Romance

I have been accused of being insensitive, and unromantic. It frustrates me to hear these words directed at me, as I view myself as a hopeless romantic.

I have spent my fair share of timemaking romantic dinners and scattering beds with rosepetals. But my favorite romantic things are always more about finding something different to do that the other person will really enjoy.

One of the most romantic things I ever did was for my ex-husband. It was his birthday and we were so pathetically poor that I had no money at all to do anything. So I decided to do something fun.

I baked a cake (and ingredients were scarce) and then I cut out the letters of HAPPY BIRTHDAY and on each letter I placed a clue that led to the next letter. The last letter was on his cake.

I woke him up and he followed the clues, all bewildered and finally found his cake. He laughed and dipped his finger in the icing and fed it to me. We embraced and kissed. It was a sweet and carefree moment and I still think it is one of the more romantic things I have done.

Perhaps the most romantic moment of my life was when Master surprised me with the most breathtaking scenery I had ever seen.

I arrived at his home and we did our usualy ritual greeting. The next morning had him dragging me out of bed at 6am. I was so sleepy, we had been up late playing and I had serious bedhead.

He pushed me into the shower and while I got clean he pulled out clothing and shoes for me. I toweled off and found a pair of comfy jeans and long sleeved shirt, with a hoody and thick quilted vest. Hikers and warm comfy socks for my feet. I groaned in mock tiredness and whimpered at him as he laughed and jumped in the shower. He knew I was getting curious.

Not long after we were in his car, picnic lunch in the backseat, hurling down the freeway. Master liked to drive fast and I thrill at the speed and his control of the vehicle. We are driving back towards my house and I wonder where we are going when he takes an exit I have never used before.

He is driving through countryside that is unfamiliar to me. I know what is north and south but we are heading west towards the ocean. I reach over and take his hand and ask in my sweetest lil gurl voice where we are going. His only response is a smile. I settle back in my seat and watch out the window. Curiosity gnawing away at me and making me fidget with impatience.

Now we are in sudden forest and I stare up at the tall trees appreciatively, I adore trees. A picnic in the forest maybe?

Just as sudden as the forest begins it ends and we are on bridge crossing between the land that was and the land that will be. I am stunned and my jaw drops. The bridge must be 500 Meters above the water that churns below. The cliffs drop sheer to the water.

Amazed at the wild beauty I cry out and point out a bald eagle. "Master look!" He smiles broader at my response.

On the other side of the bridge he parks and I jump out of the car.

"OH please! Please can we walk across the bridge!"

He seizes my hand saying absolutely and we walk back onto the bridge. Stopping at many spots to take photos and I hug him a bunch and breathe deep the scent of the forest and water and rocks.

He tells me what this place is, Deception Pass and tells me a bit of history about it. I can tell he is pleased that I am so happy with his surprise.

Eager to explore he allows me to scramble down the path to the water and I perch on a rock over the water looking up at the bridge above me. Stunning to see the metal bolted to the cliff walls and spanning the distance between them.

He takes my picture as I am gazing up at them, I turn and smile at him and slipping down from the rock I skip over and hug him again.

To soon it is time to go and we clamber back up the cliff to the car. I sigh as I settle into the seat and grasp Masters hand, kissing his fingers, grateful for this moment with him.

He continues driving west and we end up in this tiny lil town, sitting on a pier and eating the tuna fish sandwiches he packed for us. I swing my feet out over the water happy and content and loving the sunshine and the beautiful moment. Loving him and that he took the time to think of what I would like to do.

Later we wander through the tiny downtown shops just looking at things and goofing around.

Maybe this doesn't fit some ideas or romance, but it sure made my heart melt!

Fetish

I have a fetish. A fetish for an everyday thing, a fetish that I struggle to contain.

I have a hand fetish.

I work in a corporate world.

I shake hands on average 100 times a day.

I am aroused by a handshake on average 100 times a day.

This is not so much a problem as a minor annoyance.

And then there are THOSE handshakes.

THOSE handshakes are the ones where my tiny hand is enveloped completely in the large, strong, grasp of a man whose eyes I meet and feel the sharp sting of my true nature slam into me like a barbed flogger.

They do not happen often. When they do happen in my corporate world I must remain composed. I can allow no slips. This is my career. I feel anguish in those moments for the missed opportunity, there is nothing I can do about it. It is what it is.

When they happen in the kink community I am always stunned and allow myself to lean closer and catch their scent (another fetish). I hold on slightly longer. The handshake becomes an intimate embrace and I feel their gaze pressing into me. My eyes hold thiers and I throb with the intensity of my desire.

This happened to me at the last Fraser Valley Munch.

I flushed after, I blush very red and very deep. His attention had turned away again so his icey blue eyes did not perhaps catch my entire reaction. My heart was racing so hard I was certain the girl sitting beside me would comment on the Taiko drummer.

I slipped away to a safer position, watching him from the other side of the room. Enjoying cuddles and caresses. It is rare I am not being cuddled at a munch.

The love of the cuddle and carress merely feeds my hand fetish. I am touch and held and petted and hold hands. It is amazing how it both arouses and soothes me at the same time.

My brain would not allow me to let go of the handshake and that auto erotic response.

The end of the evening came.

I stood near him. Inhaling his scent, offering a handshake again. Which he accepted, sending my senses reeling. Oh! That strength! He is warm, tall, and strong. His hands, oh his hands... I want to kiss them! Worship those warm strong hands and feel them touch me. I have an image of him bending me over his knee and running his hand over my ass. My skin so soft under his firm touch. His hand that turns from a caress to a swat, to an all out spanking that has me giggling and gasping. Maybe I would dissolve into tears... That is rare, but possible.

Ah! How frustrating to merely smile and say I hope to see him again. What I really want is to beg him to pay attention to me.

Please sir may I have some more?
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Envoyé sans fil par mon terminal mobile BlackBerry sur le réseau de Bell.

Sexy Kisses

So close we are nearly touching, I can feel her breath on my cheek.

She moves to kiss me and I pull away, grinning, teasing.

Her hand tangles in my hair and she pins me.

Captured, she pushes her tongue into my mouth and claims it for her own.

Breathless, sucking gently at her lips and tongue.

She releases me, to my dismay, and I sit there.

Senses reeling.

Heart thrumming like a panicked animal caught in my chest.

I lean toward her, caress her cheek.

Her chin held in my fingertips, other hand stroking lightly down her throat.

My kisses soft, teasing, tongue darting out to taste her lips.

Her soft moans urging me onward.

Kissing her throat, littlest nibbles on her pale smooth skin.

Her scent is intoxicating..

Ah cherie, this is joy!

Breathe

He holds me down firmly against the futon matress tossed careless onto the floor in the basement.

It smells faintly musty from disuse. Fear is making me struggle against him. My hips rocking up and pressing against his stomach. This serves to push him further and his hand tangles in my hairn yanking hard and making me gasp.

Nipples erect and rubbing against the rough and dusty cover. I know my wetness gives me away, my clit is hard and trembling with anticipation.

He pushes his hardness into my softness and claims my pleasure for his own. Two hard strokes and I am crying out as my orgasm shakes me.

More, harder, please.
Sent wirelessly from my BlackBerry device on the Bell network.
Envoyé sans fil par mon terminal mobile BlackBerry sur le réseau de Bell.