A woman of contradictions

Once upon a time I wrote...
I did warn you that the sea reminds me of my own turbulent spirit. Inviting you to dive in one minute and slamming you against the rocks the next. Are you tough enough to weather the gales? Those violent storms?

Shakespeare wrote in 'As You Like It'
"They are in the very wrath of love, and they will together;
clubs cannot part them"

I'm a woman of contradictions. I wonder if you have the strength to bring me to my knees. Many have tried. Few have succeeded. Like water I slip from their cupped hands.

And now I am restless.
Unsatiated.

I sat tonight, candles glowing on the mantle, the moon, a shadowy orb, illuminating the night outside, and thought of this. What would it take to break through this shroud that has covered my mind with darkness? I miss the shipping forecast. I miss the dreams I had of traveling across dark waters to find my peace. I'm unable to find the words to make that connection again. I feel far from myself, the self I used to be. I want to lash out, to get in my car and drive until I'm in a place that holds none of the familiar bonds that are forcing me to be grounded.

And yet I long to be stopped. To be forced by your hands into unwilling submission. I want you prove to me that you'll never let go. To fight for me. I want to feel the leathery bond as you slip it around me, pronouncing your dominion over me.

I want you to make me feel alive again.


Transient

The shipping forecast for tonight...
There are warnings of gales in Viking North Utsire trafalgar Shannon Rockall Malin Hebrides Bailey Fair Isle Faeroes and Southeast Iceland.

Listen to the BBC Shipping Forecast with me.


This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

 

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Early Hours

Night has given birth to a new morning. The faintest light has begun to creep against my window shades.

This is the hour when I miss you most. My body is still tingling from my dreams of you. I can still feel your hands on me. Those same hands that touched, first tentatively, then with growing urgency. I wonder if I would feel this longing for you if you were here. Would I pull away from you? Afraid to lose myself in your touch. Would I fear to let myself go and lose myself completely?

Sometimes the thought of it makes me shudder. I don't know that I can get myself back if I dare to venture into the depths that you have promised.

Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll just stop breathing.

Lost.
Only you would be able to bring me back.

But I think that you would not.


Helpless as a burning city,
how can I ignore that the extremes
of pleasure are fire storms
that leave a vacuum into which
dangerous feelings (tenderness,
affection, l o v e) may rush
like gale force winds
You Ask Why Sometimes I Say Stop
~~ Marge Piercy



Technorati Tags: intimacy, lovers, passion, relationships, romance, woodnotwood

Vamp!

The bath has been run, towels warmed and set aside. I lay immersed, my body glowing with electric heat as I hear his movements in the bedroom, the anticipation growing. I climb from the tub and dry myself. Walking into the bedroom I find them there waiting for me. Laid out with hands that know anticipation as great as my own. I drop my towel where I stand and move to the bed. I see then, his need for me.

Black. Lace. Garters.



Hands moving over me. I feel his need.
He is insatiable. His desire for me knows no contentment.
The need is a vacuous space begging to be filled. A void that screams angrily at its privation. Hunger that grows with each taste, each delicious nibble, until it becomes more insatiable with every tantalizing bite. Then it is. Ravenous. That something unfulfilled in the darkness of our long night.

Tonight is his choice.
Whatever he desires.
He will be fulfilled.

Every woman should look upon herself as a work of art, unfinished, unmolded.

At the start of every day, at the beginning of the evening, she is recreated. Women are creatures of diversity. We crave romance and creativity in our love lives. The one thing I think we all have in common is some need to feel sexy, to feel desired, and desirable.

I went searching through the toy stores and on-line catalogues for negligees and other delicious wearables that I thought might bring a little excitement to the bedroom. My biggest disappointment was that most of these stores use waif-like models to peddle their wares and, honestly, I'm a busty girl with a full figure to match. I wanted to see what naughty things look like on 'normal' women. I always check here first because they use models with different body types.




Personally I have found that the best way to get what I want is to take him with me. There is something incredibly erotic about wandering the aisles of a store, fingers touching lace and feathers, asking him what he likes. Sharing those things that turn him on is as important as finding the things that I like. And in truth I always get more when he goes with me. Once he has helped me pick out the outfits he likes, especially if I've had a chance to model them for him, I have found that cost is no obstacle when his libido is kicked into high gear.

Then I let him choose what I'll wear for him.
After all, this was shopping with purpose. Just whisper in his ear 'I'm going to go take a hot shower. You come pick out what you like and leave it on the bed for me. Tonight I'm all yours.'

Here's a great site to fill your head with fun ideas for fetish and fantasy.
trashy.com


Technorati Tags: Love, Intimacy, Relationships, Couples, Romance, Lingerie, Sex Shop, Lovers, Fetish, Beautiful

Meaning

Let me tell you this once
(I will not be able to say it again):
I have lost the meaning of words.
Heavy, they ripped
away from the sounds,
fell into cracked ground.
Naming~~ Nancy Mair




Lately it seems as if words have lost their meaning. Where once there was a wealth, seemingly endless, now there is a dearth. I feel emptied and exhausted.

I do wonder about the words we choose to use in our relationships. Words that have been uttered so many times that their meanings have lost any specific truth in our world. These words designed to hurt, we use again and again. Because they achieve a desired result. Their concrete meaning is no longer considered, they connect only to some Pavlovian reaction that has been learned over time.

And the words of love that used to penetrate? I long to feel their power again.
A wrenching power that could effect me in so many ways. Have I gone numb?
Have words lost their power over me. Have they lost their meaning?

Or am I lost?