When Forever Ends

My husband of 12 years and I are separating. It has been 2 weeks today since we made the decision and I have felt like someone released from the asylum too soon. I go between relief, sadness, anger, hurt, happiness…often times one right after the other, like a ball in a ping pong machine. I feel at peace one moment, tragically sad and hopeless the next.

I know I’ve been unhappy for some time and according to him, so has he. We aren’t in a place where we are fighting or resentful of one another. It isn’t a decision we’ve made out of anger. If anything the opposite is true. We’ve had a frank, honest, albeit painful discussion about our future and what we need and want.

2 1/2 years ago, on our 10th wedding anniversary, instead of renewing our vows as we had planned, we found ourselves at the hospital, my husband undergoing a craniotomy to clip an aneurysm in his brain. Three weeks later, he developed bacterial meningitis and was rush into a second brain surgery to save his life. This life and death experience changed him and it changed me.

They say you learn more about a person during a tragedy than any other time and it is so very true. By nature I am a care giver, my instinct is to take care of others, to be supportive and loving. It was very difficult for me that the more I tried to take care of him, the further he pulled away. Don’t get me wrong, I am just as culpable for our relationship not working as he is. We are the text book case of opposites attract and while that worked for a long time, now that the kids are gone it is so glaringly obvious how little we have in common.  He is structured, routine, neat and organized. I am flighty, spontaneous, messy and wild. He is dedicated to his gym and work, I am dedicated to large world causes, rescue issues and art. He’s an introvert, I’m an extrovert. I am someone who makes plans on the fly, enjoys living from moment to moment; he is someone who needs to have everything planned out in advance and gets frustrated when he has to be flexible.

In the last few years we have slowly grown further and further apart till there was a chasm in between us. Nights of not speaking, him doing his thing, me doing mine. Strangers living in the same house who barely acknowledge one another. We’ve gone through more in 14 years than most. We’ve had our share of tragedies and heart ache. He’s cheated, so have I. We’ve turned to others when we should have turned to one another.

I look back to our wedding day when I practically skipped down the isle just to get to his arms and I wonder how we went from that to this. Ironically, it was me that started the conversation and while he seems to be handling it well, I seem to be a slave to my emotions and riding a roller coaster of ups and downs. I know that staying together is to settle. In my heart, I know we both deserve so much more.

We don’t meet each others emotional needs. We don’t connect the way partners should. All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is for us to be happy. The Buddhists believe that attachment is something that holds us back. Holds us down. It is believed that to love something is to give it the freedom it needs to be all it’s meant for. I believe this too. In letting each other go, we are giving each other a gift. One that says I love you enough not to keep you so that someone else may tie their thread with yours instead.

This is a new journey I’m on. After 14 years of being with someone, I have to figure out how to be with myself and hopefully, some day, someone else. I know in my heart that I am a good woman. There is so much joy and passion and hope inside me. I have so much I want to share with another and so much I want to learn and experience. I know that he does too but that I am not the woman with whom he should be sharing it with.

I do not know what tomorrow holds. Only that today was a sad day and I hope, tomorrow won’t be. Right now, all I can do is take it one moment, one day at a time. My marriage didn’t last forever, the impact it had on me will.

Let’s Go to the Movies

The theatre is dark. Everyone is engrossed in the movie, their attention on the screen.

He puts his hand on my thigh, goosebumps break out on my skin. Without saying a word he slides his fingers under my skirt.

I’ve followed his orders and left my panties at home. Our eyes never leave the scene in front of us, no use drawing attention when it isn’t wanted.

This a new movie theatre, the kind with the large seats, plenty of room for snuggling with a date. My coat slides over my legs as his fingers slide inside me.

I bite my bottom lip trying to keep my face as neutral as possible while waves of pleasure invade my brain.

Silent as a mouse I slide into his lap. His hard cock ready and waiting. I slip onto him, and take a deep breath.

Slowly, silently I rock my hips, all the while trying to keep the moan that wants to escape locked inside.

I almost lose it when he bites my neck. That soft, sensitive spot that gets me every time. My fingers dig into his jeans, gripping the strong thighs hidden inside.

He rocks his hips in time with mine. As the woman on the screen releases herself to her man, I find myself doing the same. My hair covering my eyes that are wild and cheeks that are flushed.

I climb off his lap, place his now satisfied and spent cock back inside his jeans. I kiss his cheek and place my head on his shoulder.

“Pass the popcorn” I tell him. “I’ve suddenly worked up an appetite…”

Keeping the Rose In Bloom

I want to talk about something that has been weighing heavily on me. I want to talk about the word choice. Never is it more important than when we are in a relationship. Think about it, when you meet someone, you are filled with excitement. Who are they? What do they like? What do they hate? You find yourself wanting to know everything about them, they wanting to know everything about you.

If it’s romantic, you become almost obsessed with another. It is a bio-chemical reaction to lust that happens in the brain and one that affects everyone when attraction takes place. Here’s the problem though, that reaction, the one that tells you to think, do, act for the other person because your in the throes of something new; eventually it goes away. When this happens, your left with yourself and choice.

See it’s easy when it’s new. Your body and brain are doing what they are designed to do. It’s later, down the road, after you’ve gotten all of the “new” out of the way, that the real challenge begins. Will you continue to make the effort, continue to woo each other and find ways to make one another smile? Or do you let “life” get in the way, chalk it up to it “being how things are” and settle for something less?

I want you to imagine this for a second:

Your a gardener. You plant the most amazing roses anyone has ever seen. These roses are so beautiful they take your breath away. Each day you go out to your garden, to admire your roses. You give them the right amount of food, water, make sure they are getting enough sun to grow. You careful trim the leaves and remove any weeds that crop up. All who pass by your home admire your hard work and dedication because it shows in how well your roses are doing.

Now let’s flash forward 2 years from now:

Life has gotten busy. You’ve taken on a new job, you have more responsibilities than ever. While you still love your roses, you just find, that other things have taken priority and you can’t devote the time you used to. You’ve noticed some weeds growing around the edge but you will get to them, just as soon as you have time.

Let’s go out a little further, 5 years from then:

Your in shock. You could have sworn your garden was doing just fine. Not that long ago you noticed how brilliant and red some of the blooms where. Today, however, the weeds are so high that you can’t even see your flowers anymore. They have been taking up all of the nutrients and soil and the roses, your beautiful roses, have withered under their assault. They fought hard but couldn’t compete and slowly but surely died.

You are a gardener! Each and everyone of us is. Our relationships are the roses and when we choose to neglect them, they will, can, and do fade away.

There is never a reason to stop tending to your gardens. Never an excuse valid enough or strong enough. Not, at least, if you want it to last and to continue to grow. Write a love note, send a text, pick out something small your lover would like. There are a 1,000 different ways to make love last, one major way to end it. Neglect.

Life is about choice. Relationships are about choice. When they end, when they fade; it is often because the choices made by one, impacted both. Don’t allow those weeds to enter your life and choke the beauty that resides in your garden. You have always had the tools to keep it beautiful and growing strong. The question is are you wiling to put in the work, or allow nature to take its course?

Kiss Me

Kiss Me.

Bring your lips into mine, soft and full,

filled with promise and delight.

Gather my hair in your hands and tilt my head back

exposing the softness of my neck.

Clasp your teeth in the hollow and suckle

feeling my blood rush into the vein.

My heartbeat throbbing just under the skin

quickening with each taste and touch.

Take me.

Bring me into the meadow and

lay me down on the grass, covered in the

early morning dew

Raise my dress above my hips,

leaving me naked, shivering,

waiting for your warmth.

Enter me.

Place yourself inside me

feeling me wet and ready

my face and body flushed

with desire, need, hunger and want

Get lost with me.

In the heat of the moment as

we claw and scratch

move and writhe

Feeling the Earth sink into our pores

As we reclaim it with our bodies.

The moon above us shines beautiful and bright

pregnant with possibility as the night air

carries the tune of those who live in the meadow and night

Feel me.

As my body shudders and shakes. Releasing myself into you

as you release yourself into me.

My legs are weak from shaking,

My hands tense from gripping your back.

Kiss me.

Tenderly, softly and whisper sweet nothings

in my ear.

Kiss me. Bring your lips so soft and full to

my cheek

You feel like home. Like love. Like mine.

Kiss me and let me for the moment

lose myself in delight.

MidLife Reflections

There is something about getting ready to turn 40 that gives you pause and has you reflecting on your life. As I inch closer and closer to that significant date, I certainly find myself feeling introspective. This year has been one of taking stock, looking back and projecting forward.

I know that today, I am no where near the person I was in my teens or twenties. I have come full circle in many respects. I’m stronger, wiser, and braver. I’m not afraid to speak up and speak out. I’m not afraid to channel my voice and use my life experiences to reach out to others.

Growing up, to say I dealt with chaos, is to put it mildly. I am survivor of sexual abuse and rape. It twisted, turned and molded me into something ugly that I loathed for a very long time. All the hurt, all the pain; I took it into myself and put the blame on my very small shoulders. I learned to be complacent, quiet, to take what came my way and not fight back. I learned, in essence to be a victim.

I had no real personality, desires or dreams. I placed myself into whatever mold was set out before me and became the person I needed to be in that moment. Walking through life afraid of my own shadow, I wasn’t really alive. It was more like being a sleepwalker who can go through all the motions of daily life, yet be completely disconnected and somewhere else in their mind.

I felt so ugly and unworthy. Used and damaged goods, that was how I saw me and how I thought, everyone around saw me too. It took a very long time and a lot of hard work to see myself for who I really was. Not a victim, a survivor. Not weak but incredibly strong. Not someone to be ashamed of, someone to be proud of.

I can’t and won’t say that I am 100% healed from everything I’ve been through. Quite honestly, I’m not sure that will ever be a possibility. I can and will say though that I will never stop fighting for the chance to try. There is a peace, a release that comes from letting go. Letting go of your anger, letting go of your pain. Accepting that you can take responsibility for the things you should, but should never take it on for others in order to relieve them of it.

I find myself free, for the first time in my life. I’m not using a drug or sex or money to escape my thoughts. I’m not using things to distract myself from my feelings. I’m taking each day, each moment and doing my damnedest to make the most of it. I’m not perfect, I’m far, far from it, but I can finally accept that I’m enough. Flawed, complicated, beautiful, strong; I’m enough, I’m worthy. It is something I never thought I would say, much less believe.

I know there are many, many changes I need to make in the coming years, in particular, decisions about my marriage and where we, where I, go next. It’s the one thing about becoming fully aware, when you aren’t hiding behind a mask. You’re forced to see your world for everything it is, the good with the bad. I’m not in a rush, not trying to speed things along. Just finally awake and coming to some realizations I am not sure I wanted to admit.

I deserve to be with someone who sees me for everything that I am. That doesn’t ask me to compromise all that I am in order to fit inside a mold, that doesn’t fit. I know somewhere, out there, there is another human being, one whose energy and passion, drives and desires align with mine. It’s a tough thing to write, a tough thing to admit but it is my reality and this me, the real me, is determined to face life head on, without the crutches I’ve hidden behind for so long. It’s taken me 39 years to get to this point, I am certainly not in hurry to make decisions that will alter the course of my life. Only in the process of thinking them through and weighing the good vs. the bad; seeing which way the scales will finally tip.

I would encourage each of you, if you’ve ever been in situations similar to mine, don’t be afraid to seek out help, don’t be afraid to build yourself a support system that will allow you the safety that you need to process your pain. For the longest time I carried the weight that belonged to others. Even though it held me down and back, I felt somehow, it was my burden alone to bear. Finally giving it back, releasing it and allowing forgiveness to be the salve that healed my wounds; I have been freed from those chains. I am gloriously, imperfectly me and for now, for today, that is more than enough.

She-Beast

It’s starting again. That restless itch. I can feel it, deep down inside of me, waking up and bubbling to the surface of my thoughts. When I start to feel this way, I know it’s inevitable that I will need to act. I fight it over and over but I always give in. I’m a she-beast, hidden underneath a veil of propriety and conservative looks. When the lock on my cage finally breaks, I have no choice but to let her out.

I can feel her now, pushing at the bars I’ve contained her in. Hear her begging to be released. She wants to invade my body and my mind, throw my inhibitions out the window and force me to experience my sexuality in it’s raw and true form. Reluctantly I get dressed. We’ve been through this many times before. A short black skirt, white cotton panties underneath, my legs, smooth and shaven, adorned by a pair of heels. A white top with my white cotton push up bra, the very picture of innocence and sex. My hair is thrown high in a messy ponytail, my makeup minimal. I know how to do this and I know how it works. We will pick one together, and see where the night takes us.

I make my way into the bar, it is crowded and dimly lit. There is a haze of smoke that fills the air, and if you stop and seek it out, you can smell desire as it circles and surrounds the men and women standing silently in their corners, waiting to be seen and wanted.

“That one” she whispers, “That one right there”, my eyes scan the room, stopping on the dark Adonis in the back. A shiver of excitement pulses through me, as our eyes meet. Perhaps, I too, give off the scent of want and need for it’s almost as if he smells her, that primal part of me, the one that is even now beckoning him to make his way toward me.

“Hi” he says. “Hello” I say back, a voice my own but not, telling him all the things I know he is waiting to hear. I am seducing him with my words, drawing him further and further into my web. The rational part of me, the one normally in control, suddenly freezes and begins to panic. “What are you doing? We can’t, you can’t!” it says. The wild one, the one I normally try to keep contained; she is louder, more forceful and at the moment, completely in control.

I silence my doubts as my hand touches his chest. A tilt of my head and a coy smile on my lips, oh yes, he’s getting the message. He grabs my hand, so pale and delicate and places it in his own. I follow willingly down through the crowd, waiting to see where we end up.

There is a small utility closet, hidden in the shadows next to the bathrooms. He leads me into the dark, tight space, and shut the door behind us. It smells of cigarettes and booze, an odd yet somehow comforting smell considering what we are going to do.

He grabs me by my waist, my skirt hiking up above thighs. Grabbing one leg then the other, he wraps me around him, snaking my legs across his hips, his hands cupping my ass. He kisses me, softly at first then rough, his need and desire growing with my own. His tongue becomes an extension of his fingers, exploring me, tasting me as he moves down my skin. I can feel him, hard and erect, his cock is huge and I want every fucking inch.

He moves my panties aside, already soaked with desire and anticipation, and pushes me down onto him. I gasp as he enters me. I am tiny, a mere 98 pounds, he is muscular, buff and larger than life. I can feel him filling my body and sending waves of pleasure into my toes.

My back is up against the wall and I grab him with my thighs, holding on, allowing him to steer the ship. Suddenly, my legs are being unwrapped and I am forcefully turned around. He takes me from behind, his teeth sinking into the sensitive part of my neck. I let out a moan, I can’t help myself. It feels so good, so right. Harder, faster, he pushes himself inside me, my face smashed against the concrete wall. I will have a bruise on my cheek in the morning when I awake but for the moment I don’t care.

I feel myself cumming, wave after wave of pleasure pulsing through my body. His wraps his strong arm around my waist, yanks my hair back with the other. He’s close, I can feel it and arch my back into him, moving my hips in sync with him, guiding him to his own release.

His body relaxes, his head bows and he gently kisses the back of my neck. “My God” he says. “I don’t even know your name”. “Nor will you” I say, bending down to adjust my skirt and brush the dirt from the wall off my legs. “Thank you” I tell him, kissing him softly on the lips.

I leave him there, in the dusty closet of the bar, a confused yet satisfied look on his face. Walking away I can almost feel her yawning, that she-beast of mine. She’s satisfied for now. Tired and happy, content from the hunt. I know she will awaken again soon, lately her slumbers have been shorter and shorter. Until then though, I can wait. For she and I are the same, and while you can cage something wild, you can’t tame it, no matter how hard you try.

Imagination

The music is turned up loud. A slow jazz song is blaring through the speakers, the trumpet and piano intermingle, and I allow the sounds to relax me as I close my eyes and lay back on my bed. The cotton sheets feel good on my skin, soft and inviting. My hands start at my face, my fingertips tracing the outline of my jaw, then my lips. I find myself biting my bottom lip as a sigh escapes. Down to my collar bone, I trace the dip there, imagining what it would feel like to have lips, eager and wet on that very spot. Further down to my breasts, my nipples reacting to being touched. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, as I cup my breasts, slowly massaging them and taking in the sensation.

I trace a line down my stomach, breathing in deeply and giving a soft sigh. I think of him, his body, hard and lean. His hands rough yet gentle. I imagine his hands are mine as they move further down, slowly tracing a circle between my thighs. The music is still playing and I lose myself in it’s sounds.

My mind wanders to a place, far away, where it is just he and I, as the rest of the world sleeps. We kiss, touch, fuck. We lose ourselves in the night, in each other, exploring and discovering new things along the way. He is hard, excited, as eager to take me as I am to be taken. I slip my fingers inside me, taking in the soft warmth of my body, my desire growing with every thrust. I am soft, silken, wet,. I arch my hips, inserting the vibrator that sits next to me. The feel of my hands and the toy take my further and further. I can feel the pressure building, a volcano ready to erupt. I imagine him biting my neck just as the wave begins. It starts at my toes and goes up to the top of my head. My hips move in rhythm, inviting the spasm and pleasure to take over and take me away.

I lay in my bed, a sheen of sweat on my forehead, a smile on my lips. I listen to the sound of the trumpet playing on the radio, and close my eyes once more. He may not be here today but he will one day soon. In the meantime, I have a great imagination and plenty of toys. A girl can keep herself entertained while she waits. Patience is a virtue after all.

A Matter of Opinion

I’m fairly new to blogging. While I’ve written since I was old enough to pick up a pen, it hasn’t been until recently that I’ve decided to really share my thoughts, ideas and stories. With that being said, it has been an interesting experience. I recently shared one of my articles on here on a site called Reddit. I’ve never used the site before but I figured “what the hell” I’ll share it to try to bring more folks over to the blog.

Holy Shit!!! I hadn’t checked the page in a few days and went back on to it and there were dozens of rather nasty comments from people who were offended by what I wrote. It was kind of shocking and a lot sad. I really am just a housewife. I’ve never professed to be an expert in anything but myself (and even that is a daily work in progress)

I may write with a strong opinion on things, I may be vocal about likes and dislikes; what I will never be, however, is rude, nasty or mean to another person who dares to have an opinion different from my own.

The beauty of being a human being is that each of us is as different as our fingerprints. Not one single person is a duplicate of another. We are entitled to think, to act, to dislike or enjoy a variety of things in life. It will never be my place to judge another person based on ideals that perhaps do not mesh with my own.

As an adult, we should be able to have frank, honest and open discussions about sex without getting squeamish or weird or worse, offended. Sex is a beautiful thing. It is something we are given the privlige to experience and share in with another human being. Some of us like it rough, some of us like it gentle and sweet. Some of us want to be held down and some (as I was schooled quite forcefully in the comments, like having a guy cum on their face!)

Hey to each his own. I wrote an opinion piece based on my own experiences and those of women that I personally know. If other women feel differently, then I am more than happy for them. What I don’t understand is why anyone, feels the need to express themselves in a way that presents them as negative and nasty.

I personally welcome conversations about a variety of subjects. I find it fascinating to learn about and talk to people whose ideas differ from my own. At some point we all have to grow up. We have to understand that life is really fucking short and to waste time being pissed off, especially about things that don’t matter is kind of pointless.

I will continue to write, to express myself, to share my innermost thoughts. Some of it will be readily accepted, some of it will be seen as odd or strange. I am perfectly find with that so long as no matter how it is received, it is received with the understanding that it is my opinion and not meant to change your own.

We can take one another in, learn lessons from each other, inspire, motivate and help one another grow but we cannot do that so long as intolerance, and anger are what lead the parade. Open minds and open hearts, they get a lot further in this journey than closed ones.

Orgasm of the Mind

Sometimes I feel as if I was sleep walking through life. My eyes were open but nothing was connecting in my soul. I went through the motions, did all the things I was supposed to do, but me; the core of who I am, deep down, was slumbering, waiting for the right time.

Today I am fully awake and aware. Almost painfully so. I see life through a different set of eyes and I feel so deeply that sometimes, it cuts me to the bone. I have this need, this desire, to share this sense of wonder and excitement I feel with others. To let people into my world, and view it through eyes no longer clouded with doubt or fears.

Even when it comes to sexuality, there is a difference in me. Sex, is an expression of ones self. It is so much more than a physical act. When we get naked, when we touch, kiss, make love or fuck, we are offering ourselves to another human being. We are giving that person permission to see us in a way that is special because it’s only reserved for a select few.

When I was a girl, I was traumatized over and over. Sexually, emotionally, physically. My scars were not on the outside for the world to see, but deep within, hidden inside boxes in my mind. It was a messy, cluttered and scary place. Slowly and over time I began to lose my memories, then myself. My way of coping with my pain was through acting out. I used sex as a weapon, and became a warrior princess over night. I was easy to fuck and hard to please. You wanted me, you had me, or at least the part of me I was willing to show. The rest, was locked up tight inside, protected and secured from the hurt I come to know so well.

I think, somehow, if people could just take my body whenever they chose, then I would give them a big fuck you by giving it away whenever I chose. The majority of my teens and twenties were spent that way. In order to feel, to shake off the numbness that resonated throughout me being, I would seek comfort in the arms of another, even though I knew it was fleeting.

Sex wasn’t anything special to me. A physical act, resulting in a small moment of pleasure and a ton of regret. As an addict in recovery, I can safely say that sex was probably my first addiction. Distractions of the flesh helped me ignore how much I hated who I’d become.

Over the years I’ve evolved into someone else. That scared, hurt, terrified little girl is gone. Through lots of work and introspection I’ve found ways to move forward and move on. I’ve learned that I am not a victim, I am a survivor. It’s an empowering and freeing thought.

Today, sex is a completely different experience. I am fully aware, fully participating in the experience. I’ve learned to love my body not only for what it looks like but for what it can do. The shame and anger I once felt is gone. I have embraced my sexuality in a different way. Understanding that to give myself to another is to touch a piece of the divine.

All of us are damaged in some way. Not a single one of us gets through this life without being cracked. It’s how we choose to fill those cracks that determines who we become. Embracing our oneness with the Universe, accepting that we are worthy of being cherished, worshiped and adored. Whether it is with a long time partner or someone new, we cannot ever take for granted the beauty that lies within the act.

Do not confuse sex with love. One can exist without the other. However, give yourself permission to feel love in the moment. The love of your partner, of your own body. Give yourself permission to be completely present and aware. There is something to be said about waking up. Finding yourself completely aware. It changes your perspective on everything. It changes you. You see life for all the tiny moments, the pieces that come together to create the Mosiac that is your life. Embrace who you are. As a human being, as a sexual creature. The next time you are naked, get naked in your mind too.

Allow yourself to feel, to experience sex in a different way. The orgasm of the mind is more intense than any the body can give. It is to connect yourself, all of yourself into a moment and to experience it on levels that are more than skin deep.

50 Shades of More Please…

I recently started reading the 50 Shades of Grey series. While some of it is on the predictable side, I can see why so many women (and men) flocked to the books. I am very curious how they will treat the subject matter when the movie comes out next month.

I, like many, have a secret freak flag that I only let fly at certain times. To look at me you would think I am the sweetest, most demure, conservative little thing you’ve ever met. I clean up nicely and can play the part of the PTA, mini-van driving soccer mom to a tee.  Behind closed doors though, when the lights go out, I have no problem shedding that sweet sugary skin and slipping on something sexier and dark.

I’ll admit it. I like bondage. I like being tied up and forced to give in and give up control. In my every day life I am a control freak. A classic Type A perfectionist who isn’t satisfied with mediocrity. I give 100% in anything I undertake and it is always important that how people perceive me is beyond reproach.

I am the perfect good girl that is respected and adored. I dress properly, do my hair just right, wear the right amount of makeup, neither to garish nor subtle. There is nothing about me that anyone would ever look at and think “now that’s a kinky woman”. It’s exactly how I like it.

Perhaps because in the rest of my life I am controlled and careful, when it comes to sex, I love being able to give up and give in. I get off on being told how to stand, how to sit. Having my partner grab me by the back of head and shove his cock in my mouth. I enjoy having my hands tied behind my back, silenced with a choke, or a bite.

I know it’s not popular to admit one’s more eclectic sexual tastes but hey, it’s my blog so why not?! There are many, many, many sides to me. This is just one. A girl like me can appreciate a book like 50 Shades. It is not as many think about rape or being soiled or dirtied. Bondage is about letting go. Trusting someone enough that you can say “here I am, and I trust you to protect me even when your being rough”. It is the furthest thing from taking advantage of another person.

You have to trust your partner in every way. When his fingers are wrapped around your throat and you feel like you can’t breathe, you have to trust him to pull back. When your hands and legs are bound and you can’t move, you have to trust him to move you in a way that gives you pleasure, not pain. When your eyes are closed behind a mask, you have to trust that his fingers will bring a smile, his lips a sigh. Bondage is the exact opposite of hurting someone. It is saying to another human being, “I am yours for the moment, don’t take it for granted”

I will be looking forward to seeing the movie and how they play it out on the screen. In the meantime, I look forward to many more “Mr. Grey” moments with my own partner. There is something to be said about being with someone that you can have that kind of freedom to express yourself with. It’s a liberating and all together exciting experience.