I’ve stopped making any real effort in the dating game lately. Few men I encounter are good long term material and I move around too much for most men. I also lack patience to navigate the minefield. This 23 year old on Fet has been trying to make a move. We’re on opposite coasts, but …
He closed the door behind them and pressed Meg into it. Her fingers tangled up in his hair, yanking to keep his lips on hers. The need to feel her skin had him slipping his hands beneath her shirt, pushing her bra up her chest so her could fill his palms with her heavy breasts. …
She drapes herself over his lap, adjusting so her bottom points up the way he likes. A hand grips the back of her neck to press her lower until she’s tipped nearly all the way over. She pressed her cheek to the floor, her feet spreading to brace as she grasps his calf. The way …
I’ve been anxious about my writing, or rather my lack of writing, so I’m challenging myself to write something everyday this week. It’s not block so much as a combo of laziness and disinterest. That’s a scary couple right there. I’ve decided to try adding to this poor tale that’s been plagued by the diabolical …
More at sea now than I’ve ever been A (spiritual?) disconnect My life raft, my pen to paper relief, has left me
Back in a familiar place. My return here has already been wrought with issues that have put me on edge. I’ll have to endure for a few weeks regardless. Surfing my archives, I realized it’s poetry month and I’d made no effort to honor the occasion. Here’s some old poetry to honor the changes my …
A quickie for #MM. Forgive me for the brevity and shoddy editing. – “Open” I glance across the table at him before looking around to see if anyone is watching. We’re in the back, but in an open space near the reference books. “Look at me.” I snap my eyes back to him and swallow …
In the back of the car One hand pressing an erect clit Lips sealed tight To keep desperate moans quiet
I need a reason To slip in a warm bath To lather up Getting my body ready Just for you
The cane Even the thought of it can reduce me to tears. I’m an ugly, sobbing mess before it touches my skin because I know what it’ll do to me. It marks my skin, yes, but it digs so much deeper… It falls, it cuts, it peels me away. That pain reaches into my mind and …