The Beauty of his Love

his nails scour the skin on my back, giving all the feedback I need to feel, to know, to savour his contact with me. The feint marks create a roadmap of his desire to connect with me, more than he already is.

The fingers of his other hand seek & find the spot that makes my hips buck, my back arch, my breath catch – over and over.

His mouth sends sparks through me as he kisses the small of my back, gently nibbling my skin, again increasing the intensity of his proximity to me.

I cannot see him, cannot see that blissful look on his face or the excitement in his eyes but I can feel it as he uses himself to increase my pleasure.

I may die not know what pleasure he derives from giving me pleasure but in those moments I am enveloped in the beauty of his love for me, held safe in the knowledge that this special connection that we share ties us together in a way nothing else can.


I can’t wait.

I can’t wait to kiss him.

I can’t wait to hold him.

I can’t wait to squeeze the soft skin of his cheek & tell him what a sweet boy he is.

I can’t wait to whisper in his ear & remind him he is mine.

I can’t wait to lock his collar in place & reconfirm my ownership of him.

I can’t wait to hear him say ‘Yes Miss’

Can you feel my heart beating faster?

Can you see my pupils dilated?

Can you hear my bated breath?

I will wait, but only 8 more hours.