Dear Hot Husband:
During our time in Europe over the last several years, we haven’t spent much time apart. Between the pandemic and all the traveling we’ve done, we’ve been practically inseparable.
Now that we’re back in the US, and the waters have settled some, we’ve been spending a bit more time apart.
One thing I’ve learned about myself is that taking distance from you allows my Quean to reset herself. She starts to feel hungry in your absence. It’s an interesting and wonderful thing to experience, as it leads to some incredible reunions…
My cuckqueaning fantasy is the overarching niche of this blog, because it was a profound discovery that’s gifted us with some expansive experiences and extraordinary relationships, yet it isn’t the whole picture.
James, my dear Dom, our D/s relationship is one of my favourite things about us.
Only recently did I realize the importance it plays in times of reconnection. The most recent being our 10-day separation in late April…
You made your way down to Georgia for the Atlanta Film Festival. I stayed behind in New York City, hanging out at my sister’s place for the first time in years. It felt good to be around family after so much time away – something I needed in order to make a positive transition from France to the US.
Of course, as the days went by, my Quean was losing patience, her cravings increasing moment to moment. She missed you. I missed you. The satiation we both felt in your presence was slowly slipping away…
For me, missing you is one of the greatest pathways to turn on.
So, when I arrived at the airport – you, dawning your leather jacket, a black v-neck tee and blue jeans – it was hard to control myself. You even gave me that predatore grin that has me reeling.
You knew. I knew.
The evening would be fire.
*
When we got in, you helped carry my bags down to the bedroom. You lead the way, silently anticipating my reaction. The room was dark, shades drawn, and the bed was organized.
Rope hung from each bedpost. A spreader bar lay enticingly at the foot. A blindfold, gently placed atop my pillow. No words required – I was ready to be taken.
There’s something about your gentle touch turning rough; creating a transfer of energy that my body absorbs like a drug; it feels chemical and there’s an acute high that follows.
Within moments, you had my body tingling – like static electricity, my senses were invaded. It was so pure and recharging. I wiggled and squirmed under your hands and mouth involuntarily, which signaled to you that it was time.
In this state, my body can receive, with great pleasure, the impact of paddles and palms. I’m reminded of the phrase, chasing the dragon. Every moment you connect with my skin, the harder I need it; the more I desire you.
I can’t describe nor underestimate this feeling. It’s what I worship: the pleasure.
It is my transcendence, my Zen, my glory – I am simultaneously whole and infinite. And, when I come down from that space, and lay in your arms, it feels religious.
We are not gods, we are the givers and receivers of its gifts – pleasure, for me, is the almighty. You, its most powerful conduit.
Love from your Quean xx
P.S. If you missed June’s heartfelt issue of #MakingPleasureMainstream (MPM), no worries, July’s edition will be just as impactful! Join the list now to ensure you get your hands on the next MPM issue. Did I mention it’s free? Yes, indulge in some complimentary readings and resources, plus, with your subscription you get a free pleasure download! Seriously, don’t miss out on the fun the rest of the community is having – join now!