When He’s tired, i like to massage His feet.
i like being on the floor, at His feet. Taking my time to carefully untie His shoes, pull them off with some grace, Socks ~ sliding a finger under the edge and gently slipping them off.
And then ~
~ Stroke gently, rub more firmly, knead and massage ~ and gently caress…
He says He can feel the tension leaving His body when i do that. Making love to His feet, really. My hands say, “You matter to me. i want you to feel good, to feel treasured.”
As i begin to work my hands up his legs, i pause. “Would you like to go lie down, Sir? That way i can massage your back too.”
He agrees, it is almost a moan as He says, “O, yes, that’s a good idea,” and we move to the bedroom. i long to touch Him all over.
i may never say the words “i love you,” to this man, my Sir. But i will show Him with my hands.
Later, when He is more relaxed, and i have climbed into bed, naked beside Him, His hands caress me, opening, probing… making me moan. Pinching my nipples til i whimper.
Filling me ~ my hot wetness ~ taking me deep ~ climbing to that over-the-top, shuddering release ~
~ and lying behind me, spooning me, holding me warm and safe.
He may never say the words either…
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On a whole different note ~ saw this on Facebook:
