Hard and Often

Today I lay in bed missing Jack. Missing his skin, his touch, his hard-on in the mornings. Each morning when he wakes up he yells my name and I stop what I am doing and run upstairs and get in bed with him and pet his face and kiss it and touch him everywhere. Sometimes he lets me suck his cock, but usually not. Usually I am only allowed to lick it, sometimes I am only allowed to hold my mouth open around it and breathe until he tells me to go make his coffee.

When he was home for the weekend we touched the whole time. I had forgotten (how could I? after only 2 weeks apart from him!) how hard he squeezes, how constantly he touches and pinches and grabs handfuls of me. I forgot how hard and how often. He is always touching me. We are always in contact with one another. I’m never rough (I don’t think); I am gentle. I touch him lightly, I run my nails over his skin, I stroke his hair, his face. I am only rough when we are fucking and I am about to come, or when I am sucking his cock and I lose it a little: When he groans or when I feel his pulse in my mouth it’s hard to hold back. I feel ruthless; I want him deep in my throat; I lunge into him and swallow and swallow.

I am submissive. I think that’s the right word, but I don’t like using it because it seems like a word used by other people, in communities, playing roles. We are not playing roles. It’s not a game with us. It’s not a performance, not an experiment.

I have become someone different since I met my Jack, my love. I am better and smarter. I like myself now. I believe in many things that I thought weren’t real. I feel capable of anything now, because I know I belong to him. I know I am his, even when he is far away. Even if he were gone forever I would be his and I would be okay. I am my best self when I please him, my beautiful husband. I am writing this now because he is at the movies with a friend thousands of miles away and he is going home to his new apartment after I will be in bed asleep, and he told me to write something and send it to him. I am also weeping, in relief and love and gratitude.

Being submissive, for me, is not about sex. It’s about Jack. I want to do things for him. The better I am at it, the better I am.