Three Ashes

The 1st
"Poetic, would you like some ash?"


She looked over at me, huge smile on her face, a two inch head standing vertical on her cigar.

"Oh God, yes," I said, my submissive voice squeaking out. "I've cried each time ash was flicked into the tray."

On my hands and knees, I crawled towards her. Stopped. Sat on my feet. Opened my mouth wide and put out my tongue.

She rolled the ash into my mouth. I held the lump for her and the rest near her to see. I looked at her. I smiled with my eyes. Made a small connection.

"Thank you," she said. "You can swallow."

I closed my mouth and grinned. Then crawled away, happy.



The 2nd

"Poetic?"

He had a pretty head of ash ready for my mouth. I extracted myself from my corner. Bodies squeezed together to fight off the chill in the air and the wind that assaulted us on the balcony.

I crawled towards him, head bent. Rested my hands on his knees to keep balance. As I was about to sit on my feet, his hand found the back of my head. Gently petted my hair. I stayed as I was. Head bent. Forehead near his crotch. A feeling of connection being built. I nuzzled a little. Purred a bit. Felt warmth even though it was so cold.

A small touch on my chin signaled for my head to rise. I looked into his dark eyes. Saw him, and his ash.

"Open your mouth. Wider."

I did as he told. Tilted my head back. He rolled his ash into my mouth. I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened again. Looked into his eyes once more. Our gaze locked. I felt transfixed.

He brought his cigar to the side of my face. I felt the heat near my skin. Heard the burning of my hair. Didn't move because he didn't want me to.

A caress of my chin closed my mouth. His fingers traced across my cheek and back down. I closed my eyes. Leaned my head into his touch. Let myself get lost in our shared moment.

His hand stilled. I opened my eyes again.

He thanked me. I thanked him. And then crawled back to my spot.



The 3rd

He looked over at me, a knowing grin on his face.

"Poetic?"

He was only two seats away, yet he was the hardest to get to. We'd all huddled in close, trying desperately to fight nature. I backed out, swiveled around, and meeped as I sat in place in front of him.

His eyes were intense. His small smile almost mischievous. His hand reached behind me. Grabbed my hair. Controlled my head. Brought it forward.

I opened my mouth. Stuck out my tongue. He rolled his ash. I felt the heat of the cherry near me. He kept his eyes on mine. Saw his control over me. My submission to him. Had me close my mouth. Thanked me in his quiet yet strong voice.

I smiled and thanked him as well.

Crawled away. Found my spot. Snuggled up to those beside me. Happy to be around people I don't see nearly enough.

Storyteller

~ a story ~



"I'm not going back to him."

"That's not why I'm here, Ma'am."

"No, you're hear because he asked for you."

"Yes, Ma'am. He has that right. So I'm here."

"I'm not going back to him."

"I'm not here for him. I'm here for the both of you. For what you shared."

"Huh? What we shared? That's over."

"Yes, Ma'am. It is. But still, I'm here to honor it. Please, tell me how it began."

"Didn't he already tell you?"

"Yes, Ma'am, he did, but he was not the only person in love. How did you meet him?"

"You know how I met him. You know it all."

"Ma'am, I know a lot. But I only know his perspective. His side of your love. I need to hear you tell it. I need to hear your experience. I need to add your voice to the story. Please, give me these few minutes. Then I'll leave. You don't even have to show up for the storytelling. But I need to hear all sides before I can speak for the love. So, please, how did you meet him?"

She took a deep breath. I could see she was thinking, weighing how much she hated being here over how much I was trying to make it better. Did she want to give me more shit, or just let it out? Finally let it go.

She settled in her seat the way they all do, the way I've seen them all shift right before they begin.

"It was a nice Spring day. The first for the season. So I thought I would go for a walk. Maybe run a bit, too. I had my ear buds in. I was listening to some up beat poppy music. I was happy, smiling, breathing in the fresh air. And not paying attention to the neighborhood. To cars passing by.

"He didn't see me. He was looking for a friend's home, searching for the street numbers on the houses. He came around the bend, an almost blind turn. I didn't hear his approach. Was oblivious to anything behind me.

"He clipped my hip. I tumbled into the grass down by the side of a creek that ran through my neighborhood. He wasn't going fast, and the soft earth cushioned my fall. But he freaked out all the same, worried he'd maimed me or something.

"To get him to stop panicking and to not worry, I let him drive me home. I made him some tea to calm his nerves. We talked by the picture window in my kitchen.

"He has these beautiful blue eyes. Like the water we swam in during our honeymoon."

~

Alec and Anna were like oil and vinegar. Smashed together by chance. Blending in a way that didn't make chemical sense.

There was always a push and pull to their relationship. Neither knew who would be on top any given day.

But from their passion came a strong bond, a love that saw them through ten years together. Through displacement by a natural catastrophe. Through monetary hardships. And through shared unbelievable heartache.

Their love bore a child who gave them three years of life before succumbing to a disease laced with their sorrow.

Neither Alec nor Anna will deny the pain the death of their child caused them. And that it was this blow that created the first crack, which turned into a valley of separation, ultimately causing their parting.

Nor will Alec and Anna deny the love and passion that still exists between them. They will forever be a wondrous mixture that never smoothly blends.

Their love was spectacular in its life.

But now their love has ended.

Midnight Snack

~ erotica ~


A hand over my mouth startled me awake. My eyes shot open. My shriek came out as a mumble into a hand. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. To recognize Dirk as the body that rested over mine.

When he saw the realization, he eased up his hand.

"What are you?"

His hand returned to my mouth. He shook his head no. My eyes slanted towards him. What was going on?

And then his lips replaced his hand. And we were kissing. In my bed. In the middle of the night. In the house we shared with four of our friends, who were all sleeping.

I had work in the morning. A long day, in fact, full of people I didn't like and assignments I barely cared about. I needed my rest.

But he was kissing me. And I didn't want him to stop kissing me. Ever.

I felt his body adjust to one side. Felt his arm run down my front. Felt his hand slip under my pajama pants. Felt his fingertips find my clit.

I moaned into his mouth, his lips muffling my sounds. I tilted my hips up, up. Trying to feel more of his hand against me.

Through his boxers, I knew how much he wanted this. How hard he was. How much he wanted me.

My left hand reached over to my end table. Blindly opened a drawer. Palmed a condom. I ran my hand down his arm until I found his free hand. He grabbed the condom. Held it in between his fingers. Then covered my mouth with his hand again.

He ripped off my pants. Dove his face down in between my legs. Got off the bed. Stood against the edge to be able to reach. My hands ambled around for something, anything, to cover my mouth. I found my stuffed bear, Honey. Crushed her against my lips. I hoped she didn't mind seeing me like this.

He climbed back onto the bed. Lifted my hips to his mouth. I could still feel the condom in his hand as he ignored it. Concentrated on licking. Flicking. Sucking. Enjoying my pussy.

I was happy I'd found Honey. My moans grew louder, but she muffled my noises. My body writhed. The tension grew. Built. Until I came against his tongue. Came squeezing my thighs around his face. Came screaming his name into my stuffed bear's belly.

He licked me once. Twice. Lapping up the mess. Before setting my hips back down on my bed. Before dropping the condom back in the drawer. Before slipping my pajama pants back on me. Before kissing my forehead and quietly slipping out of my bedroom.

The next evening, after a dull day. After people I didn't care much for and work I was barely able to stand, I came home. Kicked off my shoes. Dropped my things by the door. Heard no one else in the house. Checked my mail. And found a note in my box.

You taste delicious.

I ran upstairs and masturbated, staring at that piece of paper.

That night, and every night since, I leave my bedroom door cracked open, for the next time Dirk has a craving for a midnight snack.

e[lust] #46

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Crotch Rope

~ erotica ~



My clit throbbed. I hadn't cum yet. The rope had only been on me for a few minutes.

He'd taken out the coil, my rope, and knelt in front of me. I'd let my hands laze in his hair as he worked. Wrapped once around my hips. Once under my ass. Knotted. Threaded the rope down between my lips. Brought it back up. Made a knot. Pulled tight through my pussy. Passed under the bands in back. Yanked down. Ran under the bottom band. Brought the rope back up. Tied it again. Tight. Knotted the excess around my waist loosely.

"Good. Go put in the laundry."

My face asked a question; my voice was silent.

"You heard me. Go put in the laundry."

I harrumphed before walking away.

Immediately, with my first step, I felt it. Every movement was different. Every swish of my hips. I bent to pick up the basket. I took the stairs to the basement. I filled the washer, bending and lifting. Never had a hated choir been so fun. I bounced back up the stairs. Up was so much more fun than down.

I stood in front of him.

"Sit," he said.

And here I am now. Minutes later.

He looms over me. I can't help but squirm in my chair. Even the slightest movement is wondrous. Full of an almost guilty pleasure.

He just looks down on me and smiles.

"Stop."

"But..."

"Stop."

I don't move.

But I can't not move. I bite my forefinger. And pulse. Pulse my clit against the knot. And look up at him with my puppy dog eyes. I beg without words. Let him see my torment. My pain. He loves to see my pain.

He bends down. Whispers into me ear.

"Go to bed."

I gasp, then scamper to our room. Every step is more glorious than the next.

I pull back the covers. Again, I sit. Then lay down. And then writhe. Face down. Snaking my body against mattress. Fucking myself with my rope. With the knot he tied. And it grows. And grows.

I turn my head. He's there. Staring. Smiling.

"Are you close?"

"Almost."

"Get closer."

I ease my hips up and down. I feel him watching me. My breathing quickens.

"Please?"

He flicks open his knife. I feel a yank on the rope. A moment of ease.

And then he's inside me. And he's pulling the rope in time with his thrusts. And the knot is against my clit. And he's pumping in and out.

And I scream, "Please?"

"Yes."

And I scream again.

Afterwards, I feel a little sad. Until he kisses my cheek, smiles, and says, "It's still long enough for next time."

Daily Zen

I'm not a religious person. When pressed by someone to give an answer, I've said in the past I'm pseudo-Christian. I was baptized Catholic. Went to Catholic school for seven years. But my mother converted to Baptist before I started either of those schools. And, when once asked by her, I bluntly said her religion was not for me (a brave and strong willed act, considering I was 14 at the time).

Catholicism is definitely not my bag. I'm too feminist to reclaim that mantel, though I did love the ritual and pageantry of it. Baptists have their music and community atmosphere, but again my morals won't let me be a part of a religion that goes so heavily against my views.

Mostly, I feel adrift when it comes to religion. Sometimes I wonder if there is anything to believe in at all.

But then I get this feeling that there is something, some sort of life force in the universe. I can't really name it. I just know when I see the beauty of a flower, or think about the enormity of our world, and worlds beyond. Or the fact that I have two amazing nieces born from my friends' love, no matter the form it took, I tear up. That life essence is something, though I don't know what.

Lately, in trying to find center in my own life, both personal and professional, I've come upon a random resource to calm the raging storm: Daily Zen. It's a group on FetLife that I joined which posts one or two Zen proverbs each day. I read them, take them in, let my mind linger on their thoughts. It helps.

I am by no means actively seeking out religion or a new way of being for myself. But I appreciate the words. They center me. Make me concentrate on, think about something other than parts of my life I, at times, view as petty or frivolous.

And, since this is my blog, I get to do what I want. Henceforth, I will occasionally share those words with you.

I already have two podcasts: PoeticReadsGray & Daddy's Good Girl. Instead of launching a third, I'm going to occasionally include voice snippets in this blog. Nothing big. Each proverb usually is only a minute or two.

But when the words move me. Make me think. Get me to stop the constant chatter of no-good-very-bad things rolling around in my head, I'll share them with you.

Here are two to start:

listen to ‘DZ_Flower Shower’ on Audioboo

listen to ‘DZ_Real Prosperity’ on Audioboo

Your Kiss

~ a poem ~



Our kiss didn't end the moment our lips parted. The warmth of your breath, your mouth, lingered on my skin. Even as I stepped back. Even as I smiled and told you bye. Even as we walked away.

I felt your kiss throughout my day. In moments that came without warning. In thoughts of you. In stolen seconds where I turned my head to the side, looked down, and smiled. In breaths where all I wanted was you here, near me, and your lips on mine again.

Your kiss gave me energy throughout my day. As work tried to tear me down. As people gave me misery. Your kiss gave me joy. Hope to get through. Happiness at the thought of you. And glee, knowing I would be able to kiss you again so soon.

Your kiss caught me randomly, at times. When I waited in line for food. As I looked for something or other on my desk. On the walk to talk to someone. You were there. Hands in my hair, on my neck. Lips against mine. Breath and passion and longing. And we were kissing all over again.

I was glad no one could hear my thoughts. Feel what I felt. The heat of it. The wanting. The joy. That kiss was ours. Our moment. Our break from the everyday. Our embracing of each other. Connection and passion and need and home.

As I make my way back to you, I can't stop thinking about it. Can't stop thinking about you. Don't want to stop remembering. Living in that moment. And looking forward to the next time we kiss.