It starts as many things do, a compliment. Just a kind word that makes you glow a little brighter.
It’s innocent but it doesn’t stay that way. Late nights become later and text become naughtier and before you know it just the thought of a message from you steals my breath.
We go for it. I can’t remember who’s idea it is but as my back hits the cool sheets I’m all in.
I have no regrets about that day I know why I did what I did, but I have so many other regrets. The radio silence you’ve enforced. The one word responses as if I were a stranger.
I wish I could rewind time and go back to a coy flirtation, I wish you would see me as I believe you once did instead of something you’d prefer to scrape from your shoe.
I want to tell you it was only a bit of fun and not to be too serious, but I can’t because that would break the code of silence but it was only a bit of fun, Sir.
You stole my heart with your adorable face and sweet disposition. You’ve barely been gone 24 hours but the hole you left in my heart is jagged, its edges too harsh to the touch. Though I know we saved you great suffering it doesn’t make your being gone any easier.
She’s not the woman she was a year ago. The world crumbled beneath her and she’s done what she needed to survive. Where she is now dull and hollow she was once vibrant and full of life. You stole that away like a thief in the dark.
Now she looks for ways to feel anything outside of numb, but she is lost.
She tries to convince herself she’s bent not broken but she knows the truth inside.
Adrift she floats from one experience to another knowing that each is more destructive than the last, but at least here in the sandbox she can feel the grit between her toes.
She builds castles each day knowing that the tide will sweep them away. They aren’t real and neither is what she feels, It’s easier than real emotion though and she’s still hollow inside so when they call her a toy she pretends not to care.
She guards her heart but spreads her thighs desperate to prove that she isn’t the naive girl you made her while you fucked whores in her bed in between whispered words of devotion.
It’s all fake love but she soaks it in because if it weren’t for that she’d get nothing at all.
Can you share an experience with someone else while still maintaining your core relationship with your partner?
You desire to please them, want them to be happy and yet can you share them with another to bring them that happiness? Or is it simply too good to be true?
Humans at our core are animals just like any other species and by in large monogamy is a difficult ideal to uphold. After all we are genetically coded to spread our genes, but is it healthy to open your bed to another partner or even several?
What does the search for a potential play mate do to your partner? How do you navigate the mines and pitfalls of such a situation? Can you truly have your cake and eat it too? Or is it all too good to be true?
Dress a certain way. Talk a certain way. Behave a certain way and you’re deemed a good girl or a good time girl.
A lady in the street but a freak in the bed? However the old concept that good girls don’t is played out and tired. In 2019 why shouldn’t a woman be able to have her cake and eat it too?
Women are expected to fit into boxes though, we wear labels and if you’re unlucky enough to be branded with the dreaded scarlet letter it’s often something that sticks with you no matter what you do to shake it.
The reverse is also true. Don’t like sex? Or at least don’t advertise that you like sex? Then you’re frigid. Like sex too much and you’re a prude. Is it any wonder that a lot of women spend their lives unfulfilled and unsatisfied? They are too busy trying to be all things. Wife, Mother, Business Woman, Sex kitten.
Is it better to own your sexuality? To know your body and say this is what turns me on? In the age of #metoo and amid the abortion debates and what feels like an endless attack on women’s rights I would argue that it is better.
I would argue that it’s vital that all women know their worth don’t settle for less and be proud to live in your truth.
My fingertips tingle with the urge to touch you.
You make me want to sin.
Goosebumps on my skin. The idea of you makes me shiver.
Thoughts of you consume and like a moth to your flame I’m captivated. You’re poison to my soul I shouldn’t drink you down, but I can’t swallow fast enough.
There’s a place inside me where my demons live they corrode me and yet when you’re here they are silent. A blissful reprieve from the harshness of reality and like a drug I could fall into an addiction to you.
It’s the worst. Let me say it again THE WORST.
Picture a brick wall every time you try to put words on paper. My characters aren’t even talking to each other never mind talking to me. Someone said just write. Put your hands on the keyboard and just write, and I’ve tried oh man have I tried.
Let me tell you it isn’t for lack of ideas. I have one character ready to submit to her alpha and another ready for adventures in the sex club.
I’ve tried everything I can think of meditation, relaxation, writing on a schedule word association and nothing.
Now that’s not to say that I can’t write a provocative sex scene but how do you get to happily ever after when your focused on breathing and survival\?
How do you beat the brick wall?