*sniffle*

I knew it was coming, but even so, I was surprised how much it hurt to click on the bookmark and see that she was gone...

It's rare to meet people who change the world for you. She was one of those for me, and although she's not gone from my life, I'll miss her online presence. It meant things to me that I can't even express.

Good bye, Freya darling.

Commercials Crack Me Up

So Cialis can help a man get it up for up to 36 hours after dosing.

But it hasn't been studied for multiple attempts in that 36 hours.

Um, why ever not?

And, OK, I am SOOO not the only person who's ever thought that a four hour erection might not be such a bad thing.

Reality Bites

Don't you hate when you're going along on your angry, self-righteous way and you suddenly realize, "Oh shit. I brought some of this on myself."

I asked my husband to be something that he isn't. He is NOT a dominant. And I knew it, at least on some level, which is why I kept my submissive fantasies to myself for well over a decade.

But, having let a bit of it out accidentally, I couldn't leave it alone. I kept pushing. I ignored all the signs that should have been screaming at me that he couldn't do this.

I need to stop myself from poking at things with sticks. Seriously.

I thought that if he didn't want it, he would take me firmly by the shoulders and say, "No. I don't want this. It's not who I am."

But the irony is, in order for him to have done that, he would have to be, well,...dominant.

Instead, he whined. He picked fights. He belittled me and made me feel ashamed of what I am. Which makes him an asshole.

But not a dominant.

10-7

And in my dream...

He is close behind me, the heat of his body warming me. His breath stirs the tendrils of hair near my ear. "Go upstairs," he murmurs.

My body reacts before my mind catches up, with a hot clench deep in my abdomen. Wordlessly, I turn and make my way up the stairs, as he follows close behind.

Opening the bedroom door I see that the room is awash in candlelight. The spicy frangrance of the candles mixes with the scent of fresh linens in an intoxicating combination. These are only quick impressions however, because after he gently pushes me further into the room, closing and locking the door behind us, he takes a firm hold on both of my upper arms and shoves me back against the bedpost.

Holding me there with the length of his body, he removes my shirt, and then, nibbling at the side of my neck, he slides the straps of my bra down my arms as I shiver in pleasure. I love to be undressed; love the sensation of my clothing sliding off of my limbs.

When he has me nude from the waist up, he moves up to kiss me, hard. My nipples harden against the rough fabric of his shirt, and I arch and wiggle a bit just to enjoy it. I will tease him, I think. Before he gets all of my clothes off, I will remove his shirt, comb my fingers through the springy hair on his chest, run my nails over his skin, barely tickle him with the tips of my breasts. Caressing and then backing off with a seductive smile, I will exert a little bit of control over our lovemaking.

Engrossed in my mental planning, I am shocked when I hear the solid rachet of handcuffs securing my wrists behind me, on the other side of the bedpost.

Bleah

I hate this template. I'm working on a new one...

On my knees to rise and fix my broken soul.

Again.

9-5

And in my dream…

The sand is warm beneath the blanket. Not too hot, but rather Goldilocks right.

We lie there on the blanket, facing each other. The fingers of one of my hands are entwined with hers, while the fingers of my other hand drift slowly over the skin of her thigh, thrown over mine, tickling away the grains of sand there.

We’ll have to go in soon, but for now the smooth wash of the ocean soothes me, the breeze that plays across my skin refreshes me, and I’m lulled by the lovely sound of her laughter into a relaxed state of bliss.

8-30

And in my dream...

It's the middle of a heat wave. He is shirtless. There is a light sheen of perspiration on his skin.

We're chatting in my kitchen, sipping cold iced tea. The drone of the machine on the counter is a mild distraction.

"What is this machine anyway?" he asks me.

"It's an ice cream maker."

"Really? Where do the ice and rock salt go?"

I show him the controls on the machine. "It's got it's own refrigeration unit, see? No ice or rock salt."

"Oh, how cool! What kind of ice cream are you making?"

"Cookies and cream today."

He looks at me mischievously. "I love cookies and cream ice cream!"

"Do you now?" I remove the lid from the machine and swirl my finger in the half-frozen ice cream. With a grin, I hold the finger out to him.

His long fingers grasp my hand as he sucks my finger into his mouth, laving over it with his tongue as he makes a low sound of appreciation. I feel an answering tingle low in my belly.

When he releases my hand, his gaze is half-lidded, questioning. I look back at him for a long moment, then I return my finger to the ice cream maker and once again scoop a dollop of ice cream onto my finger.

I smear the dollop on his skin, just below the hollow of his throat. The heat of his body melts it quickly, and I watch the line of sweet semi-liquid slide down his chest, almost following the line of hair that leads to parts below. I trail my fingers down his chest alongside it. "I read in Cosmo that they call this the 'Treasure Trail'."

"The 'Treasure Trail'? Really?" he laughs.

"Uh-huh." The line of melted ice cream continues to make it's way down his chest.

As I go to my knees and grasp his waistband, I murmur, "I love cookies and cream, too."