Calling My Lover "mine" But Not In The Way That My Toothbrush Or Notebook Are Mine, Mine In The Way My

calling my lover "mine" but not in the way that my toothbrush or notebook are mine, mine in the way my neighborhood is mine, and also everybody else's, "mine" like mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love. "mine" not like possession but devotion.

This won’t make your blog look ugly. How could you not reblog this? REBLOGGING THIS COULD SAVE A LIFE!!!

sexual attraction: wow I wanna fuck that

romantic attraction: wow I wanna date that

sensual attraction: wow I wanna cuddle that

aesthetic attraction: wow that exists

Platonic attraction: wow I wanna talk with that

I loved her in the way that only comes with youth: irresponsibly, naïvely, selfishly, wholly and joyously, and I didn't even realise it was love.

I called her my friend, my very best friend. I told her if I were a man I'd take her away from everything that troubled her. I wanted to protect her and keep her safe.

In my ignorance, I hurt her, drove her away, because she already had the language to know how she felt, but surely if I were queer, someone would have told me.

It was the loneliest closet, for I didn't know I was in it, alone.

Greedy

By choice, I am on my knees before you, looking up at you through my eyelashes, cheeks flushed. You search my eyes, your own darting quizzically, hesitant. I reach up up and unbutton you at the waist, drawing your zipper down, it's rhythmic crunching filling my ears. Your fingertips graze the top of my head, filtering strands of my hair lightly. Eagerly, I draw your pants and underthings down to mid-thigh, exposing you. You have always been a delight to my eye, your dark tickling curls a springy nest for your cock. Hard or soft, I cannot get enough of looking at you, let alone experiencing you. I take a moment to admire, then glance up. You always blush at how wanton I am. The red flush stains you gently up to the tips of your ears. Leaning forward, I nuzzle affectionately against your member and listen to you gulp as blood floods your groin, your prick stiffening. I love this anticipation. My breath warms your skin, hot and damp, as my eyes flicker back up. You're floating away now, fingers falling uselessly to your sides, head tipping back with a sigh. I languidly envelop your turgid cock in my mouth, grinning wickedly around your girth, my tongue lapping at your length. For a moment I stay there and savour you, before sucking down your cock. You sigh again, breathy encouragement. I take my time, building you up slowly, a crescendo of obscene noises growing louder, faster, more urgent, as I continue my ministrations. I'm kissing and sucking and licking your prick with the fervent devotion of a worshipper, and there is no better term for me, still on my knees, laving your cock. You moan, one I know well, signaling your impending climax, and I'm delighted. My whole body aches for you, skin tight, breath shallow. Just a few more eager suckles, my hands digging into your hips. I purr in my throat and you gasp, thrusting your hands into my hair, holding me against your bucking hips as I swallow everything, your cock emptying at the back of my throat. We stay like that, you buried to the hilt in my mouth, me gently cleaning you off with my tongue, for many long heartbeats until you remember where you are, gingerly pulling away from me. I move in and lick you clean, pleased. I can sense impatience from you, but I take my time. You deserve the best. Satisfied, I glance up with a smile that is half shy and half sly as you pull me to my feet, hauling me against you. "Wicked thing." You lean down and whisper in my ear. I smile again, writhing suggestively. "I told you I was greedy." I swoon as you kiss me forcefully, my cheeks turning crimson.

Bussed

Do you remember the first time you kissed me? Not that nervous, eager, needy mashing of two mouths together, or that filler while we tore at one another’s clothes. No. The first time you actually met my lips with yours for no other reason than the need to taste my mouth with yours. To feel the heat of my breath meeting yours, the slow co-mingling of inhale and exhale intertwining. Do you remember each aching hesitation, the gentle caress of my tongue sliding against yours, insistent and yet yielding? How I started off tasting like myself but together we created a flavour that was sweet and spicy and utterly addictive? I know I smiled into the gentle tugging at my lips with yours, and you smiled back, so joyful. Those long lost moments made me lightheaded, longing for you, for us, joined.

You don’t remember? You’ve never kissed me like that?

Now is a perfect time to start. I’m waiting.