She can be soft and passionate, and now as my wife, she allows me all of herself, and I to her; my body is hers. Since her liberation, she has become a surprisingly accomplished lover who takes her time over me and builds me up slowly, working on each part of me, kissing and caressing, kissing and caressing, then she gives me pleasure but keeps me waiting, as she returns to kissing, then caressing my breasts and squeezing my thighs and then she returns to my down-there and with her powerful mouth draws from me an orgasm which makes me call out her name, and then it is her turn for pleasure and we alternate until we are exhausted or gently fall into a slumber in each other’s arms in the sanctuary of our private place, nestled in the woods, with high windows that no one can see into and a large wooden door, locked against the world as summer approaches.

Miss Walker

For all this pleasure my punishment is the Clap. She tells me it is manageable but I’m angry she did not warn me of this sooner. My down-there had become another of my worries these last few months and now I learn it is not my fault at all. Anne educates me and diminishes the magic of our pleasures somewhat by showing me a book of anatomy with diagrams that I’d rather not have seen. I shall accept it as a punishment for wanting her, desiring her.

It is still more that I could have imagined, this love we have, this freedom to just be. I have no barriers to her now. I strip down before her and allow her to claim all of me and I have a trust in her that I have never felt for anyone; I am safe, I am aroused. Her soft kisses all over me, that even when firm do not scare me but arouse me further. Each time our lovemaking is different; she focusses on a different place, keeping me guessing where she will caress me next. It is different kissing to a man’s, which is always intent on the same end. All their words, hand holding, flattery, kisses, wandering hands, all of it on target for one thing: to penetrate you, to claim you for their own pleasure, as if accomplishing you, with no cares for your desires. To pierce you with their wildness and leave their seed inside you, to claim your body and your soul as theirs. I think of all the women throughout the world submitting, believing that it is God’s choice for them – but He also gave us our own pleasure. Never written down by man, but passed on by women; a secret, never uttered or recorded, that we do not need men for true pleasure.