Don't Think, Just Write

A Man's Journey

Archive for the month “June, 2014”

I Thought About You Today


This whole blogging thing has been a lesson in stepping out of my writing comfort zone. This piece is a HUGE step…

I thought about you today
It was before I opened my eyes
before the sun opened his
Rain tapped the bedroom window
like bored fingers on a kitchen table

I thought about you today
I thought about the first time I saw you smile
Your lips broke open revealing the warmth inside

I thought about you today
The subtle way that you flattered me
Your words perfectly not chosen
I wonder if my words touched your ears the way yours touched mine
How could one ever know

I thought about you today
Everything you gave me
Your friendship your thoughts and your feelings
I put it all in a safe basket and still carry it with me
The basket is heavy and it pulls on the bottom of my heart
It aches for you because its been filled by you
Then it smiles

I thought about you today
Erotically passionately humorously 

I thought about you today
I heard that song
The one with that perfect lyric

I thought about you today
The same as I thought about you yesterday

As I asked of you before, tell me what worked, what didn’t, what made and didn’t make any fucking sense, and what one word you would change to make it better. I love any feedback, especially feedback on how I can improve. 


My First Swap…Blog Swap That Is.

A few weeks ago I came across this picture posted by the sexy and talented writer F Dot Leonora. We agreed that there was an untold story in the picture so we agreed to each write one using the image as inspiration and publish it on each other’s blog. She posted my submission on her blog, here

This is what F Dot Leonora came up with…enjoy…

She had outdone herself. Her taste in men was always particularly bad: an assortment of overzealous creative types, addictive personalities, semi-abusive–she had been lucky to get out of that. And now, now, she smiled as the rain beat against the windows of the car and on its roof like a melody she must observe. Now she was heading to a motel to meet a man whose online darkness was sparkling. He told her he’d do things to her she would be ashamed she asked for. It was all part of the game. He said he could kill her.

The rain blurred the image of the motel’s fluorescent lights, but she saw them nonetheless and was prepared to get out of the car. She had no desire to put her umbrella up, so she walked into the pouring rain. The sight of the car that he described let her know he was there, and her response to it was Pavlovian.

In the lobby of the motel, she saw a bride in a very smart suit and a suggestion of a veil about her head, holding hands tightly with her new husband. She rained rose petals everywhere she went, blood red rose petals.

Felice went to the counter, and asked for the keys, the number of the room she had to fumble through her e-mail messages from him to get. She did not know his name, so everything related to him was in a folder she marked with a capital ‘H.’

She took the keys and headed up the stairs, where she pressed her damp body to the wall and tried to breathe properly. Her heart raced quickly, as she clutched the keys in her tight fist so their jangling would stop jangling her mind.

There were rose petals leading to room number eight, because the bride had already walked by it. Not because there was anything romantic that was going to happen there. H. had told her that. As well as to arrive without makeup or perfume because he did not want any artifice about her. What she wore was her choice. A little black dress was her first thought. It was would be easy to remove, with her thickly seamed in the back thigh highs. She felt okay even without panties which he did not request, but she felt was right to do.

She opened the door, he jumped her which is what he told her he would do. His kiss was warm like he had extracted summer from the day before this day of rain. She loved the press of him so close to her.

Then he pushed her away.

“You are wet,” he said.

Felice burned up to her temples, ashamed that he knew just how wet she was and beads of perspiration formed there. Then she realized he probably meant that she was wet from the rain.
“I did not put my umbrella up.”

She looked down on the floor and saw she had dragged in rose petals with her. He plucked one from her shoulder, she had no idea how one had gotten that far up.

The heat from his body could have set her on fire. He put his hand on her thigh, lifting her dress and she saw her legs bare in the mirror straight across the room.

“Nothing?” he questioned as he skimmed her bare bottom with his fingers.

“No, I thought you would like that best.”

He smiled which filled her with relief.

“You are very smart, aren’t you?”

Felice frowned when he said that. Being smart had been the bane of her existence. She had never been able to have her baser desires fulfilled because no one thought she would want them.

“I tried to be intuitive,” she said and he smacked her bottom which made her labia quiver.

Then he touched her there.

“Very wet.”

This time she knew that he was talking about between her legs and she avoided his eyes.

He raised her chin to look up at him.

“I do not want you to look down, I want you to look at me and observe everything that we do to each other unflinchingly…”

His eyes lingered on hers, then he moved away. Felice felt a shiver when he did. Like he was the only source of heat in the room.

“Well take off your dress, didn’t your mother tell you to take off your wet clothes when you came in from the rain?”

She pulled off her dress which did not have buttons or zippers to delay its removal. She hated that there was a mirror and she could see herself first naked except for her bra, and then completely naked.

“Sit down, you have time don’t you?”

Felice sat, between her legs was sticky wet. H. was dark online, and even more decadently so in person. Her excitement was at its peak. Her nipples indicated it, she could see in the mirror in the dim room.
Without thinking she walked over to the window, a soft release under her high heels was a rose petal she was sure. She looked at the red lights from the sign which made H. look like Lucifer as the light hit him. She saw in a flash Lucifer’s fingers.

“I can do every dark little thing you want now,” he said his hands about her neck and it pleased her.

She had told him all of her fantasies. He knew the things that she liked, there was no secret from him. Slumping into him, he stroked her spine, soft first then roughly. Every part of her body came to a dark life.

“Do you want to play?”

His fingers squeezed tighter about her neck, and she suddenly felt weak as everything went black.

That’s smartest, darkest, writing this blog has seen yet. Good stuff, F Dot Leonora. Thanks for sharing this fun experience with me.

Again, visit F Dot Leonora’s blog to see my story based on the same inspiring picture.

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