A little fun that began on the couch caused us to quickly forget about the camera and transition to the bedroom. I was going to trim the off-camera scene but the sounds emanating from the other room...good heavens! Steamy!
It's Saturday night, and if I'm honest, my heart is a little heavy. I've tried all the things—worked out, stayed busy, checked off the boxes of self-care—but some nights sadness lingers anyway. So tonight, I'm choosing not to run from it. I'm choosing to sit quietly with myself, offer myself a little grace, and practice the often difficult art of self-love. Healing isn't always beautiful. Sometimes it looks like a woman alone on a Saturday night, loving herself enough to stay.
Happy Friday. We were gifted a new piece of furniture and were eager to try it out. We had just been to the gym, and I was itching for a shower, the thought of it was like a sweet promise after a sweaty workout. But Jack had other plans. Caring little for my glistening skin, he intended to ensure I deserved my shower! The most surprising discovery with this additional piece of bedroom furniture is that it almost necessitates a third person to use it properly. It's a twist we didn't see coming. Now if only a third was available to help!
I wanted to treat myself by getting out of the bedroom and show myself some self-love under the Christmas lights. It felt incredibly freeing to be in an open space and focus on me, but also freaking naughty.
I wrapped up work early, naughty excitement bubbling through me as I set the perfect scene to surprise Jack. My plan? To ease onto the bed with my favorite toy, losing myself bit by bit, then call him in when I was already halfway to bliss. But, as if sensing my desires through our tether, Jack bounded in early, catching me right before I could even shed my work clothes. There is something magical in seeing his eyes light up, a torrid swirl of delight and shared lust that only deepens our connection.
One last time.
We were both feeling a little sad as I packed my bags. Jack had been watching sedately from the couch as I sorted my belongings. A week was a long time to be apart. In this modern age, a week doesn't seem that long with the advancements we have in technology, but after spending two weeks cuddling every night, a week apart was going to seem like a month. The thought of leaving him on such a sad note, with my bags waiting by the door, was unbearable. But my love for Jack was so deep that I was determined to change his mood, to give him one last time, knowing the emotional impact of our separation.
I’m in the kitchen, dinner nearly done - burgers finishing, green beans softly steaming - while a scandalously good book murmurs in my ear. And somewhere between the heat of the stove and the heat of the story… I’ve found myself a little undone.
I just need a moment.
Just a moment to slip away and tend to the indecent throb between my thighs, to ease the distraction splitting my thoughts. Will it be possible to return to the kitchen looking composed and appropriately resigned for the evening?
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