No one besides a few close friends who share our ideas know. No one who would look at me would know. No one I work with knows. My family doesn’t know. I don’t want them to know, not because I’m ashamed. I’m not ashamed at all! It’s simply no one else’s business what goes on between my Love and me. What does go on? All sorts of kinky, consensual, passionate happenings. Case in point, yesterday afternoon My Love sent me a text, a picture actually. No directions were needed. As soon as I saw it I smiled and got to work, and got very, very wet. I cut six thin, flexible willow branches, cut off the leaves, made sure they were smooth, then went about braiding them together. By the time My Love came to visit me I was ready. The newly made “switch” was on the table and I was naked on the bed, on my belly, hips supported by pillows. I heard him taking off his clothes, but knew better than to wiggle around so I could watch his magnificent body slowly emerge from his suit. He didn’t begin with the switching. First, he gave me pleasure as he always does. He licked me, using only his tongue and fingers to give me my first orgasm. Then, he entered me. His thick cock giving me my second. By now I was his thrall, his to command, his to enjoy. He could have asked anything of me and I would have happily given it to him. Then, he pulled out. I cried out, objecting to his loss. That was when the switching began. Then, he’d fuck me some more, slow, gentle, perfect. Then, he’d pull out and switch me. This process continued until I was a weeping, boneless mess of wetness. I begged him, not to stop, but to continue. Finally, after at least 8 orgasms, he too found release. He collapsed on the bed next to me, held me in his arms, kissed me, and eventually fell asleep. I could not have been happier there in his arms, filled with his cum, exhausted from pleasure, marked as his submissive.
And so today as I go about my business, attend to errands, enjoy the day, my bottom is hidden from view, but bears My Love’s marks. Every move I make reminds me that I am his as much as he is mine. No one knows but us, and that’s as it should be.
One thought on “No one Knows our Passion”
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