intimacy

From Afar

To the Man I Admire from Afar:

I hate that I don’t know how long it will be until you are mine. Someday I know you will be, though. I just have to be patient.

I can see you arriving on my doorstep, finally free from your commitments and able to be with me. I know there will be an amazing smile on your face, joy radiating from within about the pleasure of finally being able to claim me as yours. When I open the door, you will find me wearing a long, black satin and lace nightgown under a sheer and lacy black robe. You will see my breasts hanging like ripe fruit in the bodice of the gown, waiting for your touch. I know that smile of yours will become even bigger as your eyes look at me with desperation and need. We will both be so ready when that day comes.

Your lips will find mine, gently at first as we connect with each other. Passion will soon take over, though, as your tongue will pierce past my lips to find my willing response. Your hands will be wandering anywhere and everywhere, but finally finding their favored spot on my ass which is covered scantily by the lightweight fabric. As you pull me close to you, I will be able to feel your desire manifesting very obviously under your clothes, too.

Most of all, though, I look forward to making love to you. You don’t know how much I want to be alone in my bed together, just the two of us, barely any light at all in the room. You’ll take off your clothes before I can stop you, and then you will turn to remove mine. Your hands will loosen the ties on my robe; I will let my shoulders roll back and it will drop to the floor. Your hands will caress my breasts which are longing for your touch, and soon, your fingers will be under the fabric rubbing my quickly hardening nipples. Your ability to resist will be so weakened that it won’t take long before the nightgown is on the floor next to my robe, and there will be nothing else on my body besides your hands.

We will lead each other to the bed, naked and filled with desire. Our kissing will continue, slow and passionate. The night is ahead of us, and it belongs to us. There is nowhere we need to be except in each other’s arms making love after waiting so long. Our touches will be gentle, loving and sensuous. We want nothing more than to feel the other’s breath against our skin, our lover’s lips against our flesh, our hands exploring gently as we make love.

We will continue touching, kissing, loving each other for amounts of time that we can’t fathom. Slow, romantic music will play in the background, but we won’t be paying attention to it because we will be too enamored with our desire. When we can’t handle being apart anymore, your cock will finally come inside of me to bring us even closer. We will share one breath, one need, as slowly you thrust in and out of my pussy, my natural lubrication being more than we need because of all the foreplay.

Maybe we will continue thrusting until one or both of us reaches orgasm. Maybe we won’t. Orgasm isn’t our goal. Intimacy is. We want to be as close to each other as possible, kindling our love, building our relationship. All that matters is we are finally alone together, naked, body and soul.

But until that day, I will be admiring you from afar.

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com

The Written Word

One of the things I find really fascinating is that I haven’t seen the handwriting of any of the men that I have dated since my divorce. Not one of them. I’ve received numerous texts and emails from lovers, but not one of them has ever sent me a card or given me a handwritten love note. It’s really not that odd of a thing: in our modern world, most communication is done through digital means.

To me, this phenomenon seems stranger, though, because I haven’t seen any other random samples of their handwriting like grocery lists or notes to themselves lying around their houses. Perhaps that’s because many people rely on digital apps on their phones to take care of these items, though I still use good old paper and pen for them.

I’ve actually never seen any of them write a check because we rarely do that now, too, in favor of credit and debit cards. Even when guys are signing credit card receipts, I haven’t seen their signatures because our culture dictates that we don’t look at what other people are putting for tips on their receipts so we avert our eyes while others are paying.

To me, it feels like I’ve missed so much about my partners just because of this one simple thing: I’ve never seen their handwriting. I’ve seen their cocks. I’ve seen their naked bodies. Some of them have even let me see their souls. But not one of them has shown me their handwriting.

It’s an odd world we live in.

(Edited to add: Follow-up post here.)

©2018 WoodLeatherLace.com