Thursday, May 26, 2011

bondage

Octopus by Josh Miller


I nuzzle in close, head under his chin. My finger draws imaginary circles on his abdomen. He has requested pillow talk and made the statement more than once that I have assumed the more masculine role in our relationship. Before now I have dismissed him but have recently decided that relationships are about give and take.

Placating his desires I find myself wondering how much pillow talk will be sufficient. Is there an algebraic formula that will give me the answer? X being the time it took for us to climax multiplied by Y, which is the variable shown in the quality of the foreplay. What about the stress of the day or the dream I may have had the night before? I just want to sleep, the sleep that can only be found after the brain surge of an orgasm.

It’s too hot, and we’re both sticky. I peel myself away from him. Resting myself on my elbows, I remain close enough to feel the heat. That was nice, I say reassuring him of his prowess. He grins, It was, wasn’t it?


I reach over him to the nightstand, put on my glasses, pull my hair up in the clippie and sit cross legged next to him. Have you ever tried bondage?


No, he smiles, I’m a virgin at that.


Would ‘ja, do ya’ think?


Since I’m already your love slave, you can have your way with me. I trust you completely.


Really? I’ve been reading about it and don’t know if it’s for me. I lean down and place a gentle kiss on his lips forcing another grin.


Why do you say that? He leans up as I do, pulls me near, takes the clippie out of my hair, runs his fingers through it forcing it to fall and begins kissing my neck as he pulls in even closer.


I would have difficulty with the safe word. My hand reaches up and pushes him away.


What’s a safe word? He looks puzzled.


It’s a word one partner uses when it becomes too intense, when the one partner wants the other to stop.


Why would you have a problem with it?


Because I’m not sure I could.


Could?


Stop..I’m not sure I’d stop.


What if I was the dominant one and you were the submissive? Leaning back again against the pillow he begins to stare at the ceiling. His hands are clasped behind his head.


I trace the line of his ear between my thumb and forefinger, First, I would use it to make sure you would stop when I said it.


He looks at me.


I would use it again to ensure the first time was not some type of joke. My other hand begins to feel the full length of his leg as I massage and focus on the tight calf muscles. He has nice legs.


Then I would start using it as some type of silliness, and it would make me laugh. I look into his eyes and grin.


My hands come together as I cup his face and place another kiss on his lips, It wouldn't be a safe word anymore. Then it would be a joke and not even sex.


My kisses begin to find his chin, the tip of his nose and his forehead. I straddle him allowing our bodies to meet again. Maybe we shouldn't try bondage because even with you I don't trust myself not to torture you as you're screaming the safe word. Bondage may not be good for a person like me.


You’re right. You can’t be trusted, he pushes me off of him and turns away.


Now would be a good time for me to reassure him, to let him know that he can trust me. Instead I figure the algebraic equation has solved itself and nuzzle my face into the pillow. My last rambling thought is, Maybe he’s right.

1 comment:

Johnny Boy said...

As beautiful as your writing is, and as wonderful as this story is, I might now understand if your son does not read your blog. lol...though he should anyway because everything on here is beautiful!