I am not the woman that Hank first met over two years ago. I remember that woman when I read my own memoir – “Shameless”. But sometimes, I can hardly remember myself back then. I remember self consciously dancing naked with him (him dressed of course) – and feeling completely humiliated. It was so hard to be in my skin back then. It was beyond difficult for me to undress and be seen. I can remember like it was yesterday. I can remember him once asking me to climb to my knees – and the shame I felt in my body made it almost impossible. Skip forward in time….
Who is that woman on her knees on Hank’s table – naked except for black slightly worn thigh high stockings. Was that me? A hedonistic Goddess enjoying all the places that my arousal was taking me. I was dancing and swaying like a spirit had possessed my body as feather paddle was making itself known on my skin. Hank was playing with all manner of sensation toys and I was dancing with all of the different flavors that each played on my skin. I was dancing with Hank – but mostly I was dancing with the spirit that was alive inside of my body. This great big erotic energy that was flying through my soul and swirling around around my heart.
The music was a part of my arousal. I love the music that Hank plays for me. It is rich and tribal. The music calls forth this wild creature inside of myself. I was for a brief time without self judgment. I love that.
Before I climbed onto the table to begin my tribal sex dance – I was bent over the massage table. I love that place. I felt my leg wrap around Hanks’ body as he began to touch to me. I loved my session with Hank. They were safe – full of boundaries. I was really able to let myself go – and I did.
I was lost in the moment. I only half noticed my leg reaching back and wrapping around his. What was I doing? I never touch back! I felt myself reach back for him – and his breath on my neck. I wanted to drop to my knees and kiss his body. I wanted to start at his feet and work my way up. “Down Girl”….I told myself. This is Hank. You do not kiss Hank full on the mouth. You do not sexually engage with Hank. This is about you – not Hank.
But I wanted to. That was when I climbed on the table. I needed to go deeper inside myself…I needed to feel the dance with Hank – but I needed to go deeper into my own experience. And I did for awhile. I went to this amazing place where I was an African Princess dancing to the sensations that were vibrating in and around my body. With my eyes closed only the colors of the universe greeted me.
Oh – I felt the hands on my body – the sensation toys playing on my skin. And then Hank was in front of me. My body rose and then fell to a place of prostration as he held tightly onto my breasts. My breath was deep – and the wild, wantonness was back again. God I was loving this place – and celebrating my ease in being in it. It was like breathing in and out. It was that natural to me.
Hank’s fuzzy arms were teasing me. His hands pulling my hair. I wanted him to pull it harder. Perhaps I was an animal not a hedonistic Goddess or African Princess. I wanted to growl and shake my hair harder. I wanted to shake my hips. God! It felt so good to feel my erotic energy again! I rubbed my face into Hank’s body. I am allowed to do that. I found myself nuzzled into his arm pits, and I could smell his scent – and I started to nibble. Okay – maybe I started to bite Hank’s belly. Was that really me?
“I’m sorry!” I blurted out.
“For what?”
“For Biting your belly.”
“No you’re not! No you’re not! You are not sorry for biting my belly!!!” Hank laughed back at me. And started to playfully punish me with hand spanks on my ass. We were laughing – and I got over my embarrassment of falling over a boundary.
“You are right – I said. I am not sorry! Not in the least!”
And I went from the wild wanton creature to playful kitten. I wanted a pillow fight – and Hank grabbed the pillows. We went at it – me on the table bashing at Hank’s body – and him giving it to me double.
I was breathless, full of giggles and back in Hank’s arms until it was time to go. In NYC it was a very rainy gray day. Inside Hank’s apartment there was light. And I got to touch for a little while, that beautiful energy inside myself that stitches the rest of me together.
I still want to bite Hank’s belly.
Dear Readers:
I am getting lots of requests for me “Hank Stories” so here is another private entry from my secret journals! Enjoy getting to know “Hank”! This journal was written in 2009.