Thank yous for H.

There was a moment that made me think about how thankful I am for quite bizarre things.

It was morning, H and I were both lying naked in bed. Playing, fucking, snuggling and praying for the alarm not to go off (again) but knowing it would and we’d soon have to go our separate ways.

H lay between my thighs, chin resting on my belly, head between my breasts.

“Well, if you get murdered today I’m definitely going to be a suspect.” They said, taking in the vista of bruises, scratches and bite marks before them.

And I thanked them with a smile on my face.

For so gloriously, so enthusiastically covering me with their DNA.

But not just for that.

For a whole list of things.

This list of Thank yous for H.


Thank you.

For decorating my skin with a rainbow of marks, complementing the old, yellowing bruises from our  last encounter.

For the growls in my ear that melt my centre and leave me dripping and weak.

For the pain, for the glorious, cleansing pain that takes me out of my mind and frees my body.

For the laughter. For the silliness. For the beatings to the tune of…ride of the Valkyries wasn’t it? Or was it Beethoven… dun, dun, dun, dunnnnnnnnnn. Perhaps it was both.

For taking me to the very edges of my tolerances, for you know that’s where the orgasms are found.

For holding my hand when I reach those heights, when I need your reassurance so much, your grip helping me to hold on through the onslaught of your teeth buried deep.

For the whispered ‘Good girl’s’ that made me flush with pride at taking all your sadistic and wicked tricks and treats.

For making me blush, for revelling in my embarrassment, not letting me hide my face away, encouraging me to revel in my blushes too.

For the orgasms. All the orgasms. So many fucking orgasms.

Even for the ones that made me cry with the pain of coming without end. For the ones where I tried (and failed) to buck you off as the pleasure of your fingers in me, on my clit, was just all too much,
gloriously too much.

Thank you even when you feinted every slap with that wicked, tormenting joyful smile on your face and evil glint in your eye. For not landing each pretend punch, pretend slap and never finishing the action, leaving me whimpering and whining, torn apart by the anticipation…

Until you punched me. Hard. I thanked you then, too. The relief, the pleasure was ecstatic.

For every smile,
every look
from lustful to loving.
For every kiss
bruising and punishing to the gentlest caresses on recently abused flesh.

For the look in your eye that tells me you secrets,
For the smiles that thrill me with their love, their lust and their sadistic bent.

For the moments spent forehead to forehead.
Shared vulnerability
Overpowering emotion.

For all you gave me, all you give me, for all of you.

Thank you.