I like my men how I love my coffee, dark without sugar and in plenty..tall,tough and yeah a whole lot of them..

He has put me to bed a number of times perhaps only my husband might beat. His reasons are beyond any I may ever get in a man. Undressing before him feels like the symbolic removal of shoes in the good book.,for the place where thou standeth is holy. favour

At times he’s tied me, other times he’s let me play out my angles. The great worked out physique behind that white board on a stand gives me goose bumps. With a palate and brushes he executes his prowess on canvas.

He calls me mine,but its never felt obsessive, compulsive or possessive. No. It feels pure. Admiration . The beating of my heart resonates with the ticking of the clock. Soon my mind veers and a sad thought of a time when we won’t have this. Time and chance may not be in our favour. When we got tonight,who needs tomorrow? Scratch it.

I am glad to be his,privileged to share in a romance deeper than any arousal, excitement beyond bouts of any orgasm. His muse. When he’s done he pours me some coffee in a big white customized mug. My name and face. That coffee just how I like it dark ,without sugar and plenty of it.

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