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.