Ice

This arrived in my in-box today from The One.  Enjoy.  I did...a LOT.

"I like ice, all kinds of ice, in many different ways.  I always have.

Long before I studied it in preparation for traveling to the Arctic, I knew about it.  I grew up with it.  I knew that it came in many different forms.  I knew it's composition and unique physical qualities.  But far more than that, I knew on a more intimate level it held an erotic effect over the body and mind.

It's a dichotomy of sensations and characteristics.  Bitter cold yet it burns.  Hard to the touch, but still soft and malleable.  It's surface smooth and jagged all at once, pleasing to the more sensitive nerves of the body. Stimulating, soothing, pleasure and pain all at once.

In my glass it's clear and clean, irresistible to me.  I have to hold it in my mouth, roll it across my tongue and chew on it.  I feel it crack under my teeth and let it melt into my throat, nourishing my body and my senses.

In the wild it attracts and fascinates me.  So fragile that it vanishes like a wisp in the sun, yet powerful enough to carve mountain ranges and leave boulders the size of buildings hanging in solitary precipices.  Even the smallest vein cracks the strongest rock in winter and the thinnest layer underfoot can send us careening.  It forms on lakes, rivers and oceans.  Endures for years, millennia or moments.  Supports life and endangers it.  It is brief, yet enduring.

In private, intimate moments it stimulates the senses, arouses the nerve endings and numbs all at once.  It can speed our way to climax or slow it down, prolonging the experience just as it disappears in a trickle across the flesh.  It is cool to our heat, focus to our chaos, pleasure on pain and pain on pleasure.

I see it on your skin, tracing lines along the curves in your body.  Arousing your senses, drawing the blood to erogenous tissues and focusing you from the other distractions acting on your body.  In my hand it melts on you, the water drops trickling down your flesh.  Across your lips you taste it- clean, cold, refreshing, making you long for more.  Wet and hard it penetrates you, disappearing and leaving you longing for flesh to fill the void.  Your body reacts- hardening and writhing with pleasure as it melts on you and in you.

Yes, I do like ice."

Ribbon

I have orgasms in my sleep.  Quite frequently lately - about twice a week.  Sometimes I wake and find my hand between my legs; most of the time they happen on their own.

I got this in an email this morning from The One:

"Take a length of ribbon, black if you have it, something dark if you don't, tie it around your waist, tight enough that you know it's there but not so tight that you can't wear it all day. Take a picture of this and send it to me. Then you may get dressed."

I read the email, responded and rolled over to go back to sleep; the ribbon on my mind.

I woke later after an intense orgasm and wrote my dream out.  It was short, too short.  I would have loved to see where it went.

I was to be waiting for you when you came home, naked except for the ribbon tied around my waist and kneeling down on the floor in the center of your bedroom - sitting back on my heels, hands on my knees, eyes on the ground a few feet in front of me.

I heard the keys in the door and my heart took off, beating so hard I could feel it in my ears. You took your time downstairs before coming up to me.

You stood in front of me and held your hand out to me. I took it and you pulled me up to stand.

You kissed me, and with one hand while you were, you untied the ribbon and let it fall to the ground.

I came while you untied it.