Sir Goes Shopping

We were having vegetarian pot pie for dinner last night ~ yes, i cooked, i do occasionally ~ and i was glad that i didn’t put it in the oven before Sir got home, because He was running a little late.

He comes in carrying a plastic shopping bag and looking quite pleased.  “I went to the Dom store on the way home,” He says.

i smile,  “Yeah?  What’dya get?”  i know He means the hardware store, so i don’t quite know what to expect.

“Look!” He says, pulling it out of the package.  “I’ve been wanting one of these for a long time!  And it was on sale today.”

 
“What is it?” i ask.

“It’s a LOCK,” He says.  “A big padlock.  I’ve been wanting one for that rope collar you wear sometimes.  There’s a smaller one I was looking at, this one’s kind of big, but it was on sale.”  He grins.  “And I think it will create some  ~” he hesitates ~ “some sensation for you when you wear it.”

i can only nod.  “i’m sure it will.”  i imagine the weight of it around my neck.  Yikes.

He unwraps it.

It is big.  And shiny.

“It’s going to look great!” He says.  “Look.  Let me get that collar and I’ll show you.”

Yes, i have to agree, it t does look nice, doesn’t it?

“And,” He says, “It’s really going to look good when you wear it to the munch!  Don’t you think?”

i’m smiling, “Um, yes.  Yes, Sir, it certainly will.”

“Here,” He says, “Let’s try it on.”

He puts the collar around my neck.  Attaches the padlock.

Locks it.

Settles it gently on my chest.  It rests on my skin like it belongs there.

“That looks great!” He says.  “I really like it.”

i do too.  There is something intensely sensual about it.

i’m totally aware of it.  It’s heavy.  He says it doesn’t even weigh a pound, and He’s probably right, but it’s heavy.  We talk about how heavy it really is.

He says,”If I put THAT on the chain between your nipple clamps then you’d really think it was heavy.”

Wide-eyed at the very idea, i say, “Ho-ney!  That’s kinda, gosh, that’s kinda mean, isn’t it?  For you?  Sir?  It’s really heavy!”

He says, “Well, I’ve been hanging rings on the chain.  I could do it with this too.”

I say, “Hon-ey!  It would pull the nipple clamp off for sure!”

“No, I don’t think it would,” He says.

“Yes, it would,” i insist.

“Not if I put it on tight enough,” He says.

i’m walking out of the room towards the study, looking for my glasses, and on the way out of the kitchen, i say, “I don’t think so.  I bet you couldn’t  put clamps on tight enough that this padlock wouldn’t pull them off!”

He says, with just a hint of laughter in His voice, “Really?  I bet I can.”

i freeze in mid-step.   O.  Shit.  What did i just say??  Damn.  Can i take it back?

Too late.  i turn to look at Him, see His grin.  

Challenge accepted.  

i just don’t know when the games will begin.

 

Not Just Another Monday

It’s my last Monday at my current job.  My first Monday living with Sir.

Last night, we celebrated changes in  true kink fashion, with a little play.  It involved ropes, and canes, of course, and yes, nipple clamps.

Yesterday, when i was trying to find a picture of the bamboo style nipple clamps, Sir helped me find the last one.  He knew i was working on the blog, and He commented on the fact that i was looking for clamp pictures.

i think He was hinting that He wanted to know why i wanted the picture, but He didn’t ask.

Last night, though~ we were in the kitchen, drinking coffee, getting ready for a pre-play shower {for me.}  He says, “You know, I helped you find that picture yesterday.  What were you blogging about?”

Me:  {pause}  Nipple clamps.

Him:  Nipple clamps.  Yeah.  I figured that.  What about nipple clamps?

Me:  Um, um you know, using them.

Him:  Using them?  As in how much you love them and want me to use them?  Or hate them, and hope i never use them again?

Me:  {laughing…}  Not exactly.  Well, maybe kind of.  You wanna read it?

So He did, and smiled at Sin’s comment that they were bells not weights.  “I think she’s right,” He says.  “They are bells, but they look like they have some weight too.”

So needless to say, nipple clamps were also featured last night.  Not the evil ones made out of canes, but these:

And after He has them on, really tight, He pulls out a metal circle ~ like a huge key ring ~ with different size metal circles hanging from it.  He takes two off.

“Look,” he says, clinking them together, “just like bells.  Right?”

“Um, yes, Sir,” i say, because when your hands are bound and you’re tied to the door, what else would you say?

And ~ amazingly,  just as He had predicted ~ they were weights too.  Two of them were heavy, and added a new level of pain to the experience.  

Four of them more than doubled the sensation.

He made me bounce a little to jiggle them so they clanged together, sounding like bells.  He liked that a lot.

And leaning forward with them on?  O!  That was an experience worth gasping at.

So did i write the blog post hoping He’d read it?  Or hoping that looking for the pictures with me would inspire Him?  

Nah.  It was just a fantasy. 

Laughing…

Yes…

Yes, we made it safely to Where-the Event-Is.  And Sir said i was a good driver, and not particularly like a pace car driver.  {So there, ‘Nilla.}

Yes, we’re having fun.

It is trickier using a computer with leather, fur-lined cuffs on than you might think.  The thickness is disconcerting, and the loose end of the strap gets in the way.  But having been required to sleep in them, i’m pretty sure i’m not supposed to jump out of bed and take them off.

i’m writing this from the social area, along with a few other early risers ~ although much later than my usual blogging time.

Last night is a blur of images and sensations…

Rope. 

Wrapped around my chest, between my legs, raising my breasts, pressing against me, making me wet….

Arms suspended above me, attached to a wooden frame.

Legs spread wide.

And canes.  My ass burning as the canes land, flesh already warm and pink from His hand.

Then the nipple clamps, pinching ~ mmmm ~  ahhhh!  The pain ebbs and flows, distracted by my stinging ass, His hand in my hair, His mouth…

Sensations.

Lots of Rope

Lots of rope in my life these days ~ particularly last night.  

Sir had been working all day, so i went to his house.  i knew He was tired, so i was delighted when he said we were going out to eat.  That was lovely, and when we got back to His house ~

 He whisks my coat away and sits me down in his old office chair.  It has arms and wheels.  {I was going to post a picture of what it was like, but apparently they don’t make them anymore.  And anyhow, it doesn’t matter.}  Suffice to say, i am quickly tied to it.

A rope around my chest holds me securely, wrists fastened to the arms leave no room for escape.  “Playing cowboys and Indians?” i comment and He just laughs.

After i’m tied, He unbuttons my shirt, pulls my breasts out so the nipples are exposed.  Attaches the nipple clamps, tightens them.   Asks if they’re even.  

“Yes, Sir!!” is my hearty response.  “Perfectly even, thank you for checking!!”

“Comfortable?” He asks.

“Mmmmhmmm.  Yes, Sir.”  While He wrapped me, i had been thinking about a blog post someone wrote ~ i can’t remember who now ~ about whether or not being tied up is like being hugged.  i smile, yes, it is like being hugged, a long caressing hug.

“Good,” He says, “Don’t go anywhere.  I’m gonna take a shower.”

And i laugh, cause i should have known that was coming.  

For a moment i think, “What if there’s a fire?” and then i laugh at myself, cause i’m on wheels, i could scoot straight down the hall to the open bathroom door ~ an open door through which clothes are flying at the moment, landing in a heap at the end of the hall.  

A shoe.  Another shoe.  Socks.  i’m giggling, watching this invisible strip tease.

And then i have time.  Time to savor the feeling of rope around me.  Time to wonder why He’s left me clothed, except for my breasts with the clamps attached, which are not too painful, but not quite forgettable either.

My quote i chose for the day yesterday was:

“Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!” 
~~ Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

Tied to the chair, unable to do anything, i have time to slide into that timeless space, the magical space betwixt and between parts of my life.  Carving out room to just be, and, even better, to just be His.

i wonder for a moment if He’s going to untie me to get my clothes off, but i let the thought flit through my mind.  No need for me to be concerned with that.  

i watch my nipples, the chain between the clamps hanging down.  i listen to the water from the shower.  i feel myself growing wet, moist and fully compliant.

i wait…

Doing the Happy Dance…

Last night i felt His dominance in all its lovely power.

From the collar and cuffs ~ o, such a wonderful feeling, as He buckles them ~ to the rope, pulled tightly around me…  from my flogger, which really caresses, to the full slap and sting of His belt… it was all lovely. 

He makes me lie down on my back, with my knees bent, legs open, arms at my side.  Then He ties my wrist cuffs to my ankle cuffs.

Yeah.

Splayed out, unable to move.  No doubt about who’s in control here.

The wooden spoon ~ o, yikes ~ tapping between my legs ~ O ~ O ~ and then my body suddenly relaxes.  All tied up, i had been a little tense, now, my body settles comfortably, opens to Him.

There is more, so much more… a feast of kinky delight.

Nipple clamps ~ did i want the right one tighter, looser, or the same? 

“The same, Sir, please,” i say.

“Like this?” as He puts the right one on.

Me, gasping ~ “O, i think that’s tighter.”

Sir ~ “But you wanted them the same, right?”

“Yes, Sir,”

“Then i guess I’d better tighten up this other one.”

O, yikes!!

Laughing…  after that, when He asks if one clamp is tighter than the other, i say, “Yes, Sir!  They’re the same!  Exactly the same, Sir.”

His hand in my hair… ahhhhh.  i love, love, love that.  Right at the nape of my neck.  The slightest tug sends waves of  pleasure through me.

And kneeling, tucked between His legs, caressing, licking …. feels like coming home.

This morning, aching nipples, rope marks on my torso, my heart is dancing with joy.

After Starbucks

i’m familiar with this particular Starbucks, i’ve stripped in this bathroom before.  i move quickly.  

Order coffee, hit the bathroom and i’m out of my panties in moments.  Wearing a skirt this time makes it easier than when i was already there in my blue jeans and got the instructions.

The air outside is cool, but not too bad, and my nakedness under the skirt feels right.  i drive quickly, confident i can find His house.

From the driveway, i see the scene is set.

There is the coffee table, the one i was tied to before.  In the center of the table is a sturdy wooden spoon.

My pussy clenches.

O, my.

i ‘m so impressed, i want a picture of it.  It turns out horrible, but here it is:

You can see, we tried to light it without using the flash.  Which didn’t work at all.  

And then i get distracted and don’t care about a picture anyhow.

But you can see what a big, solid spoon that is!  And just the lightest tap leaves marks on my poor butt, as i discover when He bends me over the table, alternates between His hand and the spoon.   

The marks are gone today, but my nipples are still tender from the torture He inflicts on them.  

He’s working on binding my breasts with rope, but when it doesn’t go the way He wants, He stops.  He concentrates on clamping my nipples, pulling and tugging them.

When i moan, comment that it hurts, He raises an eyebrow.  “When i was being nice to this nipple,” He says, looking at the nipple He’s grasped tightly between His thumb and index finger, “You were complaining that this nipple was bored.”  He tugs upward, raising my breast.  “Do you remember that?”

“Yes, Sir…”

“Do you want to go back to that?   i can just leave this nipple alone.”

“No, Sir…” reluctantly i drag the words out.

And He redoubles his effort to squish the nipple completely… while i moan and whimper.

He moves me like a puppet ~ bend here, sit there, open wider…  The Phallus is cold, but not for long.

i am sated before He allows me to please Him.  i am learning the ways that He likes, and enjoy the pleasure He takes in using me ~

til we end cuddled on His couch, His arms around me, my body wrapped around  Him.

Mmm.  So content.

Diabolical

i sent Him my poem, just a few hours before He came over last night.  

i got His instructions ~ He was coming here, i should have my mat ready, and wear “panties and buttons,” which clearly means a shirt with buttons and nothing else but panties, instructions that are easy to follow.

He said He wanted to fondle me right away.  It seemed His mind was working on the same lines as mine, so i sent Him the poem.

He may have already planned every thing He did last night, or He may have tweaked it after He got the poem.  In either case, here’s a little piece of what happened.

i’m on my mat in front of Him  ~ He’s on the couch.

The collar is first.  When He attaches the padlock, which lays cold on my chest, i feel that first lovely slip into submission.  Thoughts, worries, the rest of the universe begin to disappear.

“Give me your hands,” He says.  He wraps them in rope, a metal ring in the middle, between my hands. He’ll attach me to the door with this ring later, pull my hands  high above my head, while He spanks me.  

Now He plays with me for a little bit, teasing my nipples, stroking my hair, touching wherever He wants.

Then He gathers my hair, pulls it together into a little ponytail, high on my head.  He fastens it with a coated rubber band.  

My hair is bound tightly.

A short piece of rope is next, wrapped securely, knotted into my hair.  A metal ring is fastened into that as well.  i don’t know if i’m to be attached to something or ~

~ if He just plans to use it to direct me.  A slight tug on the rope moves my head back quite sharply, raises my chin immediately.

i whimper, slipping deeper.

He has me put my hands behind my head.  Tied together, i don’t have to remember to keep them up, they’re quite secure.  Not uncomfortable.

And i’m fully exposed.

Nipple clamps are next.  

They have a metal chain between them, and He’s attached a piece of rope to the middle of the chain.  He has me hold the rope in my mouth while He fastens the clamps.

 i think He’ll have me open my mouth and drop the rope, and the chain will pull, and omg, it’s not tennis shoes, but i’m a wimp about nipple clamps, and i think that will hurt enough.

But o, no.

He has much more diabolical plans.

Yes.  Diabolical.

Once He gets the clamps securely fastened, He pushes my head down so my chin is lower, toward my chest.  Then He adjusts the rope in my mouth so it’s taut.

It doesn’t hurt, i can feel it a little bit, and of course i can feel the clamps, but i’m ok. i’m fine.

Head down, hands fastened behind my head, clamps on my nipples, rope in my mouth, and i’m fine.

He goes on to other things.  

A rope harness for my hips, the rope running between my legs, rubbing against my clit.

He checks often to see how wet i am, and i don’t disappoint Him.  He is pleased.

But at some point, my neck starts to get stiff.  i raise my head to stretch it, with the rope between my teeth, attached to the chain, attached to the nipple clamps ~~ and it pulls.  

It pulls my breasts up by the nipples.

OUCH.

He smiles.

i put my head back down pretty quickly, marveling at how diabolical a plan He’s worked here.  Stretch my neck ~ immediate nipple pain.  Avoid the nipple pain ~ aching neck.

But if i thought i could avoid the nipple torture by keeping my head down, no matter how stiff my neck got ~ which really, i couldn’t have anyhow ~ but even if i could have, it wouldn’t have worked because ~

There is the hair bondage, and the rope attached to my hair ~

~ and He tugs it slightly ~

~raising my chin, lifting my eyes to His smiling face.

“Feel that?” He says casually.

“Mmmpft,” is all i can really say with the rope in my mouth.

“Yeah, I imagine that hurts a little bit,” He says.

“Uh ittle it?” i mumble.

“O, more than a little?”  He asks. 

i grunt “‘es ir, ~ uh ot,” meaning “a lot.”

“Does it now?” He says, tugging a couple of more times before He releases my hair.

“mmmhmmm” is about all i can say.  But i’m laughing at the same time, He’s so calm about it, so gentle.

And then He just casually goes on to other things!  

i lose track of when He lets me drop the rope…  was it when He had me pressed to the door, ass out, spanking me?  i know the clamps were still on, can’t remember if the rope was still in my mouth…

i don’t know.

It doesn’t matter.

He did things to me for a long time, interspersing it all with orgasms, pain and pleasure so mixed…

and thinking about it now,

nipples sore,

my whole body tingling still,

all i want is to do it all over again.

i am a greedy slut.  

And He is a diabolical Dom.

Following Instructions

He sends them in parts ~ the first one comes as i’m on my way to work.  i’m to text him when i leave work.   He’ll meet me at my house.  i will only need a t-shirt and panties.  

A second message advises me to turn up the thermostat.

O, my.

i text Him about 12:30.  His response says i should have a light lunch.  He’ll be there at 2:00.  More instructions will be sent at 1:30.

O.  My.

At 1:30, i get the next message.  It starts:

“Get the dildo of your choice.  Lie down on your bed.”

It goes on from there, with a string of directions that involve touching myself and pinching my left nipple {not the right one} in a variety of ways.  Cumming is not included.

It ends with me lying on my bed with the dildo inside me,  while i “relax and wait” for Him.  i am to leave the door unlocked, and He will be there between 2:00 and 2:10.  

{Yes, it’s perfectly safe to leave the door unlocked in my neighborhood.  Really.}

So i do it, i do it all, going to the door to unlock it before i get started.  It’s an odd sensation, deeply arousing, lying there all turned on, waiting for Him.  i have chosen Big Blue, my vibrator dildo, because The Phallus is too unwieldy to use myself.

i hear the car door slam.  My heart is racing.  Then ~

~ knocking.  i hear knocking.

Knocking???  Why is He knocking?  i left the door unlocked.

Why doesn’t He just come in?

Why is He still ~~ i know i unlocked ~~ ok, ok ~~

so i get up, dildo still in place, holding it with one hand, i waddle to the door and discover ~

o, yeah.  i had locked it.

i can’t help giggling as i open it, mostly at the sight i must present, with Big Blue held between my legs and, lucky for me, He has a sense of humor ’cause He just shakes His head.

“You locked the door,”  He says.  

“i know, i  know, i didn’t mean to, i don’t know how i did that!  i know i unlocked it, i must have just locked it back when i closed it, it’s such a habit, i didn’t mean to!”  And i’m still half-giggling.

He’s holding His bag and He sets it down in the doorway and kisses me before He adds, “Get back in the bedroom where you’re supposed to be.”

So i hobble back to the bedroom, and in a minute He joins me, still shaking His head.

Also lucky for me, He doesn’t hold a grudge, and He spends the rest of the afternoon playing with me.  Yep.  Just playing with me in all kinds of different ways.  There was spanking and rope and orgasms ~ and i won’t share most of that here, but ~

~ there was the nipple thing.  The thing with my nipples.  The right one being pampered and spoiled, the left one being tugged on, bitten, and pinched.

At one point, He’s twisting it ~ the left one ~ like He does before He pinches it really, really hard, and i say ~ anticipating the pinch ~ “This is going to hurt,” which is what He always says before He does it.  That amuses Him, and He gently corrects me,

“No, I tell you when it’s going to hurt.  You don’t tell me.”  And He’s laughing indulgently.  “See?” He says.  “It doesn’t hurt right? I mean, not really.”

“Right,” i agree, watching Him tug and twist a little more.  He looks at me, pauses, and says ~

“NOW it’s going to hurt.”  And He pinches really, really hard, making me squeal.  Then He adds, “See how that works?  It hurts when I say, not when you say.”   

“Yes, Sir,” i gasp, “i think i get that now.  Yes, Sir.”

So i appreciate that little lesson, as i should.  But as He continues, my poor, neglected right nipple just feels ~ well, neglected.  And of course He keeps talking about it, comparing the treatment each nipple is getting.  

The tender kisses and licks He gives the right one are nice enough, but really, she wants a little pinch too.  So i say that.

Ok, no, i’m not thinking clearly, but you wouldn’t have been either.  So, yeah, i say she wants to get pinched too.  

At the moment i say that, the left nipple is being firmly held erect by a clothespin, so really, i don’t know why i think He’ll give the right one a little squeeze.  A tug.

But no, He starts rooting in His bag.  “Well, since you ask,” He says, “I think I might have another clothes pin in here.  Let me see…”

And i say, “O!  Clothespin?? O ~ i didn’t mean, um ~~” and He looks surprised, “But you said she wanted  a little pinch, and I think I can do that…”

And of course He finds the other clothespin, and the next thing i know, the right nipple is no longer feeling neglected.

Laughing… we had a lovely time, and then we cuddled for a long time too, and talked about all kinds of things.

This morning, both my nipples are a little sore.  Sore and happy.

What Did It Mean?

So what did it mean – that little fantasy about ‘Nella, {which you must remember really had nothing to do with me or ‘Nilla.}  Sin asked in the comments yesterday.

And that’s what my Sir wanted to know Saturday night, when He had me tied to His coffee table and was interrogating me about it.  One hand on a nipple, the other playing with my exposed pussy, fingers probing and all.

It was kinda hard to think.  Of course, that amused Him.  “I know it’s hard to think,” He says.  “I want it that way.  That’s so you have to say whatever’s in your mind, you can’t filter it.”

Fortunately, i had already thought about it.   After all, i was a little surprised at the fantasy myself.   It had appeared fully developed in my mind, demanding to be written.

Of course, it was partly your fault, and ‘Nilla’s.  You commenters were the ones who suggested that Sir X should have spanked me even though ‘Nilla was here that night.  Then ‘Nilla emailed me that she would have gone for a walk while He did ~ and written a story in her head called “The Spanking” ~

And then, the fantasy appeared.

It’s clearly a sensual humiliation piece.  Being spanked has an element of humiliation anyhow, and being spanked in front of a friend?  Whew.   Ups that ante immensely.

i think of sensual humiliation as something that’s kind of embarrassing, but turns you on, and then you’re embarrassed because it turns you on, and then that’s humiliating, so it turns you on even more and ~ on and on, right?  This story has that ~ and still has it a bit as i write about it.

Also, there’s a strong “being controlled” element that gets me in the fantasy.  When Sir Z points out that alisha has agreed to do what He says when she’s wearing the collar?  Even when He just tells her “wait here” while He gets the bag out of the car.  Very hot, from my perspective.

And there’s an element of objectification.  alisha is not consulted about what’s happening, not asked what she thinks about it.  When Sir Z starts talking about her to ‘Nella, that factor is there.  alisha is just an object to be discussed.

i think i managed to explain some of this to Sir X, as He was controlling and objectifying me there on His coffee table.   He listened carefully.

“So,” He says.  “This sensual humiliation thing, getting spanked in front of a friend would do it, right?”

i agree, or maybe i’m just moaning, it’s hard to say.

“Well,” He continues, “Does it have to be a woman?  Does it have to be a friend?  Could it be a stranger?”

i gasp, “O, um, yeah, no, um, could be a stranger.”

“Hmmm,” He is thoughtful.  “What about 15 strangers?  Could it be 15 strangers?  Would that do it?”

And i don’t know if my “Omigod,” is in response to His hands or His words or both.

“Um, i guess, um, i guess it could,” i stammer.

“Well,” He says, “I guess we’ll have to see when we go to this thing in February, this Winter Wickedness.”

And that was the end of the discussion, thank goodness.

Faithful wanted to know what happened with The Phallus.  You know, tied up as i was on the table, He put it to good use…

AND ~ omigosh, i had almost forgotten this ~ while He was probing my depths, so to speak, He says something like:

“So would it have to be spanking in front of strangers?  Or would something like this count too?  Would it be “sensual humiliation” if I were to do this in front of 15 strangers?”

At this point, my thought processes aren’t quite clear enough to fully register the question, much less answer, i am pretty much reduced to moaning with an occasional, O, mmmm, yes, omigod… o, yes.

And Winter Wickedness is a long way off.  i’m not worrying about that today.  

AND ~ i almost forgot to tell youall ~ as i’m lying there, helpless and exposed, He suddenly shows me this ~ thing ~ these long sticks, two of them, and  He says “Do you remember what these are for?’

i don’t, for a long minute, i know i should, but i don’t ~

Two long sticks, something wrapped around the middle, holding them together, little things at each end, holding them closed there too ~ now what was it…???

~  and then ~ o, then i do, i remember, so i shout it out, feeling all triumphant ~ “For NIPPLES!”

And He smiles sweetly, “That’s right,” and then i realize, o, shit ~ for nipples.  Omigod.

An Adventure to Come (Cum?)

i was already in bed last night when my Sir sent me an email describing His plans for me tomorrow.  But i wake up about 3 this morning (which i’ve been doing, but i don’t actually get up, it’s an “o, good, it’s not time yet,  roll over and go back to sleep” moment) but i’ve been checking my email in that moment before i roll back over and ha!  There is this message from Him.  Nice…

~~ so i read it.

Saturday night is our regular time together, and He gives me some hints of things to look forward to.  He suggests that my nipples should anticipate attention ~ which ~ just reading that makes them stand up immediately.  

He says that He feels He can judge the harshness of the welt he will leave on my ass now – from one that fades immediately to a 2 hour welt to a 24 hour one, which is the most i’ve experienced so far. 

He says that when i feel i’m ready for a 2-day welt, i’m to ask Him for it nicely, not forgetting to say Sir.

And as i read that, a shiver runs through me.  The kind that clutches at my spine, and makes my pussy clench.

Yikes.

Then, He has a suggestion for Saturday afternoon.  He has to work during the day this week.   i am downtown in the morning for my volunteer gig, and then i go to breakfast with my fellow volunteers.  He works downtown.

So He suggests that we get together for lunch ~ He says,

“This midday lunch will involve no food, I have only sexual intentions.”  

And another shiver runs through me.  

He wants me to bring the pocket rocket.

Yikes.i get through reading the email ~ which says other things too, on vanilla topics ~ and i can’t quit smiling.

i lay awake a few minutes just enjoying the anticipation, til i fall peacefully back to sleep.