Journey Into Submission

a bdsm love journal

Boots

I can hear his boots even with the windows closed.

Without bidding, a smile spreads across my face. I see him, dimly, as he passes in front of a light source from another dwelling. His gait, his shoulders, his very aura lets me know that it is indeed Michael. His boot heels clunk on the sidewalk with a steady, measured purpose until they reach my front door.

He comes after darkness has settled in and the girls have turned their faces to the wall and snuggled into their Pooh blankets. He comes, at my desiring and behest, to sit quietly on my couch and talk with me and play with me and hold me. He comes because it makes no sense for both of us to be lonely apart when we can be happy together. He comes because being together is a rarity in our hectic lives and because we so enjoy each others’ company.

“How are you, pet?” he asks as I wrap myself around him, right there beside the front door, in that blind spot to the outdoors. Instead of answering I rise up on tiptoe and kiss him again and again, unconsciously angling my body to get his thigh between my legs.

“Better,” I answer when I disentangle myself from him and reach to close the blinds.

“That is always a good answer,” he responds, settling onto my couch. I finish my task and collapse next to him. Only when he is here do I stop. I stop writing, I stop worrying, I stop thinking and planning and wondering. His presence in my apartment provides the respite I need from the chaos and emotional turmoil of my normal life. For the time he is near me, I live in the moment and enjoy whatever may occur.

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3 Comments

  1. mamacrow

    oooo, this is WONDERFUL! (and look at that, first to comment!)

  2. Gray Lily, this is as it should be, this makes good reading.
    Love and warm Hugs,
    Paul.

  3. Very, very nice. *smile*

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