He’s left his mark on me.

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This mark punctuated a long weekend of play, tears, and secrets revealed. We continue to grind on our arrangement: I am clear as a mountain lake, he is confused and murky.

He is a lost young man unable to figure us out because we are inexplicable to his own logic. We defy his long held conventions, yet he is stubbornly unwilling to let me go.

He may move away soon. Things will happen then. Big things, not little. We will either have to make a big effort to stay together or a big effort to end it.

I wish these marks on my bottom would last forever, like those already branding my heart. Like my memories.

I close my eyes and see the blur of his hand on his erection as my orgasm collapses down into me; I feel his cock deep inside of me and my orgasm folding in around us, washing over me like warm, sparkling bath water.

The handprint will fade, but the others are mine — always and forever — regardless of how this ends, clear or murky.

 

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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35 thoughts on “He’s left his mark on me.
  1. I have never had a hand print like that and I have had prints that lasted for days! I have discovered recently that I am very partial to the sting and the welts of a riding crop :)

    1. Nope. My ass, his hand. Maybe my ass I huge and he has normal-sized hands, though, actually, his hands are small-ish — shirt fingers, actually.

  2. I love marks for just the reasons you suggested — they’re evidence of a moment in time. Permanent marks, temporary marks, invisible marks… they’re all evidence that something happened here. If and when the rest falls away, it’s good to remember that something happened… something important and something worth remembering.

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