Musings: An erotic story with reading

Wrote this on a whim, after a dream with the scene envisioned. I’d left the Jehovah’s Witnesses and my marriage to my middle-school-sweetheart just two years before. Finally I could explore who I truly wanted to be.

September 26, 2012

2:23 AM

I rapped on the apartment door, once then twice, our agreed signal. There was a nervous cough on the other side, and I drew myself up tall, a wicked grin in the corner of my mouth. I stood, my high-heeled boots tapping, impatient. She said she would be ready.

Locks slid, and the door opened, she smiled and dropped her gaze, gesturing me inside. I paused a bit before stepping forward, letting her anticipation grow, then strode forward, dropping my kit to her floor. She shut the door and I immediately took her by the shoulders, pressed my body against hers, gently throwing her into the closed door. Suddenly short of breath, excited, she lifted a leg, wound it around my hips. I looked down slowly, acknowledging her lack of self control.

(whispered) “This is the only time you will touch me until I tell you there may be more.” I whispered in her ear, as she quivered under my weight, waiting, her hands now clenched in fists at her side. Her mouth moved towards my neck, and I grabbed her chin, not believing her impudence, I pressed her face as far as I could away from mine, against the door behind her.

“Not one kiss from you either. Those are mine to give first.” I held her there, as she shivered, knees trying to buckle under mine, her breath short and desperate at my verbal commands. I let her stand there, pinned against her own door. After a moment I used my firm hand to turn her head so I could gaze deeply into her green eyes, letting her sink into my blue.

Her muscles softened, she yielded to me entirely, she handed me her will to do with as I pleased. A sigh escaped her lips, and her eyelids fluttered, never leaving mine.

(whisper) “Good girl.” I whispered, and shifted my knee to pin her between the legs, moving up until my stockings were wet beneath her damp panties, reveling in the excitement and teasing myself as much as I did her. I pressed my hand firmer into her chin, leaned my lips in, and began to devour the soft skin of her throat. The instant my mouth touched that sensitive skin she jumped, moaned, as if an electrode was hidden in the gentle tips of my tongue and lips. I nipped, scraped, and bit her neck with my teeth, soothing the pain with lashings of my tongue, licking out her groans, feeling her tremble against the door, shaking the locks.

My knee placed firmly against her pussy was now soaking wet, and if this wasn’t her first time with me I would have forced her to her knees with my hand twisted in her hair, and made her lick it up until I was satisfied.

I gave one last firm bite, rolling my jaws, settling my teeth deep into the skin of her throat, and she thrust her hips towards mine, eyes closed, mouth screaming a silent prayer for more, not breathing, just lost in her capture, lost in her pain.

An instant release, my hands and body away, I left her to compose herself, clinging to the doorknob, and I giggled to myself at what a simple push and neck tease could do. I looked her deeply in the eyes, noting her shortness of breath, and then turned, sweeping my eyes over her place, pleased she stood there trapped by desire, speechless for once. I watched from the corner of my eyes as she straightened her hair across the room, and acted like I didn’t see her tremble as I perused her bookshelves.

There was soft movement, tentative steps she thought I couldn’t hear, and I felt her warmth enter my presence. She stood close behind me, fingers twitching, I knew she wanted to touch my lovely ass, so I bent further over, showing her the bottom she was banned from touching, turning as I rose and arched my back so she could see my cleavage. Her eyes betrayed her, followed every deliberate move, looked exactly where I had plotted. I hid my smile and walked slowly towards the window, backing her up against it. She retreated, trapped by my decree of refusal of touch, afraid to break my command.

She clasped her hands behind her back, as if to control the impulse to touch, and I shook my head slowly, looking her sternly in the eyes. She brought her hands back to her sides, and I watched as her fingertips shook with the imposed mental control. I reached one hand forward, touched her pussy, damp through the cloth, surprised at how swollen and hot it was with such simple play. She jumped, grabbing the windowsill behind her, moaning and closing her eyes, trying to control her reactions yet failing. I smiled. No paddles or floggers needed tonight, though they were my favorites and I would miss the sting. This sweet girl was so tormented already that I could barely take seeing the pleading, hungry tears in her eyes. I did have SOME compassion after all, though not many were allowed to enjoy it.

Pity. I took pity in her hunger. I reached up, loosened my straps, and let my dress fall to the ground, naked except for my stockings and heeled boots. She blinked, quivering all over now, and as I undressed her, stroking each new inch of revealed skin, kissing her curves, and telling her what a good girl she had been, how beautiful she was to me, tears began to stream down her cheeks. Tears of desperation, obedience, desire, gratitude.

I took her hand, led her to the bed, and had her stand, dripping wet from her eyes, dripping wet from her beauteous pussy, as I slowly turned back the covers, then laid her down beneath me, wiping her tears away with my loosened hair. She still trembled, her fingertips not daring to disobey. I kissed her deeply, pressing my breasts into her own, my sodden excitement mixing with hers below.

(sigh) “Okay.” I sighed into her ear, “You’ve been such a good girl.” I looked into and through her eyes, losing myself in her own despair.

“Now…………………touch me.”

I once told you

This is a love you don’t recover from.

And I meant it.

I didn’t know the steel bitter truth of it yet.

What life is without you.

How everything is less.

Food is something I have to do.

Work is too.

Everything is tasteless, flavorless.

A virus that wiped all of me,

Crumpled in the roots of an old tree,

But I can’t even see them, there is no color.

I felt the weight of those words,

“I will never be the same again”

But I didn’t know what they meant.

What they mean.

This is a love I will never recover from.

And you will never see

I’m not what you think I am.

Tonight I miss you

And the virus doesn’t scare me anymore

because I’m already drowning in my snot crying

missing you knowing I’ll never

see you

or feel your energy your eyes

your hands

and I can’t breathe again

I’m drowning because

what are the years ahead of me if you are not there

I don’t want them

and I’m choking on

vomit spilling into my

eyes sweating my need to just

hold

your

hand

right now but I never will

I never will

I never will.

It Hurts

April 2, 2020

There’s a glow
Under that bridge, the one that holds the sky up,
The mist sits her heavy hips around it,
And it creaks to you in a language you remember from a dream.
Wander the wildest path you can find,
Whisper back
The trees and the owls know what your voice sounds like.
Touch where the legs meet the
Water, where the stars dance below you
To the unheard music,
The tune you recognize the first time you hear it.
Take your time with the water,
It reflects a person you never met.
Be gentle with her, she is new.

It hurts to hold so much love.

Tiptoe your bare feet into the
Echoing cavern beneath ribs of the bridge,
Your feet sink as you step,
Into cold, smooth earth, full of sharp pebbles,
The mud holds you like your favorite abuser.
Blind, with only the glow to guide you,
You’re masked with grief,
If you look to deeply it disappears.
Cling to the places you know,
Go deeper.

It hurts to hold so much love.

And still the glow,
She retreats if you try to hold her,
She’s the pleiades,
Caught between brighter stars,
She fades with each attempt at capture,
Just to wink and shine a little more brilliantly.
As you bump your head on the stones above,
Thinking if you could just get closer,
She would be yours.

It hurts to hold so much love.

Don’t you see?
Do you see it now?
As your fingers close on darkness,
Scraping the hidden,
While it gets under your nails,
Evidence of this invading scrambling
Caught, gritty,
You wipe your hands on your leg,
Reach out again with damp sodden fingertips
That close on nothing.
And still she shines.

It hurts to hold so much love.

Silence holds you and you close your eyes
And there it sits, the light fills you,
You give in, leaning back on your ankles,
The star invades you.
She was there all along, waiting.
Under this cosmic bridge,
Your haunches sink into the cold, the dark,
The quiet.
Afraid of the quiet, you fought to hold it
Afraid of the love, you sought it out,
And it burns, how it burns so bright,

It hurts to hold so much love.

Giving in to the disease it spreads through you,
Because it hurts to turn it within,
It catches your breath, so you stop breathing.
It burns your eyes so you stop seeing.
It glows your fingertips so you stop touching.
It captures your soul so you stop trying.

It hurts to hold so much love.

Here you crouch, a star beneath a bridge,
Afraid anyone will find you,
Desperate that someone does.
Begging the wet things that crawl around you
To find a better home.
You try to save them.
Drive them away from your hidden haven,
Loose them to a world of light,
Because you know yours burns in a way
That will just sear their skin
If they try to hold you too.
Save them, retreat to your shadows,
Protect this light that burns too brightly
If they dare to come close.
You are the light, hiding under your cosmic bridge,
The troll their grandmothers warned them about.
You’ll crunch their bones in your bread,
As they sacrifice themselves for you.

It hurts to hold so much love.

Your Whore

It all makes sense now.
How unhappy you always were, though you never saw it.
How little you trusted me, even when you said otherwise.
You thought I was a whore from the beginning.
I should have known when you flipped out on me for texting your friend to check on you.
You had just spent the evening and early morning getting drunk with her.
You had punched, pushed, screamed at, and spit on me.
Screamed loud enough for the whole house to hear, with my son in the next room.
Called me horrible names and cried, with absolutely no reason.
We still don’t know why you did it.
And she saw it. She saw how I protected you by taking your keys away
As I wiped your saliva off my forehead and shoulder
That you’d projectile launched at me after shoving me into the garage door.
I tried not to cry in front of her.
She made sure you got home safely, because you wouldn’t sleep next to me.
How completely over-reacting I thought you were,
When you were more concerned that I texted her to check on you
Than you were about how I felt about being thrown around the night before.
But I know now. I was a whore.
You never truly gave us a chance
Now I see why every time we came back together it was doomed.
No matter how much you said you loved me you never trusted me.
No matter how much you loved me you always saw me as a whore.
When you cruelly told me to go play with others it hurt more than you can imagine.
You broke up with me and told me to go fuck someone else,
You threw me away.
I did it. I was desperate enough to feel better because I’d never felt so shattered,
Not in all the years of being abandoned.
I did it. I needed to breathe but all I could do is choke on your words,
And I knew I’d never loved like this before, and getting over you would take work I’d never done before, so I did it.
A self-fulfilling prophecy that you’ve never stopped punishing me for.
Your whore.
I left you right before my 40th birthday instead of celebrating it.
I mourned instead, turned within to my anguish.
I was supposed to spend that day with you.
I was supposed to start this new decade, new home, a half a life gone.
It was okay only because I thought I had another half a life, another 40 years to spend with you,
To make up for the 38 I had before us.
So I didn’t feel like celebrating, our 40 years were gone.
Four months have passed and I miss you as much now as I hated you then.
I left my home, my child, my estranged family to move across the country with you.
And the entire time you didn’t trust me.
I left you, went back to my child, and you begged me to return, why?
Why want the whore?
Of course you didn’t trust love, you have none for yourself.
I once had a friend tell me she admired me for believing in love,
For being unafraid to try with you.
I always thought being made of love was a gift, treasured it,
With it I could offer you something purely me, unadulterated by the incessant buzz of the city around us.
I was your breath of fresh air, the hand that seized the wind,
You loved how I loved you so deeply.
How the heat flickering from the bottom of my little toes could warm you.
The girl made of love who gave herself to you.
The girl you call a whore.
I’d cut myself again and again and again if it just made you smirk,
I thought I could save you, this girl made of love.
But I don’t want to be her anymore.
She belongs to you and I don’t.
I am not your whore.