I’ve only been in love a few times and each time I ‘knew’ it differently. The realisation of love, the clarity of ‘I love you’ arrives for me in different ways. Sometimes a wave of everything that came before just catches up with me, sometimes some piercing emotion that almost lifts me off my feet.
I can romanticise those moments, but the one I remember most clearly, the one that perhaps shocked me the most was so very mundane, so ordinary.
I was in my late twenties, my man and I were at a friend’s place and he was showing … [...Read More]
Last year I received this email out of the blue.
I hope that you might by chance remember me… We met online some years ago, 90’s. Your tag was SweetAs… I asked you what you were Sweet as and your reply was chocolate ice cream melting on a summer day. My name is [redacted]. You and I enjoyed a lot of correspondence. Your first website had pixel that could be clicked on to see the hidden pages. I have searched your name a number of times and was lucky enough to find what you had on amazon.
You changed my
… [...Read More]
When I was a lesbian, one of the things that turned me on, wildly and stupidly, was the thought that ‘no man will ever have this…’
When we tangled up together, all long limbs and smooth skin, when I traced her amazing breasts, when she thrust her cunt into my mouth, when she reached to kiss me, when she showed off her perfect body, when she writhed with pleasure, when she made that ‘ohhh’ sound of arousal, when she moaned, when she fucked herself on me, when she tensed all of her muscles and came for me.
Particularly when … [...Read More]
When I first told him to call me ‘Ma’am’, he wasn’t happy about it. It made him uncomfortable. He LIKED using my name. He half heartedly protested.
“But ‘Sharyn’ has come to mean ‘Ma’am’ to me…” he said. “That’s what it MEANS.”
I didn’t change my mind though, and he dutifully started using it. Awkwardly at first. Warming up to it as time went on.
It became second nature after a while. I’m not sure how long it took. But it started slipping off his tongue easily, became a sweetness between us. To the point where using my name was … [...Read More]
I have boxes that I move from one place to the next, leaving them unpacked and unused. They contain my journals from the days when my triumphs and failures were written down painstakingly by hand. Endless pads and notebooks lie untouched in there. They also contain photo albums of yore, from the days when you had to take film into the camera shop and have them developed, and photos were expensive and precious.
I was looking for a couple of old photos the other day, unsealed the boxes, the musty smell of disuse wafting out. I flicked quickly through some … [...Read More]
It must have hurt like hell, but I can’t remember.
My best friend of my teen years. We were inseparable. A set. Always the two of us. Our names running together as if we were one whenever anyone talked about us, invited us anywhere, was looking for us.
“Are MariaEnSharyn coming?”
She was the funny one: social and likeable. I was the smart one: confident and caustic.
I loved her with an obsessive love that only teenage girls can really understand. Where all day every day still wasn’t enough to share all the things that we wanted to … [...Read More]
They look impossibly soft, your lips. Cushiony silken velvet. They beckon me when your mouth forms words. I know you are speaking to me, I’m listening, truly I am. And my eyes will flick up to yours when I answer, when I move the conversation forward, then they will drop to your lips again as you speak to me some more.
I’m hypnotised by the movement of your mouth, the glimpses of your teeth, the slight curl on one side, the sudden flash as your mouth splits into a smile. I smile back, all the appropriate noises happening between us.… [...Read More]