FanStory.com - An Ode to My Puppeteer by M.Asher

Everything starts and ends with those hands with fingers so very

long , nearly graceful, tapered and openly possessive of my shoulders at the moment..

A Fleeting and comforting thought-

you have now succeeded in naming all of my tiny freckles.

little bones strangely pliant-

Like flowerless weeping-willow branches.

Talented fingers that I am must

Be able wrap almost twice around one wrist

and most certainly encapsulate a bony , unloved ankle

Each hand can cup an entire knee,

Fingers going

to that place in the back of them,

where you know I love to be touched.

Always sweet , sometimes

careful

and other times

hotly

Frenzied , more than capable,

Digits that set fires everywhere they

End up leaving small bruises,

and sometimes just to hold it all down, (needing the restraint temporarily as I often thought I may just pop up and put a hole in the ceiling ; in an attempt to control my want of it all )

to bring me back down to earth ;

next to , sometimes under , other times on top,

And finally your mouth sliding across and tasting, shockingly ravenously -taking in all that is alabaster and bright pink , others times sticky, though always soft skin.

Those very fingers I love to blissfully and literally internalize- (usually at my behest and/or impatient placement of) and i think in that second, you could quite possibly touch my heart.

Never rigid…quickly and intuitively separating my little, cool knees and when you do- time stops and all I can hear is my heart and your breathing. Then the panic starts to whisper into the side of my thought, I must harness the moment a bit longer,

but absolutely needing more so

what always comes next and

then I do again,

as many times

you deign

because my body

is no longer mine in those moments, as it lives only to be brought to life by you.

A bundle of nerves , lips and hips and curves…Forgotten about in the mundanity of adulting and opting for a future of daily/nightly resurrection ..sweetly and finally deficient of our over used verbiage:

Vocab awareness abandoned

Giving purpose to this sweaty and curly haired marionette that dances to attention in all possible ways when you are in this particular orbit.

However petite,

I will never break under your weight

or care.

For you,

I flex beyond

what I always considered my limits..

Certain I will never

impose

Nor allow limits on anything to do with us.

the slidy ,slippy ,lack of texture-type of welcome I always have waiting for you - the one you know better than anyone else:

that your fingertips and mouth

find without fail-

that’s just how the center of me feels whenever you look at me-

Sleeping briefly..I have come to anticipate and even love

A little

the zipper

And how it scrapes my lips a little.

How to untie your improvised belt

with tiny teeth

…to get to you.

On que -I knew you

were awake as I settled on

your upper legs and thighs..

my mouth taking in what I hoped to be the entirety of the gift

I am impatient to deliver

..sometimes when the world

Is still dark

your hand cradles my skull,

the other pulls my hair,

aiming me towards that goal we share. To consume you

as you

have me.

hoping all that I delighted in taking in of you,

enjoyed its present and temporary home as much

as I loved bringing it all back to the places in

and on

me you

were designed to fill and have fully

..the removal and retreat

of my body I was sort of sad to have back,

back to where I came from,

loud music

and nothing

but admiring thought..already thinking about the next time..and doing it all again-the always wordless, loveliest of homecomings .