i write this with the bloody, white feather tips of my beautifully winged angel friend Liras. she has told me that i have not plucked her fluff in a while and she so very much enjoys taunting me with her full plumage. i will keep this short because i would not want to pluck her bald, it’s unbecoming of an angel from the heavens…

it’s the unknown and anticipation that drives me. when i can not foresee his actions nor words. he is still a mystery to me and it’s the mystery that keeps me coming back. when fingertips brush against naked exposed flesh in public or when they so elegantly brush against a breast. i take in a breath and i reel. i can feel myself drowsy with lust and the movie is only half way over.

it’s when we kiss and he pulls me into him. i can hear a growl in his throat and i quiver with innocence yet i want immediate corruption from him. his hand traveling down between my legs and making me come with my lips pressed against his.

it’s when he pushes me on my stomach and i so submissively bring my ass up to his cock. when he fucks me slow and i have learned to feel him take me. i can feel him swell inside of me before he leaves his seed deep. we are locked together as i milk him dry and slowly i sway myself against him.

it’s when we both collapse on to the bed catching our breath and his fingers run along my sweaty spine. my head heavy on his chest and relishing the noise of breathing. my body convulsing with orgasmic aftershocks. my mind replaying the events, feelings, sounds over and over and i want more from him.

i want the full experience of “him” without uncovering the nooks and crannies of the mystery that cloaks him.

i was so sweetly reminded by V how i need to write on my blog more and i do >140 characters very well. i think Twitter has taught me one thing, say a lot with as few words as possible. perhaps why my blog posts have gotten even shorter in length over the past year. i really enjoy a challenge and almost find it as a writing exercise at time.

i spent this week nursing another pulled muscle in my back. i was made to go the hospital due to my past health complications and the Dr. made me fear of appendicitis. after various tests, it was just a pulled muscle. to make matters worse i had to use the word “intercourse” instead of “wild fucking”. to say the least it was, uncomfortable to say.

i do enjoy and love reminders of my trysts but pulling a muscle to the point that i can’t even do my job is pretty a extreme form of masochism and yet i am smirking right now writing about it. according to R we are doing something right and i am not complaining one bit. the sex we have is still to this day, amazing. i have learned to try to enjoy it and not be so, let say, ravenous or even junkie-like. i lay still and appreciate him however, he’ll hit the g-spot, then i switch into high gear and it’s all a frantic blur. i have to thank R for accommodating my influx in libido which has caused us to cram in as many sessions as we can on a Saturday.

i made a wonderful attempt at entertaining R with the new holiday of Steak and BJ Day. i brought over ribeyes, potatoes and veggies and cooked everything almost to perfection (i have extremely high expectations of everything i do and i am my worst critic). he had given me sex earlier and i thought i would give him a blow job to completion like a good selfless girl should. of course right at the surface of my mind i wanted a glorious fucking. no, no, i pushed him on his back and licked, sucked, slurped and gagged on his cock. he chose in the end. yes, he chose to fuck me. so, i am not sure if that was a success but both parties seems sated.

“i’m breaking my attachment to physical power and possessions because only through destroying myself can i discover the greater power of my spirit.”

-Chuck Palahniuk

i walked in his front door and headed straight for the bathroom. peaking into his room i can see him sleeping with his back towards the door. i strip off the clothes and tip toe around his bed, the cats are greeting me or blocking me from laying down. i sit with my back to him and curl into my spot just under his chin (he’s almost a full 12 inches taller than me).

we wrap arms around each other.
he’s not asleep.
i feel his back.
i start to rub.
i start to want.
i start to ache.
i start to claw.

my hand travels to the front of his boxers and i find my way to his growing cock. it’s been weeks and all i have been focused on is the moment we are fucking again. he shuffles upward and i am crawling into position, ass in the air and face in his pillow. i feel him trying to push in and i am quivering and whimpering. he parts way inward and deep and i groan.

i come.
i melt.
i am his.

morning hard on means he toys with me. i am getting my overdue fill and yet i am not getting enough. i don’t want him to stop. that feeling of finally getting fucked plagues me and i feel this release of pent up need seep from me.

i grab the pillow.
i grab the bed.
i claw his arm.

when we are both pouring with sweat and i am hoarse from pleading for my life, he falls beside me. i lay there on my stomach next to him trying to catch my breath. when the panting ceases i finally look at him in the face.

“wow, this is the first time i have seen your face since i got here.”
laughter.
“that’s pretty bad huh?” i say smiling.
“yeah, you will have to write about that one.”