Who do I belong to?

Many routes to our destinations. See which way everyone else is going by clicking the badge.

My knee jerk reaction is to want to say I belong to Mr Hunt. I want to belong to someone and have someone belong to me. I want it to be all encompassing and all consuming. As his, I want to do nothing but follow him. I want to be the sole focus of his attention.

Is he my owner? Am I his pet? His toy? Sometimes. Certainly the parts of me I give to him, in the ways and the times I give them, make me his in that moment. But we are not trapped in a bubble where this is every facet of me or every facet of him.

There is more to our lives than me and him. Can I be his if I can’t be his entirely?

In the last few years a friendship changed to something else. The feelings changed from someone I loved, to being in love. Where I came from it was very common for teenagers to be engaged. It wasn’t engaged to be married as much as engaged like a toilet cubicle… a way of marking you were in use. It isn’t like that for me now. I am not a finite space to be occupied by Mr Hunt alone. Loving him didn’t stop my heart reaching out in a different way to a different person and loving them doesn’t change anything about how I love him. Love meant we talk about it and drew boundaries all of us could live with.

I wish life was simple enough for the love between Mr Hunt and myself to have been it. Possessive and full and complete. I would love to belong to Mr Hunt, but there isn’t a whole me to give him.

Slices of me belong to other people, other places. Our children take huge tranches of our time and love and energy. Sometimes I am too spent to give Mr Hunt the me I would like to. The me I would give him.

Sometimes he is the one whose energy is sapped. By the kids, by his position at work, his responsibilities towards others in his life.

More than that, we don’t expect posessision from each other. We don’t rank the things in our life that take love and time and energy and demand that at every moment we place each other at the top of the pile.

In that moment on my knees, with his fingers tightly knotted in my hair and his cock in my throat, I am his.

He doesn’t have to ask and doesn’t demand I say.

One Reply to “Who do I belong to?”

  1. We all have more than one person who needs us. And that makes binging to the one hard.
    But it seems to me that you two are making it work!

    Lilly

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *