Jay

I come in a blurred frenzy as Jay works his hand in and out of me.

/ Daisy Danger / 3 Comments

I arch, buckle, scream, curve, collapse. Jay carefully wipes his hand off on a towel, then lies down next to me.

“That’s really the last time, you know,” he says sorrowfully. I rest my head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer.

“I know,” I answer, trying to speak over the lump in my throat.

We’ve had our one last time for the third time now, we’re reluctant to stop. She’s come back, and he needs to know. Things are getting too complicated. It’s painful, we’ve been over every angle dozens of times, but the only solution is to stop being lovers.

“I’ll call you,” he says, and I know he will. We stand on my porch and hold each other for a long time. His arms are warm, safe. I nuzzle the space between his shoulder and neck, inhaling his earthy scent. I want to keep this next moment from happening, but it does. As Jay plants a kiss on top of my head, I feel him wipe away his own tears. This is really it, no more one-more-times. Continue reading →

“I’ve been fisted once,” I say, “accidentally.”

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“Accidentally?” Jay cocks a skeptical eyebrow.

“Boyfriend from a long time ago,” I explain. “He was fingering me and kept adding fingers until…whoops! I don’t know who was more surprised. Anyway, it frightened us both and kinda killed the mood. We didn’t know it was a ‘thing.’ We thought we did something wrong.”

“Let me fist you,” Jay says, “the right way.”

I’m feeling adventurous and horny, so I agree. Jay lubes up, completely coating his hand up to his wrist. His hand suddenly looks enormous. “Just two fingers for now,” Jay says. I’m surprised to find that I’m tense. Usually two fingers are no problem, but he has to work them in. I adjust the pillow behind my head. I can’t seem to get comfortable,  my neck aches with tension.

“Have I ever hurt you?” Jay asks. I tell him no, of course not. “Relax and trust me then,” he replies, “this will really be okay.” I feel a third finger slide in, I start to breathe deep to relax. I stop fighting it, I try to let my mind drift. I start thinking about being tied up and fucked, pretending his fingers are a giant cock…I squirt a little– now I’m definitely relaxed. Continue reading →

“I want you to try this only if you want to,” says Jay tenderly. “Don’t do it for me.”

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Even though I’ve been fucking for years, I’m new to my sexuality. Like a child discovering candy, I want to sample each sweet tidbit offered to me.  Jay has been patient with me as I explore, showing me how to embrace my deeper self without the fear and shame that’s been holding me back for so long. Jay had approached this new question gently, knowing about my abusive past. It took me a few months to think about it, but now I feel ready.

He opens a drawer to reveal a small ornate knife with a twisty silver blade. “It’s pretty,” I say as he hands it to me to inspect. “It’s custom made, I only ever use it for this purpose,” he explains. The knife is heavy and sharp, it’s no toy. My stomach knots. He won’t hurt me on purpose, I know that. I have to know that and believe it.  “Are you sure you want this?” he asks. I pause, then nod. Continue reading →

“Ugh, no,” I tell Jay as I push his head away.

/ Daisy Danger / 4 Comments

“I’m having my period.”  His eyes brighten, he gets up, then returns with a towel. I lift my ass up to let him slide the towel underneath me. “Go easy,” I say,  I’m a bit crampy.” Jay smiles, says that he has no intention of fucking me.

Jay twists his long mop of curls into a ponytail, sets his glasses on the nightstand. The spiral brands adorning his arms shimmer faintly in the sunlight. He pats the bed, motioning for me to scoot down. As he slides my panties down over my thighs, I hesitate.

“Are you really? It’s…I mean… it’s so…” I stutter. Jay nods, spreading my thighs wide open. “Kiss me first,” I say. “I’m not sure I can kiss you after.” Jay nibbles my bottom lip. “Shhhh,” he whispers, “stop worrying so much.” Continue reading →

I’m tied to the bed, but somehow this isn’t about sex.

/ Daisy Danger / 1 Comment

I’m in the middle of a bad divorce. No one has ever told me that it’s okay to be kinky. Up until now, I was lucky to have my wrists inexpertly bound together once every few years. I have a single porn magazine that I keep hidden. I have never owned a sex toy. I can’t even fathom a world where people really get to fuck like that.

I meet Jay. He looks like he just stepped out of a story book forest-long dreads, tattoos, a skirt. Spiral brands shimmer and shift on his skin. He writes, works with wood and leather.  We spend hours reading out loud to each other. I call him Mama Bear, he likes to nurture- cooks me spicy food, makes sure I eat my vegetables.

We talk about everything. I shamefully tell him my fantasies. I can’t even look at him. He opens a drawer, shows me restraints, dildos, whips, knives. Jay tells me that I’m not a freak, well, not a bad freak. Patiently, he answers my million questions. We spend long summer afternoons in bed, napping, talking, then finally fucking. I’m still shy about asking for what I want most. It still seems extreme and deviant. I’m scared, but I ask him anyway.  My heart pounds, will he laugh at me?

Taking a length of soft rope, Jay instructs me to lift up my legs. He winds the ropes over and under. It takes a very long time. I’m on my back, but in the fetal position. He tucks the last end under and steps back. I’m so peaceful, so happy, I can’t even speak. Kneeling next to the bed, he touches my face. “Your eyes, wow!” he whispers reverently, “You should see yourself, you’re so beautiful, you’re glowing.” We don’t fuck. This isn’t about sex anymore. Jay carefully curls his body around mine, stokes my hair, tells me I’m so beautiful. I fall asleep, bound and content. This is my new religion.