Winter
W inter has wrapped her icy fingers around Minnesota’s throat, Domme-ing us, Humbling us with a bite (!) how much she hurts. Naked skin can be annihilated in an extended moment of her ethereal embrace, Ugh, the gorgeous seduction of rosy hued sun-snow-sparkle taunts me, With bated, small puffs of steamy breath, I wait for her aftercare, To melt the icicles off my eaves, and beckon me to play along her snowy curves… I’d most love to slip under the covers and cuddle, my love, as we watch the light of Spring return.