Temperature's Rising

Temperature's RisingTemperature's Risingêtre éveilléCum for me…au réveilbête noireWelcome To Vagina!Food of LoveHours Before Dawnhttps://mrsfever.wordpress.com https://mrsfever.wordpress.com https://secure.gravatar.com/blavatar/fcab2a0bccc48f6f1113aa64363190f2?s=96&d=https%3A%2F%2Fs2.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.png https://mrsfever.wordpress.com/2015/10/30/etre-eveille/ https://mrsfever.wordpress.com/2015/10/30/etre-eveille/ I come awake with a start – frozen in place, throat tight, heart pounding a rapid tattoo in my chest – to the roar of frustrated winds blustering against the night. I am cold. Disoriented. The t-shirt I wear is twisted around my torso. My sheets are skewed, my pillows tossed, my legs tangled in a heap of sheets. I observe these details as though through a shroud; it takes me a moment… and then another… to realize, with gasping inhalation, that I have forgotten to breathe. And then I remember. In accelerated pants, I remember. Snippets of dreamscape scenes, of flashbacks, of fears real [...]

être éveillé

I come awake with a start – frozen in place, throat tight, heart pounding a rapid tattoo in my chest – to the roar of frustrated winds blustering against the night. I am cold. Disoriented. The t-shirt I wear is twisted around my torso. My sheets are skewed, my pillows tossed, my legs tangled in a heap of sheets. I observe these details as though through a shroud; it takes me a moment… and then another… to realize, with gasping inhalation, that I have forgotten to breathe. And then I remember. In accelerated pants, I remember. Snippets of dreamscape scenes, of flashbacks, of fears real and imagined come together in reconstructed shattered-glass reality, and I roll, seeking solace in his embrace. . Ssshhhhh… [...]

Cum for me…

I am liquid slick, boiled down under the flame of your fingers. Molten, steamy. Slow burn reduction, simmering under your touch. I am raw senses and quivering heat, pinprick pleasure and delicious, dripping ache. On fire for you. I feel the grip of your fingertips on my hips, pulling me back against your swollen cock, thick with need for me, and with desire for you thick in my throat, I oblige the demand of your hands with wiggling hips, backing onto your hard by inches, til finally I am… a l m o s t… There. :: breathe :: And with a deep inhale and a tilt of my coccix, I arch my back briefly before pressing my belly down and my ass [...]

au réveil

The afternoon sun reaches through the windowpane, light-soaked rays stroking their fingertips over my sleep-warmed skin, caressing me through my quilted cocoon, coaxing me slowly awake. It takes me a while, I think to myself, as I hear his approaching movements against the background sounds of domestic hums; fluffing towels turn in the dryer while floorboards creak under softly padding feet.  He kneels beside me where I lay, melted chocolate eyes level with my groggy gaze, and his welcoming smile pulls me out of my drowsy depths. It takes me a while. The thought repeats as I complete my climb to consciousness, holding his cheek against my palm and tracing my thumb over his sinner’s lips. Sometimes, it takes me a while. To [...]

bête noire

Limbs twined, my cheek to his chest, I inhale his skin between slowing heartbeats, kittening under his hand stroking my hair and nestling into the strength of his ember-warm embrace. My lashes flutter in a latent echo of endorphin trembles, and, stroking my fingertips over his torso, I ask… What are you afraid of? …even as I think to myself: This. Source: The Suburban Domme

Welcome To Vagina!

No, not Virginia. Vagina. The state that is its own state flower. Or something. So:  Welcome to Vagina!  I’ll be your tour guide.  And before you ask:  NO, there will be no free rides through the Tunnel of Love today.  Also:  I hope you brought your raincoats. ‘Kaysooo… Every now and then I get befuddling questions about What Women Want and I am sort of at a loss as to how to answer these inquiries, because no two women are the same (say it with me, now:  NO TWO WOMEN ARE THE SAME!), so unless I am the woman in question, I can’t particularly help much in the How To Please A Woman department. What I *can* do, however, is give you a [...]

Food of Love

He crawls on shaking limbs to arrange himself alongside me, trembling from the force of his release. I can feel his heartbeat thudding through his ribcage, the thrum of it echoing in the veins of his arm draped over me, and I soothe the staccato rapidity with half-note hums and quarter note breaths, stroking my fingers over his skin and through his hair, softly inviting him back down to earth. I can see the moment he stops floating on feeling and starts descending into thought. It has been a long time coming, this coming home; living together matters not where absence is concerned, and his presence – here, in this moment – is palpable. I observe the change in his countenance with curiosity, [...]

Hours Before Dawn

Blue-black visions swim against my eyelids as I swim to consciousness, fingertips dipping beneath my waistband in somnambulent insistence, trailing fire against sensitive flesh, seeking sweet relief. I am slick. Hot. Swollen. My fevered skin aches, the barest air bruising me with its caress, my nipples prickling at the assault, begging for your mouth. I take one, tenderly tugging between thumb and forefinger, allowing the ethereal shapes in my mind to take solid form while my fingers dance inside my tight heat. I am wet. Creamy. Hot. Ohhhhh… So hot. Burn with me. I swirl circles over my clit, feeling the slippery liquid dripping from deep inside, and as I ride the edge I center all my energy on the one thought that [...]

Hot Ashes For Trees

Gilmour says he’s moved on; so too should we. So appropriate the name of David, I think. Love is a Goliath, and I am a stone’s throw away, watching, waiting, while singed memories rise in woodsmoke song streaking through low fog, and the lyrical liquidity is a balm to my charred heart, aching – from and for – the blackening blaze. The incineration of Icarus. Aileron Out of the ashes… Scorched-wing phoenix, fly. Source: The Suburban Domme

Not a warm fuzzy…..

But what’s new? These here Burbs…… Ain’t about…….warm and fuzzy. You want warm and fuzzy… I’ll loan you my cushy floor length V.S. robe and Bugs Bunny slippers to wear and a shot Jack to warm your tummy. Welcome to the counter point cul de sac. Note:It’s not a tarp.It’s not a dead end.It is a circular drive. You go out the same way you came in. Sub titled (no pun intended) I can’t/won’t tell anyone how to do this… but I can offer advice on how to avoid the bad screwed up mistakes he/we made in the process of finding our way to a happy medium. I am pondering and pontificating at the end of the cul de sac this morning. Coffee [...]