In ways I've sort of come to realise that I'm kinda hung up on you.
But it's a pleasant restriction that makes me want to go nowhere else. Why fight to get away from something when the something you're tied to is everything you want?
Knowing you is the most exquisite joy and pain. You pinch at the private parts of me that stretch me farther and farther. Those delicate parts on my body and those delicate parts in my brain.
You open me up and you open my consciousness while you do.
How many men can I say I've known could do that?
You see I'm not used to this backwards tangoing we do. I am accustomed to calling the steps. I'm used to playing my way.
And while my way has so many merits to it, it's exciting to be pulled by the hair for the first time.
Whether by accident or by design it makes no matter, the end result is the same,
I'm always thrown a little off guard. And though I lament it some days. I like it.
I feel it every time you call me a dirty bitch.
In all my experiences I cannot say that I've ever felt anything when someone attempted to call me that in play. Unless you're counting bored as a reaction.
No one's known how to say it in such a way that it unearths just that - the filthy bitch in me.
I most certainly have a filthy dirty bitch in me, but she's the helm from which I command myself. Others certainly get to feel her in glimpses and heated moments, but only when she chooses to be seen.
With you, I hear you call her out to play. Your voice is honeyed and carries deep into my wants.
It unceremoniously thrusts three fingers into me and draws forth the honeycomb.
It's like you can come and take it when you want, if you know how to playfully and respectfully ask for it. And oh how you do. You make it sound like fun, you don't take it towards the vibrations that call for antidepressants and anti-anxiety pills to sound away the pain of real humiliation.
No my darling, the way you say it dares me to let her out. Not commands, dares.
I can never turn down a dare. I never could. For me doing so's a part of my playful spirit.
In fun , I can let out the most wicked of girls you've ever seen.
She's the one I keep under tabs. The one who unseats my knickers without thought, without caution.
She's the one who puts on the heavy eye-shadow after she leaves the house for school.
She's the woman who leaves the house to meet you,
knickerless and having already decided what's going to be done to you within the first 10 minutes of meeting up with you.
She's the feral dog that keeps on barking to lure out your kitties for snacking on.
She is the girl who grabs you on the subway and then pretends it never happened.
~ What fascinates me is that of all those I have known, not a one realised this about me.
Not a one. Never figured out that my sexuality laughs and sniggers behind my hands, like a 15 year old girl. I have to be honest with you and say that many's the time I've frightened little boys of men when they've caught glimpse of her in my eyes.
(All rather ridiculous to me. My mother may have called me a man-eater and slapped my face for it, but I dare you to search for traces of sinew and flesh in my teeth).
The not getting through to them?
Trust me, it's not for lack of expressing who I am to my past beau's or mes propres filles.
Usually though, it just ends up a terrific disappointment.
I mean, if you have to teach a man or femme how to use a whip on you, what's the point?
I believe that expressions found within should be brought without. How can you know what a thing is unless you bring it out to air and turn over in your hands inside of sunlight?
Repression is a such a killer of common sense!
~ You call me a Dirty Bitch in a way that's a stranger to my consciousness. Strange in that you're speaking in a tone that only dogs can hear. And You whistle it like it's in your bones.
It leaves me hung up as in 'suspended' in a state of being. Suspended in a state of dark bliss and finger waves and rapid heart rate. Don't stop calling me that. Please don't stop on my account.
Seems like forever since any man's come to my door to ask if I can come out and play ....
and it's been so long it confuses me and even this leaves me unsteady on my pins.
But it's the good kind of unsteady.
It's the kind that makes ready one's heart and mind, and gently paddles one's soft behind.
Thank you darling _______. xxx