The Man I Know

by Daisy Jane

This may have begun for Laws, but now I’m just as invested in this voyage of discovery.

“This is what I spent my week doing. Researching rope play since I am a rope bunny.” Her voice drops to a rasp and my skin tingles with bumps in response. “And you’re my rigger.”

“Unleash yourself and come get what you want, already.”

“Well, I guess we have kept the spark alive.” More than. We’re burning our entire world and roasting marshmallows as we do.

I’m not even me. And as I glance back at the pillow, shucking my jeans and boxer briefs down, I know that he’s in control. The more I let him out to play, the more I like him.

But all this openness is seeming to breed more openness, and I’ll admit, women might be right. Talking about shit does make sense.

Laws is a god in the sheets, and a shy hero in the streets. And I don’t hate it.

His flannel sleeves are rolled up and what is it about a hardworking man with his sleeves rolled up?

Cum dumpster. Definitely not a term he wrote in his vows, but hearing my good man, my Scout leader, upstanding member of our small community say those wanton, nasty words? I begin to slip off the edge.