“Permission is hot,” he whispered, once, over the phone, and I said, “Yes. It’s hot because I love to hear you name your desires.”

But he says “No, it’s hot because I love to hear you say ‘yes’.”

So I say, “Yes,” when he says “May I wrap your hair around my fist and pull your head to the side?”

And I say “Yes,” when he says, “And then may I run my tongue along the smooth and exposed skin of your neck?”

And I say “Yes,” again, when he says “And then may I reach my arms around you, and pinch your nipple, hard, between my thumb and forefinger, and may I bite your shoulder as I do that?” (And “Yes,” I tell him without his even asking. “Yes, you may leave your marks.”)

And “Yes… please, yes… you may pull me around to face you, hand still wrapped in my hair, and kiss me… I will open for you.”

Yes, I will give you permission, but only if you’re bold enough to ask.

Photo by Molly.

~ by Molly Montrevoir on January 6, 2007.

2 Responses to “Permission”

  1. “Permission granted” is it? nice post

  2. nice one !

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