With me, you bloom, you laugh, we ride. At home, you pull the petals back in and hide. You kiss my mouth and bite my lips. You slap my ass and squeeze my hips. You touch, you taste, you always savor. And as you fell, you became much braver. Your life away must always come first. But when you are gone, I fear the worst. Our romance is destined to be caught in a song, In a moment of time when the music comes on. I know what you need, I’ve seen your heart through your eyes. You’ve whispered, you’ve hinted, but you’re telling more lies. Your secret, my love, is safe with me... No soul has to know that you truly crave three.
Even before my husband and I decided to open our marriage, I’ve always enjoyed meeting new people, spending time hearing their stories, and learning from their experiences. I’m definitely an extrovert because I get energy from being in social situations. That said, I also greatly value my alone time. It’s when I can exhale, meditate, read and write. This is precious quiet time that I need daily. In deciding to open our marriage, I was looking forward to spending more time around people I find interesting regardless of their gender. I like spending time with my girlfriends, but I missed male companionship even if platonic. But if there was mutual interest and chemistry, then being poly meant we could ethically explore where that might lead.
Warning: Contains explicit language and graphic sexual references. Only for readers 18+.
I’m a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic. I love romance. For me, however, romance can exist outside of love. I love love, all types of love. And, falling “in love” (not to be confused with loving someone) is the best feeling ever, but that doesn’t happen often for me. Instead, I tend to meet really amazing people who I could easily love, and with whom I can enjoy romantic moments and maybe even sex. But sex is not love and it’s not “in love.”
Softly you touch Your mouth to mine, Lips brushing lips Tasting thrill mixed with wine. Tongues gently play... Move in close for this kiss. Years moved through time Brought us here to this bliss.
At that very moment, your hand finds the softest warmth on the inside of my thighs. As told, I’m not wearing panties —rules for whenever we meet. I like pleasing you. Holding my breath, I anxiously wait to see if you’ll check my obedience. You do. And I exhale into your touch.
When you discard me, be sure to close the lid on the bin. Walk away. Don’t look back to reach in... I’ve already moved on. This side of the road, I’ve been discarded here before... I know my way home by heart. They call it muscle memory. And my heart always remembers. She never forgets.
Lean in, kiss me. Can you taste the excitement on my lips? Cause I’ve been waiting all week to taste you. The moment you get close, I feel it. A current of anticipation flows through me. Electricity.
A few weeks ago, I took the BDSM test and learned that I am 84% submissive. This didn’t surprise me. I’ve always really enjoyed encounters where the men in my life take the lead, but also respect that I have a good brain and solid opinions. That said, it always takes a few challenges to said “men in my life” in order to earn my trust and respect.
Tonight, in my bedroom, it’s very quiet. I lay in my bed alone listening to the still of the night. The lights are off, but the moon shines in through the shutters then onto my bed and the ceiling above.