“Desiring my collar…” i texted Him this morning.
“Two more sleeps baby.” He responds.
Later i text again, “Wednesday not here fast enough. Miss You today.”
“Miss you always”
“me too…some days even more.”
Two days before we see each other again are always the hardest for me. i seem to do fine with a week, or even more, but two days bring such wanting that i can hardly stand it. If only i could bite a poisoned apple, fall into Sleeping Beauty’s slumbered trance, and wake to His kiss.
i miss His touch, the softness of His skin, His scent when i nuzzle into His neck, His giggle, His hair, being entwined, laying on His chest, a hot cup of coffee in His bed, watching Him walk down the length of the pool deck in utter disbelief that i’m His and He’s mine, impromptu dates, rich wine, napping with Him, His touch…
i miss pleasuring Him, serving, giving myself to Him, the pleasure-pain Ying Yang as He explores my body and mind and soul looking for limits, His direction, being held in suspense and the massive release that comes afterward, hearing Him come, feeling it surge inside me, His earthquakes i induce afterward…
i miss His soul…
No one warned me how deeply i would fall and how He would be there to catch me and hold me…how would they know?…how could i know?
Two days is always the anticipation of the fall, its walking to the edge, the first glimpse over, waiting to take the step. It’s the heart-pounding, throbbing, oh my god it’s going to happen. A week out is far enough away from the edge to not see it yet, the edge blends into the horizon and appears as an eternity, infinite.
Two days is Ying Yang, pleasure-pain. So close you can almost touch it but you can’t.
Two days is always the hardest for me.