Relationships

Feb 142017
 

Ocean waves

The evening wind is a gentle pressure against our bodies as we look out at the waves, the light of the full moon reflecting on the gathering seafoam. His hand squeezes mine. I tip my head to try to encompass the vastness of the sky. I feel myself expand to hold it all – the huge luminous moon, the velvet sky, the endless ocean, and his love. He holds me, kissing my face, tasting my tears. “What is the ocean to you?” he asks.

She is mother. The ocean is infinite unconditional love. She is the goddess, Aphrodite. My sadness and rage can be taken in and transformed in her waves. She is birth and rebirth. She is life.

Intense emotion rises in my core. We stand shoulder to shoulder, balanced between moon and waves. I want to scream into the waves, but it’s too hard to find the right moment to release. The pressure inside builds, but I still can’t let go. I know he feels me struggle, but he just holds the space in love. I breath in the wild ocean air, letting it penetrate and purify me. When I exhale, every shred of pain I am feeling is carried out with my voice and swallowed by the waves…

 _______

We are tangled in the sheets, wet with sweat and desire. I arch my back, pressing my ass against his erection. He holds me against him, one arm pressed against my throat, one hand pinning my hip in place. I writhe and moan because I want him to fuck me more than I can ever remember wanting anything. His voice is soft and firm in my ear, but I can’t process what he says. I am consumed with wanting. Teeth grasp hard at the junction of neck and shoulder. I flinch and cry out, then fall still at his touch…

 _______

I can’t seem to stop talking. My voice has decided that I won’t sit still and be quiet. Freed by the ocean and made vulnerable by his trust, I tell him everything about my life. I want to know everything about his. We make dinner together in the tiny kitchen that makes frequent contact necessary. We sing along with Queen and dirty dance in the kitchen. I kiss him deep as the ocean and pull back a few inches. He shudders at the energy of it, his blue eyes wide…

 _______

Reflections of TylerI can feel the rhythm of the waves in my body, desire running from my cunt to my heart and back again. Looking down at his beautiful face, I want to hold on to this moment forever. I slide his cock inside me a centimeter at a time. I am awash in love. So slowly, I rock back to take in his whole length. I want him slow and soft. His hips lift to meet me and the sensation is almost too much. I lean down to kiss his chest, but the angle is not right. Braced by his hands on my hips, I lean back, feeling the flow and ebb of the ocean building inside me. There is only this – our bodies rocking to meet each other in spasms of ecstasy, our spirits entwined…

 _______

Children run on the sand, chasing the waves then racing back screaming in delight. I am filled with a deep contentment as we walk along the beach in the sunlight. I decide that sandpipers are my new spirit animal. We laugh at how they move. We take photos of random things on the beach. I see a dog in the distance that turns out to be a log. We have to stop to kiss every few feet. I feel so present, anchored in this moment, this place, this human by my side…

 _______

We snuggle down to sleep. My body hums with desire simply knowing he is near. I wrap my arms around him, pressing my breasts against his back. I try to sleep but the scent of his warm skin make me feel drunk. The back of his neck needs kissing. He gasps when I wrap my fingers in his long hair and pull his head back. His surrender leaves my cunt soaking wet. I grind my pelvis against his ass, wishing so hard that I had a cock. We fuck energetically, tension building until we can’t stand it.

We slide the dildo into the harness and he start to give me head. My toes curl and my back arches in pleasure. I can feel him sucking my cock. It’s unbelievably sexy. “How should we do this?” he asks…

 _______

We wash each other’s hair. We rub soap all over each other, sliding around in the steam and spray of the shower, while music surrounds us. He kneels in front of me wrapping his arms around me. I feel loved and honored in his embrace. He stands up and we gaze into each other’s eyes. We kiss and the feel of him on my lips ignites my passion. I plead for him to fuck me but he laughs and tells me to wait. I go down on him instead, floating on a tide of sensation…

 _______

When we fuck, it is rough, like a wrestling match, and yet he is always gentle. We fuck all over the bed, rolling around and laughing when not utterly intent. Fucking is not close enough. I want more of him. I want deeper. I moan face first into the bed, my hands grabbing fistfuls of pillows while he thrusts into me from behind. There is no me any more, only a fierce hot need. “Use your nails!” I order, “Harder!” He complies, nearly drawing blood down the length of my back. The edge of pain pushes me into pure bliss. We both come together…

 _______

We come over and over in a spiral of building trust and learning bodies. We make love until our bodies give out. He stops mid-fuck, “How is your body doing Love?”

“My body is feeling great.” I protest, urging him to continue.

“Yes, but how is your body doing?” Oh. My body should stop.

He leans over me, with his long hair tickling my chest. I gaze up at him, full of love and desire, “Let’s be mermaids…”

 _______

Evoe and Tyler at the oceanBefore we leave, we walk along the sunlit beach one more time. I hover on the verge of orgasm, laughing and shivering with joy as each wave rushes to embrace us and we dance away. We see driftwood that looks like a sailing ship stranded on the shore. Our mood is bittersweet with the knowledge that all things must end, yet we are grateful for beginnings. Birth and rebirth. I walk into the waves to wet my hands. I touch the seawater to my face, my heart, and my cunt. I offer up my prayers to Aphrodite, “Lady, I am your vessel. Thank you for the love I have experienced. Let me be open to your flow. I will be a vehicle for love in the world.”

We walk toward the car and he takes my hand…

Oct 122016
 

It’s the kind of autumn day that feels sweet and sad. The sun suddenly breaks through the clouds, setting a million droplets of rain sparkling. Bright leaves crunch under my feet and the scent of wood smoke is in the air. In another few moments the sky will darken and the wind will make the cedar boughs sway. This season reminds me that all things continue to change. I must let go of the old so that I may create anew. While I might still lust for the hot long days of summer, the only way to find them again is by moving forward.leaves

The legal divorce is final. It’s what I wanted, but seeing the official papers made me cry. I remember when our lives together held so much potential. It’s humbling to realize that he’s doing so much better without me. I don’t think he’s sees how well he’s doing yet because this change is painful, but I am proud of him. As we make our way through this healing process, both alone and together, I see that we are finding a way to share our lives and our family that is more authentic.

As the trees shake off their clothes and prepare to dream through the winter, so too am I stripping down to the barest essence of myself and exploring the infinite possibilities. The deeper I go, the more I find my heat, my passion. I feel grounded and alive.

To balance my grief, I am also happier now than I have ever been in my life. It feels wrong to be so happy when other people are not. It’s hard to disentangle, difficult to stop taking care of everyone, but I’m working on boundaries. I working on letting relationships be what they actually are.

I don’t have words for my relationship with Harold. We are primal forces. When he opens his arms to me, it is like falling into warm ocean waves. When we kiss, it’s like the universe opens up and I witness the birth of stars. His touch makes me shiver with excitement like a spring breeze tickling the back of my neck. We talk for hours because the exchange of ideas is like lightning. We cry because the rain isn’t enough to hold the emotions of the world. The fertile energy of our sex creates a new life for us and for our family.

The sex has been so good lately.

I’ve always had such a beautiful connection with Harold. Our sexual repertoire is vast: sweet, kinky, silly, easy, cuddly, hot, lingering, loud, passionate, intense, playful. What amazes me is that we keep expanding into new territory. Harold has been Topping me in a delicious way lately. Like a toe curling, orgasms rolling, psyche bending kind of way.  Increased trust between us means that our walls are down and we are more spontaneous. We are generally people who have sex 2-3 times a week, but lately it’s often more like 2-3 times a day. I am profoundly grateful for this connective time and the healing it brings.

sheepskin-and-leavesI need to be healed. It’s terrifying to be so close to another human. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable to being hurt. Every single time I face my fears, and we talk through another layer of emotions. I shed more of the tropes that once kept me safe, like the trees that line the road. To hold onto them at this point would jeopardize my survival. We need to be healed. We keep leaning in until all that’s left is the truth of our souls.

I may be turning my energy inward now as the autumn leaves tell me it’s time to hoard resources, but I am also blessed by new possibility in my life. I look forward to a long, dark, cozy winter. We will see what blossoms in the spring.

Jun 032016
 

My love,

In bed without youI woke up smiling this morning. You must have just left the bed because I snuggled into your warm spot, breathing in your scent. I let my mind slowly come into awareness. My thoughts wandered through my plans for the day and conversations we’ve been having. I remembered the way you went down on me yesterday when I said I was feeling turned on. My fingers began caressing my stomach and thighs – not with intent, just think of you and loving myself.

I stretched to wake up my muscles and bring myself more into my body. I am tender in places I didn’t know I could be tender! Each sore spot reminds me of some delicious time we’ve spent together. My ass aches where you gave me the best spanking ever. Every time I walk up the stairs my thighs protest from all the time I was on top and riding you as hard as I could. My upper arms twinge from hitting your balls with a mallet. Even the brush of the sheets on my nipples is enough to make me shudder in pain and longing. My clitoris feels swollen from so much attention from your mouth, and fingers, and the vibrator. I stretched out my body and realized that I am so happy.

This has been a hard patch that we are going through. I know we often go from dawn to dusk without a moment for ourselves. Things in our lives are changing. Transformation is usually stressful. I want to acknowledge that you are the joy in my life, the thing that keeps me going, my partner, and my friend. I appreciate your presence more than I can express, but I think my body is speaking for me.

Missing youWe have made love 5 times in the past week, beyond the kind of diffuse lovemaking we share most of the time. We connect in so many ways. We are finally living authentically. When we walk around actively loving each other, slipping into intercourse feels easy and natural. Even waking up in the middle of the night so turned on that we fuck sweetly and fall asleep again! I love that we trust each other this much. Our relationship keeps getting deeper.

I want to thank you for staying with me through the pain in my vagina. I’ve sometimes felt like I’ve lost my identity without my sexuality, but I’ve never been without you. It’s been frustrating to have a part of my body so closely tied to pleasure feel so uncomfortable. I haven’t always known how to stay connected sexually. We’ve been creative. The pain hasn’t fully gone away, but I feel like we’re learning to live with it. I could not have traveled this path as gracefully without you to hold my hand.

So, my love, think about me today, as I am thinking of you. I look forward to slow steamy kisses, looking into your eyes while we talk about passionate things, objectifying your gorgeous naked body, and cupping myself around you as we settle in to sleep. If you happen to awaken in the dark and you are filled with desire, well, you know where I sleep…

Love,
Me

Apr 182016
 

Fire of transformation

 

When we got together Joel and I agreed that marriage ruined good relationships. We had each recently escaped bad marriages. I remember a particular road trip, drinking coffee and talking intensely, where we swore never to marry each other.

We’ve always done things our way and damn the consequences. We clove to each other when we were ordered to stay away because we were causing an “international scandal”. We gave birth to two beautiful boys, united in our passion for natural birth and breastfeeding. We shared dreams of possible futures. We agreed on a polyamorous lifestyle because how could you possibly go through life loving only one person? We eventually got married – our way, without regrets.

We are getting divorced now. Did you know that sometimes love, respect, and good communication is not enough to keep a marriage together? For the past few years we have worked to align our paths. Despite our best efforts, we can no longer justify staying together. We choose growth and happiness as individuals over marriage. We never promised each other forever, but after 16 years we’ve built up habits. We don’t even really have hard feelings. Our paths go in different directions.

Let me be clear though: we are not breaking up. Being poly means that we can let our relationships be what they truly are rather than what we think they should be. We are getting legally divorced because it’s important to me as part of being an individual. I don’t want to be a wife. We are currently not living together because we need some time to heal, but I don’t know what the future holds. Our lives are still very much entwined. He is my friend. Our relationship continues to evolve. We are becoming something else because we have the power and the bravery to stay open to each other through the pain.

I think we could both use a little extra love and support from those close to us. We are doing this our way so we don’t need people to give advice, cast blame, or talk shit. We’ve got this, but there isn’t an acceptable protocol for offering social support around the inevitable grief at the passing of a primary bond. Maybe just let us know that you are thinking of us. Have faith that we are looking out for each other and the family we created.

Even knowing I am making the right choices and we are working together to ease the transition, it hurts like fuck. I am tearing up my roots. I am moving forward with my life. I honor our past and the person Joel has become. I love him and I always will.

Aug 082015
 

A cloudy summer afternoon in the tree house…

Naked in the tree house

…feeling the air on my skin…

Leaf

…talking about serious things while the leaves drift down…

Foot play

…he begins to stir under my foot…

From behind

“What does it look like from up there?”

Intensity

…the sweetest release…

Satisfaction

…relaxed, smug, and connected to the universe…

Blood offering

…a single drop of blood left in thanks.”

 

 

See what other people have been doing for this Sinful Sunday!

Sinful Sunday
Feb 222015
 

Reflected in the windowHappiness is being in the middle of a naked snuggle pile. I could see us reflected in the glass ceiling of the solarium: Harold and Woody both curled around me, our legs entwined, hands still roaming each other’s bodies. We made a beautiful tableau. After more orgasms than I can remember, I was feeling diffuse and abundant love. They were taking advantage of the lull in the action to geek out together over cool higher math.

My body was saturated with sensation. I was hyper aware of every touch, the unique scent of their skin, the warmth of our bodies together, the blues songs that filled the room and became part of the fabric of our existence, the taste of ginger beer spicy on my tongue and in their kisses, and the sunlight blessing us all. I could close my eyes and feel myself sustained by their strength, nourished by their love, safe in their arms. Not only do these men bring me great pleasure, they also make me relax and live in the moment.

Those moments were pretty incredible. I adored having all the extra stimulation. Being able to make out while someone goes down on me or having a cock in each hand is satisfying. It’s surprisingly challenging to give two hand jobs at once, especially since they each prefer a different style and rhythm. They had the audacity to suggest that I was doing it wrong, but I think it was just an excuse to spend time going down on each other.

It was hot to watch them, two mostly straight guys who have come into their own sexual power in their 60’s. They were passionate with each other. They performed fellatio with a hunger, like they’ve spent their whole lives thinking about what they would do if they ever got a chance. It obviously felt good. When receiving, they each groaned with head thrown back and body arched. I felt a momentary twinge of jealousy to be excluded from this ardent display, but watching them was so primal that I felt connected anyway.

The three of us are so full of love for each other. We respect each other and we feel comfortable being vulnerable. Each of us could ask for the things that we specifically enjoy and wanted. It was okay to laugh and cry and discuss Euler’s identity. I’ve been fucking geeks for most of my life and never realized how sexy logarithms could be, but it certainly worked for Harold and Woody.

Reflected in the windowIt’s amazing how many different ways in which three people can combine. It takes a little bit more work than two people, but we are creative. The advantage to making love with older men is that they take their time. We can have sex for hours and it focuses more on my pleasure. The disadvantage of older men is that I have yet to make them both hard enough at the same time for double penetration or other such hijinks, but I think we’ll get there eventually.

It was a lovely afternoon, from eating sushi with our fingers and catching up to a wild tangle of mouths and limbs – from sensual overload to furious fucking ­– from soaking in the hot tub to dinner and a movie with the family – from Euler to Richard Feynman to Gregory Chaitin. Threesomes have a certain caché, but the time we’ve spent together isn’t like that. We aren’t just there to fuck. We are friends. I have incredible sex with each of them separately. Together we create a function of complex variables that has an amazing integral.

Feb 152015
 

All or nothingWe finally reached a point where I lay limp in his arms, my feet tangled in the sheets, our bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat. My tears and snot lubricated the skin between his shoulder and my cheek. Emptied of grief, I finally found myself floating in a place of comfort. It had taken all night to get there, but now, finally, 40 minutes before his alarm would go off, I felt the love and connection I had been struggling all night to find.

I fought him. All of my frustration and helpless rage needed out. I opened my mouth and all of the hateful bitter things trapped inside spilled from my lips. I didn’t want him to take it on, but of course he did, stepping into each of my desperate claims and wearing it around like an ill-fitting garment. Maybe that helped me, seeing how ridiculous he looked in my fears. But he would say, “This isn’t me. What are you talking about?” and his voice would be loaded with hurt as we lay in bed, surrounded by darkness, “You don’t even see me!”

And I would cry harder because I wasn’t talking about him, I was talking about my emotions, telling him about the things I need to work through because they are poisoning me. I wanted him to reassure me, to tell me that it was okay to feel, and to be my ally in finding solutions. I would tell him, “Of course I see you. I know you. You are my heart.” and I would writhe against him in agitation, “Please, I need help!”

I felt like I was drowning. Over and over, I would cry, “I just want you to hear me!” like I was begging for a life preserver. The middle of the night is never the best time to try to have relationship discussions, but we didn’t have other time. Exhausted and hopeless, I wanted to give up.

He got angry. On opposite sides of the bed, like continents separated by an ocean, we lobbed bombs at each other in futile attempt to make peace. I had no defenses, being open to him made me an easy target. Every word he said hurt, but nothing as bad as his final abandonment would, when in cold tones he explained that we were over.

It’s always all or nothing here. We give everything or we walk away alone. I wasn’t ready to lose what we have built. I made the same sacrifice I always make, silently wishing that he would apologize first sometimes.

All or nothingUnder the oppressive weight of my sadness, I needed his touch. I longed to be held, cherished, protected from this anguish. He came round to my side, slid under the heavy covers, and pulled my body on top of his. We would both calm with our bodies this close. I let go. I let go of my problems, my anxiety, the desperate emotions I can’t seem to resolve. I made a decision to believe him when he said that I was building walls against him. I lowered my defenses. I was vulnerable to him.

In his arms, I released my pent up emotions in a torrent. His anger dissolved under the onslaught of my tears and the absolution that what I was feeling is not about now, not his fault. I cried until I was empty, even dumping the vague feeling that I had betrayed myself. All that mattered was somehow finding each other before the night ended.

In those moments of stillness I experienced a strange high. I would feel strongly connected to him, but also euphoric, drifty, and hollow – a bit like a balloon on his string. Emptied of all thought and emotion, I found a pure meditative state where we held each other in peace until the alarm went off.

 

 

 

Sinful Sunday

Feb 082015
 

CuppingJust when I think that the new relationship energy must be over – that maybe we’ve exhausted our passion, or built up too much resentment for intimacy to feel good – sex is suddenly better than ever. The past month has brought a sea change in my relationship with Harold, perhaps born of many hours working through old pain in our relationship, but more likely simply paying more attention to some health issues.

It’s amazing how different our relationship is when my thyroid levels are back in balance and Harold gets enough sleep and takes vitamins. He says that vitamins give him the ability to act on the fact that he wants me all the time. Amazing! I can’t wait to see what happens when we both start exercising on a regular basis.

Our connection has always been sexual, but now we can’t get enough of each other – it’s been five times a week, sometimes twice a day. We are suddenly able to experience each other in ways that we’ve wanted but been unable to quite achieve. Harold topped me for a whole session, sending me into spasms of delight. I put needles through his balls, deeply satisfying his adventurous spirit. We played around with cupping while listening to old vinyl on the record player, bonding through a shared love of the blues. We’ve been seriously kinky and had so much fun!

My new favorite thing is being tied up and spanked while I’m on top of the Magic Wand. I don’t come quickly, but the ride is intense. Also, I’m enjoying being fucked from behind with a butt plug in, so it feels like I’m being fucked in both holes. Coming like that is beyond description. I’ve never felt so close to Harold as in those moments of pure pulsing pleasure.

NeedleWe are more romantic right now too. All of that oxytocin surging through us is making us all mushy. We’ve been doing sweet little things to help each other, getting small presents that would bring joy, and leaving love notes. I feel like he is understanding me in ways that were out of reach before. We are both stretching, trying hard to be big enough for this fire that is our passion.

Not everything is roses. I can see how important it is for us to take care of our bodies and our psyches so we can keep having unbelievable sex. We still have moments nearly every day where we feel some twinge of pain or frustration, but now we have the golden nectar of love and sexual connection buoying our souls. For that balm, I will brave a few thorns.

Jan 312015
 

Going downI wake up to him going down on me. My body responds before I am really awake – legs wrapping around him, back arched, hands making fists against the sheets. In the tent under the blankets the scent of his skin surrounds me. The darkness is soft and warm. I focus on the feel of his tongue passing over my clit. When did I get so wet?

I need this man like water in the desert. I’ve been so horny lately, so stressed. In the very early morning he comes to me like a river. He flows over my body. His tongue says, “Be hot for me Baby. Go ahead and burn. I will ease your fever.”

I let go. Sleepily, blissfully, I melt into him. The whole huge complexity of the world narrows to one point. Love. I can forget about everything else for a while. My burdens will wait. I exhale and release all my tension. I’m floating, but his body anchors me. This is the safest I have felt in days.

Heat builds under his mouth. I realize that I am making loud moaning noises and I try to be quieter, but it doesn’t matter. I am pressing myself against him as hard as possible. He pins my wrist to the bed with one hand and captures my soul. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, but this small decisive action tells me that he owns me. I give him everything of me. It’s all his.

Making loveHe is still licking my clit with quick intense motions that make me twitch. Now his other hand roams up to my nipples. He gently pinches and my sounds get louder. I want everything all at once. I want to be right here forever. I want to come. “Harder,” I tell him.

He tweaks my nipples in earnest and my body stiffens as pleasure lances through me. Oh my god. I am gasping with each small jolt of pain. I am overwhelmed with love and flooded with lust for this man. I want more!

I love the weight of him on top of me. It feels secure, like a seatbelt. His is my shield against despair. I writhe under him, swollen with desire, blazing with need. He kisses me deeply and it is like diving into a lake on a summer’s day. His face is moist with my juices. I thrust my impatient tongue between his lips. His mouth is firm on mine. I invite him in.

I feel like a volcano heading for eruption, all lava and pressure. The feel of him inside me, pressing against my g-spot is nearly enough to make me explode. He hands me the vibrator.

That moment just before orgasm is the best – the slow build to powerful peak, poised at the edge of incredible intensity, striving both to slow the inevitable and speed the climax. I find it compelling and excruciating all at once. I think I live there.

He fills me. I am rocked by his motions. Suddenly, like seeing a waterfall approaching, I know I’m going to come. I get swept over the edge, and I am tightening around him in powerful waves. A flood of emotion Connectedovercomes me and then evaporates. I am awash in love. Sweaty, steamy love.

We snuggle in stillness for a few moments. Maybe this is the best part. I feel grounded, connected in a way that has been elusive lately. There are no words here, no need to talk, just us. In the early morning, in the warm quiet dark, we lie in each others arms and we whisper, “Let’s try that again in a few hours.”

Jan 242015
 

KnifeCourtship works in different ways for different folks. Harold and I took our time, flirting heavily and making out at parties for years, but when we finally decided to go to bed together it was serious. The first time was exploratory. I naively asked why we would need four hours to make love. The second time was wild and raw. We were animals together, no words, just rutting and frolicking. But the third time was magic – in the forest, in the moonlight, with a very sharp knife.

The moon hung low, radiant and swollen with desire, embraced in the naked limbs of the trees. My blood raced as I contemplated my plans for the evening. In the warm air, I felt the moon calling me like a siren to come swim, the water’s fine. And it was. Bathed in moonlight, Harold and I stood at the crossroads.

I took his hands, noticing his tidy nails, strong slender fingers, and finely furred forearms. The sleeves of his red button-down shirt were rolled up to the elbow. I’d asked him to wear something old. I didn’t know then that he’d chosen a shirt that had been his father’s, dark red for passion and blood. I looked at him for a long moment, feeling the power of possibility.

“Do you trust me?” I breathed into his ear.

He didn’t even hesitate, although he had no idea what to expect, “I trust you completely. I give myself to you.” Maybe he had some idea of what to expect. He knew me.

I laughed softly, “It might be dangerous.”

I filled my lungs and slowly exhaled, grounding some of my nerves, but I still felt dizzy with desire. I wanted to do this right. I pulled a silver knife from my pocket and let him see it. The razor-sharp blade was about as long as my hand, the hilt wrapped in red leather. It glinted in the moon’s fierce light.

“Is this ok?” I asked him softly. Taking his nod for consent, I cut a long strip from the bottom of his shirt and blindfolded him with it. The simple act carried an aura of rightness, yet I felt awkward. Unsure of where to put the knife, I momentarily held it between my teeth like a pirate.

Ignoring the slight tremor in my hands, I proceeded as though I knew what I was doing. I slid my blade into the gap in the front of the shirt and sliced through the thread holding onto each button. I slipped around him, letting my breasts brush against his arm and my breath caress the back of his neck. I thrust into the fabric, divesting him of his protective layers with a flick of my wrist. We both knew I was removing more than a simple shirt.

He stood before me, bare to his soul. The moon wrapped the gift of his vulnerability in glowing shadow-light. Needing to feel his skin, I shed my own clothes. My nipples hardened against his chest. He was breathing faster than normal when I pressed my lips to his, and although it took him half a second to respond, his embrace was ardent. I hoped that, like me, he felt the danger and the magic of the moment. His body was taut with expectation.

“I have you, “ I told him, touching his chest softly, “I can hurt you and I can heal you.”

I pulled the dull edge of my knife gently across his back, knowing that the weight of the blade would still feel intense in this state of arousal. I made pass after pass, never really breaking his skin, creating a web of lines across his back. He stayed relaxed under my hand, but I could feel that he was achingly present, waiting for the next stroke.

I paused, knife extended. I wanted him so hard. Everything about him turned me on. I had not known that sharing trust like this would be so hot. His utter faith laid me open. I pulled the cloth from his eyes. With a steady hand and an indrawn breath, I let the keen edge penetrate his flesh. I exhaled. Small dots of blood beaded along the lines I had drawn, forming a heart that glistened in the serious moonlight.

It was a night of surrender and bonds were formed. I know we must have had amazing sex, but I don’t remember the specifics. Isn’t that funny? It was an incredible night, and all of the many nights since then haven’t changed the fact that at the core of our relationship, Harold and I, we are still standing in the woods, under that moon, with a very sharp knife.