outing

MSR is Miss Sandi Rowe. It started off as a way to hide our affair. I confess I had one and it wasn't my best face forward. When I first wrote down the initials, Sandi had even thought it meant My Secret Romance. It was a romance, a very torrid one, and it was a nasty secret that nearly crushed everyone around us.

I fell in love and she did not. My biggest mistake was ever believing that she could be in love with me or love anyone completely. She will always hold something back, something you give to her privately that she will use to thrash you later.

There were signs from the beginning and signs throughout our affair and attempt at a "relationship" that could have told me I was playing with a pathological lover. She lied throughout the affair about what she was doing and even slept with my ex to cover her tracks. She ridiculed my ex for being hurt when the affair was "outed".
She once asked me what my biggest fear was about moving in with her. I told her that I was afraid she would lock her bedroom door to keep me out. She did just that when we had our first argument and our last. She kept a separate bedroom as her safety net. She asked me once what I held sacred in our relationship. I answered, "everything I have written for you: the poems, the letters, the stories."
In our last argument, she took them out of her storage trunk and filled the tub and threw them in. Her heart was cruel.

She continued to lie after I left. I once had a long conversation with one of her lovers whom she told that she had slept with my ex before she slept with me. She lied that had we moved in together as lovers, insisting that we were roommates who had developed a sexual relationship.

I wouldn't be writing this now if I had felt at any time that she had owned her part of the hurt and pain we both caused but she never has and never will.

I apologize Miss Sandi Rowe for keeping you a secret when I should have not and for begging you to love me when I knew it was lost. I apologize for yelling and I apologize for taking us down a road that was never going to work. I loved you with my whole heart and that was my greatest error.

Life moves on however, and I did find that I could love again but it's with a wiser head and hopefully, a lighter heart.

dueling dreams

I look at the pictures and recall our more intimate moments. I recall the cane splintering on my backside. I recall binding your hands and feet and your disappointment every time I untied you.

I see my pants around my ankles, bending over the saddle at the sex club, my hands in cuffs and J's belt sending my brain running and my high begins. You, making me your boi bitch in the club, with my boy shorts stuffed in my mouth, my ankles bound and my legs hoisted and tied to the pipes above us, your hands punishing me until I frank.

J in the shower, taking me from behind, and I'm holding onto the bar so that I don't fall and her arm is wrapped tight around my waist, holding me and with her other hand, she opens my vulva, grabs my clit and I am cumming.

J bound to my frame, spead eagle, and her sex is pouty and pretty. She strains against the ropes, sending her silent signal to tighten them. Her full honey colored breasts shine and the nipple rings beckon me to play. I ride her vulva with mine and we kiss. I touch her entire body, stopping at each place that calls me to fuck. I ride her hips, and suck her lips and fill her ass deeply and she calls for more. Thoughts of big red fill me suddenly and I see you pushing him in my ass in the mirror.

I put on my corset today and thought about our shopping excursion that hot day in July. Then the image of it torn up in the garbage hits me. I put on my leather vest and breathe deeply.

i guess you read the blog

i guess you read it from time to time....

battlefield

Miss R,

I doubt if you ever read this blog but just in case you see it, I am going to tell you how I see things.

You wanted a friend, a roommate, a part time fb, and when it didn't work like you thought...you did everything you could to try and push me away.

I wanted a lover, a friend, a confidant, someone to trust and hold me dear in her heart. When it didn't work out that way...I held on and begged and cajoled and cried. It wasn't pretty but it wasn't mean. I begged to be loved. Pathetic but not mean.

Mean is knowing how much someone loves you and just letting them hang there twisting. Mean is pretending to be a friend and then saying you can't. Mean is letting someone think it might work but knowing that it won't. Mean is giving someone false hope. Mean is saying abusive words and then telling that person they are abusive. Mean is stomping on someone when you know they are down. When you know that the person may not make it to the next day.

You made passes at my friends and then pretended that I was just jealous and crazy.
I wanted to share my life with you and you tell me that I keep people away from you. You push me away and tell me that I want too much. You pull me into your bed and then tell me I shouldn't expect anything. It was your rollercoaster. You invented it and kept it moving.

I was always expendable Miss R.

I feel used and cheated Miss R. I'm hurt and angry and I know that I'll survive but there will never be trust in my heart again, ever. My heart is broken and will never recover the way that it was in the beginning with you. You know what I'm talking about Miss R. My heart leapt for a chance to love you.

This blog was my only witness.

truth and consquences

I loved you MSR. Truth. It broke my heart. Consequence. Please be careful with my heart MSR is all I asked. We started our relationship in secret. It was an affair. It continued. I was your lover. Then we shared more time, friendships, and then lived with one another. I should have known when the bedrooms were separated that I was being held hostage by my own desperation. I never wanted that separation. It hurt me to the core. It filled my psyche with division. I only wanted to share and be wanted like I wanted you. To love and be loved. A redemption for all the years I spent loving someone who never could love.

There were shared moments of love and kindness but I couldn't let go of that distance between us and now here I am forced into that distance beyond any abyss I've known. I cry but mostly I ponder why I loved that much, that hard, so full of desire. MSR will always be my special love.

Noodles and other shared language

You are MSR. It was my password. My secret romance. The ring of it in my ear kept me smiling.

That secret is gone now.

Our secret language has been broken. Noodles. I even made a mixed cd with the noodles on the cover to show you how I felt for you for christmas last year. Noodles were mine. Other folks could call them magic circles or something else, but to me they were noodles and when you asked me what I was doing to you, that is what I said...noodling.

You have broken that secret MSR.

Where is the language that we shared? It is piled in a heap that you tossed away.

You meant the world to me and it's gone.

secrets

We share secrets. Secret fantasies. Secret histories. MSR. I share this only with you.

Use me MSR. Play. Gag me while I'm on all fours in front of you, your pretty feet resting on my back while you watch the television. Have the belt or cane by your side just for kicks. Stick you toes in my cunt and I'll noodle you slowly. Still gagged.
Whip me for fun. Force me on my knees to clean the floor, the toilet, the shower while your piss goes down my face.

Demand your servant sleep on the floor or send her home.

Your knock at my door could only mean one thing. Bring you the wine, feed you, noodle you. No words are needed MSR.

loss and regret

MSR, I am deeply sorry for hurting you. The pages that I've written here are only evidence of my vulnerabilty. I lost control of who I was when I realized that I could not have you that way that I wanted and it was beyond my power to fix things. I deeply regret my actions and know that I have along way to go to find my centered self. I will miss you dearly in the months ahead but know that I do not want to hurt any more and only want to make myself a better person. I pray that when I feel whole again, you are willing to accept my hand in friendship and possibility. Again...please accept my deepest apology and deepest repentance.

fantasy

I would come home and she would be waiting or I would be waiting for her. To bring her sweet wine and kisses. To strip each other. For her hands upon me. Our lips together and our legs entwined.

There would be times of hard work and equal relaxation. Lazy languid days filled with cooking, lovemaking, and absolute naughtiness. Time to build shelves and paint and make a home.

It was all I wanted.

She could have asked for anything she wanted if I felt secure. My submission would have been complete.

what kind of love

I wrote a poem about 18 months ago and I think it's still true...

awkward, shy love
this is not that
lustful love
I confess
tender, careful love
always
disingenuous love
i do not want it
foolish love
perhaps
abiding love
for you and me I pray

I do not ever want a love that is disengenuous. I may be foolish at times in my desire but it's real and never put on like a mask.

I pray that when I look into your eyes and touch you lips with mine, my foolish self ceases to exist.

This love I have for you MSR encompasses many feelings inside one heart.
I like your style, energy, enthusisam, intelligence.
I love your stories and the quiet way you share them.
I love the parts of you no one sees---the fragile Sandi and the brutus Sandi.
I want to hold her.
I love my boisterous friend.
I like your hands.
I love your curiousity.
I admire your discipline.
I enjoy your company.
I revel in your sexiness.

Where does it lead me?

truth and shame

I had kept this tiny bit of hope in my heart that you really and truly loved me. I have felt shameless at times for how much I've held you close. I have felt completely shamed when I've hurt you. I have felt the pain of my own shame. My heart was boundless with you.

Was I alone in how I felt? Is love worth more than pride?

To know the truth is set yourself free. This is my new journey.

new connections

my dearest MSR

I have loved the last month with you. Our trip to Boston was more wonderful than I had imagined and I felt a new connection with you.

My love has never shifted with you but our dynamic was sinking our souls. Finding more of myself while I was away in June helped me see the parts of you I loved dearly and wanted to hold. It made me see the parts of myself that could grow and be cherished.

This time in the last five weeks has helped me see your need and vulnerability and helped me feel more at home wtih you.

I long for more and if I seem impatient, I'm sorry. I like the shifting of our give and take. I feel your desire to be pleasured. I feel your need to be held like a girl. I feel your need to be in charge. I feel your desire for the ropes. I revel in your sex.

Let me soak it into my soul. I want to hold it in my heart until I feel you again.

loss

MSR....the initials started to protect the identity of my lover. We were having a torrid affair while our partners were working or watching tv. When I first used them, she thought it meant My Secret Romance. I used the intials everywhere I could. My favorite activity...MSRing..passwords for bank accounts, websites, it was everywhere in my life. She was the queen of my world.

She has been told me that we can longer have a relationship. I am saddened beyond measure. I hope that is truly happy someday. She changed my life and forced me to look at myself differently. So while my heart is breaking apart and my insides are as turned out and my life gets pulled upsdie down, I still adore her. She is still just as beautiful as the time I first kissed her on the beach. Her lips were soft and her tongue was strong and her hands were wild with passion and conviction.

MSR, if you read this, please know there is always a place in my heart for you.

treasuring beauty

I have never cried during sex unless I'm being beaten very hard or used in my ass without a proper warmup.

Yesterday, tears were flowing because of my joy and my feeling of overwhelming gratitude. Your touch means so much to me. You are so very beautiful and I adore you. Your beauty continues to astound me and I long to please you. When I fail, I am miserable. I never feel more hurt than when you are sad.

I only ask that you do not cheapen my feelings. Please respect them and honor them by being honest with me. Do not make my adoration of you a schoolgirl crush. It is very much an adult love and an abiding one that includes your spirit, your intellect, as well as your immense physical beauty.

As I kissed you yesterday and felt my vulva against you, I realized that I may never have this again if I don't get things right and to feel your beauty this close was a gift that I treaure and respect.

Sometimes I get caught up in how I feel and want more than you are ready to give.
I crave your small affections and attentions and pray that you give me your firm hand, your belt, the cane. I am ready, MSR, to bend to you.

breaking the cane

Splinters on the king are but evidence of your power MSR. The cane split and shattered while I was reveling in your attention to my ass.

Our weekends now, are relaxed, and my cries do no have to be muffled; your pleasure can taken at leisure.

We are leaning into each other, taking inspiration, and using our hands and mouths to satisfy our urges and hungers.

My cock inside you shudders when I do, when you do, when you cry out and tremble inside.

Up on your hands and knees, I am kneeling behind you, my fingers fondle your ass and sex, bringing your limbs to a frenzied rage before you climax.

Bringing you pleasure is my passion MSR. My heart yearns to find new ways to love you.

sweet love

My dear MSR---

kisses, passionate and strong
a good laugh together
good conversation
cooking supper
leaning into each other watching tv
a sweet caress
your lips on the back of my neck
feeding me, feeding you with hands, fingers sucked
sweet love like this
sticks like honey
makes the meaty salty sex sweeter

it all counts MSR

limits

We all have limits....yours are hard to see at times and mine seem invisible. I assure you I have limits but they have not been tested fully and I yearn to explore the edges of them with you.
I want to bring you to the edge of yours too.

Does the clinking of the belt excite you MSR? Does the sound of the cane rattling on the bedpost get your sex moist? I hope so.

Do you see how I look at you as you tease me, bending over in your short chemise with the lips of your ass cheeks peeking at me? I watch you polish your nails and think of how they look against your sex. Do you see me longing for those hands?

I ask to help you so that I may hear your voice commanding me....I want to know that I've pleased you in so many ways.

My limits are not limits but rather a desire to be held in your esteem, to feel useful and honored...to be under your gaze, within your grasp, and if the world would permit, at the end of your leash and collar.

I have enjoyed our last few days together MSR. The sharing of our hearts, the hot hot sex, the running, the cooking, the conversation. I am smiling and longing to see you with an uplifted heart.

whipping boy

I am here to provide you with pleasure Miss. I long for your command. The whip, the cane, the belt are merely instruments to lead me to submit. Your pleasure is what commands me. The swelling of your breast and your sex and the smile you share with me is what I crave.

At your whim, MSR, I will serve. Bend me over. Fill my holes or leave me wanting. I will do as you ask by knowing that it pleases you. Use me like a fuckhole or instrument for your total use. Fetching what you wish for, fulfilling the tasks you have for me to perform like your show pony, your house bitch. I am dripping thinking of how you could command me. Bring on the discipline Miss; I am desirous to please and I yearn for training.

Limits are merely boundaries yet unfulfilled. Your sex should be suckled as my lips service your feet and my body is used as your whipping post. My holes should entertain you as you see fit. I am your object possession, useful, used, and cared for in order to be used again.

My arms, my lips, my cunt, my ass, my cock are here to serve you. I want you to feel and see my sex drip down my leg so that you know this service pleases me. I only ask that I be desired--and to be of use.

MSR, this journey is exhilarating and I still long for you as as a friend and lover. Whip me and apply the salve. Use me, and use me again.

loving

MSR, I am forcing myself to pull away from you and it's the hardest thing I've faced in quite some time. I am still to this day deeply in love with you and long for you. I am bathed in your beauty when I'm near you and treasure each moment I have with you.

Yet I can't make you want me. The hurt and problems we face seem too daunting to try and be in this relationship. I am sad beyond all reason.

I have felt your hurt and know my own shame in it. I long to repair what can't be undone. Yet I long to hear you say, "Sweet girl, I want to be with you."

I look for reasons to hope in our relationship. The race, a phone call or a text that has meaning between the lines. I only need confirmation of a desire to try, to hang in and have hope in love.
I long to hear the words, "I love you" or "I want to be here." I believe in their power.

I know you need actions and something stronger than flowery words. Yet I have these words and I have my small offerings of support in your work, your races, your ideas.

Oh sweet MSR! I long to see your eyes light up for me and shine brightly for eveyone to see. I long to hear you speak and open your heart the way I heard you so long ago.

While you say that we can't ever go back, I know that we can learn to trust and go forward if we have enough daring and compassion.

I never meant to cause you to clench and jump. My heart should have asked you gently for a stroke on my head, for a hand to hold, for a word whispered in my ear.

Kisses for always MSR.

trust

Secrets I tell no one, I tell you.

I need your firm hand on my face. I need the strength of your arm as you wield the belt and the force of your fist in my ass. I crave the humiliation of your cane. I long to serve for your pleasure. Tie my hands and hoist me up to be whipped at your command. I want to feel your cries of pleasure as my ass is impaled and my skin is cracked and welted. Let me kneel at your feet, under them, while pleasure is given to you. I want to revel in your desires.

I have only shared the dark secrets of my desires and fears with you. Yet as I tell you, I feel afraid. I fear that what I have shared is not embraced, will be spilled out and lost in a void.

MSR, you have this trust. Please hold it carefully. I will do my best to share freely with you and let our desires grow and flourish.