…with apologies to Robert Frost, no other title would really work.
We met. M and I, at long, long last. It wasn’t for play but for a short few hours, to talk and have coffee, in a little place in the woods right in the middle between our distant homes.
Oh, gods, He smelled so good. Spicy and rich and warm. His mouth, tender as he kissed me, his arms, strong as he held me for a moment or two or maybe longer. He fingered my hair, which is a very exuberant shade of purple just now, and hmmed over it. Didn’t hate the haircut (it’s grown back some since I lopped 6″ off several months ago).
We’re still hoping for a playtime in September if his body heals, if mine heals. I had a minor accident and the other kind of ‘heels’ won’t be in my future for a while. And since M has his high-heeled slut-shoe fetish, (man, say that three times fast!) I have to get myself in shape for those damned things. (okay, they’re sexy as all get-out, but still…I feel catapulted into giantess stature when I’m suddenly wobbling around on those 6″ devils!) All that aside?
I saw him.
Touched him. My hands on his cheeks, his beard, around his neck. On his thigh, his arm, fingers snaking into his hand, head leaning on his shoulder.
Sniffed him (stop giggling….not like a dog!…just …you know the kind of inhalation I mean, right? (grins, blushing) Where you draw scent deep into your lungs and hold it, knowing nothing else will ever smell quite this wonderful?
Yeah, that kind of sniffing.
We’d hoped to have a day, but were happy to have the time that we did. It’s amazing what that contact does for a submissive slut. I’ve been patient, I’ve been sad, I’ve been mad, I’ve been up, and I’ve been frustrated. Sometimes, most of the time, life isn’t very fair.
(That’s another thing I’ve learned as a submissive, that it may not be fair, but so what? It’s his way, (or life’s way) and I better figure out how to deal with it because he for sure isn’t going to change his demands because I’m feeling pissy about them.
Sometimes stars align, schedules coalesce and a Master and his slut can have some face-t0-face time to say hey to one another.
And that, as Martha would say, is a very good thing indeed.