The Sunday Letter

It's funny, I guess. Right after hanging up the phone this morning, the first song I hear is 'Ants Marching.' That one lyric jumped out at me-how does it go? 'She thinks, we look at each other, wondering what the other is thinking, but we never say a thing.'

What do you think about in the quiet times, when the domination has slipped away? When you are just you, bare and tired and stripped; when you are in your bed, alone, picturing my face. How real can you make it feel when you imagine my warm, naked body curled up next to yours? How real is my soft, dark hair falling on your shoulders while I lay my head on your strong arm? Do you experience the weight of my full, creamy tits resting on your chest, my breath on your neck? When you imagine my hand brushing against your cock, do you feel my fingertips gripping you, gliding over that sensitive area? Do you think about me inhaling deeply and the sounds I make when I cum? Can you see the little gold flecks in my eyes as I gaze up at you from between your legs, my cheeks shiny from the spit on your cock? How wet is the mouth you imagine at 4 a.m. when you're exhausted from working so hard? You have pictured how it might be if things were different-- maybe even many times you have pictured it. You have wondered how I have imagined this, as well. You have spent several nights alone in your bed, as have I, wondering what it might be like if we let this self-imposed structure slip away, if only for a while, if only for once. Have you seen it the way I have? How do you see me when you allow yourself to think of me differently?

Have you seen us naked and wet together in the shower, you pressing me up against the wall, your soapy hand slipping between my thighs; my damp hair clinging to my face as you work your fingers up my slit...Does my back arch when you work in another finger, and another, fisting me slowly, making me feel all the sensations of my pussy being stretched to the limit...do you delight in how imperfect I look with my mascara streaming down my cheeks, my efforts to be beautiful for you swirling down the drain...Maybe you take my thighs in your hands and pull my legs up around your waist, pinning me to the shower wall...maybe I grab the back of your neck for balance as you push your fat cock deeper and deeper in to me. Is the water pounding against your back, dripping down your ass, as you push your tongue in my mouth? Do you groan as you feel a surge of wetness spill out of my cunt? Do I moan as I say your name, begging you to fill me with your cum...Do you finish me off by stepping back and pissing on me, filling my mouth with your hot fluid, watching me drink you? Maybe you picture that one moment, the one I always go back to--your rock hard cock pumping my ass so hard that morning on my bed, filling me, fucking me. It was bliss, of course; me giving you the most I could and you accepting it, then giving it back. Me looking back at you, you doing the completely unexpected thing: looking right into my eyes and kissing me. I was your whore, but I wasn't. The lines blurred for just a minute, but I wait lifetimes for those moments when they do.

When your mind brings me to bed with you halfway across the country, what is it that I do for you? Am I quietly murmuring and purring to you as you fall asleep? Am I lying on top of you, my belly pressed against yours as I slowly squirm around with your cock buried inside my warm cunt? Do you feel my slippery cum dripping down on to your balls? Do you work a finger up my ass and picture the look of ecstasy on my face when I start to feel your cock throb, your cum squirting deep inside me...'Oh, God...fuuuuck...cum in me...oh, God...' Am I looking at you with half-closed eyes, biting my lower lip? Am I hyperventilating or holding my breath...do I collapse by your side, kissing and sucking your lips until we both drift into sleep?

We don't have to understand a thing for it to be true. We don't have to understand why this has lasted as long as it has, why it has lasted in the face of so many obstacles over time. We don't have to understand why this thing exists between us; this thing that unites us so closely but defines the space between us. We don't have to understand why D/s sex with others never feels quite the same as it does with each other. For now, it is enough to know that we both agree on 'Always,'.