Service…and then

i’ve been working my way through the “languages of love” in my last few posts – gifts, spending time, service, physical touch, and verbal touch – and building a fantasy to hold me over til my Sir gets back.  (Three more days…)

Today, i’m on service, a favorite topic for many of us submissive types.  i love ‘serving,’ if that means doing things that please, things that are helpful. 

In my vanilla life, my job is a kind of serving – as a psychotherapist, i help people find their way.  Some therapist assume a dom-ly role, conceptualizing the client’s problems in a way that lends itself to giving advice and “fixing.”  

My stance tends to be that life’s a journey and we may walk together for a while.  On the way, i expect my client to share her experience, and i’ll point out the things i see.   And teach her some of the things i know.  Whether or not they’re helpful, whether or not she uses them, is completely her call.   I’m there to help, and if she wants me to lead the way, i can do that.  But it’s really about serving her goals.

In my personal life, i’ve learned to set some boundaries for myself and others.   You know, i have some experience with relationships in which i could never do enough to please – where what i brought to the table was never quite adequate. 

That’s probably warped me out a little bit, in the way that we all get warped by life.   It can keep me poised on the brink of taking my toys and going home.  i own that – {laughing} – really, i think i’m kind of entitled to it! 

But i do love to serve, and to please.   i’ll go a long way for a “good girl.”   The deep fear for me is that i’ll go a long way, and then be told that He didn’t want that anyhow.  That it was a pointless trip. 

The nice thing – well, one of the nice things – about BDSM is that the exchange is explicit.  At least some of the time, i know what He wants.  And He knows that i want to give it to Him.  Whether “it” is the orange juice He likes, or cock worship.

Sometimes, it’s remarkably easy.  Like (yes, here we go) – like where i left myself yesterday…

…on my knees, bent over, with my back to Him.  Filled by Him – He has penetrated me in both places, with..

{it still makes me blush and squirm to say it – even to think it} 

     um, His fingers are in my pussy, probing, pressing against me… and His other hand, um

                  He has two fingers – two whole fingers – in – well, in the rear entrance –

which is usually not an entrance at all for me – and if you had told me He would be here, i might have said, “o, probably not.”  But here i am, on my knees, doing my best to rock back into His fingers, moaning with pleasure and really – omigosh – really wanting more.  And then…

much to my dismay, i feel Him pulling His fingers back, not from my pussy, those are still there, but from – my ass.  As He does it, i feel this – emptiness – O, i want His fingers back!

“Sir, please Sir, don’t stop – o, please…”

“I thought you might have had enough,” He says, and i notice, as if from far away, that there’s laughter in His voice.  He’s teasing me.  i can’t believe He’s teasing me.  Now.  

“Sir, no, please Sir,” i’m begging.  i’m actually begging Him to put His fingers in my ass.  And then…

He does.  But there are more fingers this time, three maybe.  His fingers are not dreadfully thick, He has elegant hands, but this is clearly more.  It stretches me –

– which scares me, just a little, i can feel it stretching me as He presses them – they’re in a little bit, i’m a little tense, i’m thinking it might be too much – and then –

He pulls them out again – Omigosh – no, plesase…  i’m begging again, “O, no, Sir, please,” and i laugh, but it’s almost a sob  – “Please come back,” cause suddenly i feel so empty.

“Come back?”  He says lightly.   “Whataya mean, ‘come back?’  Tell me what you want.”

And then i realize He’s going to make me say it.   And i don’t know if i can. 

“i want  – You, Sir, i want – i want You to do what You were doing, please, Sir…”

“Like this?” He says – and His fingers slide inside me again, filling me, o, yes, omigod, yes, sliding further in this time, o, o yes – moving deeper – and then –

“Like that?” He says, as He pulls them back out.

And i think i will die, die from the emptiness, the need , the longing.  “Sir!” and i’m almost indignant – “Sir, please, please, please don’t stop!  Please???”

i’m trying to rub myself on His other hand, the hand that is still in my pussy, the hand that is carefully avoiding taking me over the edge.

“What do you want?” He asks again.  “Tell me what you want.”

“Your fingers,” i say.  “i want Your fingers” and i don’t care anymore if i’m embarrassed, i just don’t care – “i want Your fingers in my ass.  Please.”

“Well, they weren’t exactly in your ass,” He says, stroking a butt cheek, slapping it lightly.  “This is your ass,” He says.  “Where did you want My fingers?” and i can tell He’s amused, but omigod, i’m not – i’m desparate.

“In.  My.  Ass.  Hole,” i say.  And then –

    – no point in being coy i say it again, “In my asshole, please, Sir, i want your fingers in my asshole.  Please,” and my body’s clenching again, shivers running through me, and all of me is focused there, yes on my asshole, longing for Him to fill me again.

And i notice, just notice, that i don’t care if it hurts, i might even want it to hurt.  It might be ok if it stretches me beyond comfortable.

And then…

Woohoo!! 10,000!

Sometime between 9:54 and 10:06 tonight, my blog went from 9,998 hits to 10,001.  That may not be in the big league, but i’m thrilled!!   

In the first three months i blogged – May, June, and July of this year, i totaled about 1,000 hits.  i was pretty excited with that.  But the other 9,000 have been in the four months  from August til now.

It’s past my bedtime already, so i’ll say “good night,” but i just wanted to share this milestone first.

Til tomorrow… hugs,

aisha

Spending Time…and then

i went to the Fourth Sunday munch last night.  It’s the third time i’ve been, and i was definitely more comfortable than the first two times.  It’s a tiny munch, compared to the weekend one; maybe only 10 or 15 people were there last night.    This time, there was a man named Master J who sat next to me.  We talked through most of the evening.  He’s a master of corny jokes, so i was well entertained.      

i talked to some other people too, and finally – yes, i know it’s only my third time there – finally started to feel like i was making some connections.   Which made me think about spending time, one of the “languages of love.” 

i don’t “love” the kink community here.  There are other communities i’m involved in that i do love – my church community, a volunteer group i spend time with, and of course, my little blogging community.   But i know that love builds on itself.  So we show love, express love, by spending time with people.  

AND if i spend time with people, i’ll grow to love them.

Not just any kind of time though.  It has to be focused time. Time spent being open and receptive.  With kids, we call it “quality time.” 

i think Doms are experts at giving that kind of time.  Sir D has a look, a tone to His voice, when He’s focused on me that is as arousing as His touch.  And for sure, play time is quality time. 

Sir and i don’t have a lot of time together – well, more than some of you, but much less than Mick and Molly.  So when we have time together, it’s a gift.   Whether it’s a phone call or an IM, or face-to-face time, it’s important. 

One of the things i love about mindfulness practice is that it increases my ability to focus on what i’m doing right now.  i try to bring my full self to my time with people, no matter who it is.  With Sir, that’s easy because He pulls me to Him anyhow.  There are so many ways He does it.  With words.  Tone of voice.  His hand in my hair .  Or –

– like how i left myself – on my knees, bent over, with my back to Him and – o, my, it makes me blush to say it now – blush and squirm – He has one finger inside me, not in my pussy, um, you know –

– blushing –

He has His finger in my – um, in the smaller entrance – it is deep inside me.  He is holding it there, not moving.  And i have felt myself open  to Him, i told you that.  Felt myself slide deep into submission.  Open and receptive, and willing to do anything He asks of me.  My self is His right now.

And then…

…His other hand is, omigosh, His other hand is reaching around to stroke me from the front, omigod, caressing my inner lips, seeking the nub of pleasure – omigod, i feel myself tighten on His finger, and it feels – o, it feels good – how can that be?

The finger on my clit stops, holds where it is, keeping me there too, poised on the brink.  i am lost – wordless – spinning into space – and then –

He slides another finger into my ass.  Easily, quickly, there is no resistance from me.  i open to take it, accept it.  i want it.  i want everything He wants to give me.  i am receptive, relaxed and open – and i am strung tight, ready to explode with pleasure. 

i begin to move, i can’t help it, impaling myself deeper on His fingers, trying to press my clit against his finger, trying to rub myself on Him and –

– for a moment, i picture myself there on my hands and knees in front of Him, rubbing on Him shamelessly, seeking more of Him… and then…

…He slides the finger that had been on my clit inside my pussy.  My pussy that is so wet, the scent of me fills the air, his finger slides in, then another, o – maybe a third one – and i’m caught

     – filled

           – completely taken

rocking back and forth on His fingers, moaning with pleasure.  Seeking more – more – please, Sir –

And then….

*******************************************

 Four more days.  Just four more days til i see my Sir.

Reading Fetlife…and then

i was reading a discussion on fetlife last night – people describing how they create love, or something like that.  One of the responses referenced the five languages of love:  gifts, service, spending time, physical touch, and verbal touch (affirmation.)  I remember reading something about that concept before, but hadn’t given it much thought.  Last night, it interested me.

The person on fetlife suggested we consider which “languages” we most like to receive, which we’re most comfortable giving, and so on.  You know, i like those kinds of things – playing with categories, restructuring the way i think about something, even for a few minutes.  So i’ve been thinking about it.

I’m not sure which “language of love” i most like to hear.   Don’t misunderstand – i like all kinds.  “Gifts” is probably last on my list, although i do like getting presents.  And i understand that sometimes they’re a person’s best way of saying “I love you.”  But – like the last Christmas I was married, B, my 2nd husband, gave me a bunch of really nice presents.  Pearls, and a fancy camera, and a plush, infinitely warm, cranberry colored robe, and a bunch of other stuff too.  

But i knew they were guilt gifts, meant to distract me from commenting on the intense affair he was having with alcohol.  So it was hard to really feel good about it.  i didn’t give them back or anything though, i still have them, even though i only wore the neckace and earrings once.  i’m not really a pearls kind of gal.  (Ok, no puns or double entendres intended there.) 

On the other hand, one day, back when i was a senior in high school, i was in this donut shop where i used to hang out.  i got to talking to a young man who’d just gotten out of a mental hospital.  We talked for a long time, and he ended up giving me a painting he’d done when he was in the hospital.   Seriously – i’m not making this up. It was – it was like a  finger painting done with oils.  Very strange.  It wasn’t well done, or even asthetically pleasing.

But i kept it, up in my closet, for at least 10 years, maybe 15 years.  i remember i still had it after i got married the first time.  Every time i’d start to throw it away, i’d remember his face, and i just couldn’t do it.   i still remember his face, even now, so i guess it was ok to get rid of the painting.

i like giving gifts, but it’s not my strong suit.  i hate shopping, and have a limited tolerance for it, so my gift giving tends to be erratic.  Sometimes it’s great, sometimes it misses the mark.   i’ll write you a poem or tell you a story in a heartbeat though.  And i like to give gifts connected with spending time together.  Gift certificates for dinners, or plays, or even movies. 

My nephew, one of his Xmas gifts was always a shopping trip with Aunt Aisha with a “gift certificate” for a few bucks and lunch.   When he was little, he loved it; he’d always carefully bring the certificate (which i’d made) with him, and show it to me, like i really needed to see that he had it.  Then, after he’d bought his pokeman stuff, or game boy game, or whatever, we’d go have McDonald’s, a sacrifice on my part that he appreciated.  He’s 16 now, and not so thrilled with a few bucks or hanging out with Aunt Aisha as he used to be, although he still humors me sometimes.

So this is taking longer to write about than i thought it would, and it’s awfully vanilla too, isn’t it?  Maybe i’m just avoiding thinking about where i left myself before.   You know, on my knees, bent over, with Sir behind me.

You know, caught between fear and desire, as He traces the path from my pussy, dripping wet, steaming hot, to the tighter entrance.  The entrance that puckers more when He touches it.  A shiver runs through me, a spasm really, as if my whole body clenches and throbs.

i make a noise – a moan, a whimper, a plea?  His finger is still there, pressing lightly.  My heart races with excitement, and dread.

And then – His finger is still so wet from my pussy, it happens quite easily – He slides it inside me.  Just barely in, and He stops.  All of my mind is there – right there – on that tiny one inch invasion of my self.  Frozen, i wait,  expecting further assault.  Anticipating with fear, and longing.

And then – “Does that hurt?” He says.

His voice seems to come from far away.  i have to stop and think, my mind has lost its words.  At last –

“No, no, Sir.  It doesn’t hurt.” i say, realizing that of course it really doesn’t.

“Are you breathing?” He asks, and i hear a touch of laughter in His voice.  i stop and check myself – no! i don’t think i am breathing.  Or just barely. 

i start to breathe.  “i am now, Sir, thank you very much,” i say, and am surprised to hear a note of laughter in my voice too. 

And then His finger slides further in, and i gasp, omigosh…  Just that one finger, and it feels like all the world is centered there.  My body clenches again, my pussy is dripping, i may melt into a puddle of my own juices… and suddenly, i feel myself open to Him.

It’s the feeling i long for, the one that scares me.  As if everything in me is open to Him.  Like a flower blooming, i suppose.  Turned toward Him.  My body, my heart -both are totally open to Him.  In that moment, i belong to Him more intimately than ever before. 

He could do anything He wanted with me.  i know, maybe He always can, but right now i’m so aware of it, aware of my submission.  i’ve fallen deep into it; it’s like floating in a sea of submissiveness. 

Totally aware of my willingness to please Him.  My desire to please Him.  In that moment, that’s all there is.  Him, and me wanting to do whatever He wants.   Wanting Him to want me to do something – i don’t care what.

And then…

*******************************************************************

Five more days ’til i see my Sir again.  Just five more.

Six More Days…and then

Having left myself on my knees, bent over, with my head to the floor, ass exposed to my Sir, i realized i have six more days to wait before i see Him again. 

Sigh.

No, Sir, not pouty, just missing you.

***********************

On my knees in front of His chair.    Bent over.  With my back to Him.  Close enough to Him that –

– he leans forward, reaches out and i feel His hands, cool and steady, on my ass, low, near my pussy.  His hands grasp me, open me wider.  i feel –

– so vulmerable  – and humiliated – He has never done this to me before, i don’t want Him to see me this way.  i want to pull away, to get up, to run. 

i hold very still.

His fingers probe my pussy from behind.  Not entering me at first, spreading my lips, finding the nub.  He strokes it lightly, making me moan.  

i am so wet, His fingers slide inside me like they belong there.  No longer focused on the position i’m in, i feel myself relax mentally, even while the tension of my desire increases.  i start to push my hips back against Him, trying to fuck myself on His fingers.

And then – 

     – his other hand smacks down on my ass.

i cry out – shocked – but i can feel my juices flowing between my legs, a gush of wetness.  He laughs.

“Don’t,” He says.  “Don’t try to do that.  Hold still.  I’ll fuck you when i’m ready.  Hold still.”

And He does,  for a minute His fingers are deep inside me, and i’m in heaven.  He leans forward farther, reaches around to caress a nipple, gently at first, then pinching lightly. 

i moan – and struggle to hold still.  i want to obey Him, want to be a good girl.  And i want to fuck Him, want to slam my pussy up – and down on His fingers. 

i hold still, whimpering.  My pussy clenches, grasping at Him…

And then… his fingers wet with my juices, he pulls out.  i gasp as He slowly moves back up, tracing with one finger the path to my smaller entrance.  i am frozen, caught tightly between fear and desire.

And then…

And then…

My hands are behind my back.  Not tied, no need to tie them.  Sir said to keep them behind my back, so of course i am.  The posture pulls my shoulders back, thrusts my breasts forward.

i’m standing in front of Him.  He’s relaxed in His chair beside the fireplace.  Checking His messages, taking His time, while i stand naked before Him, waiting.   i think i’ve been waiting a long time, but i don’t mind.  i shift my weight from one leg to the other, and He glances up.

“Getting tired?” He asks.

“No – yes, Sir, just a little,” i say.  “But i’m ok.”

He nods, and goes back to His e-mail.  Or whatever He’s checking on His phone.

My pussy clenches.  i think how odd that is.  Why does standing here for Him, while He doesn’t pay attention to me, turn me on?  It makes no sense.  But there it is.  i can feel myself getting wetter, just thinking about the fact that He’s making me stand there and wait.

Time passes.

i wonder what’s going to happen next, if anything’s going to happen next.  Maybe He’ll just leave me standing here forever.  Again, my pussy throbs.   A shiver runs through me.

i shift my weight. 

Time passes. 

i had been impatient earlier, wanting Him to hurry up and do something.  Now, i’ve recognized He is doing something.   Maybe not what i want Him to do.  Not what i would have asked for.  But i’ve accepted it.  i’m not fighting it with my mnd anymore.

i think i could probably stand here forever.  i’m intensely aware of my body, of course.  i can feel the heat from the fireplace, it warms the right side of my body, not so much the left side.  But it’s warm in the room, and i’m not uncomfortable.

My skin is tingly.  i’m actuely aware of my own body parts – my breasts so exposed, my hands clasped, resting in the hollow at the small of my back.  Actuely aware of my ass, which He had spanked earlier.  Lightly spanked, love taps really, so it can’t be still warm, but it tingles too.    

As i wait, just standing there while He ignores me, the world fades away, nothing exists but Him.   i want to kneel, so badly.  i want to touch Him.  i know – i can almost feel – the texture of His jeans, how they’ll feel under my arms, if He lets me kneel and serve Him with my mouth. 

As if He can read my mind,  without even glancing up, He says, “Kneel.”

Delighted, carefully keeping my hands behind my back,  i lower my body so i’m kneeling on the blanket in front of Him.  

“Turn around,” He says.  “I want your back to me.”

Surprised, i scoot myself around so my back is to Him.  It feels odd, facing away from Him.  i close my eyes, and i can see Him in my mind.  That’s better.

But my back feels very exposed somehow.  My ass.  i’m very aware of my ass.  i can’t tell if He’s looking at me or not.  i’m trying to hold still. 

Now my other side, my left side, is closer to the fire, and the warmth feels good.  i wait. 

And then He says, “Bend over, aisha.”

Just for a moment, i don’t know if i can.  It seems like too much.  My pussy throbs – of course it does, any frigging possibility of attention makes her happy.  Such a slut.

And then i do, i bend over so my head is down.  My hands are still clasped behind my back.  My ass is raised , of course.  Exposed.  i can’t see Him.  Don’t even know if He’s watching me.

i whimper, just a tiny sound.  i feel  so open, so vulnerable.  i want Him to say something, do something.  Anything. 

And then….

 

Happy Thanksgiving

i have to start with Happy Thanksgiving, of course.   Albert Schweitzer said: 

“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.”

And that’s how i feel about youall, my community of fellow bloggers, and people who read my stuff.    You help keep the flame within me lit, and i so appreciate you for that.

Now that i’ve calmed down from all the angst and emotional distress i was feeling the last couple of days, i need to step back and think about it.  And i’ll do it here, because i think we – we subgirls – share so much of this type of experience.   And often our Doms already know how we are, so –

i’m not ashamed of what i was feeling last night and yesterday morning.  It’s like Greengirl said, (not in these words, but I think she meant) there’s something about relationships in the lifestyle that amplify my emotions, make me feel – and act – insecure and unstable. 

{Laughing}  i want to wear a sign that says:  “Not Normally Like This!”

But – partly thanks to feeling like youall understood how i felt – i’m not ashamed of it today.  And, um, partly due to my Sir, of course, who i’m now feeling intensely positive about. 

So i have some things to lay out and sort through.

First – what i’m writing today is about me.  i need to figure out what i need to learn from my thoughts and feelings, my reactions, my choices.  If there are things for my Sir to ponder, that’s His to do.  

This post is not about His friend either.  i’ll call her “S.”  i’ve felt jealous of her, and i can’t accept that in myself.  Being jealous of her is harmful to me.   There can always be enough love and caring to go around.  

i’m glad that He loves her.  That tells me that He’s capable of loving.  i’m glad that He hasn’t pushed her aside for me.  That tells me He’s capable of loyalty, that He’s trustworthy.  i hope  she loves Him as well.

It’s not always easy to hold that perspective.  When it’s difficult, it’s because of my own insecurity, not because of her.   

It’s possible that the bond between them is too tight for me to have the space i need for a relationship with Sir.   i don’t know.  If that turns out to be the case, then i’ll move on –  dealing with it gently, i hope, and with love.    (And probably crying and whining, having tantrums and stamping my feet on here…)

 

 

 

 

This was titled "small temper tantrum." You may notice it's a child. Possibly, um, childish behavior.

 

But this post is not about my Sir or about His friend.  It’s about where i am.   The things i need to sort about myself.

I”m pretty good at connecting and loving, and i’m not so bad at detaching and leaving.   i’m pretty good at accepting people just the way they are and not trying to change them, and i’m not so bad at saying,”That won’t work for me,” and turning my back on them.  i don’t even have to be at either extreme – i can hover in the middle, not sure which way i’m going, for a really long time.  

i’m not so good at negotiating in the middle space.  At {sigh} asking for what i want.  Telling people what i need.  i’ve been working on getting better at that for a long time.   Asking for something for myself can give me that sick, scared feeling in my stomach.  It’s not so much fear of being turned down, of not getting what i want.  i’m afraid i’ll be shamed for asking, chastized for wanting, rejected for needing.

Yikes – where’s JM, the amazing analyst, when i need him?

{Laughing}

You know, i think personal growth happens in a spiral.  So, that’s not new information for me.  But it’s information i’m meeting again at a different ring in the spiral. 

 

 

This is actually called the cosmic heart spiral (but I don't know why...)

 

So it’s not new psychological ground for me to say that my mother taught me to be like The Little Red Hen – “‘Then I will do it myself’, she said, and she did.”   Or that my father taught me that my ability to please him was only as good as tomorrow’s accomplishment. 

When i was married the first time, i actually did much better at negotiating and struggling to get my needs met and so on.  i learned a lot about how to do that – but not so much about succeeding at it.  So i left, after 16 years of pretty much beating my head against a wall.  Yes, we do marry our fathers.  And our mothers. 

And i promised myself never, ever to do that again.  Never to spend that much time trying to make a relationship work when i secretly knew it was doomed.  Never to let myself get in a situation where,  for a long time, leaving was not a good option.   Never to let a relationship be so unbalanced, like my first marriage was.     

Which might explain why my second marriage only lasted three years.  But that’s a story for a different day. 

Here’s my point.  (“About time,” you may be thinking)

Part of the responsiblity for my angst the other day is mine.  i was quick to decide he didn’t want to hear from me.  Yes, i built a good case for that – in my own head.  i didn’t ask Him.  i didn’t talk to Him.  i hinted, and hoped he’d respond the way i wanted Him to. 

When that didn’t happen, i began to withdraw.  And remember, i do that really well.  So i’m backing up rapidly, muttering to myself, “i don’t need this, i’m just fine by myself, He doesn’t want me anyhow…”

The problem is not that i felt that way.  i have a history of staying too long, of continuing to invest with very little return.  It’s ok for me to feel the way i feel.  It’s ok for me to look at protecting myself emotionally – we’re not in a heavily committed relationship.   If it doesn’t work for me over time, i will be backing out the door.

The problem is that i didn’t talk about it.  i didn’t call Him, even though i’d said i would.  By the time it was the day i’d said i would call, i’d convinced myself He didn’t want to hear from me.   i could have called, and said, “Hey, i almost didn’t call.  i’ve been thinking…” and told Him.  But i’d already withdrawn too much to even think about doing that.

And you know – ok – ding-ding-ding – here comes the moment of my personal insight. 

i talk about thinking He doesn’t want me, or doesn’t want to hear from me, and i act like that’s why i’m backing away.   That makes it sound like i need reassurance from Him maybe, doesn’t it? 

But that’s not it.  i’m not afraid that He doesn’t want me.

i’m afraid that He won’t be able, or won’t want, to give me what i need from a relationship.  AND –

here’s the big aha moment – if He can’t, or won’t, give me what i need in the relationship, then i secretly believe that proves there’s something basically wrong with me.  

Yep.  Hiding in the dark corner of my brain is the secret belief that if He doesn’t meet my relationship needs, it’s because there’s something dreadfully, basically, innately wrong with me. 

Whew.

Those aha moments are almost orgasmic  – the relief of dragging that out into the light of day.  NOW i can start to remind myself –

It wouldn’t mean that.  If what He offers in a relationship is not what i need, it doesn’t mean anything bad about either of us.

i know that, i know that, i know that!!! 

My head knows it, i have to remind my heart.  Over and over and over.

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.  May your day be happy and filled with blessings too numerous to count.  Mine certainly is…

Feeling Better…

Yes, already, magically, feeling better.  Sir IM’ed me this morning when he woke up.  And i told Him some of the things i’d been thinking and feeling.

And He told me to call Him. 

So i did.  And we talked.  i cried.  He listened.  He talked.  And that helped.

He really listens.  i appreciate that.

Then He told me to call Him at 7:30 tomorrow morning, my time.  Have i mentioned that i like being told what to do????  {Smiles}

Um, also, it’s not 15 more days.  It’s only 9.  In my angsty, sleep deprived state, i might have thought that this was actually last week. 

AND – Mick and Molly called me on their way to work.  That was so sweet.  Thanks, guys.

And thank you all for the support too, I really, really appreciate it.

Sigh.

And i feel much better, and now i need to go to work.  i’m so glad i proclaimed a jeans day today!

hugs,

aisha

Blues

 Have i mentioned that Sir D is on vacation in a Carribean paradise with a close friend and partner, with whom he has a strong, emotionally intimate bond?  That it’s been about 10 days since i’ve seen Him?  And will be another 15 days until i do again? 

i couldn’t sleep last night.  Couldn’t go to sleep.  Finally nodded off about 2:00, only to wake at my usual time, a couple of hours later.

Lots of relationship angst floating around in my brain.  i started a long post about it, then decided i’m not quite clear-headed enough to write something i could post.  Probably need to talk to Sir D anyhow.  And don’t want to do that by e-mail, don’t much want to do it on the phone.  Don’t want to interrupt His frigging vacation in a Carribean paradise, heaven forbid i make that experience less pleasant for Him in any way.  (That’s me talking, not Him, ok?  Cause i’m a dumb-ass.)

And damn it – i can’t seem to quit writing about it, can i? 

i need to close myself off to Him. 

Ok, i’m stopping now. 

i’m ok.  i’ll be fine.  i’m just tired and sad.  Most of my family won’t be here for Thanksgiving.  i’ve had an emotionally difficult week in some ways in my vanilla world – not bad, just challenging.  i want…

Damn it, i can’t stop, can i?  And you have no idea how much i’m deleting.  

i have lots of support systems.  i’ll be fine.

 Mick, mabye some blues to go with this????

Come Here

“Come here,” He says.

i don’t know what He wants. 

It doesn’t matter. 

In a flash, my thoughts are on Him, and my pussy’s wet. 

Yes.  That’s all it takes.