She’s got a way about her
I don’t know what it is
But I know that I can’t live without her
She’s got a way of pleasin’
I don’t know what it is
But there doesn’t have to be a reason
She’s got a smile that heals me
I don’t know why it is
But I have to laugh when she reveals me
She’s got a way of talkin’
I don’t know what it is
But it lifts me up when we are walkin’
Billy Joel, She’s Got A Way
Dear Miss Tumblr,
It has been a while now since I wrote anything of value, hasn’t it? A run of good luck lately and I’d say my pen-to-paper has been overcome by some tongue-in-cheek, in the very literal sense.
Or at least I think that is what happened…
You may need to help me with that, Miss Tumblr.
I had been ill, so my memory is a bit hazy.
Surreal visions and actual reality have blended together quite a bit lately to the point I am forgetful what is up and what is down. But what I seem to recall…
Seems like recently, I was face-deep in a heaven’s scent. Now when I close my eyes, I summon thoughts and memories of you, Miss Tumblr, with me. I remember a vision so real I could swear it just took place.
Were these memories, or just fantasy? Of a woman, who when I think of her, she has a glow about her. Like Billy Joel would say, she’s got a light around her.
Did it happen though? I can’t really clearly see any of it. But I see something, so it had to happen, right?
Maybe you can help me remember, Miss Tumblr.
Maybe, just maybe, you can put yourself in the shoes of the lady in this story, and tell me, does it sound like it could have happened? Was it us? Was it you and me, Miss Tumblr? Was it me and the girl reading this post? Does it sound like us?
As I said, my mind has been cloudy lately and I just cannot remember. Let me tell you what I do recall though…
You see, I seem to recall watching a woman arrive at this cute little Airbnb I booked. She pulled up in a Lyft, wheeled her carry-on across the stone walkway to the 1930s craftsman style home. Red chairs on the patio, if I remember accurately.
By the time she made it to the doorway, I had my hands all over her body, but she wasn’t fighting it at all. I was kissing her like I never kissed anyone as if I could not survive by breathing the toxic air outside, and life was only made possible through the survival found in her lungs.
Passion was an understatement. I kissed her like a John Hughes movie. Luggage almost was forgotten and left outside; I knew by the time I came up for air that there was no way I was going to make it to the master bedroom. That was at least 20 paces away and my willpower was shot so the sofa would have to do.
Miss Tumblr, is any of this sounding familiar yet? Do you remember this, like I do? It just seems so real to me.
Do you remember, Miss Tumblr, when I made your pussy wet long before I ever touched it? I remember that part, for sure. I think.
Should I carry on? Should I continue? Should I try to paint a picture and recall what I think happened next?
I’ll take your silence as being complicit with my storytelling.
Next, I recall pushing you down onto that sofa, Miss Tumblr. I wanted to just enter you right away, but I knew I had to taste you, and even now I can’t remember what happened first. It’s just how I am built.
I just desperately need to please you like no other man has or ever will. I need to finger you until you collapse. I need to eat you until you buckle. I need to fuck you until I see you break down and crumble. I define myself by this.
I remember eating you, fingering you, fucking you, and watching you cum those delicious orgasms. Those orgasms that I had been wanting to witness for so long now. Escaping you like a spirit taken from a body, somehow reminiscent of a Hitchcock film I’ve never seen before but knew the storyline of.
Watching you buckle under the energy of my masculinity; I dwell in your weakened state.
One day turns into another, as I remember spooning you naked into the night, knowing the stars above are big and bright deep in heart of Texas. White linens covering us as my flaccid cock finds its way in between your ass cheeks, yet somehow, I wake hardened and firm.
I spit into my hand, reach down to my cock, then your gorgeous waxed pussy, and pull you towards me. I draw your body in closer and spread your lips; I enter you, unaware at first. Three in the morning and you are awakened with me inside your tight little pussy, coming into consciousness with me taking your body, consent is debatable since I know you told me you wanted this to happen “one day”. Consent is implied when you moan in elation as a response to me inside you. It is confirmed when you ask me for it harder.
So, Miss Tumblr, are you with me on this still? Do you recall us, now?
As we woke and fucked again after dawn, with our eye contact the whole time beyond intense, apexing when my hands gripped your delicate feminine little neck. The emotions that washed across your face implied fear and peace in unison, as if for the very first time in your entire life, you experienced these emotions simultaneously, in the exact same moment.
It wasn’t until it was all said and done that you realized you entered subspace. Couple that with the spankings I gave you when I beat your ass red and left marks on you that were still there a week later. The ice. The aftercare. The words. These words. These very words. Right here. And you finally realized that you became the submissive that you have always yearned to become.
So, Miss Tumblr, ringing a bell yet? Well Miss, do you remember?
Do you remember me laying you onto your back, my eyes peering up at you between your legs, as you maintained composure just long enough to see my sinister green eyes smiling into your soul as I made you cum over and over and I knew exactly what I was doing the whole time? You arched your back and came again and again, just as I predicted and foretold you I would.
Didn’t this happen, Miss Tumblr? Do you recall, as I do?
Do you remember when you were on your back, and my cock was hard and filling your tight little ass, that when I shoved my three fingers inside your tight pussy, I was stretching you to the limit? Just when you thought you could not handle it anymore, I blew your mind again, and took my other hand, and rubbed your clit into a frenzy.
Do you recall that? How could you forget that part, Miss Tumblr?
Do you recall the painting on the wall? The Indian food that night? The Old Fashioned? The breakfast I cooked you? The kiss goodbye? The Lyft?
Ah, must have been a dream, Miss Tumblr.
I have been feeling ill, after all.
Also published on Medium.