So Raw

Sometimes I love him so much it hurts to breathe. I can feel my chest fill with air, see the rise and fall of my breasts, but just for a moment feel that tight knot, similar to dread, but altogether different...so much more. It's like he knows when I'm thinking of him. He senses when I'm talking about him. He calls when I'm missing him. Lately, it's been uncanny....he just KNOWS.

I missed him so much this weekend. Not to bust on Jachin, but it's just not the same. I love Jachin for who he is, I love him as my friend and my lover. But it's Malcolm I need. Malcolm that is the jigsaw puzzle piece that finishes the picture. He fits, snug and tight, just right, so very right. He missed me too, wishes I'd have been with him, his mate, his partner....his lover...his woman. He told me never to say no to him again, never again without a DAMN good reason. And he hugged me tighter to him, reassuring me he understood my reasons. Then he made slow sweet love to me.

No domming, or hardly any. He said right from the get go that he wanted this to be sweet, he wanted to enjoy me, love me, soothe me. I told him it was ok, it didn't have to be the same all the time, that different is always good, and always so damn good with him. God, the way he touches me. It's been nearly two years now, and he knows my body, has mastered things I never knew were possible. I almost cry when I think of how much time he gives me, how much pleasure. It's overwhelming, it destroys us both for the day. It makes me want him more.

My blogs are always so full of details. This time, this one, is about the big picture, the feeling we were left with in the aftermath of our lovemaking. Laying with him, tracing his tattoos and rubbing his velvet skin it felt like being inside a warm velux bubble. We were happy, so genuinely and completely happy, just being together. No cares, no worries, nothing except his body heat, my softness, and our love and humor bubbling up and out of both of us so that the room was filled with soft throaty laughter, like the rumbling purr of a contented cat.

Who do I belong to? No question...I'm Malcolm's. I told him I'd always come home to him, but he stopped me to correct me. We'll always come home to each other.