He said he’d buy me a collar then we’d do erotic things.
I wonder what those things include.
Would he instruct me to gracefully kneel and lift my hair?
As he fixes the collar to my neck, would his rough finger tips graze the tiny goosebumps on my nape?
Before he walks around to stand in front of me, lifting my chin so he can see me
Staring into my eyes so he can see us
Because I am now his submissive.
A reflection of his dominance,
A result of his care,
I want to be penetrated by you. Mindfulness means being aware. I am aware that our sex is therapeutic. Fxck me.
This is random but I’m sitting here trying not to beat myself up. The fact is, I’m only human. I’m entitled to be easily distracted, aren’t I? I question this because my “sole purpose” of opening my laptop tonight was to write. But I have no self discipline and I wind up doing things that are not related to writing in the least. I’m hoping that another writer will reach out from my woodwork of creative followers and tell me that this is a part of any creative process. So here goes.
- Finding good music. Something to vibe to that isn’t too loud or fast paced. Perhaps a little sensual or even melancholy.
- Watching funny vines. Animals are so funny. No emotions, my ass. *Scoff*
- Signing on to WordPress & finishing a short story and starting a new one.
- Wait, I finished a story so before I start a new one, I surf the net and by net I mean Facebook and maybe instagram.
- Bad lady cramps. Let’s get on the floor and stretch. May as well work out a little too.
- More Facebook – funny cat compilation.
- Starts new short story
- Pondering my life.
- Puts baby back to sleep. ( in addition to being a writer, i also have two children)
- Self doubt
- No. – just no.
- More self doubt.
- Okay, more writing.
- Meh…I can’t even finish this list.
There is a pain that lives in me. It has taken permanent residence in my soul for as long as I can remember. I don’t know how to describe it without using the words “inwardly excruciating.” My insides are writhing around and whimpering and there is nothing I can do about it. I find myself constantly pulling for my sanity.
I have a sincere and stirring desire to be intimate with you. There’s a deep longing for your kisses and caresses. You’re like a forbidden fruit that I dare not touch. You aren’t meant for me nor am I meant for you.
i am currently challenging my imagination to venture in lands outside of erotica….this may take a while.