Sweet solemnity...

I can't do this anymore.

What? you say, distracted, looking around from your desk at me sitting crosslegged on your bed.

This I reply, gesturing with open arms to you and I. I can't do this anymore.

There is no this, you say.

I know. That's what I can't do anymore.

But ... Your face is filled with confusion and I can see that you are surprised. I was going to stick around forever, right?


I sigh.


Can you really be that blind? Do you really not see what's going on here?

You sigh and put your head in your hands for a moment.

Of course I know, you say, I just didn't want to say anything and lose this, tenuous though it is.

I shrug. Well I can't do it anymore. It meant something to me. And I find it really difficult to believe that it didn't mean something to you too. To be honest, I don't think you're being honest with yourself. But that's your prerogative.


We are silent.


I don't want to lose you, you say.

I shrug.

You already have. I'm already gone.

But you're here, you say, hope tinging your voice.

Only to tell you that I'm gone. You don't understand. You don't know what it's like to think of you every time I see a sex scene in a movie, or see my friends kiss, or every time I get into bed. You're the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the only way I can fall asleep is to imagine your arms around me. I want to text you twenty times a day, and hear your voice ten times a day. I am constantly having flashbacks to us when we were away, what it was like to be able to be close to you, to look up at you while you were inside me, to connect with you like that. And I'm always imagining what it would be like to be allowed to kiss you whenever I like, or sit with you to make it clear that I'm yours.

Do you know what that's like? I'm torturing myself every day with something that can never happen.

You get up and come to sit in front of me. You take my hands.

You're right, I don't know what it's like. But I still don't want to lose you.

What DO you want then? Because I'm confused. Unbidden, tears spring to my eyes.

Gently, softly, you respond You.

Gently, softly, you lead forward and kiss away my tears. When your lips meet mine I can faintly taste the salt. I pull back.

There is no this, you said. There's nothing going on. Did you mean that, or is this just you trying to get some action again?

You pull back, stung, although you know you deserve that. I was far too forgiving the first time we had this discussion.

I meant it then, but I meant what I said now. I don't want to lose you. This tenous thing we have, I don't want to lose it.

But if you knew how I felt, why didn't you tell me?

Why didn't you tell me how you felt?

I was afraid.

So was I. So am I.

But it's me. I'm not scary.

You are terrifying. You are the most terrifying girl, woman, I have ever met. The way I feel about you is ... too raw, to real. I am afraid of living the rest of my life with these feelings, but I know that I cannot live without them.

I stroke my hand along your unshaven face.

Now you know what I mean when I say that it's too dangerous to love people.


You catch up my hand and press it against your face, your eyes closed.

I scoot forward on the bed, wrapping my legs around you, and my arms around you, and pressing my face into your shoulder, drinking in the scent of you, the warmth of you, the feel of you. I feel your arms come up around me, and you inhale the scent of my hair.

We sit like this for some time, breathing together, holding one another. I have never felt so warm, so loved, so safe. So terrified.

You push my curls away from my neck and kiss me gently underneath my ear, moving downwards. My eyes closed, my body relaxes as you move your way across my chest and up the other side of my neck.

You say my name.

Mmmm? I reply.

I love you.

I open my eyes to see you looking directly into mine. In those green depths in which I have already seen so much, I see so much more. Goosebumps rise on my body and I am overwhelmed by the feeling that this is a defining moment of my life.

Simply, undramatically softly, I reply...

I love you too.

You lean in and kiss me again, the salt of my tears gone from your lips. Your hand slides up my back and into my hair as you gently explore my mouth with your tongue. I am content to be kissed for a while, but then I explore back, our tongues meeting, softly probing. You sigh deeply and begin to kiss down my throat towards my chest, covered as it is by my top. You gently kiss down into my cleavage and goosebumps rise over me again. I run my hands over your back and then up to your hair, where I rest them gently as you continue to kiss my body.

With a little moan you stop and look up, shifting slightly. It is only then that I realise that you are hard, pressing against me where our pelvises meet. I grin shyly, you smile wryly.

It’s so much more obvious for boys, I say, leaning forward to nibble your ear and then kiss you softly on the mouth again. You smile.

Stroking my hair back from my face, you look at me intently once again.

I want to make love to you. Softly, slowly this time. The way I should have before.

At this my blood thrills and my heart begins to pound. Tears spring to my eyes again, but this time I wipe them away quickly.

I’m fine, I say, It’s just that I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that.

Softly, slowly, gently, again you push back my hair and again you begin to kiss down my body towards my breasts. My breathing deepens and I feel lightheaded. I lift up my arms as you pull my shirt over my head, and feel my hair tumble down my naked back and shoulders. You kiss me again as you undo my bra without incident. It falls away into your hands and is quickly discarded to the floor.

You cup my breasts in both hands, your thumbs brushing my nipples which are already hard. I lean into you, my hands running up your back and then your front as I lift up your shirt and toss it aside.

Tenderly, you push me backwards onto the bed, kissing me, and I look up at you through my eyelashes and cannot help but smile. What? you ask, your hands caressing my body, my breasts.

Nothing, I smile.

Nibbling at my ear, you begin to work your way down to my breasts with your mouth. Almost instantly I am shivering with pleasure, and I can feel your lips smile against my skin. I lazily trail my hand through your hair as your probe each nipple with your tongue, nip at them with your teeth or pinch them lightly.


I’m sorry, you say as you move back up to eye level. I open my eyes.

For what? I ask.

For hurting you. For breaking your heart.

This time it is I who wryly smiles. Your hands continue to caress me as we speak.

I know you didn’t mean to.

I know you know. But I am sorry. Sometimes I did know what it was I wanted, but I kept talking myself out of it. And I did the wrong thing by you, when we got home. I should have been open and honest and I wasn’t. You are so beautiful for forgiving me.

I’m beautiful anyway, I smile.

You are.


You kiss my deeply on the mouth, your tongue insistently probing deeply. Your hand slides down across my belly and underneath my pants. My breathing quickens again as you press lightly against my underwear and the stroke my inner thigh.

My hips wiggle involuntarily and I open my eyes to see you smiling with delight at me.

I think we should take these off, you say, undoing my pants.

In a tangled flurry of arms and legs and pants and underwear we undress each other completely and are, once again, naked before one another. Once again, I feel no fear, no doubt, no shame, no concern.

You are beautiful, you say, and my heart leaps. I’m not. I’m not conventionally beautiful. I am covered in cellulite and my stomach and hips and thighs are far larger than the average girl, letalone those that grace the covers of the magazines I read. But as your run your hands over me I feel cherished and loved and beautiful.

You move so that you are on top of me, your cock pressing against me, though not inside me yet. You breathe in the scent of my hair, one hand cupping my head to kiss me as the other roams across my body. I lift my arms to embrace you, my hands seeking the warmth and solace of your body – there I feel the hardness of your shoulder, down your back I go and feel the muscles rippling. There I feel the hard roundness of your glutes and in a wisp of thought I realise that I am the softness to your hardness.

Your head drops down once more to my chest, this time more purposefully, less gently, and you kiss and suck and bite at me as you rock your hips against mine. Already I am biting my lip, willing myself not to cry out.

In all this time I have barely touched you. Tonight though, you don’t command me to go down on you, you don’t move my hand to where you want it to be. Tentatively I reach down between us and take you in my hand. Your hand still tangled in my hair you roll to one side so that I am more easily able to touch you. You continue to touch me though. It seems you are everywhere, my mouth, my belly, my neck, my breast. I can’t keep track of you and concentrate at the same time.

I lightly trail my fingers along your shaft and then grab you firmly, stroking. I feel you flex beneath my fingers and mutter into my hair. Relaxing for a moment, you prop your head up on one arm and rest your other arm on my hip, watching my face as I touch you. A little self-conscious, I look back at you until the intensity between us becomes too much and I have to look away.

You laugh, and once again trail your fingers lightly towards my pussy. As if of their own accord, my legs fall apart and I begin to silently beg you to touch me, stroke me, probe inside me.

Using just the very tips of your fingers you gently stroke the outer gates of my pleasure. As I start to twitch you slide your middle finger in oh so slightly, and trail the length of me murmuring about my wetness. Slowly you push deeper, and deeper, and yet deeper, until your finger is rested unerringly on my g-spot. I am surprised. You didn’t figure this one out last time. I spread my legs wider to give you easier access and you move so that you are better angled to not only bring me pleasure, but watch my face as you do it.

You move your finger so slightly and the only way to describe it is as though I am being tickled from the inside. My lower body begins to twitch.

Shhhhhh, you say. Stop. Relax. Be still.

Easy for you to say. I am completely at your mercy. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I take a deep breath and still myself. You begin to rub slowly in a circular motion and my breathing deepens and I begin to whimper. I manage to not move though. My eyes are closed and I am trying to focus simply on the sensations washing over me, in me and through me. Back the other way, your finger pressing slightly harder as you see the effect you are having on me.

Are you okay?

I can’t talk. I can barely breathe. I nod and bite my lip.

Back the other way, again harder. My whole body is twitching involuntarily now. There is nothing I can do. You with draw your hand slightly, running your fingers along my silky wetness and towards my clit, where you tease me by rubbing it gently. My back arches slightly and you press a little more firmly. As I start to shiver you again slide your fingers deep into me, this time pressing more firmly and more quickly. My breathing becomes quicker and shallower and I begin whimpering in earnest. Again you withdraw to my clit where you run your fingers around it, sending me into rapture.

I give a delighted shiver and say your name. You withdraw your hand completely and come back to kiss me tenderly for a while, while massaging my breast. My hands are roaming your body, caught up in your hair, stroking your back, your bum.

Without warning, you begin to kiss me with a passion, with a vengeance. Your tongue probes my mouth insistently, urgently, and my blood quickens. I kiss you back, trying to gather you up into me all at once.

You begin to kiss down my body again, but this time you are purposeful. Gone is the gentle stroking, the tender kissing, the soft biting. Your mouth is hot against my skin, and I feel you biting and sucking and licking and kissing and probing with intensity. You move further and further down my body and before too long your mouth is lurking at the entrance to myself.

Your hot breath against my cunt stirs me and I open my eyes and raise myself up on my elbows only to see you grinning cheekily back up at me.

Can I? Your eyes sparkle.

Shit yes! I reply.

Lie back.

You push my legs up so that my knees are bent and my legs are wide apart. Spreading me with your fingers, I feel your tongue, so warm, slide into me and begin to lap at me like a dog lapping at his bowl of water.

I am awash with pleasure. I am intoxicated by the roughness of your tongue, the heat of your mouth and the very thought of you doing what you are. I am almost lost in it, but then your tongue finds my clit. I shiver.

It feels like you are moving mountains with your tongue, though I know you are probably barely moving at all. But I have been so stirred by your earlier efforts, that now I am on the verge of coming before you even start.

You taste good, you say, and I moan softly and feel your free hand squeeze my thigh, where it rests. Clockwise and then anti-clockwise, your tongue circles my clit, and then every so often you press directly on it. When it seems that I can’t take it any longer, you use your tongue to stroke it insistently, consistently. I have lost all control of my body, my voice, my brain. Whimpers turn to moans in my throat, and my hips buck back and forth. With your free arm you hold me firm and continue to use your tongue. My back arches and I cry out your name and my toes are curling and I have goosebumps and my heart is pounding and in one great explosion implosion burst surge flood rush swell I come, as I never have before. And as my body goes with the aftershocks, I feel you continue down there, licking me deeply and pressing your tongue against my now extremely sensitive clit.

Soon I am able to breathe normally again and I open my eyes to see you placing a glass of water back on the nightstand, half full. You take me in your arms, and though I feel barely able to lift mine, I return your embrace.

Um... thank you, I say, blown away.

You smile. You’re welcome.

I become more serious. No, seriously. Thank you.

No, seriously. Thank you.

What is sexuality?

I recently read a book where sexuality was described as the human way of attempting to re-connect with one another and with God. It doesn't necessarily only refer to 'sex' with people, but with the desire to intimately connect with people.

The book states that sexuality has two dimensions - firstly, our awareness of how profoundly we are severed and disconnected from each other and God. And secondly the ways in which we go about trying to re-connect.

(I have deliberately not referenced this book, because I'm not 100% sure that the author of the book would appreciate his work being linked with some of the content on this page. For anyone interested in learning more, please feel free to leave a comment or email me.)

It goes on to say that even people who live chaste lives can be very sexual people. It gives a variety of examples, and this point particularly hit home for me.

For a long time, I've had people refer to me or tell me that they see me as a very sexual person. At first I thought this was just because I talk about sex. A lot. But apparently it's more than that.

Even before the age of 19, when I first had sex, I was referred to as a sexual person - and this was back when I was uncomfortable talking about sex because I hadn't had it yet. And over the past six and a half years where I haven't had sex, haven't been in a relationship, and to be perfectly honest, haven't been looking, sexy and sexual are still words that have been used to describe me.

I don't see myself as sexy. Sure, I'm pretty. I have nice breasts, and a nice shape, I guess. But I'm overweight and have been self-conscious about my body for as long as I can remember ... until recently, I guess. But I do have confidence and maybe that's what it is.

I definitely never saw myself as sexual, but over time, I have realised that I am. I could never really define it until I read the definition of sexuality written in this book.

Because I am all about connecting with people. I recently told a man that I don't do superficial. I'm not interested in your cat's name or what you had for breakfast. I don't want you to ask me whether I've had a nice day or what my plans are for the weekend. I want to know what drives you, what your soul looks like, what you would do if you could do anything in the world for a living.

I want to know what makes you tick. I want to know what makes you excited about getting up in the morning, and what brings you down. I want to know where you go when things look like they're never going to go right again.

In essence, I want to know everything about everyone, and everything about the world.

And if sexuality is about the ways in which we try to reconnect with people, then I am definitely a sexual person.

But in terms of physicality and 'sex' in the now commonly used sense of the world, it has never really been that big a deal for me ... unless I'm in a relationship. My first 'real' relationship was when I was nineteen, and I started sleeping with this guy after about six weeks of dating. Some people might say that's a long time, and others might say it's nothing. For me it was both - we were both living in the same boarding house and saw each other every. Pretty much every night we would explore the physical side of our relationship, and six weeks was a real test for me.

And once I'd started, I didn't want to stop.

I love sex.

There's really no other way to put it. I love everything about it. I love being at the mercy of another person for pleasure. I love being in control of that over someone else. I love giving head ... pretty much more than anything else. In this, I truly believe it is better to give than to receive. The power I have in that moment is almost more of a turn on than anything physical that someone could do to me.

And I thrive on that connectedness with that person. When in that moment, you subconsciously and spiritually understand that you can never be closer to a person than you are in that moment. Wow - just writing that gave me shivers.

I can see why people get addicted to it.

It was always something that I knew that I would have to watch out for. I have always known that I have an addictive personality, so things like alcohol, drugs and sex are things that I have always treated with respect, knowing that they could easily have the power to control me, rather than the other way around.

But I have also known that sex was something that I only wanted to share with people that were special to me. In my less serious 'relationships' - which usually occur straight after I've had my heart broken - I have managed to do 'everything but' with several guys, always making it clear beforehand that I'm not sure how far I want to go and always when they've asked ('Oh please baby, I want to be inside you so bad!'), calmly said 'I'm sorry, but that's as far as I want to go'. And then I've given them the best blow job they've ever had in their life to make up for their disappointment.

So I find myself in an interesting situation at the moment. Until this year, the physical side of relationships - friendships mainly - was something completely unexplored for me. I didn't like people touching me. It was a standard rule, and everyone who knows me knows this. My close friends could hug me and comfort me when I was upset, and hugs for greetings and goodbyes were also permissible. Beyond this ... nothing. Affection was shown by words and deeds, not by physicality.

I'm not sure why this changed. I went overseas with an amazing group of people early this year and somehow I let go of a lot of baggage I was carrying around in respect of relationships - both romantic and otherwise. I finally let down my walls and trusted people, and found that, for the most part, they didn't let me down. And so it was okay to cuddle and hold hands and hug and generally just be affectionate. One of my favourite memories is of five of us curled up together on my sleeping bag under the stars, talking and enjoying the closeness of the moment.

Of course, the boy happened while I was over there too. The one who shall not be named and the one about whom I write, mostly. The who I believe is my soul mate and who still has my heart, even though he has said he doesn't want it. (Note to self - you need to do something about that.)

I've never had a connection with anyone like this in my life. I could write for hours about only this, but I won't. Essentially this was the first person I have connected with so perfectly on every level - intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, philosophically. And so when the opportunity arose to connect with him physically, there was no way that I could say no. And in giving that part of myself to him - for just one night - I lost all of myself and found all of myself again.

I came back physically affectionate, and it took a lot of my friends aback. They didn't know what to make of this new me, the one who would hold hands or sit close or put her arms around them.

And I came back craving and desiring much more physicality. Much, much more. Initially just from he who must not be named, but now just more. I was about to say 'I don't care from whom', but that's not true. I want it to be from someone who loves and adores and cherishes me and with whom I'm connected with on that level.

But let's be honest - that doesn't come along every day.

And you know what, curling up in the arms of a relative stranger who, at least for a night, is happy to pretend that he feels that way, goes a long way to one feeling loved and adored and cherished.

A couple of weeks back I took the very out of character step of inviting a man to my bed whilst at a party at a friend's house. It was purely fun, no strings attached, no commitments, no promises. And I made my usual speech about not being sure how far I wanted to go, and he was okay with that. And we laughed and we touched and we kissed and we hugged and we didn't go all the way and it was fine. And I fell asleep in his arms and it was completely comfortable and nice.

Of course, I thought about the nameless one many times throughout the whole experience, which did have a bit of a dampening effect.

But it was still nice and it was safe and I wouldn't say no to it happening again.

Is this me acting out my sexuality, or is this me trying to fill a void or a need within me that has been left because my heart is still a little bit broken? Is this me trying to re-connect with the world or is it me trying to prove that I am still beautiful and valuable and wanted, even though the one I want doesn't want me?

I've had to cut off all contact with one of my closest friends because my physical desires were jeopardising our friendship. Surely that's not just a healthy way of me acting out my sexuality?

And what about this blog, this attempt at amateur erotica and somehow getting my fantasies out of my head and into the world sometimes ... is this my expressing my sexuality, or is this a dark little secret that is actually making things worse, rather than better?

All I know for now is that I long for something that I don't have, and can see no chance of having in the immediate or intermediate future. And that makes me both sad and incredibly sexually frustrated.

Knowing what you're missing is definitely worse than not knowing.

At my desk...

They say that returning from an overseas trip is a little like PTSD. Some of the symptoms are the same - intense physical reactions and flashbacks and dreams about the situation.

That certainly has been my experience, from the whole trip.

But nothing more than that night on the coast. In fact, most of my memories from all our time there are from that night. I can remember other things, but the flashbacks, the dreams, are all that night.

The way my skirt billowed in the thick, tropical breeze. The feel of your stubble on my face as you leaned over to kiss me, to let that local know that he wasn't welcome and that maybe, just maybe, I was yours.

Stumbling across the hotel foyer and up the stairs. Mock-fighting about whether the air-conditioning was on and the windows were closed to make sure those infernal mosquitos were outside.

And always, still always, there's the image of you above me, inside me, biting your lip as you thrust inside me, my hands holding your arms, nails pressing in, struggling to keep myself from crying out. The feeling when you bent down again to kiss me, deeply, passionately, before locking eyes with me as we both came.

I'm sitting at my desk and I have goosebumps. My breathing is deep and irregular and my heart is racing. I can feel my clit swelling up and my pussy clenches and I'm beginning to get wet just thinking about it. The shivers begin up my spine and neck and I close my eyes and bite my lip. I'm worried that my boss is about to walk in, but still the memory remains, flashing before me again with intensity. My nipples get hard and my legs start to shake.

Why, why do you haunt me like this? Why whenever your shirt lifts up just slightly to show your stomach do I go weak at the knees? Why is it that most of the time when you smile that crooked smile at me I just smile back, but every now and then I feel dizzy as though I need to pass out? Why would we have that just the once, and never again?

And why would the flashback come when I'm at my desk at work?

Why?

And this is where I sleep...

"You'll be in here," I say, showing you the room, "And this is where I sleep. So if you want to come in to spoon, you know where to go."

We both laugh. Then, smiling and making eye contact, "Just so that we're completely clear, you are very welcome to come and spoon with me. No joke."

You half smile, somewhat taken aback by my boldness.

Later, I hear you unpacking a little because, after all, you're here a couple of days. Then, it's quiet. Just as I start to fall asleep I hear the door open, and footsteps then - my name, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Mmmmm?" I reply sleepily.
"Can I come in?"
"Of course."

I open up the covers and you slide in next to me. I roll on my side to face you.

"You're naked," you say, your eyes smilng.
"I do everything naked nowadays. Well, at home. Naked lawyering hasn't really caught on yet."
You laugh.
"No, I don't suppose it would."

You open up your arms for me to come and snuggle with you. I move across, resting my head on your shoulder. Snuggling in close, I sigh contentedly. You say: "I wasn't sure that I was going to get to do this again. I wasn't sure that you were serious when you said what you said, and I was sure that I'd blown it."

I shrug. "I'm not asking you to marry me. I just want to enjoy what we have."

You pull me closer and as you do your left arm reaches across and you start brushing my left nipple with your thumb. I immediately get goosebumps.

"Is that so?" you ask, and I can hear the smile in your voice. I nudge you playfully.
"Yes," I reply.

Carefully resting my head back against the pillow, you turn and begin to kiss me, your hand not letting up from it's playful caress. Our tongues meet, softly, gently, and then you begin to kiss my jaw, my neck and down to my chest. Lifting your head, you stroke the backs of your hand across my body and I relax and tense all at once. I shiver and you smile.

Suddenly, I am playful. I roll over and push you beneath me. You laugh and I push you firmly onto the bed as I bend down to whisper in your ear - "I want to go down on you so bad right now."

I immediately feel you stiffen underneath me, and your breath begins to deepen.

"And I want you to come in my mouth."
"Are you serious?" you ask.
"If you don't, there will be trouble. I mean it, I want you to come in my mouth, or else I'm going to punish you." I dig my fingernails into your upper arms as I say this, to prove my point.

The atmosphere immediately changes, and I can feel the sexual tension between us becomes palpable. I straddle you, rubbing your cock beneath your boxers with my pussy. I kiss you deeply, intensely and then kiss across your jaw, and down your neck. These are not soft butterfly kisses though, no. These are licking, sucking kisses to prepare you for what is to come. As I kiss down your chest, I catch your right nipple up in my teeth and bite - hard enough to hurt a little. I hear a little exclaimation from you and feel you flex beneath me.

I begin to slide down your body, and as I do I catch up your hands - the left I place on my left breast and the right I begin to kiss and suck. Slowly, one by one, I lick each of your fingers and suck it, all the way to the bottom, staring straight into your eyes as I do so. Already I can see that you are about to moan. I nibble the fingertip of your index finger before I kiss your stomach and in a fluid movement, pull down your boxers.

Your cock immediately springs up hard, the very tip glistening with the first hints of desire. I sigh deeply as I take it in my hands and lightly run my fingernails up and down. I feel you flex again, and as I kneel down to get in position to take you in my mouth, you shift slightly for a better view.

Slowly, I lick the very tip of your cock, tasting you. Running the tip of my tongue around your head, I grasp the shaft lightly, stroking. Then slowly but firmly, I run the tip of my tongue down the underside of your shaft, all the way down to your balls. I make my way up licking and sucking before getting to the very top and going all the way down on you, your cock pushing way down into my throat.

You let out a deep moan and your right hand comes to rest on my head.

I look up, distracted, but smiling. "If you push me down, I will stop."
You nod distractedly and barely above a whisper you say, "Don't stop."

I repeat the process, this time taking your balls in my mouth and sucking them gently. I lick all the way up your shaft and then suck your head for a few moments. I can taste you beginning to come and so I take your shaft in my hand and begin to rhythmically go down on you to the point where I won't gag (damn you for being so big!) and stroke the rest of you with my hand. I can feel your breathing deepen and you begin to whimper a little. "Oh baby," you whisper, "oh, fuck!" Your hand tightens in my hair, and I can feel you have to restrain yourself from pushing my head down.

Faster and faster I go, up and down on your hardness, and I can taste you. You want to come and I want to make you.

After a while though you say, "I don't think I'm going to."
I stop, lick my lips and sit up. "I'm sorry, was I not good enough?"

"Fuck," you say, "No, that was ... amazing. Seriously, the best I've ever had. It's just ... I don't know."
I raise my eyebrows and move back up your body. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Still somewhat dazed, you shake your head. "You need to be punished." I slap your leg with my open hand. You smile.
"Do you think I'm joking do you?" Grabbing your arms, I push them up firmly behind your head, cuffing them tightly with my own, much smaller hands. "If these hands move, even a single centimetre, I will stop everything I am doing - do you understand?"

You nod, smiling, interested by this change in persona.

"I'm serious, if I feel you lay so much as a finger on me, I will stop and this will all end, right here."
"I understand."

I release your hands and pretending to be unaware of the fact that my breasts are tantalisingly close to your face, I massage your head and neck and begin to kiss your forehead and face.

"Close your eyes," I whisper, and you obey.

I continue to kiss you softly, leaving a trail of kisses across your face. As I come close to your lips, you turn your head to try and meet me. "You may kiss me back if I kiss you," I say, generously.
"Thank you mistress," you say, smiling.
"I quite like that. You may call me that also."

I kiss you on the lips, firmly but gently, softly slipping my tongue through your lips to meet yours. I gently nibble your bottom lip before moving across your jaw and down the right side of your neck.

Again, I kiss down your neck to your chest, this time softly and gently, and I nibble your nipple gently. I move across to the left and then back up your chest and neck to your mouth.

"How are you going there?" I ask, between kisses. Your breath has evened out, but I can still feel the desire coursing through you.
"I'm great," you say, breathing deeply.
"No temptation to let those hands go wandering?" I ask as I nibble your ear.
"None at all."
"Good."

I make my way down your throat and chest to your stomach, where I plant kisses in concentric circles out to your hips and back. Sitting up, I brush my fingertips over every part of your upper body. You shiver.

"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Fine," you reply, relaxed.

I move across to one side of the bed and begin kissing down from your stomach to your groin, this time avoiding your cock. I can feel you tense each time I come close, willing me to go closer, but I ignore it to move down your leg and then back up to the inside of your thigh. I repeat this on the other side and then run my hands lightly over your upper legs, inner thigh and groin. Laying so that my head is on your shoulder but I am still able to reach between your legs, I whisper, "Are you sure you're okay?"

It's clearly getting more difficult for you to concentrate. "Uh huh," you say.

I trail my fingertips up your inner thigh and then across your cock. It had been hard, but relaxed, but as soon as my fingers touch it, it springs up again. I whisper in your ear "I'm going to go down on you again." You moan.

I put my lips on the tip of your cock and trace around it with my tongue. Moving my head ever so slightly up and down, I suck your head, using the tip of my tongue to make circles. I can feel you tense and realise that it is now becoming a real struggle to not move your hands from behind your head.

Suddenly, I go all the way down on you, ramming your cock down my throat. Your hands come away, and I stop. "Uh uh uh! Remember - hands to yourself or it's all over."

"Come on baby! This is torture!" You replace your hands.

I start again, this time trailing my fingers across your balls and then beginning down there, taking them in my mouth and gently sucking before moving back up, using my lips and the tip of my tongue to stimulate you. As I get to the top I begin to lick you, like an ice-cream, and I pretend that I'm about to go back down the outside, but instead I quickly take all of you in my mouth again, and then grab your shaft and start going down and rubbing you simutaneously.

You control yourself for about 15 seconds before you grab me and throw me back on the bed.

"You are going to get it now!"
A smile spreads across my face. "Am I? I sure hope so!"
"You are so naughty. What you did was very mean - you've been a naughty girl."

You roll me over onto my front.

"You've been so naughty that I think I need to spank you."

I shiver at the mere thought of this. Gently, you spank my ass. I squeal softly.

You lean down over to whisper in my ear, "Oh, do you like that do you?"
I nod into the pillow. "Uh huh!"
"Well then..."

You kiss and nibble my earlobe and then kiss down the back of my neck before spanking me on the bum again, this time a bit harder. I squeal again.

You kiss down my back, massaging my bum with one hand, the other resting in my hair. Out of the blue, you spank me again, harder. I squeal louder.

Your mouth reaches my lower back, and quickly you bite me on the top of my bum before spanking me, several times, hard enough to hurt a little, but soft enough to turn me on more than I ever have been before. I squeal again. Deftly, push my legs apart and put your fingers inside me. I squirm in delight and move so that you are able to go deeper. Rubbing your other hand up and down my back, you watch as my breathing deepens and I begin to whimper.

"Oh, you like that do you?"
"Deeper..." I say, between moans.
"Deeper? Like this?" You firmly but gently push deep down inside me, onto my g-spot and I feel that I might pass out from pleasure.
"Is this okay?" you ask.

I push myself up onto my elbows. "I want you to do me doggy. I want it so bad."

I hear your intake of breath in surprise.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, please please please will you do me from behind? I want you inside me so bad. I want you to come inside me."

Without a further invite, you take out your fingers and pull my hips up so that I'm on my knees. Slowly, you start pushing against me from behind. The feel of you cock moving further and further inside me with each thrust is amazing. Soon, you are all the way in, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting deep and slow. I can feel one hand resting on my back as the other massages my bum.

"Harder!" I command, and you thrust harder, pushing deep inside me right on my g-spot. I can feel your breathing begin to shudder and you begin to jerk with pleasure. Goosebumps form all over my body and I begin to clench as you pull out to heighten the pleasure. Suddenly, I'm on the verge and my whimpers turn into moans. Your hand tightens on my ass and I can feel that you are about to come also. Just as you begin to slow down, your juices spurting into me, I have an explosion of my own that makes my whole body jerk and tremble.

As you lay down beside me, my eyes are half closed and I'm still having aftershocks. You wrap your arms around me and I wrap my legs around yours.

Kissing me on the cheek you whisper in my ear, "This is not what I was expecting we would do tonight..."

Why we can't be friends...

The reason we can't be friends is because every time I watch a movie with a sex scene, everytime I see two of my friends kissing, and every time I get into bed, I remember what it was like to be in your arms.

I remember what is was like to have you kissing me, gently at first and then deeper, more fiercely. I remember how you kissed and bit all the way down my back and even on the bum before you put your fingers inside of me.

I remember digging my fingernails into your arms as you moved above me. I remember looking into your eyes and having you lean down to kiss me while you moved inside of me.

I remember what it was like to be in your arms when it was over.

I confided in my best friend at the time that it wasn't the most amazing sex I've ever had, and to an extent, that's true. But in terms of the feelings attached to it, the meaning of it, and the memory of it - it was.

And I don't think I can get over it.

I mean, obviously one day I'll get over it. I don't think I'm ruined for all men for life (you're not that good). But I don't think I can sit next to you and pretend that everything is fine when all I can think about is how I want you take my clothes off and press your mouth to my nipples again, licking and biting.

I don't know how to be friends with someone I've been that intimate with. I don't know how to go back to something platonic ... and even if I want to.

Because if I'm honest with myself, I don't want to. I have fallen completely and utterly for you. I am smitten. Even though you've broken my heart, you're still the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep is imagining your arms around me. At least twenty times a day I want to text you, and at least ten times a day I want to hear your voice. I still think about what it would be like to be allowed to kiss you whenever I wanted, to hold your hand and to sit with you in a way that made it clear that I'm yours.

And I don't want to not feel that anymore. There's probably something sickeningly perverse about that - that I want to feel that way even though it hurts so much.

It's probably that I'm just not ready yet to let the idea of 'us' go. Even though you (quite clearly) have told me that for you, there was no us, there was this friendship - which even you admit is something totally and completely beyond - and there was one night, which was fun and you don't regret and was an expression of our relationship. And somehow, those two things are separate.

I don't get that. But I respect it. If that's how you feel, that's how you feel. There's nothing I can do about it.

But there's nothing I can do about my feelings either. And I just don't know that I can be friends after sharing what we did. It meant more to me than that. I want more from you than that. And if I can't have it ... well, I'm not sure that I want anything. It's too hard.

It's too hard to remember your face in that moment, and know that I'll never see it again.

While drunk I want to...

a) Eat a whole pizza;
b) Have sex. Lots of it (with you);
c) Text or email all of my friends telling them how shit they've been in terms of supporting me over the past little while;
d) Call my family and tell them that I'm not planning to see them or have anything to do with them over the next six months;
e) Call you and tell you exactly how I feel and what I want to do to you now and when I get to see you, in a very short amount of time.

Things I will do while I'm drunk:

a) Blog, like a pussy wimp; and
b) Go to bed.

Missing you...

I went through this phase the past couple of weeks where when I thought about what I missed about you, it was more about you than the physical side of the relationship. Which is good, because I was starting to worry that I had become completely and totally obsessed with sex, which I really don't want to do. As much as I have begun to accept and appreciate myself as a sexual being and act that out in various ways (like this blog), I don't want that to become what I see myself as and what I see our relationship as. Because it never was. And I don't want it to be.

So I was thinking about how I love talking to you about everything. Be it big or small. The experiences we've had together or the differences in the way we were raised. I love the way you challenge my spirituality and beliefs about the way the world works. And I love that you are challenged by me. And I love the way you make me laugh like no-one else. Not all the time, but in a clever way that makes me appreciate you all the more. I love the way you love me, even though I'm totally and completely nutso. I love how you tease me about pretty much everything we've ever talked about.

And the way that I literally cannot imagine my life without you now. I think about the possibility of us just drifting apart and I know that that will never happen. I don't know how I know it. And it's not just a hope or a desire. I know that you and I will always be a part of each other's lives, as long as we both live. As for the depth of that relationship ... well, that remains to be seen.

But then yesterday, I was driving home from work and my head was filled with thoughts of you. The naughty kind. I'm sitting at the traffic lights and with no conscious effort on my part fantasies are flashing through my head and I'm seriously getting wet and worked up while driving. I'm lucky I didn't have an accident.

Picture me, sitting in traffic, biting my lip, my chest heaving with the shuddering breaths that come when you're touching me. I've got goosebumps, my pussy is clenching at the thought of you inside me, and I have superimposed vision - one is the road on the way home and the other is in your bedroom.

I'm so nervous about what it's going to be like when I see you again, but I'm so excited too.