Turn on my Desire

I’m easier to turn off than on. The process to turn me on, to get my motor running is one that requires care and diligence. It involves a strict course of study that most cannot hope to receive a degree from. What may work today, possibly could not tomorrow. It’s a struggle and an adventure.

Mister K has learned this well but admits each day is new. Excessive repetition and my flame will snuff out and stay dark for the unforeseeable future. The reanimation of my libido needing to be stoked like a small spark. Too much too fast, and you create an inferno that quickly extinguishes. Too little and you’ll have plenty of smoke but no fire.

It’s a mental game. His and mine. If I contemplate too much, a wall is formed and the more he tries to climb it, to conquer it, the higher the wall will become. I need him to help guide me and create a moment for thoughtlessness, to just feel, to let go. To enjoy his words as they caress the edges of my mind and settle like a weighted blanket. This is where I begin to feel safe and warm. Wanted. When I feel wanted, I become wonton.

Once the flame is burning, he must keep it fueled. It needs air to breathe. Too much nurturing and he’ll suffocate it, too little and it sputters out. It needs heat, a show of desire. The knowledge that he wants it to grow, to become something more. It needs fuel, a force to consume. Words to feed it. Thoughts that create scenes inside my mind’s eye, feeding the arousal that has been so carefully developed.

Once the flame is glowing, it’s a finicky beast. The simplest of words said in the gentlest way could be the hammer that forces the gauntlet to fall. But if it’s cared for with assertion and the demand for surrender, the flame will burn long and bright. The heat will spread and turn to something hotter, fiercer, more. Desire.

As I said, what works today may not tomorrow. My mind has a laughable way of creating something from nothing, making it more, or less than it is. He needs to guide me through the corners of the maze, avoid the dead-ends. When we get to the center, the carefully crafted flame needs just a nudge, a reminder. His desire will feed the flame and create a blaze that can quickly consume us both. Yet it still needs tending.

Every once in a rare while, the flame will burn uncontrollably. It will overtake me, make my mind think nothing but indecent thoughts. No matter how much I try to steer it to a new thought, a task, it will bounce back to the delicious scenes inside my head. I will become trapped in my desire, aching in my emptiness. I become insatiable, incomplete.

When my desire runs rampant, it’s difficult to control. It has a mind of its own and forces me to stay aware, in a heightened state. The air feels lighter, the tastes on my tongue are more enhanced. I feel like I’m living at the edge of a precipitous cliff. I could fall at any moment, but Mister K does a wonderful job of keeping me planted, grounded. He knows that to keep me here, I need to surrender. To him, to his dominance, and his desire.

I know that he will not let me fall, and there is no greater turn-on than that.

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Cover image from Canva.com