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I'm excited for the opportunity to wake up next to my best friend in the morning. Whether it be a bed we shared the night before or emerging from separate bedrooms and meeting in the kitchen for coffee. I really look forward to the time in my life that I get to spend that kind of time with her. She is part of what makes my home full or complete. I'm so ready to share a space with her.
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I'm craving a certain intimacy...it doesn't need to be sexual or romantic at all but it needs to be raw. Put us in a dark room—candle lit—so if I must see anything at all, it will be the glint of your eyes. They are the windows to what I'm really curious about. Here we can sit together, sipping on something to calm our anxious spirits and just talk...Soul to soul. Let us wade in each other's energies for a little while. ♡
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So absolutely fucking needy for something that's mine. Something whole. Something real. Emotional depth and intimacy is a need, not a want.
It will be slow, that's the only way to get to know you because I will drink in what I can about the people I get to love. It can be intimidating, I know. But it's not enough to learn your favorite color. Why do you love it so much? That book that you're reading...how does it make you feel, and what does it make you make you think? What comes to mind while we're cloud watching from the cool waters of the pool? Who are you when it's quiet, when no one expects anything of you? I need to learn you.
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You know the trope of lovers taking on each other's colors in time? Mhm...when you're mine, red & pink will grow on you. It'll show up in glossy lipstick stains on your skin, blanketing every scratch, scar & callous you own. Even the ones I leave...no, especially those. They'll creep into your space— the vase of fresh flowers I arranged displayed on your dining room table, the jars of sweet homemade jam in your refrigerator, the limp pieces of clothing on your floor or the back of your chair, the photos of us you keep in your phone, hang on your wall, or keep in an album...when I am your lover, you'll experience every shade of pink and red...
What colors would you leave on me?
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Let Me Look...
I have big ol round nerd glasses. My perscription is pretty high too. (-5.5 for other glasses wearers)
It means with my glasses off. The amount that I can see clearly is VERY limited. Anything roughly 5 inches from my face starts to get blurry. But Ive noticed something-
The detail I of everything when the glasses are off doesnt compare to when they're on. Not just because whatever Im seeing is closer but there isnt any distortion from my lenses. Everything just looks so much more... whole.
I want to look at someone like that. Whole. Press my forehead to yours and just rest like that. Looking at your face in a way thats hard to describe. Drinking in every detail as though we've just met.
It sounds a little weird but could I maybe look at all of you? Every inch. May I behold you in your entirety, in a way my eyes try to deny me and lenses cannot fathom? Piecing you all together in my mind through what must take countless hours of memorizing every pore, folicle, and wrinkle.
Learn your shape and contours. Every crease and curve. Take note of the way your skin tans and lightens across your frame. Could I stare into your eyes until mine start to water? Then do it again?
How'd you get this scar? And this one? And that one? How about the one over here? What did you do to get that callous? Did you scrape your knees a lot as a kid? Do you have any birthmarks?
To watch you laugh. See how you're face moves to express joy. I want my life to revolve around that smile. To watch the flush of your face when frustrated or flustered. To watch you cry. How hard you blink as the first tears fall. Noticing how they drip down your face. I want to wipe those tears away. Understand the cause so I can make sure it never happens again.
I want to watch you witness the world. How you light up and dim. How you show disgust and hate. I want to witness what passion is through you. See what complicated emotions do to you. How your eyes dart around. Or remain closed while immersed in something you enjoy.
Please. Let me witness you. Learn you like an art or a practice. Study what life has done to you in mind and body. For the rest of my life.
Really, really, reeeally craving non-sexual acts of intimacy & kink. There's a certain type of submission & expression of being femme I'm due for.
Hot showers aren't enough, I need wax poured over my shoulders. I need something sharp or kind of prickly against my skin. I need to cuddle, the weight exchange would be nice. Or rope tied around me. Blindfold me so I don't have to look at anything but darkness for a little while. Gag me just so I don't have to worry about using any words for a bit.
I really appreciate non-sexual acts of dominance too. I can figure shit out when on my own where it counts, but gods is it great when someone naturally leads in a casual setting! Straightening up my room a little and leaving dinner on my desk so I can decompress in the bath. Having the directions ready and literally leading the way because you know the area/venue better, intending to pay because you're the one who invited me out. Just...remembering shit about me and sending me things that made you think of me. Just thinking about me, talking with me, conversations that flow and don't feel like I have to pry information out of you. Even the quiet spaces in between, and we can just enjoy existing together for a minute.
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Having a strong sense of aesthetic attraction feels like such a core part of being demi. What do you mean your personality is so strong that you curated your own unique style that can't be easily sold by fast fashion companies and dropshippers? Haha...does anyone else feel hot? Hm...? What do you mean you frequently buy fashion items from small businesses and local thrift stores? You upcycle??? Did you make those pants? Wow, that's so cool..! Please, make yourself comfortable. Leave them anywhere, I'm giving you head.
Round One of Things That I Actually DO Find Attractive - Written by an Aspec Lesbian
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20+ lesbian blog! Men & underage people please DNI!
Frigidness prickled under my skin, unsoothed even after we retreated back into the house. The rain barely touched us but the winds had been awful all morning. It blew through our coats gloves, leaving us both with pink noses and aching fingers. She smiled at me as I peeled off the layers, dropping her own garments in a pile by the door and stole me away to the kitchen once the boots came off. She put the kettle on the stove and scooped hefty lumps of hot chocolate mix into two ceramic mugs.
“I love you…” I breathed, grabbing the milk and whipped cream from the fridge. The screeching kettle sounded like an angel singing, steam rolling up from each mug as hot water filled them. I splashed each with milk and swirled whipped cream on top, and she sprinkled a dusting of cinnamon over one.
“Cheers!” She chirped, cold thin fingers brushing against mine as our mugs clanked together. A bright feeling awakened in my chest in spite of the chill touch. The warmth seeping into my fingers was delightful, drawing out a small appreciative hum from my throat. But our shared relief was equally to blame. Whipped cream melted rapidly into the sweet liquid and I tested it. Through the burning heat was a sweet aftertaste that fed my giddiness, and as I indulged, I looked to her for her reaction.
God she was beautiful…her eyes fell shut as she soaked in the warmth. A creamy residue smeared across her nose. Her glasses had fogged from the steam and her content little smile was contagious. I could feel it tug at my own lips when I grabbed a napkin off the counter, wiping the cream off the tip of her nose. Her smiling eyes just barely showed through her fogged lenses.
“Have you ever tried cinnamon in it? You'd like it.” She suggests.
“I don't know…I like them separately, but it sounds weird together.”
“Try some of mine,” she offers, but before I could refuse her mug, she kissed me. A quick kiss that lingered just long enough for the sweetness of chocolate and spice of cinnamon to transfer to my tongue.
“Well when you put it that way…maybe I was wrong. I like it.”
Her smile stretched into a grin, and she kissed me again before sprinkling some cinnamon into my mug. But the drink had gotten too cold too quickly for my liking, and it didn't feel like enough anymore. “Come here.”
I crashed onto the bed before her, trapping her in my arms as she crawled in after me. Huddling up to her beneath the cotton stuffed comforter like I’d never known warmth. I was feeling particularly greedy and stole another sugary, spiced kiss…and then another. She ruined the third attempt with a girlish smile.
“You like it a little too much,” she teased, but curled up to me anyway. Her hand drifted to my rear end with a slight squeeze. It felt nice to have them on me, and I didn't mind how they wandered. I let my own wander too. I didn't feel like touching clothes right now. I wanted to feel her.
“Can I…?” I ask, slipping my fingers under her shirt. She nodded, returning the question as her fingers brushed my hips under my jeans. We traded kisses as our remaining layers found the floor. Somehow it felt warmer like this though. Our bodies pressed together under the heavy blanket. Exchanging wandering touches, giving attention to every curve through light squeezes and caresses. I moaned a content, relaxed sound into her neck, pressing a kiss there. She mimicked the sound, giving my ass another squeeze. At last we settled into a comfortable position. Her hands stopped wandering. Mine, being more restless, traced shaped in the curve of her hips, but found home there.
I felt untouchable at that moment. Listening to the harsh patterning of rain cutting loose and the whipping of wind against our window. But next to her smaller frame, I felt shielded from it, like I’d bested the weather that stalled our work. We might lose our tarps again and our unfinished shed might cave in. But right now, it didn't matter. Her gasp on me felt stable and secure enough to hold me together. I could let it be for a little while, just to weather out the storm.
