the love of my life


As I drove to the Dollar General this morning, I though how fortunate I am to live in this beautiful place. I rolled down my window and took in the cool, country, air. I got lost in thought of things past…of him. I remembered happy times, when we’d gone down the same road to town, together, listening to music and laughing. The morning sun blessed the fields and pastures with its golden glow. Everything my eyes fell upon could have been a painting.

In spite of the bucolic paradise that is Mayberry, I still miss my desert. The Chihuahuan Desert is the most beautiful place on earth, to me. The sun is so large that it absolutely commands the sky. When morning rays meet the desert floor there is an explosion of beauty beyond compare. The shadows on the mountains come to life…showing themselves, slowly as sun rises, daring mere humans to come see what they hide. Birds of prey begin their hunt early, as the rabbits and critters come our to feed on the greasewood bushes and the like. Soon after, the buzzards begin to search for the leftover handiwork of the things that kill in the night. There is a stillness there that I never felt before, or since.

In the desert, you are a guest, to be sure. There is not one living thing that welcomes  the human to be part of its life. It is a hostile enviromnent that lets us know, in no uncertain terms, that we do not belong there, nor are we particularly wanted. If one is to master the desert, you must understand that. And you must be both fearless and humble, because both are required each and every day in order to live there. All in all, I’ve never felt more human than I did during the time I spent growing up there. The Chihuahuan Desert saved me in many ways. I may never make it back out there, but I will remember it every day, because I owe a debt of gratitude to that place that can never be repaid. If I ever truly loved anything other than my boys, it is that desert.

pj in my bed


i imagine you

in the still of the night

you lie there, asleep in my bed

and i lie next to you, thisclose

listening to your breathe

i stare at that spot on your neck

…the one that drives me wild for no reason, whatsoever

i want to kiss and nibble and bite you


just there

so that you’ll wake up and kiss me

and i will kiss you back

so, it begins

as our bodies play

and sometime, deep in the night

we make love

amongst the pillows and comfort


the wee hours

In the wee hours, you see things that the Light won’t allow. There are shadows and sounds, whispers of another world. Spirits dance in the wee hours. Some hostile, some as gentle as doves…but all of them, they dance. Your heart calls to you in hours so late that they’ve become early. Revealing your secrets, long kept. Exposing the forgotten things…forcing you to witness their power. Then, they pull back, ever so gently, letting you know that they will return to that hidden place where they’re kept.

As dawn threatens the darkness, you find yourself anxious. Eyes probing the darkness, awaiting the slightest hint of blue, because your hope lives there, in the Light. The new day offers redemption from the rituals of the Night. Offerings are tucked away, and the challis, long since drunk dry, is carefully posed in its place of honor. Always within view, it reminds you of the yield, fed you by the willing. Just as you begin to realize the glory of what was, morning sun washes away the ceremony of it all and leaves you, a child of Darkness, to your redemption.


*Adult Content ‘Love Bleeds Through’

Ericka had known Clay for years. Around the neighborhood he was known as Big Clay. He was a mountain of a man, all of 6’6″ and 300lbs. He was built like a tree…solid and strong. Clay was the type of man a girl could call on when she needed something fixed around the house. He was a great porch buddy, as well, and the two of them had spent many an evening watching the sun set on the small town they lived in. He’d drink his beer and she’d sip her whiskey. They were good friends.

In time, Ericka began to let Clay know a bit more about herself, on a very personal level. They began sharing the sorts of things that even a best friend wouldn’t know about a person. Sunset after sunset found them in deep conversation about these secret things until, one night, the inevitable happened and they acted upon them. After that night, Clay was Ericka’s pet and she was his Mistress. Their secret, to the grave.

Ericka and Clay had been discussing a play piercing scene for a couple of weeks. They had decided on a relatively high number of needles to accommodate Clay’s desire to push his pain threshold a bit. To make it easier on them both, (Ericka had a ‘thing’ about needles), they decided to use 25g so they’d be much easier to get in and to remove.

In short order, the needles Ericka ordered had arrived and it was a ‘go’ for their much anticipated play time. They decided on an early start, so Clay took off of work at lunch one Friday and went straight to Ericka’s house. She was waiting there for him, in her bedroom, out of her mind with excitement.

Ericka heard Clay the moment he walked through the front door. She grew breathless as his footsteps moved closer to her bedroom. At last, he appeared in the doorway, almost filling it completely. She so admired his strength and size. Clay made her feel so safe whenever he was around. But there was no time for such sentimentality now, as Ericka stood up and walked towards Clay, who was now standing next to the chair she would bind him to. Without a word between them, she began to unbutton his shirt, slowly, so that she could see every single bit of him as it was revealed. His chest was hairy and masculine..and, lower, his belly was flat and hard…no six pack…just the body of a hard working man.

Ericka loved to undress her pet. It was probably her favorite thing to do. Clay was, like every man, an overgrown boy and she enjoyed caring for him in that way. Finally, she pulled his shirt off, revealing his muscular arms, reminding her that this was no boy. Then, she unbuckled his belt, and momentarily knelt down to unlace his work boots and toss them and his socks off to the side. She stood and sighed with anticipation as, finally, she unzipped his jeans and pulled them off of him. His cock was already getting hard, but she refused to touch it. In fact, she had yet to so much as touch her pet’s cock as long as they had been playing together, unless she was performing the CBT that he loved, perhaps a little too much. Clay enjoyed the pain she provided and she enjoyed the fruits of his particular, and well honed, skill set. After play-time, Clay would service Ericka for hours on end, if it pleased her. And, it did please her. Most definitely.

Once he was undressed, Ericka told Clay to sit in the chair, arms flat on the armrests, ankles close to the front legs. She got her wide leather cuffs and strapped his wrists to the chair first. Then, more for drama than anything, she got some old leg irons and chain she found at a flea market to secure his legs with. Clay sat still, a hint of fear in his eyes, along with a wicked gleam. He was smiling the sweetest little trembling smile Ericka had ever seen. God, he made her feel so…something. Next, she grabbed her favorite ball gag and crammed it into his mouth. Clay played at resisting…it was just more fun that way. Ericka moved behind him and tightly buckled the strap. Before Clay knew it, a black pillowcase was pulled over his head. Around his neck, a rough length of rope with a large knot in the middle. The knot was carefully placed over his Adam’s apple and the rope was tied tightly enough to remind him of his predicament each time he swallowed or tried to speak.

Ericka walked across the room and sat at the foot of her bad, enjoying her view of the man at her disposal. She got out her blue latex gloves, popping them on very loudly. She already had the needles laid out on a table by chair Clay was in. Needles…she could barely stand the sight of a needle. “This better be worth it,” she thought, as she got up and walked over to the table. The NEEDLE table. “OMG…”

Ericka quieted herself. She couldn’t have Clay knowing how frightened she was. The room was silent as she ripped open the package containing the first of the needles. Clay started to wriggle a bit at the sound, and his left leg was shaking a little. Ericka leaned down and whispered, “Relax, we’re going to follow the pattern to a T.” With that, she pinched up a bit of skin at the back of his right arm and inserted the needle. A tiny lil drippy drop of blood escaped his skin as she opened up the next needle, and the next, and the next…The further she got down his arm, the more the blood began to add up. Not gushing blood. More like a light summer shower’s worth. Ericka’s mouth began to water as she tried to focus on the arduous task at hand.

It took about two hours to complete the arm lining, front and back on both arms. The inside of Clay’s arms bled much more than the outside and there was much red to be seen. It was beautiful. Clay’s arms were shaking as his body was riddled with endorphins. Ericka popped off her gloves and got out her camera and began to photograph the beauty before her. This Viking of a man, bound and hooded…under  her complete control…it was intoxicating. When she had finished taking the pictures, she allowed herself a few minutes to simply sit and stare at Clay. At that moment, he was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen.

She excused herself and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When she returned, she gently untied the rope and removed the hood and gag. Ericka lifted the glass to Clay’s lips, stroking his hair as he drank. He was sweating and red faced. Perhaps the pain was more than he bargained for. Ericka sat the glass down and took Clay’s face into her hands. Something was going on between them, she could feel it. When he looked up at her with blue eyes that spoke of both love and strength, she knew that, after today, Clay would never be her pet again.

Ericka ran her fingers up and down Clay’s arms, tracing the bumps that the needles made in his skin. Some blood had already dried. Some was still wet and it was sticky on her skin. She leaned down and kissed Clay in a way that she’d never kissed him before. Then, her lips moved to his ear and she asked on a whisper, “May I?” She would never consider taking  something so precious without asking, after all.

To her delight, Clay whispered back in a quivering voice, “Yes, most certainly.”

She licked the sticky sweetness from her fingers, then began the task of removing the needles. Each came with its own tiny drop, yet again, and Ericka tended to the tiny wounds with her lips and tongue, squeezing each to make certain she got all there was. Clay moaned in pain, but she was in her own world until, finally, the last needle was out.

Ericka’s heart pounded and she was all but overcome with a desire for this man. Again, she kissed Clay, deep and long, as though it was the last kiss she’d ever get. She was just so very hungry for him.. She allowed her hands to roam his body as he sat, still bound. Her hand trembled as it made its way down to Clay’s cock. It was so hard…throbbing…ready. This was it. It  was going to happen this very evening. That thing they had avoided for so very long was going to happen.

Ericka’s head was spinning as she began to unbuckle Clay’s wrist restraints. Her hands, shaking as she knelt before him, once more, trying to unlock his shackles. As soon as he was free, Clay grabbed Ericka and pulled her across the room, throwing her onto the bed. He ripped her blouse open exposing her breasts. Clay took them into his rough hands, his mouth kissing and licking and biting at her nipples. He was breathing so hard that Ericka was almost afraid. He yanked her skirt up and tore her panties off, forcing her legs wide apart as he shoved his big hard cock into her so hard it took her breath away.

Clay continued to fuck Ericka any way he pleased for what seemed like forever. Never, in her life, had a man used her like that. Thankfully, in no time, her fear gave way to resignation, then to pleasure, as she joined him in this exercise in unbridled lust. When she thought that she could take no more, Clay shot his load deep inside of her. She wrapped her legs around him as he collapsed on top her of, and she held him closer than she’d ever held anyone.

After a short while, Clay got up without saying a word. Ericka didn’t know what to think…what she should think. She got out of what remained of her clothes and climbed under the covers. She could hear Clay in the kitchen, drawers opening and closing, the sound of silverware clanking around…the fridge opening and closing. Finally, she heard footsteps coming back down the hallway. Clay walked towards the bed, a glass of juice in one hand, and a large shiny knife in the other. He sat the knife down on the nightstand and handed Ericka the juice. “You could probably use this”, he said, grinning. Ericka drank the juice, but couldn’t quite take her eyes off of the knife, long after Clay had taken her close into his arms. Now and then, the breeze would blow the curtains and the evening sun would shine in and sparkle on the blade of the knife. Ericka found the whole affair unnerving, except that she was so taken with Clay that it simply didn’t matter at that point.

Lying in his arms was definitely not a bad thing. Ericka had never felt so whole or so wanted. As they lay there together, Clay’s hands began to explore her body, but gently this time. His kiss was soft and loving. Knowing how sore she was, Clay made sure to kiss it all away as he entered her, once more, with his huge swollen cock. Ericka was in sheer bliss as he slowly moved back and forth, and she, against him. She had never experienced this before.She’d never felt so very womanly…so spiritually engaged…

Just when she thought she could not get another thing out of this, Clay reached over and picked up the knife. He rose up off of her for a moment and put the blade in his hand. Suddenly, he closed his hand around it and pulled the knife out. Ericka could see the red on the blade. She gasped, her mind racing. Then, just as suddenly, Clay put the knife down and offered his bleeding hand to Ericka, putting it to her lips. She grasped his wrist and began to take from the wound. Clay began to make love to her again as she took from him that most precious thing. As she did, she realized that she had not only found her true love, but her soul mate…her happily ever after.

Clay’s gentle stroke brought her to sheer ecstasy, just as the wound had given its last. When she could take no more, Clay unloaded inside of her again. As he did, he kissed her scarlet lips and whispered an oath so sublime that she’d dare not repeat it. But, from that day on, Clay and Ericka shared every sunrise and sunset.

fantasy on a monday afternoon

red-1you belittle me, thinking that it puts me in my place

you yell so that i will not miss a word

you ignore me so that i will disappear

and i despise you

because i can

while i’m gazing in your direction

as you go on and on

filling the air with the noise of you

i may look blank

i may even smile

but a bomb is going off behind these eyes

though my hands are politely folded in my lap

as you ‘mickey mouse’ things to me

oversimplifying so that my silly self can understand

the genius that is you

in my mind, my hands are clenched

around your throat

your face, red, as you gasp

breaking out into a sweat as, finally, you fall to your knees

at last, red gives way to blue as i blissfully finish the job

as i come back to myself

after bathing in this fantasy, divine

your mouth is still moving

hands flailing

and you’re still explaining

whatever it was

that was so important

i maintain my composure

my pose,  unchanged

as i take it all in

Love Hate Sex Pain/You Gonna Burn For This, Girl

One man’s sin is another man’s pleasure. The Bible says that if your heart does not condemn you, you stand not condemned. As I sit here this morning, I feel as though I stand condemned. Because I just can’t let go of someone who kills me inside, yet still has my heart in his hand.

I’m not formally divorced, nor am I legally separated from my husband of almost thirty years. Almost five years ago, I got my things together and left. I had to. I could not take another moment caught up in the pain machine. During the time I was gone, many things happened, one in particular, that demanded my immediate return. And, so, like the faithful do-gooder that I am, I went home.

Throughout these last years, we’ve had separate bedrooms, as I have held fast to my initial proclamation that we are separated. As many times as I have made that proclamation, Exish has proclaimed the exact opposite. In his world, it’s cut and dry…you are married until the lawyer cashes his check. It is also a given that, if you are married, you are owned. Like a cow or a horse. Chattel.

Here’s the rub: Lately, I’ve been very lonely out here in the woods. There are no distractions. Initially, I thought I would enjoy being alone and that I’d get on with the decorating and whatsuch of the house we moved into almost two months ago. Then, that little thing happened with the man I met on that dating site. The site I went on just to see what a cyber relationship might be like. That led to phone conversations…phone sex…then a very abrupt ending that left me feeling very off kilter. The emotional exchange, however brief, that technology affords us, in the way it exists today, is something that we’re not all prepared for, I suppose. I mean…who didn’t experiment when the net first came to be? I did. It was fun. It was just new and fun to talk about sex/have cyber sex with strangers. It was a novelty that lost its shine for me when I ended up with a stalker who, oddly enough, did not pursue me as a sexual partner until right at the last of it, four years later.

Even though I deleted, or tried to, my account from the dating site, and two others, I am still getting messages and alerts from them. In the last week or so, I’ve been chatting with this one and that one and having a good time. Until I met someone who seriously got to me. By that, I mean that I feel an extreme emotional connection with this person. I checked him out…he’s who he says he is, etc. He’s a very nice man, and we just clicked. He lives in Dallas, which is about ninety miles away. He works and I haven’t agreed to go there to meet him. I told him I’d be gone for the weekend, so he can’t come here. But I want him to. I didn’t expect that I’d actually want that. Or that I could truly see a future with anyone but Exish. I’m not so naive that I believe this particular guy is Mr. Wonderful and there is some forever type thing going on between us. However, I do feel as though we are moving in a direction that will lead us to meet, at the very least. Once that happens, everything changes.

When I woke up this morning, I felt sick inside. I mean…guilt like I haven’t felt in my lifetime. I felt disgusting and dirty and low and I just wanted it to go away. I think that, for the first time, I felt like I was cheating on Exish. I’m a lot of things, but I’m no liar and I’m no cheater. That’s Exish’s department. I’m the one who can resist anything, and will go to any length, to protect what I hold dear.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do about this situation. Exish will be home from the job in a few weeks. I did tell him I was talking to someone, but played it off like I was just messing with them. As if I need a reason to talk to anyone, for any reason. I didn’t want Exish’s permission, but I wanted him to know that I’m trying to put a toe in the water…to give him a head’s up. That’s something he never gave me. The flipside of that is that I now realize that I do have serious love for Exish. We’ve been together so long. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t care what he’s done, I can’t be the one to hurt him the way he’s hurt me. I think that when you know how something feels…something like betrayal…it has to be the last thing you’d want to make anyone else feel.

I think I’m going to turn off my phone and get busy around here. Lay low and let myself settle down. I don’t think it would be cheating if I had ten men in my bed, but…emotionally…if I felt connected to only one, I think it might be.

the butterfly and the dragon


I am not what you see
On the outside
Your eyes…indeed, they deceive you
By default, I’m either more kind
Or more cruel
Than I appear
To be
It is not a statement against your good judgment
Rest well knowing that I harbor not the slightest care
About what you think
As you decide
What you think
But it could be a mark against your judgment
Should your assumption be wrong
It could be life changing
For you
Were you to imagine me a butterfly
Only to find a dragon
Or run from a lion
When you’ve been looking upon a lamb all along



so often have you crossed my mind

these many years we’ve been apart

that you remain in my life

living and breathing and laughing along with me

when i glimpse a shadow

it’s your face i see

black eyes, smiling back

twinkling as i look away

have i missed you?

no. not for one moment.

because, in my heart

you’re still by my side

and you will always be

my love




slumber escapes my tired mind

how it longs to replenish itself in the still of the night

only in dreams to occupy thought

and, even then, only if it so chooses

perhaps the bucolic solitude is too much for me

the peace, too foreign

no refineries roaring in the background

no sirens from the fire station a block over

no static anxiety from the collective masses

maybe i, alone, am the problem

possibly, in some wee tiny way i fear what may lie beyond the glow of the porch light

the monsters and the legends

wolves and coyotes

craven wildcats waiting to pounce

the son of Pillow Face, himself, waiting to drag me off into the woods

and make me his bloody bride forever and always

or…it is entirely possible…that





flatlined mind

18212_466247320191578_8133312022347814956_nI got pain meds today. I took one when I got home a short while ago and, already, I feel the numbness seeping into my mind. The pain is subsiding, thank God. Sweet reprieve! My fingers move around the keyboard as they should, no constant pushing of the ‘back’ button. But my thoughts are dumbed down…vacant…as the medication hits my system after being off of it for three weeks.

I don’t know why people become addicted to this shit. Even when you need it, it doesn’t make you happy. Of course, you feel relief from the pain, and that’s a wonderful thing. But, at what price? For me, it takes almost as much as it gives. I’ve always been a writer. Throughout my life, writing has helped me through the worst situations…explained things to me from a previously blank page that I could not, before, understand, even though those very answers were in my head the whole time.

When I see news about some new pill mill getting shut down, or about how so many people are addicted to certain pain meds, I shake my head in disbelief. Why would anyone want to take this shit if they didn’t have to? How do you get addicted to something that makes you a zombie? The same could be said for many other types of drugs, as well. For me, it’s a godsend. Without a certain pain drug, my life takes on a shade of pain that fluctuates from grey to black throughout my days and nights. I so resent those bastards that abuse pain meds because they make it difficult for people like me to get them. Legally. Let’s face it, for every legal way to get any drug, there’s an illegal way to get it. But I’m not down with that. I’m just saying…it is a fact of life here in Los Estados Unidos.

I will say that I am looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Silver lining!