about the lunch invite she and Alisa extended to me. Now current on her work, she insisted I allow her the opportunity to make up for her lunch absence.

The invitation caught me off guard considering she had spoken to me only in passing these last few weeks. She stayed tucked away in her office, seemingly more busy than everyone, including me.

It was a relatively dawdling day, free off appointments. I used the majority of the day to review cases and client files. I was open and free to accept lunch invitations. Despite Maria’s remoteness, I obliged.

We returned to the restaurant Alisa and I had our lunch two weeks prior.

Again, unsure how the conversation would lead, I took the reins stating, “How are the client files coming? Oh, and are the marketing testimonial is completed for the site?”

Her friendly expression didn’t match her irritated tone when she replied, “Must we discuss work at lunch?”

I nodded agreeably, “Well, how are things outside of work? You’re currently pursing your masters, correct?”

She nodded, “I am.”

“Well,” I pondered, “I know how daunting that can be. Especially given the hours you put in.”

She rolled her eyes, and the hostility baffled me until she expressed, “No work, remember?”

“I see.” I said.

“Do you?” she replied rather distastefully.

Unsure of why I was the object of her hostility I inquired, “Is there a problem?”

“Do you have to control everything, all the time. Is that just simply your nature. Or are you simply filtering the weak in hope that one day someone will challenge you?”

Pushed to excellence #excerpt #fiction

2013-05-19T17:00:00.000-07:00

The decision to accept Janice's offer was a long and weighted endeavor. Returned to the confines of my office, I paced the room deliberating if I should open the folder lying flat on my desk.

I could return it to her, explain my doubts, I mused. I have never questioned my incompetence before. The incertitude forced me to question my skill and expertise. Janice was one of the best in the field. My experience paled in comparison to her decades of sexual dysfunctional treatment. I was out of my league.

I refuted the last thought. Janice wouldn't entrust me with the task if she deemed me incompetent. Throughout all her colleagues I was the one she had chosen. I was most qualified.

I braced myself and opened the file.

The first page contained a list of names, only one I recognized - a politician – whom I utterly disliked due to his irrevocable dissent towards women’s health and equality. A passionate conservative, I wouldn’t have ever assumed he would be associated with Dr. Cuppins in the least.

The following pages contained each client’s chart including assessments, therapy sessions, medical history, and mundane information such as spouse and personal data. The last page of each client’s file contained an updated contract agreement which transfers treatment to Ms. Noah Kelly.

I shrieked with surprise. She knew I would accept the offer all along.

Alerted by the sound of heels I questioned, “How did you know I would accept?”

She paused outside my office door and smiled, “Darling, of course you would. You’re a smart woman.”

She entered and lightly closed the door. Separated from our conversation landing on unintended ears she said, “I like that Maria.”

I exhaled in exhaustion, “Janice.” She just wouldn’t let it go. I was beginning to regret even mentioning Maria and her haunting my conscious.

She waved away my irritation, continuing without a thought, “You should allow her to help you on this. I am a great judge of character and she should definitely work with you on at least one of your clients.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Happy Mother's Day!!

2013-05-12T17:05:00.004-07:00

“My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her.” - George Washington

Happy Mother's Day!

Given the new bundle of sweetness to my family and the celebrated and much deserved Mother's Day Off, I did not arrange an excerpt post. More so I've arranged a post in observance of the goodness our mothers show and give everyday.

Many of my friends and family have lost their mothers or don't share a thick mother-daughter or mother-son relationship, but that shouldn't take away the goodness of knowing you had/have a mother who loved you enough to give birth to you. You wouldn't be here without them. And the love shouldn't stop there. Any woman who has shown a motherly love and supported you through ANYTHING deserves this day as well. For me that includes my grandmother and aunt.

My mother is my absolute best friend and through our trials (please believe there have been many), I couldn't ask for anyone else.

Happy Mother's day to ALL the beautiful mothers!

Rich or Poor, we all enjoy a little kink #excerpt #blog

2013-05-08T17:14:00.005-07:00

Her lips curled around her words, yet I could hear nothing other than her declaration. She’s selling her practice.

The restaurant fell silent as I absorbed the news. My first reaction was pessimism. I wondered what event caused her to abandon the principal representation of her. An embodiment of everything she believed, everything she expressed. Her practice.

My auditory returned and she continued, “I have many uncharted experiences I wish to explore. I’ve worked long enough; it’s time for me to live darling. Are you not happy for me?”

My surprise overpowered me, I couldn’t speak. My eyes trailed the length of the wooden table, left to right. Finally I said, “Of course I’m happy for you. But are you sure?”

“I’ve thought about it for a while now, don’t be so morose.”

She curled a strand of her dark brown locks behind her ear adding, “And the best part is you’ll be receiving my most exclusive clients.”

My eyes snapped to her sharply, “You’re giving away your clients. Only five dear. It was one of my most irrefutable contingencies.”

I threw up my hands, “Wait, you’ve already signed a practice transfer agreement?” I was on edge, struggling to keep up and make sense of this unexpected news.

“Relax!” She demanded. “Nothing is finalized as of yet. But I have these clients whom are exceptionally near and dear to me and I wouldn’t trust them in the hands of anyone other than you.”

“Did I work with them when I interned with you?”

“Never. I would never allow an intern close to my premium clientele. They require ultimate discretion. Although the potential owner is exceptional, I do not trust her with these clients. I trust you.”

She sipped her wine, eyeing me suspiciously. She was wondering why I didn’t reverence her and scream with appreciation of her good deed.

I said, “That’s very, very kind of you.”

“Don’t bore me with courtesies, Noah. This will be very good for your business, trust me.”

I reached for my wine, swallowing a hefty gulp like it was water. She was right. This would be an excellent opportunity for me to expand my brand and reach an affluent market.

Still I wasn’t sure. I said, “I really do appreciate the offer, but I’m really stretched too thin already, I can’t imagine five additional clients without hurting my existing clientele.”

Her frustration mounted, again I was being ungrateful. “You’re a business owner, of course you’re stretched thin! Learn to delegate more tasks. No one expects you to be superwoman, but you.”

Intrigued by a thought she grinned, “If that new employee of yours is as good as you say then you’ll need her.”

She flipped the clasp on her very large double-handle leather Prada tote and retrieved a large confidential envelope. She eased it across the table, “This could be the beginning of the rest of your life, all you have to do is open the envelope. I will be here to guide you. By placing these files in your care, you are accepting this responsibility Noah. Seize your life.”

Old Friends.. New Interests (An Excerpt)

2013-05-05T17:00:00.000-07:00

I heard the hoarse tone before I saw her. She was loud by nature and the additional raspy inflections carried from the lobby and into the walls of my office. Her preference for nicotine produced an unattractive coarseness. She said, “It’s fine darling, she knows who I am. I’m always welcome.”

The clinging of her heels echoed her office bound pursuit. Pausing for a pose underneath my door frame she exclaimed, “Noah, darling!”

I stood, edging around the corners of my desk to embrace her. “Janice.”

“How are you my love?” She asked still sealed in our embrace.

“Good,” I replied.

She stood back to survey me. “You look good,” She affirmed.

The compliment raised a light smile. It was weak and my anxiety was ill-disguised. Intuitive Janice caught the flaw. She pried. Her incisiveness breached the bounds of a friendly analysis and took the form of a concerned therapist.

I brushed away the intrusion, I didn’t need a shrink. The invasion caused me to retract my hands from her hold.

I said, "Read your article in this month’s Sexual Expression."

She respectfully followed my lead to divert the subject, eyeing me as I returned to my desk. "And what did you think?"

"It was exceptional, of course."

I didn't need to note the broad smile to know she was pleased with my review. I still was unable to look at her for fear she would continue her investigation. Her satisfaction carried in her tone, "Thank you. You know I hate those damned things. They're inclined to center on the less complimentary topics of the interview, meanwhile, discounting any intended points."

She huffed unpleased she even dealt with the tedium of magazine article interviews.

"Well," I said sitting comfortably in my chair, "If those weren't your key points then they did you a favor."

She smiled in advance of a disappointed frown. She questioned, "What are you doing, Noah?"

Her friendliness had evaporated. She was now perturbed and disappointed. I offended her.

Apologetically I said, "You're right." I tossed aside the paperwork in my hands. I was working while in the company of a very dear friend. I was being rude. It only now occurred to me that she was still standing, I motioned, "A seat?"

She scoffed, "No ma’am, I came to kidnap you." She gleamed, "Lunch?"

Though presented in the form of a question, the invitation was unavoidable and irrefutable. I grabbed my phone and purse. This would be interesting.

::Dear Orgasm::

2013-05-01T17:00:00.000-07:00

Hey you awesome readers!!

Don't hate me too much, but final exams have really been a pain in the ass and I will be honest... I haven't had much time to write. I'm a senior finance major so you can image my struggle right now... BUT... the good news is I will share something more intimate than my stories - My Journal!! [{Like you really care what's going on in my head, right?}] It's meant to be funny, it's okay to laugh..... Any who... Don't judge me too hard, these are thoughts... meaning I can't control these things. I think of random stuff and I'm very silly.

Dear Orgasm,

I guess if granted the opportunity to write a letter requesting to meet you, it would go something like this.. Of course I'd insist we conduct this interview by way of Skype or Oovoo because you seem to be rather unpredictable at times. I mean with the yelling, convulsions, scratching, choking, biting, slapping, hair pulling, etc. Well, I don't need to tell you, you know how you are. (thinking.. maybe GoogleChat would be better)
I've limited my questions to only five out of respect for your busy schedule and all. Wouldn't want to deprive anyone of your magical bliss. Maybe we can have a second interview sometime. It's an honor to even get an interview with such a celebrity. Sorry, talking too much (*focused now*). My questions would be as follows:

1. Was your first time as scary for you as it was for me? Because I swear I didn't know what the hell was going on. I would recommend a warning of sorts before you disconnect my vision. Speaking of which...

2. Can we work out some compromise I don't appreciate you flat lining my brain every time you appear. Sometimes I cant see, move, feel, hear... I appreciate you, but somethings got to give. And then you have me saying random shit like, "Is this your highlighter or mines?" ((Who cares?!))

3. Are you celestial? Or is this simply an Earthly or mankind perk. I mean, what a bonus! Do aliens orgasm or is that why they abduct us to figure out how they can get one...

4. Do you keep count and favorites? Is there an orgasm all time high? A Guinness Orgasm record? An Orgasm Hall of Fame? An Orgasm Champion? An Orgasm Grammy? An Nobel Orgasm Prize? An Orgasms Choice Award #curious

5. If you could tweet would you say something like #ItsNotPeeItsMeBitch #Splash! #InYoFaceBitch

Thanking you in advance,

A.I. Lee

THE END

:-)

..Raw, Part 2 (An Excerpt)

2013-04-28T17:00:00.000-07:00

He didn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop. He was determined to bring me release.

Bent over the sofa, with my ass lifted and his face submerged into it, we were one. We moved with a rhythm, a synchronized sex beat.

My cries sent a bolt of energy throughout his body and he thrust his tongue forward harder. The request for him not to stop electrified him. I could hear the wetness as it spread about his tongue. It was better than hearing the refreshing sound of rain because this was the sound of sex.

This beauty is Rihanna - if you didn't know.

I felt the bubble. It starts small, the size of a pea until a sensation brings forth an arousal and expands its diameter. As it grows everything intensifies. Nipples become tender, breathing speeds, moans become louder, toes curl, and every worry, every frustration disappears.

Ones only concern is to release this growing ball of pleasure intensifying inside of you – The Orgasm.

My dull nails scratched against the sofas microfiber and my face burrowed between the seat pillows. I felt the bubble of orgasm rise within me and I began to return my hips to him harder. Hoping his tongue would be pressed deeper within me. To fill me.

Longing to feel, to touch, to stimulate, I again massaged my breast and pulled at my nipples crushed between the weight of me and the couch. I grabbed my ass and spread my cheeks.

Each brush of his tongue against my erected treasure impelled involuntary convulsions. I was getting closer and I ached for release. But just as quickly as he stirred me, the intensity soon deflated. Once situated on a cloud ready for orgasmic launch, I slowly descended from the orgasmic heavens.

Pulled so close, I felt I was right there, right on the edges. But I suffered through my own sexual abnormality, my inability to orgasm.

..Raw, Part 1 (An Excerpt)

2013-04-24T17:00:00.000-07:00

I live my life behind veneer expressions. Masking my surprise, hurts, fears and many times my arousal, but tonight something sinful pulled back the curtains on my self-control. The pulsation below my waist trembled like a massive thunder shock. I arose, enchanted by the mere thought of her. The desire led me out of my bed.

Answering to the pleas for touch and stimulation, I abandoned the satin sheets, allowing my feet to carry me forward to my living room. The television still beamed, but that irritation didn't steer or derail me from my objective. I sought release.

Sleeping peacefully on the couch and unaware of my needs, I stood over Mark. A needy flame burned within me as I stroked his handle in the warmth of my palms.

Surprised, he called to me confused, but I said nothing as I stroked up and down his stem.

Once erect I mounted him, one of my thighs between his and the other nearer his hip. A sideways position I enjoyed. He moaned as I slid up and down him steadily, until his moans intensified. Driven by the desire to control and give pleasure I elevated him to new heights as I wrapped my vaginal walls around him. They seized each thrust, clasping to hold him inside me. He soon came, but the fury of my arousal was only minimally quenched, I wanted more.

Verbalizing my hidden thoughts I said, “Fuck me.”

The voice was mine, but even I was unsure. He starred at me absently. He’d never heard me speak in such vulgarity and it momentarily dazed him. When he came to, he adjusted and hovered over me.

“No,” I corrected. “Not with that.” I said pointing to his man tool. “Fuck me with your tongue.”
The rawness didn’t repulse, nor startle him. He was turned-on by the frankness of my demand. Submitting to the floor on his hands and knees, he pulled me to the edge of the couch and threw my legs over his shoulder as he dove between my legs like he was savoring his last meal. He sucked and licked, while images of Maria infiltrated every sensual thought.

My moans carried through every baseboard and ceiling of my apartment. I rubbed my nipples, clamping my breast in my palms.

He flipped me, parting my ass and licking unexplored territories before returning deep into the land of seeping nectar. The demanding voices to, ‘fuck me harder and deeper’ sounded like my own, but I was so consumed, I couldn’t be sure.

As I yelled for him to slap my ass, a feeling brewed within me. A deadly heat made me feel like my body would explode. Though logically I knew it was impossible, it felt as though all the blood within my body diverted, leaving all its warmth between my thighs. All the nerve senses in my body perished except one. My heart had stopped beating and the only beat worth pounding was the pulsing of my clit. A feeling arose that everything within me centered on one area home to one small object. I was going to erupt.

I pleaded, “Please don’t stop. Please!”

Desirous (An Excerpt)

2013-04-21T17:04:00.004-07:00

That woman had the most unpropitious timing, or maybe her timing was calculated. She was unbelievably smart, no doubt. Incredibly persuasive and I would be remised if I didn’t add manipulative. I couldn’t help but wonder if her unfavorable timing was measured.

As I entered my home, the glow of the television unnerved me. I wasn’t one for watching television and I definitely wouldn’t leave it on in my absence. The volume was muted, but it was the luminescence which spilled from the screen and decorated the nearby wall which had warned me.

I drop my bags on the floor and removed my shoes before stepping outside the foyer. I followed the lighting and turned the corner as I was greeted with a routine, “Hey hun.”

My uncertainty dissolved as I replied absently, “Hey.”

Sensing my displeasure he inquired, “Long day?”

One of the absolute longest, I mused, but I replied with a nonchalant, “Same as always.”

Neglecting our usual greeting which was complimented by a kiss on the cheek, I walked past him and the television stating, “I’m going to call it a night.”

The declaration paused him and it wasn’t until I was halfway to our bedroom when he replied, “Okay. Goodnight.”

Entering the bedroom I began unfastening my blouse, exposing my breast and the black bra which supported them.

I felt stained and unclean, comparable to person who had just committed a heinous act. Like a cop who engaged in their first act of defiance. Or a once polished woman who exploited her body. My challenge was not that I had aroused the interest of a coworker, but that the feeling was reciprocal.

My crime was minimal, yet the weight of it compelled me to cleanse my sins.

I turned the chrome knob and water cascaded through the shower head sprout.

I continued to strip my clothing, until I was bare and I tiptoed across the cold tiled floor and through the thick glass shower enclosure.

The hot water scolded me, still I turned the temperature higher. The scorching heat reassured me that I would be thoroughly sanitized. Most importantly the scolding water would discourage my hands from seeking pleasure. It still throbbed, enticing me to ride the thrill of ecstasy, but I resisted because I was in control.

Stepping out of the shower I slipped on my satin kimono. I loved the feel of the fabric on my warm skin. I laid in bed nearly an hour, chasing the cool areas of my satin sheets with my feet. A few times I rolled over to Mark’s side of the bed since he hadn’t yet retired for the night. The heat radiating from my body had become uncomfortable. It made me restless, but mostly it made me desire Maria.

Attraction V.S. Craving (An Excerpt)

2013-04-17T17:00:00.000-07:00

The hours passed slower than usual, but the workload proved constant and heavy. Between two client appointments, the filing that I had avoided the night before and the constant flood of inquiries from both employees and clientele, five hours passed sooner than I had expected. I hadn’t seen Maria since that morning and part of me wondered if our lunch was still intended.

I telephoned the front desk, “Alisa, have you gone to lunch yet?”

“No, Ms. Kelly,” she replied. “It isn’t yet noon and we’re going together, right?”

“Yes, yes.” I assured, “I know it isn’t 12, but I just wanted to be sure the time was set.”

“Oh yes, the time is set unequivocally at noon.”

Despite the fifteen minutes to spare, when I hung up I powered down my laptop and searched for my iPhone. Five missed calls and three texts were all that awaited me, a relief considering the morning I’d had. I was actually relieved to have a moment outside of the office and looked forward to the impromptu lunch date. After grabbing my purse and blazer I was off to lunch with the girls.

Passing by Maria’s office, I was surprised to see that she was less aware of the time than I was. I tapped a polite knock on the door and she spilled in to apologies, “Ms. Kelly, I’m sorry. I really need to get this done. Jim in marketing wanted me to gather some testimonials to place on the website and I have all these submissions and I’ve only made it through half since yesterday…”

She apologized once more and exactly at the moment I knew it was coming she said, “You two go without me. I’ll try and catch up and if not I’ll find some way to make it up to you guys. I’m sorry.”

Lessening the disappointment I said, “Not a problem. Sometimes things happen that we can’t anticipate.”

I was set on returning to my desk and settling for the chips I had stowed in my desk, but Alisa caught me as I exited Maria’s office.

“You ready?” She asked.

Smiling I replied, “Sure am.”

I typically only engaged in business meetings, anything other than that had a tendency to spill in to my personal life. It was my firm belief that coworkers who invited other coworkers to lunch only wanted to gather information on how they conduct their private affairs. They pounced on the opportunity to gather information, no matter how minimal, so that they could spread toxic truths.

I expected the conversation to be light and awkward. A long hour of artificial smiles and dull conversation, yet it was not.

Alisa worked as my receptionist from day one of my practice launch, nearly two years ago and it was quickly brought to my attention how little I knew about her. I don’t mean in an invasive, tell me your business way, but on a surface level.

In addition to putting in ample hours at my practice she also mentored young girls and boys at a nonprofit lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender organization outside the city. Her golden tone emitted a profound glow when she spoke of them, almost as though they were her own children.

She was originally from Texas, but moved here for school six years ago and never left. She finished her degree a year ago which prompted me to ask, “You have your degree? Why are you still working at the practice?”

It was only after I voiced the question that I realized the mistake in asking. I’m her boss, why would she tell me the truth?

Her hazel eyes met mine when she replied, “Well, to be honest Ms. Kelly. I like working for you. You trust me and I trust you. You gave me a key to the office my first month here, you trust that I’ll do my job and I trust you’ll keep me until I decide it’s best to pursue other opportunities. You’re a good boss, I have no intentions on leaving.”

My smile stretched to my temples, “You know, I’ve wanted to get involved with some community work –“

She interrupted my spoken thoughts as she beamed, broadcasting the cutest dimple, “Ms. Kelly you have to come with me one day! Those kids need a voice like you…”

Thankful for the compliment, my conscious focused on an element more pressing. Cute dimple?, I thought. My analysis disturbed me. I had not once considered anything about Alisa the least bit attractive. Not to abate her beauty, but the opinion of her attractiveness alarmed me. It forced me to consider my attraction to her, however minimal.

I agreed, “I will. Sometime soon.”

She continued speaking about the teenagers she counseled and the hardships they faced, being rejected by family and society. I pretended to follow, but I still combed through my thoughts.

As her lips coiled over her words, I realized I was overreacting. It is beyond possible to find someone attractive and not lust for them. Alisa was beautiful, equipped with all the physicality’s needed to satiate anyone's sexual desires. I regarded her as attractive, beautiful, yet I craved the touch of another. The realization pulled at the edges of my smile. I craved another woman, I craved Maria.

When the check came I insisted on paying the bill, but in many respects whether I paid or she paid, the funding was still coming from my bank account somewhere in the hierarchy.

***Please like this post on facebook, thanks***

-A. I. Lee

Hidden Intentions (An Excerpt)

2013-04-14T17:00:00.000-07:00

To say that I was slightly discomforted as I parked my drop top convertible would have been severely understated. Vexed by my erotic exhibition the day before, I attempted to regain composure with a healthy dose of meditation. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. I inhaled tranquil thoughts, while exhaling my shame.
The recollection was surreal, yet I was confident Maria witnessed my sensual display yesterday.
Looking in my rearview mirror, I noted the bright Honda. She was prompt, just as she had been the entire week.
When I entered my establishment I was immediately greeted by both Alisa and Maria. The fact that I had never once seen them take an interest in each other caught my attention. Alisa occupied her space behind the desk, while Maria leaned casually against it. They both regarded me as I entered.
“Good Morning,” they harmonized.
“Morning,” I replied.

To two looked like teenage girls hiding a secret from their mom. The constant glances to the other spoiled their underground intentions.

My expression was one of urgency when Maria took the lead and spoke.
“The two of us were going to go to the new restaurant on Stevens Creek Boulevard, would you care to join?” The alacrity of her tone was obscure. For reasons I couldn’t identify, despite the directness of the invitation, the tone and uneven smile which permeated at the seam was mischievous.
I replied dubiously, “Maybe. Let me check my schedule.”

Her skeptic grin didn’t waver as she responded, “Well, that’s kind of what we were discussing. Making sure everyone’s schedule coalesced. We were sure to pick a time complimentary to all of our schedules.”

“Oh?” I deliberated. “Well then, I don’t see why not.”

Clearly pleased with my response she buoyantly ambled to her office three doors down the narrow hallway.

My puzzlement spilled with more judgment than intended when I asked Alisa, “What’s she so happy about?”

She shrugged identically compressed by her energy, “I have no idea.”

Rest. Relaxation. Self-Stimulation. (An Excerpt)

2013-04-10T17:02:00.000-07:00

The evening neared to an exhausting close as I filed new patient correspondence. I had long abandoned my heels and stood with my weight shifted to my left hip as I organized. I sighed observing the stacked pile of paperwork on my desk. I had delayed this process too long and now it would be a very long night.

Alisa poked her head in my office and yelled, “Goodnight Ms. Kelly.”

I turned unbalanced and echoed a goodnight as she retreated. She offered to stay later than the two hours she’d already committed, but I insisted she go home. The mess was mine to clean, by result of pure avoidance and procrastination.

I needed a minute to relax my feet, they ached from the constant walking throughout the day and prolonged standing as I organized. I stepped under my office doorframe and yelled, “Hello?”

I waited patiently for a response. Again, I questioned, “Hello.”

Still no one answered.

The coast was clear, I could rest awhile. Sitting in my burgundy leather office chair, I propped my feet atop the desk and reclined. Relaxed and rested I hummed to myself as my thoughts trailed.

Recalling the unpleasant memory of Keith, I searched for happier thoughts and I was surprised at my unconscious selection. Maria. Images of the way she bit her lips teased me. Further enticing was the way her skin felt on mine. She radiated warmth which traveled down between my thighs and caused my clit to throb. Beating like that of a heart, it pulsated aching for me to sooth the sensation.

Soon the tips of my fingers tugged against the button and zipper of my pants. They burrowed underneath my cotton laced thong. The sound of Maria’s voice saying my name made me lick my lips. The warmth between my legs excited me, but when I parted the labia shielding my inner treasure the moisture delivered me to new heights.

Extending my index finger I stroked the summit of my erection before descending deeper into the pool of liberation which saturated my inner thighs. Returning to my summit, I circle its peak. Firmly I pushed against it, stroking the sides and sliding from its top, down to the puddle below and ascending back to its top. I repeated the motion firmer and faster until my breathing paced and my moans escaped.

Heat engulfed me and is I started to orgasm a voice echoed through the hallway.

A shadow neared my office and I rushed to fasten my clothes before their arrival. Entering my office Maria said, “Ms. Kelly I-”

She paused and stared at me curiously. Sidetracked from her intended conversation she questioned, “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” I lied. “Just a little startled, I thought everyone had left for the evening.”

“Oh?” She pondered. “Well, I’m just finishing up these documents and wanted to review them with you before I add them to our records.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” I replied.

She nodded, “Sure. Okay,” and turned to exit into the narrow hallway. Sensing my uneasiness she turned to regard me once more, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely,” I smiled.

She returned the expression and added, “Your hair.”

“My hair?” I questioned.

She pointed, “It’s sticking up.”

Just a little temptation.. (An Excerpt)

2013-04-07T17:06:00.005-07:00

Back in my office, I returned to my article when again I was interrupted.

“Ms. Kelly,” the voice was becoming undeniably sweet to my ears despite my irritation. The light accent stirred me against my will and brought a slight pulsation between my thighs.

“Yes?” I replied.

Maria stepped in my office and continued, “I wanted to speak with you about your 10AM appointment.”

Motioning her to an open chair I encouraged, “I’m listening.”

Taking a seat she said, “I know I said that they were a likely candidate and I still believe you can assist them, but I did more research on their case. It seems that the husband, Mr. Ross, had an affair with his secretary about two years ago.”

I chided, “How could you have missed that Maria?”

She defended, “As I said, I don’t believe that will negate your ability to help them. They have seen a marriage counselor and I believe that their troubles are beyond that breach of distrust.”

Diverting my attention back to the article and away from Maria, I closed the conversation with an indifferent, “Thank you for that information. Will that be all?”

She failed to respond to my question and the silence was unsettling. Logic reassured me that Maria still remained occupied in the chair across from me but the stillness compelled me to confirm she didn’t mysteriously disappear.

She had waited for me to look up, so that she could speak.

When I looked up, she acknowledged me attentively. She spoke passionately, “Ms. Kelly, have you not felt an attraction so intense that it made you forget logic and reason. While your mind rejects the polluted thought, your body yearns for a touch, a kiss, a stroke from the object of your desire. You feel the pulsation between your thighs when they walk by or the stimulation of your clitoris when they speak. Have you ever felt that tug of sexual longing?” She paused.

Breaking eye contact she fished her thoughts while regarding the coffee cup which stood between us.

She gnawed at the plumpness of her bottom before she returned her stare towards me and continued, “Mr. Ross gave into temptation and he paid the price. But he’s trying to make amends now to salvage his marriage. They’ve followed all the necessary steps, you are the final phase.”

The intensity of her brown eyes spoke volume and she defended Mr. Ross with loyalty.

Though I knew her defense carried subliminal meaning, I replied thoughtful, “I will consider your evaluation.”

Sex Therapist: Case 1, Part 2

2013-04-03T17:01:00.001-07:00

Her pleas returned unanswered as he secured a studded leather collar around her neck.

Leashed to him and under his control, he forced her to kneel before him. Her knees hit the hardwood floor painfully.

Her captor was removed from words and immune to her displeasure. The throbbing of her knees were bearable compared to the pain she would receive if she failed to please him.

He forced his limp penis inside her mouth.

Moderating the steadiness of her motion, he clamped the back of her head, forcing her to savor his length. She flexed her throat muscles. Exercising her extraordinary gag reflexes, she was able to squeeze and retract the muscles around his shaft. She stimulated him using the contraction of her throat muscles, her tongue and the warmth of her mouth.

Reaching the plateau of arousal, her husband was fully erect and near orgasm when she removed him from the warmth and moistness which erected him.

She took one of his testicles in her mouth simultaneously sucking and circling her tongue around delicately until he moaned with pleasure. Her hands were far from idle as they ventured around his scrotum and rubbed around the entrance of his anus.

After he came, he pulled her upright, turned her away from him and made her clamp her ankles as he entered her from behind. Filled nearly to the brinks of expansion she moaned as pleasure consumed her. A forbidden act.

Leash coiled in the fist of one hand, he used the other to pull on her thick brown mane. Forcefully, he reminded her of her place beneath him. She was a slave and pleasure was only reserved for his benefit. Her satisfaction was prohibited.

As she stood upright he debated the magnitude of her punishment.

She stood frightfully, unaware of the punishments to be delivered. Was it the painful pleasure of pinching nipple clamps, the lashing of satin lace against her skin or worse C-curved anal beads?

Sex Therapist: Case 1, part 1

2013-03-31T17:06:00.000-07:00

My sexual counsel isn’t confined to the limits of my office space. My reach expands to my client’s homes and private bedrooms. These circumstances are rare; however, but I will exert all possibilities to help my clients overcome sexual inadequacies.

If it requires me to observe them in their own personal settings, then that is where I will perform my therapy.

Clients are more relaxed in a home setting, which enables me to establish a stronger bond of trust and understanding.

It is an arduous process, especially for clients who have a repressed memory condition, like my client Linda.

Married ten years with a surprisingly enviable sex life, their sex life tore at the seams without forewarning during the course of a Saturday night encounter.

Under the notion they would venture into their growing bondage obsession they pulled out their bag of sexual goodies. A variety of satin blindfolds, foot long satin lace whips, fur paddles, gags and a bedroom bondage kit.

Sharing an interest for role-playing they fantasized a night of submission and domination.

Linda sneaked about the house bare, branded an escaped sex slave. Her husband, acting as her owner, pursued her.

Underneath the midnight sky, the house was as black as night. Imagination mounted as furniture took the form of bushes and walls stood as trees. She fled for her life, knowing that if she were caught, she would be punished.

In the kitchen she tiptoed around the granite island which held the form of a water well, when finally she came face to face with her tracker. Grabbing her petite frame, he holstered her on his shoulder and carried her to the bedroom. She pled with him, vowing to never run from him again if only he didn’t punish her.

Sex Therapist: Introduction

2013-03-28T11:10:00.001-07:00

The stigma associated with self-pleasure has long been an attempt to sway our self-interest and ultimate gratification. Even before conception we are drawn to the intense stimulation of masturbation. In the womb, males and females alike are drawn to the pleasures associated with a delicate rubbing or pressing of the genitals.

The vast majority of us explore our sexual desires as teenagers, quickly learning the power of touch and sound. A moan can excites us, while a touch can bring us to near orgasm. We tell ourselves there just isn’t enough time on Earth to explore what we have uncovered. And truth be told, there isn’t.

Only recently has the topic been widely open to discussion, but still many quiet the subject or avoid it all together. Countries have united to encourage masturbation, stating it is a citizen right and it will not be shunned or denied. Even so much as rallying for teenagers to engage in masturbation daily.

We people have progressed so far ahead, becoming so intellectualized we forget our basic needs. The need to orgasm.

I am an advocate for healthy sexual expression not because it is my field of work, but because the sentiment is one I truly believe. It is what makes me the best damn sex therapist in the Los Angeles area. My clients travel near and far, seeking direction and restoration of their sexless marriages.

What the court documents won’t tell you are those “irreconcilable differences” are simply a guise for “he can’t get it up” or “she’s drier than barren wasteland”.

My clients are teetering on the brinks of insanity. That is before they pick up the phone and call my office.

There are no boundaries; there are no exceptions to my job. Excluding of course the obvious, I don’t sleep with my clients. Despite requests from both men and women, it is one of my ultimate rules. Clients who apprehensively voiced their request were newly acquired clients who thought that by bringing an additional woman in their bedroom their sex life could be restored. They were naïve and ill-informed, poor things. That misconception would be mistake number one.

Bringing a third person in your bedroom only intermittently satisfies the desires of two lovers. It is only passable to bring a third person if the relationship is solid and the sexual desires of both are abundant and fulfilled. Open relationships which have this understanding work exceptionally, however, this is rare. Most people don’t like to share.

Personally, I don’t mind it one bit.

As I pulled up to my office I observed the brightly colored Honda sedan parked in the front lot. Maria, my customer relations associate, had already arrived. Impressive. She wasn’t required to be here for another hour.

Only recently hired last week, she had already began making her imprint on me as well as my staff. She was timely and organized, but most importantly she was charismatic. She had a way with words and she made my clients feel at ease throughout their screening. The last thing they needed was to be interrogated, but the information was needed to better determine if I could help them.

Entering the building, I greeted my receptionist Alisa and proceeded towards my office. Three doors shy of my destination, Maria nearly sent my coffee airborne as she exited the mailroom and ran straight in to me.

“Ms. Kelly,” she stated unnerved, “I apologize. I didn’t see you.”

“It’s fine,” I reassured.

“After you,” she motioned.

While her left hand completed the forward gesture her other did something I didn’t expect. As I nodded and stepped forward she placed a hand on my lower back. Correction. It wasn’t my lower back at all, I was extenuating the offense. She touched my ass!

::Today brings healing::

2013-03-24T01:29:00.001-07:00

I awake alone. This massive king size bed no longer conforms to the weight of two masses only one. Nor do the mattress springs moan from the doings of lovers. My bedroom is cold, devoid of the passionate heat which once radiated amidst these walls. A heat which rose from each embrace and tender kiss. A heat so intense no amount of heaters or blankets could reproduce. A heat from two women. A heat from two lovers.

Once a retreat, now a prison. I am confined to these walls not because I am removed of the freedom to do so, but because here lies the memories I wish were alive and well. I chose to stay. I am my own captor.

Layered underneath three blankets, I jump each time the tips of my icy cold fingers make contact with my bare skin. When you were here, not once can I remember a frigid moment because your mere presence provided all the warmth I needed.

Today is the end of my lifelessness, today I can feel. Today is the end of constant tears and the start of acceptance of my misery. Despite its suggestion, misery brings with it an elusive light, representing the start of progress. I’m no longer burdened by hurt and victim to my heartbreak. I now can feel beyond the pain. As each second passes I know my heart is slowly stitching together the broken pieces you dismantled and neglected. I know I’m healing because my tears have finally emptied. I no longer cry when a stranger simply smiles and greets me. The redness from the strain of constant tears is now a blushing pink and the bags underneath my lashes have slowly deflated. My pillow for once is dry and yesterday I finally opened my curtains to view the clear day. You broke me, but now I’m moving towards healing.

The sky truly is beautiful today, yet….

I lay bare, buried underneath the covers. On my side, my attention is captivated by the beauty beyond my windowpane. Clouds as plush as cotton balls stroll by my bedroom window. Beckoning me to leave these walls of abandoned memories and let the sun envelop me. Happiness waits opposite these solid walls, but the weight of my misery won’t allow me the satisfaction of retreat.

I pull my arms nearer, hoping to retain my body heat. One arm folds in front of my breast and the other relaxes on my hip. A long sigh escapes me and I close my eyes just in case my tears seek to betray me. Today is a day of misery, but I refuse to succumb to tears. That time has passed and now I must heal. I occupy my thoughts with the sounds of birds and the visioning of the clouds I only moments ago admired, but even that delight can’t keep the thought of you at bay.

You seep into every thought and every object I see. Unwelcomingly you pierce my mind, just as you penetrated my heart only months prior. I wish you expelled, but despite my objection my body expresses an alternate request.

I enter disillusionment, thinking the arm which trails my side and rests on my hip is not my own, but yours. I allow myself to believe your leg is entwined between my own and not an inanimate object full of feathery down. I try to tell myself it’s not you who pulls my body closer to you, that I’m pushing against a body pillow. But instead I relax against your chest and nestle in your embrace. To be held by you is nearly the equivalent of your lips on mine.

I melt in your arms at the softness of your lips as they linger down my neck and kiss the curve of my shoulder. And as your hand slides down the arc of my hip, past my stomach and up the mound of my breast I exhale with anticipation. Cupping my bosom, you massage it slowly and center my nipple between your fingers. The sensation is heightening and as arousal intensifies, so does my breathing. Rolling and pinching you achieve erection, but still you continue to satisfy. Neglecting one nipple for instead the other, until both stiffen in arousal.

Expectantly I long to hear your exaggerated breathing, but I’m dismayed when I only register my own. Realization dawning, I end the sexual journey I’ve creatively conjured. Disappointed, yet proud of my desire and will to stop, I resist giving you such gratification. You will never be the source of an orgasm again. Not in life, not in memory, not in thought.

As I pull back the covers and toss my legs over the side of the bed, a smile pushes through my frown. Today I will sit under clear skies and clouds plush as cotton balls. Today is the start of misery, but today I am healing....