I’ve been fantasizing about it for a while now, tying him down. It’s the way he arches so sharply when I take his cock in my mouth and the way he bucks like a man possessed when I’m on top. Sometimes when I straddle his hips, I hold him down with my hands and hook the tops of my feet between his thighs for stability, but his limbs are so long and my hands are so small and my center of gravity is so weak that I’m only buying time. I want him bound. And then he can buck all he likes – I’ll be in the position to decide when he comes, and how he comes, and I’d like that.

He’d like it too, I think. And I’m not interested in the theatrics of bondage and domination. I want something simple, straightforward, with minimal preparation, something that won’t require rigging and forethought. I want to be able to grab something from my purse, bind him up, and then have my way with him. Maybe tape. I have some bondage tape I’ve only tested lightly.

*

His cock gets so hard. I’m bruised.

*

He was looking good last night. We met for dinner and he was still dressed from work in his great, slim-fitting suit. With some men, I feel warmth when I first see them, maybe the comfort of familiarity. With Matt, it’s like a sharp punch to the gut. He’s too attractive with his grey eyes and his shy smile. When I look him in the eye, I feel out of control.

And this morning, I woke up curled against his chest. He was half-asleep, stroking my hair with one hand and holding my palm against his chest with the other, and I felt a twinge of dread. If we keep going this route, something’s going to hurt.

The pleasure of free-fall and the risks it brings. The terror of free-fall.