If you’re ever inclined to watch me unravel at your words, to reduce me to a panting animal, simply make me tell you all the things I want to do to you with my mouth. How would you ‘make’ me? Easy, I’d let you say pretty things in hushed tones and push your fingers inside…
The stockings are hung, the roast beast is acquired, the Grinching is slowly abating and the cocktails are flowing. It must be Christmas. It has been a big year here at VF Headquarters, lots of learning and sharing, a lot of writing and photos, much self discovery and some great connections with amazing people. I’m…
My Love, When I begin to dream about that house on the bluff with all the windows, I know it’s time to reach out to you. Three dreams in three weeks, each time you’re just outside of where the light ends, shadow walking, sometimes so tangible, other times not.
When it’s dinner time here, he’s going to bed there. We say goodnight, always a drawn out and adoring bit of texting or Skyping, and when I set down my phone I have to let him go.
I need you. I need you here, in my bed, your hands traveling over my feet and ankles, my calves, the notches behind my knees.
I have perfected watching you. You hardly know I do it and I doubt you’d truly mind if you noticed.
“My fingers will trace the line of your lips, that Cupid’s bow empty of arrows, all of which I have caught.”