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Wednesday, July 21, 2004

It is five thirty in the morning.  Please bear with me if I am a little incoherent, as I have had very little sleep.  This just keeps running through my mind, and I need to say it before my courage fails me.

What he wants?  To control his environment, his destiny, perhaps me.

What I want?  To trust enough to surrender that control.  To hand over the decisions, at least for a while.  To allow myself to feel, to be held, touched.
To wear stockings and spike heels.  To be kissed all over.  To kiss him all over.  To begin at his earlobes and work my way down to his knees, kissing, licking, sucking.  To be touched in places no one has touched me in decades. 
To be propped up on pillows and have icy cold lube dripped on me, in me. 
Holding, touching, hugging, caressing, feeling, fondling, pressing, pinching, kissing, licking, biting, sucking, binding, pulling, stretching, clamping, clipping, piercing, penetrating.  All the ways one can be touched.
Marking - temporary or permanent. 
I want to let go and give him those choices.  I want to believe.  I want to trust again.

Come to me.
Bring rope.


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