Boarding the bus, we claimed the back seat,
seeking the cover of night’s inky cloak —
So no one would see your hand slip into
my jeans, fingers searching out my heat.
Palming a small vibrator, you slowly stroked
me to wetness, and only the streetlights knew.
You guided my hand between your thighs,
where your warm, exposed penis occupied
my attention. The lust built up, so sweet
and thick ’til we came closer to our stop.
We zipped our desire back in the discrete
shell of acceptable appearance, and hopped
down the stairs onto the glittering, black street,
watching the red taillights become tiny dots.
Continuing on with my poetry challenge…to try each of the types listed on the Poet’s Garret website…Today was:
The Alfred Dorn Sonnet
a. b. c. a. b. c. … d. d. … a. e. a. e. a. e.
This is also a Wicked Wednesday post. The prompt was Valentine’s Day, but as nothing very exciting happened that day…we both had to work…we went out over the weekend instead…just out for some music and friends. We drank a bit and chose to take the bus home. And…well…you know what happened now, don’t you? This was just the beginning of a great night. A bit of D/s play seems to be popping its head up here and there. This was one of those nights. After a previous post exposing my jealousy over Mr. LL’s dominant demands of a potential “person of interest”, he decided that I was asking for it…and told me to be careful about what I wished for…I just might get what I deserved.
We certainly have all the makings of a D/s relationship. For now…it’s an experiment…a trial – for both of us. Will I like it? Do I want it all the time or just on occasion? How could it change the dynamic of our marriage? Will it affect areas of our life outside of the bedroom?
I suppose, as with anything, we make of it what we want. We take an idea and morph and mold it until it works for us.
I guess that is what we are doing. I can say, I like the “I’ll take what I want when I want” attitude he’s been showing. Today, on his way out the door for work, he cornered me in the laundry room, pulled down the front of my pants, fingered me for a few seconds…turned me around and bent me over the washer…and continued to probe…just enough to wind me up – and then kissed me goodbye and left. On his way out, he said, “Write me something good and dirty.”
Your wish is my command, love.
Visit Wicked Wednesday to see who else is being wicked.