An Answer

I want to engorge my spirit on each morsel of the seventeen courses you offer to cook and be enchanted by the ground, course spices of you. I want to be lost in the circularity of your brilliant poetry only to grasp in vain for its meaning.

Please mi vida cut without mercy at the staccato beat of my heart in your thrall.

I reach for your outstretched hand and am rescued.

Only to find this mystery of awkward feeling; enveloping, questioning, and frustratingly elusive.

But when you sing me your songs I find you as you really are and I sit at your feet shocked by our good fortune; the thinnest reeds of luck and desire.

I yearn to carve together our story in an ancient gnarled tree; to etch it in the stone shore of a distant land; to live forever as a talisman of our good fortune.

Together, apart, alone. But found.

Here in my solitude, with you in a mysterious distant land I am lost in your words until suddenly without warning across vast space you plunge your gentle hands into my heaving chest and tear out my heart.

I trust your certainty as you whisper I am yours; though even as I write this you are with him in your shared and romantic far away land.

Your hands drenched in the blood of my violently beating heart. My heart's blood; red with ache and a deep longing desire for your love.

My soul feels blindly in the darkness for yours as I envision we claw together at the bottom of a false well. Suddenly it gives way and we seem to tumble entwined into the eye of the most violent of perfect storms.

I can't swim a stroke. Strong legs are of no use. But I hear your haunting, naked, and most vulnerable song as I drown in the tide; only to be rescued in a dream by the sweetest melody and harmony of a life forever together with you.

Can you tell I'm in love...

Je Suis Perdu

It was a perfect August Friday afternoon. We met in a hotel in the FiDi. I had suggested we "get a room" the day after we made out like teenagers on the park bench and she said, "Are you crazy? Spend all that money? You can just wait until I'm an empty nester again". But the delicious sexual tension grew and she agreed to allow me to go ahead and make a hotel reservation. Now, I've never done the love in the afternoon thing with a room that I rent for overnight. Do I tip the maid? When I check out will they smirk knowingly that I wished for clean sheets and an hourly rate? She-Who-Visits used to get hotels to give her a "day rate" when she plied her trade back in the day. No day rates in our world today. Believe me I tried.

But once I'd made the res I felt totally right about it. And so she and I met at the hotel's wine bar. She kissed me wet and hot and sat down. "I'm nervous", she whispered. "Me too", I confessed. "No you aren't", she followed. Really I was nervous. Mostly about whether what so far seemed like a perfect lightening strike would crash and burn. And of course I worried about getting it up. Am I the only guy who worries about getting it up?


The concierge delivered the hotel key to our table. She definitely gave me a "you naughty boy" look. I'm sure she did. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So we went up to the room. When I tried to sneak my Levitra into my mouth and Mi Goddessa asked what I was doing I told her it was an insurance policy pill and she just smiled.

In our little den of sin I did a slow strip tease as she lay back on the bed and watched. Then I found the generic fancy lotion mid-level hotels like to use to convince you that you are among the luxuriously moneyed class. I started on her feet and she was moaning. The next thing I knew I was having the most incredible mind blowing straight vanilla sex of my life. No lie. We ravished each other. For hours. We fucked like bunnies and made love like it was the last time we'd ever see each other.

So? Is vanilla a gateway fetish? Should I stop writing about kink and focus on a gazillion kama sutra positions? I swear I feel like a little kid in a candy shop. Can I have another please? Can we try that thing I haven't done in like 25 years? Oh please!!!

Actually, quick as its been I think I've fallen in love with La Goddessa De Vainilla. She is not a domme. But she's open to exploring all things kinky. She's been reading my blog and thinks Veronica is unbelievably hot. She loves the retro lingerie sites I've shown her. Most of all we connect. Now this is a relationship that could just so easily disintegrate. I can't give her the love and attention she wants right now and caring for my wife will always come first. But I've imagined a life with Maitresse Vainilla in such brilliant detail that it's scary. What am I going to do? I have no clue. But for now I'm lost in romance.

Que voy hacer je ne sais pas. Que voy hacer je suis perdu a mi carina vainillita.

Recortes Pequeñitos

She hit on me on the date site. Interested in kinky and no commitment. She seemed exotic but grounded with the most mischievous and licentious of grins. We began a text/sext affair that lasted almost ten breathless days. She grew up the child of privilege in a mysteriously beautiful South American country riven with struggle, hope, and blood. She lived in Paris where she learned French and furious fashion. She was a Barcelonita muy bonita. And she's lived a stone's throw from me in the country for many years. I knew I knew her and yet couldn't place it. No parties, no chance passings in town. It was from another life we'd lived together for though we knew many in common we'd never met.

We planned to remedy that but her conscience caused a delay. If she was looking for her next great love she was spending precious time if she dallied with me not going anywhere she'd set as an emotional goal. I totally got that but was devastated nonetheless as by that time I had many pictures of her to ignite my flights of fancy. She swam across lakes at sunset, cutting the water smoothly under twilight sky. She rode horses. I imagined her at a canter wearing tight cream jodhpurs and a prim white shirt buttoned to the neck. And there was the riding crop...

So when she cancelled I got it but was devastated. And then she came back, confessing distraction from her search. With my wife temporarily out of town, we met, drank, and dined with a view of the lights coming up across the awakening of a perfect Manhattan summer's night. Then we found a park bench by the river and made out like teenagers. A kid rode by on his bike and skidded to a stop right next to us. "Damn", he yelled, "This is Make Out Paradise!!" We collapsed laughing and saw two other couples going at it down the bench.

She'd made me speak to her in Spanish over dinner and pronounced that I spoke well. She was being charitable, but she did say I should install the Spanish keyboard on my phone. So the next morning she texted that she'd awoken to thoughts of our "besos mordelones". She loved our kisses that bit. I rejoined that she'd left "recortes pequeñitos en mis labios codiciosos". No, I haven't had a sex change operation. I wrote she gave "little cuts to my greedy lips". She called me a poeta. I told her I'd cheated on her with Google Translator. She told me I needed much correction.

So we shall see. If I get lucky we'll soon be up all night tryin' na get some.

The Magic of A Melancholy Tear

Okay, I've been away from the blog. Endless loop of work, care, sleep, and again. Time is such a precious commodity. However, I realize the more I make the effort to try to get some "me" time; the better I feel and the better I am at giving care. I'm going to write again. And I'm trying to find a kinky friend with benefits. Thought about seeing a pro domme. It would be a perfect solution. But while business is better, health care costs for my wife are rising. I've got insurance but it doesn't cover the constant home care she needs. Plus, we are renovating in the country so she can still get in. Ramps, lifts, and a big shower for a bathroom. Actually, the bathroom is kind of kinky. Watersport anyone? When it's done it will double as a playroom someday! But, the wonder of the pro domme option is out.

I can't really date. Recently, I had a text thing with a friend over an interaction I'd had on my on-line date site. I'd made a nice contact with an age appropriate, interesting, fun sounding, domme. Life got in my way for less than 36 hours and I didn't get back to our chat. On line chat. We had not even met. I checked in and she'd written me a dismissive message that I'd forgotten her already. She seemed upset. Well...she'd not be able to handle me and even though I apologized, she thankfully has not forgiven me. Anyway, my friend says "if you're a client too many emails you're a wanker; if you're a suitor not enough email and you are neglectful." I replied I'm neither suitor nor client. I'm an oddity. She promptly called me Oddity and asked me out to do something or another, but I was, of course, busy. Story of my life.

I'm not asking much. Couple meet ups a month for a couple hours each. Be my key holder, euphemistically speaking, as I'm an on my honor guy. Denial, denial, denial and some tease. Humiliate me with dignity and witty sophistication. I don't have much time for the friend part so love the benefits you supply? I'm sure I'll have extremely attractive, intelligent, available women lined up around the block. But I feel better trying.

So here it is, the Fourth of July. I'm writing again. And it feels good. If I ever figure out how to embed the Tom Waits video I'll add it, but for now I'm putting up the post. Sheesh. I leave for a few months and everything changes...