Missing My Beloved

Last time Alexandra had to return to her homeland I often feel asleep thinking of licking her boots.

But not this time. Her second visit was a confirmation of all the good parts of the first, leaving me all the more in love with her. I insulate myself by keeping sentimental images of her out of my mind. A psychic prophylactic.

It isn’t just the thrill of worshipping her through the medium of her footwear. Even without D/s I enjoy seeing her calves wrapped in leather and vinyl.

This isn’t something I enjoined myself to do. My emotional self-defense mechanisms act of their own accord.

And naturally as I drift off to sleep, catalog books at the shop, watch a movie the image of my cheek caressing her clad ankle inevitably arises.

My mind’s eye focuses on the day she’ll walk off the plan and hungrily crushing her against my body. And, later, dropping to my knees in adoration.