Sunday, May 12, 2013
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Motorcycle Guy Continued..
She stood there in front of him in the cold, light rain outside the Seattle airport, bags at her feet. She was here finally. He'd left several months ago without even a warning that he would be out of reach. She, was very blonde and every inch a Texas woman in her ill-prepared-for-the-real-winter cold of this place in her long denim skirt, black shirt, pointed-toe black stylish boots and leather jacket. He was just as she remembered from that day of their ride in the warm August sun; tall and imposing, dark hair and heavy metal man jewelry, with the glare from the lights hiding his eyes behind his alternative-style glasses. Discovery of his leaving had triggered a sad, empty place inside her; one that was acutely aware of missed opportunities. She kept looking at him; taking in every detail of this moment and practically holding her breath and feeling immobile until he let her know something about what he thought of her presence there. It'd been a surprise for them both.
Here she was again. Even as the rain wet her hair, his mind was noting changes and familiarities in this woman he'd only met perhaps two times before. She was pretty and he was very attracted to her. Even now, part of him wanted to make her orgasm as he spoke in her ear. He knew that he could. He wanted to touch her again; something he'd been imagining over and over in his mind since their first meeting. She'd fled from further contact; never allowing time to reveal anything, whether it was just sex that drew them together or more. Right now, he was conflicted. He'd told her it would never work. She was too far; that he would be done with her once he came. He wanted to do the right thing, he'd told her. "I don't try very often to do the right thing, but I'm trying to this time."
She'd not listened. He wasn't exactly sure why, and another part of him was irriated at her for that and yet the pictures that kept coming to his mind were fiercely sexual and full of images of her and the responses he knew he could bring out in her.
"Well."
"I know."
"You do? Aparently not."
Silence.
She still held her breath. Waiting. Looking at him. Unaware of anything else around her but this man in her line of vision; his look, his scent, and the strong masculinity that eminated from him. She wanted his permission, but couldn't ask. She'd lost all ability to speak unless he did first.
He glared at her for several minutes and deliberately made her stand there in the cold. He knew that her clothing wasn't meant to shield her from the cold here, but rather the milder temps of Dallas. A part of him wanted her to suffer. He'd suffered; been tortured sometimes. She had no idea. And he'd never tell her.
He finally leaned in and barely touched his lips to hers. Her breath caught and she wanted to unleash the flood of lust, unspent emotion and overwhelming passion that was always just below the surface whenever she came in contact with this man. But sensing that this was not yet permission, she only allowed herself the sharp intake of breath and a small moan to escape. She wasn't allowed release yet.
He sensed it all, and took in her energy. Then, he pulled away.
"This way."
And he led her to where he was parked. Once her bags were in the vehicle, he suddenly pushed her up against his wet car and began to assault her senses. She felt his entire body against hers, and his kiss was angry, full of lust and punishing. His hands moved all over her, unmindful of the public area they were in. It was as if he wanted to crush her, he was pressed up so hard against her. She met him move for move. It was exactly the permission she wanted. His hands exposed her breast to the cold and she didn't care. His mouth was warm but alternated between soft then hard and biting. He was frantic to rediscover the places he knew and plunder each and every one of them again and further.
His other hand began moving her skirt up as both breasts were exposed now, nipples hard from response as well as the cold air. She was moaning and breathing heavily and was overwhelmed in this moment. She hadn't felt alive like this for such a long time, and yet, even his voice alone could bring her to this place. She opened her legs more and moved so that nothing impeded him in any way from any thing he wanted to do to her. She completely surrendered. His fingers found her and plunged. He remembered the feel of her too well. He wanted to pick her up with his fingers buried deep inside her.
He stopped.
"Get in."
And he moved away to the other side of the SUV. She could barely stand and somehow managed to gather her senses enough around her to move into the seat next to him. They drove in near silence except for their labored breathing.
"I've gotten a hotel nearby. It will allow us...privacy."
"Yes."
"You sure about this?"
"Yes."
"You don't even know the first thing about this lifestyle. Me."
"Show me. I want to learn. I trust you."
"Why??" he spat out angrily.
"I don't know. But you are my choice. There is something inescapable about you. It borders on obsession. That's the closest definition I have."
"Hmmm."
He thought about that. "It's just sex," he thought. He thought back over the last year, hearing from her here and there. He'd think he was free of her and then there was that whisper. Then pictures. Then long, drawn out conversations that brought him to a frenzy. He wanted to see her, watch her do things, touch her. He wanted contact. He would be filled with a mixture of wanting to crush her, do nasty things with her, be hard on her, and then..kiss her as she sat on him; placing her body on him and having him slide inside; in and out for as long as they could stand it. He wanted to fill her up in every place he could. He would draw nearer to her, but then the reality of the differences in their lives would settle in. It was excruciatingly frustating. And he'd pushed her away almost as much as she did the same. Yet, here they were.
She almost couldn't catch her breath. She still felt his tongue in her mouth, on her breasts, and hands where they'd burned impression after impression. She could barely focus her thoughts, she was so inundated with the residual sensations of what had just happened. There was no awareness of the cold until now, and she began to tremble. This was a big step for her. It went against the part of her that tried so hard to behave. But this spoke to a nature that was imbedded and deep; almost primal in thought and need. It was her core. No one had ever been able to master that before. No one had the strength or the confidence. She'd never been safe to allow it. She wasn't sure that she was safe now. But it didn't feel as if she had a choice in this. It was as if some outside force had chosen him for her. And there was no denying the effect he had on her. It'd never been like this. She was absolutely addicted.
They pulled up in front of the hotel just as the rain began to turn to snow. He turned off the car and got out without saying one word. He removed her bags and then opened her door. Seeing her face still flushed and the slight disheveled look to her clothing made him burn for her again, suddenly.
"Come on."
She got out and followed him. Upon hearing the lock disengage, it was like a barrage of pictures flooded her brain as to all the possibilities that lay ahead. She could feel the powerful moisture between her legs at the images that flashed one after the other of all they would do.
He noted her reaction and couldn't contain himself any longer.
He threw her bags aside and pulled her inside the room. It was dark, but warm. He again attacked her, pressing her against the wall with mouth and hands all over her. He pulled her hair as he kissed her, pinched and pulled her nipples alternately as his passions flared. She lifted a leg to wrap around him and he pushed himself against her harder. He turned her around with her face against the wall, breasts flattened as he lifted her skirt. He began to finger her again, two then three fingers at a time...harshly and softly, grabbing a shoulder so it they could go deeper into her. She was so near orgasm already, he could feel it in the tightening of her and her irregular breathing. She was getting louder as she got close.
And he wanted to hear that sound; that familiar sound of her release. It drove him crazy when he couldn't see her face as it happened..when he couldn't be there to will her body to it. He was controlling it now, and the power felt euphoric. He was harder than he'd ever been and wanted to pound her into oblivion as he came inside her, but not yet.
He stopped and told her to ready herself for him.
"Get changed and present yourself to me."
"Yes."
She picked up her bags and could barely walk as she began to head to the bathroom. Her senses swirling.
"No. Out here. I want to watch you get ready."
She was suddenly embarrassed and unsure of herself. Was this the right thing?
He sensed her uncertainty, and came over to her before he sat down. He stroked her cheek and kissed her forehead,
"It's alright. I enjoy watching you. You're here and I want to take every moment I can with you. It's okay."
Then he sat down, waited and watched.
She undressed slowly and deliberately, looking at his eyes as she did. He was a very attractive man for being so gruff. And when he was kind, it caught her so off guard. She wanted more from him. This was right.
She put on the garter, black stockings and heels. The bra was black but did not cover her nipples at all. It mainly served as support and enticement. Then, she brought out the cuffs. There were four, and there were chains as well. They were hard metal, but lined with softness. She put one on each wrist and each ankle. She then brought out the collar. She waited.
"Come over to me, wench."
She did. She handed him the collar and then knelt in front of him as he sat in the chair. She spread apart her knees on the floor and bent backwards with wrists near her ankles. It exposed her nakedness completely for him, and in this way she offered herself up for his inpection. But she was offering much more than just a look over her body.
And he knew this.
He traced a finger over her. Lightly touching every part of her; lips, face, hair and even very softly teasing her nipples and opening her to briefly inspect the wetness he'd felt and penetrated earlier. His erection had never wavered.
"Do you freely offer yourself?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Yes."
And he placed the collar on her. It wasn't a full "collaring ceremony" such as the ones she read about. This was just the beginning of their journey together into a world he would introduce her to. She shivered in anticipation.
Here she was again. Even as the rain wet her hair, his mind was noting changes and familiarities in this woman he'd only met perhaps two times before. She was pretty and he was very attracted to her. Even now, part of him wanted to make her orgasm as he spoke in her ear. He knew that he could. He wanted to touch her again; something he'd been imagining over and over in his mind since their first meeting. She'd fled from further contact; never allowing time to reveal anything, whether it was just sex that drew them together or more. Right now, he was conflicted. He'd told her it would never work. She was too far; that he would be done with her once he came. He wanted to do the right thing, he'd told her. "I don't try very often to do the right thing, but I'm trying to this time."
She'd not listened. He wasn't exactly sure why, and another part of him was irriated at her for that and yet the pictures that kept coming to his mind were fiercely sexual and full of images of her and the responses he knew he could bring out in her.
"Well."
"I know."
"You do? Aparently not."
Silence.
She still held her breath. Waiting. Looking at him. Unaware of anything else around her but this man in her line of vision; his look, his scent, and the strong masculinity that eminated from him. She wanted his permission, but couldn't ask. She'd lost all ability to speak unless he did first.
He glared at her for several minutes and deliberately made her stand there in the cold. He knew that her clothing wasn't meant to shield her from the cold here, but rather the milder temps of Dallas. A part of him wanted her to suffer. He'd suffered; been tortured sometimes. She had no idea. And he'd never tell her.
He finally leaned in and barely touched his lips to hers. Her breath caught and she wanted to unleash the flood of lust, unspent emotion and overwhelming passion that was always just below the surface whenever she came in contact with this man. But sensing that this was not yet permission, she only allowed herself the sharp intake of breath and a small moan to escape. She wasn't allowed release yet.
He sensed it all, and took in her energy. Then, he pulled away.
"This way."
And he led her to where he was parked. Once her bags were in the vehicle, he suddenly pushed her up against his wet car and began to assault her senses. She felt his entire body against hers, and his kiss was angry, full of lust and punishing. His hands moved all over her, unmindful of the public area they were in. It was as if he wanted to crush her, he was pressed up so hard against her. She met him move for move. It was exactly the permission she wanted. His hands exposed her breast to the cold and she didn't care. His mouth was warm but alternated between soft then hard and biting. He was frantic to rediscover the places he knew and plunder each and every one of them again and further.
His other hand began moving her skirt up as both breasts were exposed now, nipples hard from response as well as the cold air. She was moaning and breathing heavily and was overwhelmed in this moment. She hadn't felt alive like this for such a long time, and yet, even his voice alone could bring her to this place. She opened her legs more and moved so that nothing impeded him in any way from any thing he wanted to do to her. She completely surrendered. His fingers found her and plunged. He remembered the feel of her too well. He wanted to pick her up with his fingers buried deep inside her.
He stopped.
"Get in."
And he moved away to the other side of the SUV. She could barely stand and somehow managed to gather her senses enough around her to move into the seat next to him. They drove in near silence except for their labored breathing.
"I've gotten a hotel nearby. It will allow us...privacy."
"Yes."
"You sure about this?"
"Yes."
"You don't even know the first thing about this lifestyle. Me."
"Show me. I want to learn. I trust you."
"Why??" he spat out angrily.
"I don't know. But you are my choice. There is something inescapable about you. It borders on obsession. That's the closest definition I have."
"Hmmm."
He thought about that. "It's just sex," he thought. He thought back over the last year, hearing from her here and there. He'd think he was free of her and then there was that whisper. Then pictures. Then long, drawn out conversations that brought him to a frenzy. He wanted to see her, watch her do things, touch her. He wanted contact. He would be filled with a mixture of wanting to crush her, do nasty things with her, be hard on her, and then..kiss her as she sat on him; placing her body on him and having him slide inside; in and out for as long as they could stand it. He wanted to fill her up in every place he could. He would draw nearer to her, but then the reality of the differences in their lives would settle in. It was excruciatingly frustating. And he'd pushed her away almost as much as she did the same. Yet, here they were.
She almost couldn't catch her breath. She still felt his tongue in her mouth, on her breasts, and hands where they'd burned impression after impression. She could barely focus her thoughts, she was so inundated with the residual sensations of what had just happened. There was no awareness of the cold until now, and she began to tremble. This was a big step for her. It went against the part of her that tried so hard to behave. But this spoke to a nature that was imbedded and deep; almost primal in thought and need. It was her core. No one had ever been able to master that before. No one had the strength or the confidence. She'd never been safe to allow it. She wasn't sure that she was safe now. But it didn't feel as if she had a choice in this. It was as if some outside force had chosen him for her. And there was no denying the effect he had on her. It'd never been like this. She was absolutely addicted.
They pulled up in front of the hotel just as the rain began to turn to snow. He turned off the car and got out without saying one word. He removed her bags and then opened her door. Seeing her face still flushed and the slight disheveled look to her clothing made him burn for her again, suddenly.
"Come on."
She got out and followed him. Upon hearing the lock disengage, it was like a barrage of pictures flooded her brain as to all the possibilities that lay ahead. She could feel the powerful moisture between her legs at the images that flashed one after the other of all they would do.
He noted her reaction and couldn't contain himself any longer.
He threw her bags aside and pulled her inside the room. It was dark, but warm. He again attacked her, pressing her against the wall with mouth and hands all over her. He pulled her hair as he kissed her, pinched and pulled her nipples alternately as his passions flared. She lifted a leg to wrap around him and he pushed himself against her harder. He turned her around with her face against the wall, breasts flattened as he lifted her skirt. He began to finger her again, two then three fingers at a time...harshly and softly, grabbing a shoulder so it they could go deeper into her. She was so near orgasm already, he could feel it in the tightening of her and her irregular breathing. She was getting louder as she got close.
And he wanted to hear that sound; that familiar sound of her release. It drove him crazy when he couldn't see her face as it happened..when he couldn't be there to will her body to it. He was controlling it now, and the power felt euphoric. He was harder than he'd ever been and wanted to pound her into oblivion as he came inside her, but not yet.
He stopped and told her to ready herself for him.
"Get changed and present yourself to me."
"Yes."
She picked up her bags and could barely walk as she began to head to the bathroom. Her senses swirling.
"No. Out here. I want to watch you get ready."
She was suddenly embarrassed and unsure of herself. Was this the right thing?
He sensed her uncertainty, and came over to her before he sat down. He stroked her cheek and kissed her forehead,
"It's alright. I enjoy watching you. You're here and I want to take every moment I can with you. It's okay."
Then he sat down, waited and watched.
She undressed slowly and deliberately, looking at his eyes as she did. He was a very attractive man for being so gruff. And when he was kind, it caught her so off guard. She wanted more from him. This was right.
She put on the garter, black stockings and heels. The bra was black but did not cover her nipples at all. It mainly served as support and enticement. Then, she brought out the cuffs. There were four, and there were chains as well. They were hard metal, but lined with softness. She put one on each wrist and each ankle. She then brought out the collar. She waited.
"Come over to me, wench."
She did. She handed him the collar and then knelt in front of him as he sat in the chair. She spread apart her knees on the floor and bent backwards with wrists near her ankles. It exposed her nakedness completely for him, and in this way she offered herself up for his inpection. But she was offering much more than just a look over her body.
And he knew this.
He traced a finger over her. Lightly touching every part of her; lips, face, hair and even very softly teasing her nipples and opening her to briefly inspect the wetness he'd felt and penetrated earlier. His erection had never wavered.
"Do you freely offer yourself?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Yes."
And he placed the collar on her. It wasn't a full "collaring ceremony" such as the ones she read about. This was just the beginning of their journey together into a world he would introduce her to. She shivered in anticipation.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Music
I wrote this on my way to work today. Hope you like it!
Music is a compilation of scales arranged in such a way as to tell a story, evoke an emotion or comfort a soul. You do not have to have the talent or skill to wield these scales to participate in the world it creates; You have only to listen, and you can visit anew anytime you like.
Those who do have the talent, be it by voice, composition or solid instrument,
Are the gift-givers to those of us rooted in firm earth;
To travel freely and with wild abandon to our most cherished memories, lost loves and far away landscapes,
We may otherwise be unable to see.
Deidre Tallett, 2009
Music is a compilation of scales arranged in such a way as to tell a story, evoke an emotion or comfort a soul. You do not have to have the talent or skill to wield these scales to participate in the world it creates; You have only to listen, and you can visit anew anytime you like.
Those who do have the talent, be it by voice, composition or solid instrument,
Are the gift-givers to those of us rooted in firm earth;
To travel freely and with wild abandon to our most cherished memories, lost loves and far away landscapes,
We may otherwise be unable to see.
Deidre Tallett, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Divorce has BEEN over, now what??
Divorce is never a fun thing. It can be the right thing, it can even be an amicable thing. But it is never easy and there is always fallout in some way, form or fashion. Everyone's different and we're all the same too. It's just a fact that there are a lot of us divorcee's out there, and it's becoming more and more common all the time.
So, of course you make the obligatory mistakes when it's been a while since you've dated. You become over- eager, are sexually charged, date a lot, miss all the grossly obvious red-flags that tell you NOT to go out with him or her...you name it, it's done. You think you're ready for things, and you discover afterwards that you're not. As a woman, you can often put yourself in compromising or even dangerous positions without even realizing until it is too late.
All that aside, we learn that there is much that happens that's overwhelming, frantic, hurtful, weird, lonely, angry and of course sexual, in that first year. NOT a good time to take anything seriously, other than moving forward and giving yourself time to heal. I've yet to meet anyone that does that though. It's all about proving you've still got it at first. *Sigh*. Greenhorns all.
AFTER that first year though, the stories are as varied as the people telling them. Almost everyone slows down and begins to take their time in the dating arena, but there are others who need TWO years to reach this point, or even THREE.
So, is there actually a magic number?
I'm not sure. I know that even after that first year, I was driving through our old neighborhood, curious to see our old house. Gosh, I loved that house! It had new owners and it wasn't really being taken care of. And out of the blue that whole "failure" feeling overcame me. A year later! I'm crying as I drive away from a place that wasn't even a HAPPY home, but it had been MY home...and now it wasn't.
Things just hit you, it seems, no matter how much time has passed.
The other day (and it's been two years now), I was in the grocery. It's a place I almost AVOID now. I used to LOVE to go there. I would get food for the next two weeks, plan meals, be excited over special treat finds, etc. NOW, there's me and my son, certainly. But the buck stops with ME. If I buy out the store (spending $300 or so) like a used to, there is only ME to get it all home; load the car, and unload the car at home, and then put it all away. UGH.
It is nice having someone to make things for. It is nice having someone to bring special treats home to. And yes, I bring them home for my son. However, it really is a little different.
And though in my marriage I didn't have this, in a recent relationship I very much did: that EASE of communication. They know you, understand you and vice versa. You don't have to explain. THAT is something that to me, is GOLDEN.
I'm a woman with a good job and a good home. I'm a good Mom and a strong person, in general. I have been on my own more of my life than not, so it's not an "uncomfortable in your own skin" thing. It's more that while I LIKE my own skin, it'd be nice to every now and then, not ALWAYS have to be the only boss; to have that friend that you miss during the day and can't wait to get home to at night; to have that partner to bounce things off of and rely on here and there. Not to mention that person in your bed that ISN'T phobic about being there, that isn't trying to use you, and that isn't just a one night stand.
It's that sudden tinge of lonely that hits you unexpectedly in a room crowded with your friend's voices and your children's play. It's interesting, because for me for instance...it's not really been a focus for quite some time now. I got tired of the personal dating sites, and the mass dating rituals. That was within the first 6 months or so. I outgrew the need to prove that I'm desirable still.
I do still beat myself up every now and then about my imperfections as a parent, and I do occasionally still feel the emotion of failure when stop to breathe for a minute.
So, while I'm fine alone for now and am truly in no hurry to rush into anything remotely serious at this moment...I am not exactly sure what to think of these fleeting moments of painful memories and intrinsic longings.
Is three years the magic number for healing after divorce? Four?
So, of course you make the obligatory mistakes when it's been a while since you've dated. You become over- eager, are sexually charged, date a lot, miss all the grossly obvious red-flags that tell you NOT to go out with him or her...you name it, it's done. You think you're ready for things, and you discover afterwards that you're not. As a woman, you can often put yourself in compromising or even dangerous positions without even realizing until it is too late.
All that aside, we learn that there is much that happens that's overwhelming, frantic, hurtful, weird, lonely, angry and of course sexual, in that first year. NOT a good time to take anything seriously, other than moving forward and giving yourself time to heal. I've yet to meet anyone that does that though. It's all about proving you've still got it at first. *Sigh*. Greenhorns all.
AFTER that first year though, the stories are as varied as the people telling them. Almost everyone slows down and begins to take their time in the dating arena, but there are others who need TWO years to reach this point, or even THREE.
So, is there actually a magic number?
I'm not sure. I know that even after that first year, I was driving through our old neighborhood, curious to see our old house. Gosh, I loved that house! It had new owners and it wasn't really being taken care of. And out of the blue that whole "failure" feeling overcame me. A year later! I'm crying as I drive away from a place that wasn't even a HAPPY home, but it had been MY home...and now it wasn't.
Things just hit you, it seems, no matter how much time has passed.
The other day (and it's been two years now), I was in the grocery. It's a place I almost AVOID now. I used to LOVE to go there. I would get food for the next two weeks, plan meals, be excited over special treat finds, etc. NOW, there's me and my son, certainly. But the buck stops with ME. If I buy out the store (spending $300 or so) like a used to, there is only ME to get it all home; load the car, and unload the car at home, and then put it all away. UGH.
It is nice having someone to make things for. It is nice having someone to bring special treats home to. And yes, I bring them home for my son. However, it really is a little different.
And though in my marriage I didn't have this, in a recent relationship I very much did: that EASE of communication. They know you, understand you and vice versa. You don't have to explain. THAT is something that to me, is GOLDEN.
I'm a woman with a good job and a good home. I'm a good Mom and a strong person, in general. I have been on my own more of my life than not, so it's not an "uncomfortable in your own skin" thing. It's more that while I LIKE my own skin, it'd be nice to every now and then, not ALWAYS have to be the only boss; to have that friend that you miss during the day and can't wait to get home to at night; to have that partner to bounce things off of and rely on here and there. Not to mention that person in your bed that ISN'T phobic about being there, that isn't trying to use you, and that isn't just a one night stand.
It's that sudden tinge of lonely that hits you unexpectedly in a room crowded with your friend's voices and your children's play. It's interesting, because for me for instance...it's not really been a focus for quite some time now. I got tired of the personal dating sites, and the mass dating rituals. That was within the first 6 months or so. I outgrew the need to prove that I'm desirable still.
I do still beat myself up every now and then about my imperfections as a parent, and I do occasionally still feel the emotion of failure when stop to breathe for a minute.
So, while I'm fine alone for now and am truly in no hurry to rush into anything remotely serious at this moment...I am not exactly sure what to think of these fleeting moments of painful memories and intrinsic longings.
Is three years the magic number for healing after divorce? Four?
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