His smell sits on my pillow, driving my fantasies. Each night and each morning, the musk that is uniquely him reminds me not yet. Not yet but soon.
In six hours the doorbell will ring. I will be almost ready. My hair may be damp from the last-minute shower, or I will be in the midst of fastening my garters, fumbling with expectant nerves.
He will ring the doorbell again, signaling me to move faster, to fly to the door while simultaneously smoothing my hair and peeping in the hallway mirror, for a last minute check of my appearance. I will yank the door open to find him there: smiling at me in assessment, his eyes trailing from my damp hair to my stockinged feet and back to hold my eyes.
And then, stepping into the entryway, he will fold me into his arms for a kiss, a hello. And I will place my nose against his collarbone and inhale him, that scent I can't erase from my thoughts. It is as unique as a fingerprint, warm and sweet and masculine, powerful yet yielding. I inhale him and I am finally home.
He will guide me to the arm of the couch. The hand on my back will command me to lean over, to place my face on the cushion, as his other hand runs up between my legs, pulling them apart to examine me there.
I will sigh my response and wonder if he might just forgo this spanking and tend to our other needs, my own desire evident as his fingers explore. As quickly as that unspoken question is formed, he will answer it with a slow and welcome beat on my partially exposed drum. Yes, this is what I wanted first, too.
I picture all of this but I have no ending. It just loops in my mind. Our hello. Our kiss. Being in his arms and then feeling his hands tenderly, yet assuredly, reclaiming their ownership of my body.
But somehow we will manage to straighten, to adjust our clothing and appear respectable as we continue with our remaining plans. When I sit across from him at dinner, the warmth of my bottom will be answered with a blooming wetness. His smell on my fingertips will be a promise that he has more. Always more.
In six hours the doorbell will ring and he will spank me. In eight hours he will spank me again. In ten hours, we will curl together and sleep.
He will ring the doorbell again, signaling me to move faster, to fly to the door while simultaneously smoothing my hair and peeping in the hallway mirror, for a last minute check of my appearance. I will yank the door open to find him there: smiling at me in assessment, his eyes trailing from my damp hair to my stockinged feet and back to hold my eyes.
And then, stepping into the entryway, he will fold me into his arms for a kiss, a hello. And I will place my nose against his collarbone and inhale him, that scent I can't erase from my thoughts. It is as unique as a fingerprint, warm and sweet and masculine, powerful yet yielding. I inhale him and I am finally home.
He will guide me to the arm of the couch. The hand on my back will command me to lean over, to place my face on the cushion, as his other hand runs up between my legs, pulling them apart to examine me there.
I will sigh my response and wonder if he might just forgo this spanking and tend to our other needs, my own desire evident as his fingers explore. As quickly as that unspoken question is formed, he will answer it with a slow and welcome beat on my partially exposed drum. Yes, this is what I wanted first, too.
I picture all of this but I have no ending. It just loops in my mind. Our hello. Our kiss. Being in his arms and then feeling his hands tenderly, yet assuredly, reclaiming their ownership of my body.
But somehow we will manage to straighten, to adjust our clothing and appear respectable as we continue with our remaining plans. When I sit across from him at dinner, the warmth of my bottom will be answered with a blooming wetness. His smell on my fingertips will be a promise that he has more. Always more.
In six hours the doorbell will ring and he will spank me. In eight hours he will spank me again. In ten hours, we will curl together and sleep.
Beautiful, as always, beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Bonnie-jo! I have great inspiration. :)
ReplyDeleteI dream of that daily too. Even when I'm over his lap I dream that it'll never end. :)
ReplyDeletety for commenting on my blog as well.
ree[D]
So nice. A thorough accounting.
ReplyDelete-H
There's nothing like having a man who inspires and fulfills those fantasies.
ReplyDeleteinteresting to read, so very well expressing the mood and your feelings. Thanks for sharing. Great pictures
ReplyDeleteRed
ree[D]: Yes, it's a true sign of addiction when you are already thinking of your next spanking during your current spanking. Someone is doing something right.
ReplyDeleteHedone: Thanks!
Traci: He's pretty proud of himself. ;)
redxxx: Aww, thank you!