Kink in exile

Notes from a kinky nomad


It’s almost noon and I am sitting on my bedroom windowsill holding the phone in one hand tracing the shadow of my candle holder with the other.  And he is fighting through slivers of sleep to find the words to tell me what I want to know: what he did, in what order, with what, why.  And as he’s telling this to me, I realize I know these words.  I know these words not because I’ve heard them before but because I know them in my gut.  I know them to be true.  And so I stop him to try and say as much.  The relief in his voice breaks my heart.  Paradoxically I feel safer, more secure in our trust of one another.  Blind faith, no matter how romantic, is fragile, and I needed to hear those words again until they cemented themselves into my understanding.  There is something there that sounds to me like “help me know how to love you” and he did just that.

Written by kinkinexile

January 19, 2013 at 5:40 pm

Posted in headspace, personal

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