In the Name of Mutual Pleasure #WickedWednesday

I stood at the water’s edge, the small waves lapping at my toes and wondered, “Can I handle this?”

As I walked further in, the pull of the current was stronger. The chill of the water struck hard and fast. I felt it to my core. Could I continue? Dare I?

Goosebumps raced across my skin. My nipples tightened. I squeaked and squealed, shying away. There was nowhere to go. My options: endure and adjust.

This feels familiar.

Each lap of water against a previously dry part of my body sent shock waves through my limbs. I trembled and shivered, gasping in surprise.

I planted my feet in shifting sand, determined to hold my ground, unsure I could.

I’ve been here before.

A cold hand stroked my shoulders, sending frigid droplets cascading over my chest and down my back. The mix of cold water and warm skin sent electricity to the center of my body. My knees nearly buckled.

His touch was both overwhelming and calming. I settled under his hand, basking in the afterglow.

I know this place.

Standing in the clear, cold Florida spring water, small eddies pushing me here and there, forcing me to find balance was erotically familiar. The masochist within quivered with pleasure at every painful push of cold water against hot skin. My body responded to the pain and the heat not much differently than it does to harsh fingers, firm grips, and bruising caresses.

Instead of waves of water, I imagined waves of painful pleasure. I’m almost never sure I can handle whatever he is about to do. Will it overwhelm? Will it be too much? Will I beg for release from the strain?

Ultimately, I do what I’ve also done – endure, adapt, steady myself.

The difference, though, is that while the water is predictable, he is not. My body can adjust to cold temperatures or stand against gentle currents. It cannot always withstand the heat, fury, or intensity of a man with the freedom to take and give pleasure at his leisure, on a whim, in the way that makes his own blood sing.

Freezing water, searing sex. Different types of waves with the same outcome – finding out how much I can take in the name of mutual pleasure.

Welcome to Wicked Wednesday! This week’s theme is about waves. Since we spent part of the day at a state park standing in crystal clear, gorgeous, and fucking freezing water, this fits. I was shocked that my pussy clenched every time cold water hit me just the way it does when I’m doing kinky things with John Brownstone. But I’m also not complaining. Okay, go forth and read more smutty goodness, y’all!