GarnettRose
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2024
- Messages
- 113
- Points
- 28
I don’t know why it bothers me so much to talk about my kink. You know…the t-word. I am not a particularly private person. With a mother like mine, I never had the luxury of secrets no matter the magnitude. Even now at 27, if there is something going on in my life, my mother is generally the first to know about it whether I want her to or not. Whatever the reason, I have always found it extremely difficult to communicate what I like…and what I really want.
There is something so absolutely maddening to me about hearing that godforsaken word, that I immediately flush and feel the need to hide anytime someone so much as mentions the word. The few times that I have witnessed the act itself in a public place, I might as well be on fire for how embarrassed it makes me.
I want to lean into it. I want to be able to look my prince in his crystal blue eyes and ask him for exactly what I want, but every time I work up the courage to share a fantasy or invite an overwhelming caress, my tongue turns to lead in my mouth, and I am left pink-cheeked and stammering. I suppose I am lucky that my prince finds it endearing. Lord knows how bad my mortification would be if he didn’t.
I truly am blessed to have my love, someone who reads me like his favorite book and uses it to his advantage. I may have never spoken the words “I have a tickling kink” (God, that was hard to write) out loud, but when I’m with him, it doesn’t matter. With him, I can lay on my side, nestled in his embrace and know that if I leave my tank top risen up enough, he’ll see, and I can finally have the attention that I crave constantly.
Tonight was a cozy night. Juggling shifting schedules at work and a chronic lack of sleep have left me so tired that you clocked me from the moment I walked through the door. Usually, I like to feel at least a bit productive when I get home. There is always something to get done in the house and I hate feeling idle, but I knew when you furrowed your brow and clenched that adorably scruffy jaw that I would be sentenced to a night of recuperation on the couch.
Aside from my obvious…proclivities, I have always been extremely tactile. You knew this from our first date darling, when you fumbled your arm around my shoulder and held me close for the duration of Captain America. Your touch grounds me, pushing away my anxieties and making me feel like I am home at last, and tonight was no different.
In the darkness of our room, our favorite gameshow playing in the background, you took your liberties with me. Your cuddles are a double-edged sword my love. They are a safe harbor from the worries that swirl in my head like a hurricane. But it is in your embrace that you so easily capture me. With my arms pinned underneath yours, and your body caging me in, my breath catches as I realize that there is nowhere I can go. When I am under your watchful gaze, there is nowhere I can hide. You know what I want, and…unfortunately, you know every one of my spots that will leave me cackling until the sounds of my laughter blot out the sound of the television.
I can beg, or thrash. I could even try my best to convince you that I don’t really want this, that the jolts of my nerves as your fingers spider up against my sides are torture to me instead of torturous bliss. I could lie. I could cajole. But you know me, and you know that, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how embarrassed I get about my wants, you have dedicated yourself to making sure I always have it…even if I would rather burst into flames than admit it myself.
There is something so absolutely maddening to me about hearing that godforsaken word, that I immediately flush and feel the need to hide anytime someone so much as mentions the word. The few times that I have witnessed the act itself in a public place, I might as well be on fire for how embarrassed it makes me.
I want to lean into it. I want to be able to look my prince in his crystal blue eyes and ask him for exactly what I want, but every time I work up the courage to share a fantasy or invite an overwhelming caress, my tongue turns to lead in my mouth, and I am left pink-cheeked and stammering. I suppose I am lucky that my prince finds it endearing. Lord knows how bad my mortification would be if he didn’t.
I truly am blessed to have my love, someone who reads me like his favorite book and uses it to his advantage. I may have never spoken the words “I have a tickling kink” (God, that was hard to write) out loud, but when I’m with him, it doesn’t matter. With him, I can lay on my side, nestled in his embrace and know that if I leave my tank top risen up enough, he’ll see, and I can finally have the attention that I crave constantly.
Tonight was a cozy night. Juggling shifting schedules at work and a chronic lack of sleep have left me so tired that you clocked me from the moment I walked through the door. Usually, I like to feel at least a bit productive when I get home. There is always something to get done in the house and I hate feeling idle, but I knew when you furrowed your brow and clenched that adorably scruffy jaw that I would be sentenced to a night of recuperation on the couch.
Aside from my obvious…proclivities, I have always been extremely tactile. You knew this from our first date darling, when you fumbled your arm around my shoulder and held me close for the duration of Captain America. Your touch grounds me, pushing away my anxieties and making me feel like I am home at last, and tonight was no different.
In the darkness of our room, our favorite gameshow playing in the background, you took your liberties with me. Your cuddles are a double-edged sword my love. They are a safe harbor from the worries that swirl in my head like a hurricane. But it is in your embrace that you so easily capture me. With my arms pinned underneath yours, and your body caging me in, my breath catches as I realize that there is nowhere I can go. When I am under your watchful gaze, there is nowhere I can hide. You know what I want, and…unfortunately, you know every one of my spots that will leave me cackling until the sounds of my laughter blot out the sound of the television.
I can beg, or thrash. I could even try my best to convince you that I don’t really want this, that the jolts of my nerves as your fingers spider up against my sides are torture to me instead of torturous bliss. I could lie. I could cajole. But you know me, and you know that, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how embarrassed I get about my wants, you have dedicated yourself to making sure I always have it…even if I would rather burst into flames than admit it myself.
