Meet Felicity, a 30-year-old writer, LA native, and self-proclaimed “kinky submissive slut.” Felicity has a new Dominant boo, Jax. He’s coaxing her out of her city-slicker comfort zone and into his rugged terrain of camping and nature survival. Reluctantly, she follows his lead as he takes her through a series of sexy, romantic, and intimate trust exercises that bring this submissive slut to her knees, literally.
The sound of the ocean calms me. • In the moments when I’m looking out toward where the water meets the sky, I feel that it’s ok to not have it all figured out because the ocean is too big to feel we can ever conquer it —and so it is about life.
He only loves me for my lips. I know it, even if He says different. • It’s the way He looks at my mouth when I speak, and the hunger when we kiss that has me convinced. He fell in love with my mouth, but not for the intellect conveyed... no, but for the voluptuous beauty and softness on full display.
Slide my chair in front of yours, a coffee table in between. My legs stretched out gently brush the side of your pants.
Tonight, you weren’t fine, and I felt your pain. Tell me. Don’t tell. I’ll just stay in my lane. We keep hurting each other. Our unintentional flow. The truth cuts so deep, and we go blow for blow.
We sat on the rooftop with the city lights as our backdrop, devouring those sweet chocolate crêpes and sipping on wine from glasses that Moscow brought up from his apartment.
Sometimes, just the mere taste of fine chocolate can bring me close to an orgasm. It can be a transformative experience when I find myself alone with a tasty chocolate dish and a glass of red wine.
Moscow ordered for both of us in perfect French. I listened closely and gathered we were starting with a soup of some kind and then a dish with prawns and more red wine. The server returned shortly with slices of warm baguette in a bread basket. “Merci!” we both chimed enthusiastically. It seemed that Moscow liked warm bread as much as me. Well, despite his nickname, he was French!
It was an unseasonably warm spring day outside of a small café on boulevard de la Tour Maubourg in the heart of Paris, I sat taking in the sights and sounds of the city. In the distance, I could just make out the lights from the Eiffel Tower as the sun made room for nightfall. Cars rolled along and people strolled by on their way home or to an evening of magic in this city of wonder. It was shaping up to be the perfect Parisian evening.
Blink once, what to do? Right swiped for those eyes. Mind open, golden rule, you took me by surprise.