I wake nearly each morning entangled in my boy’s leash. That is because I sleep each night with one end wrapped around my wrist, and the other end attached to my boy’s collar. I miss waking and quietly extracting myself from that entanglement. Being an early riser allows me to look down upon his sleeping, naked, collared form and I miss starting my day that way.
I miss setting aside coffee for him. I miss whispering in his ear before I leave for work the small chores I expect him to accomplish before he leaves for the day.
I miss telling him what he can expect for the evening. I like telling him what he might be cooking for dinner, whom he might be serving for supper, what cocktails I am in the mood for, if any at all.
When others are around, I can give him a look from across the room, and he knows that I am calling him to my side. And when we are alone, I miss uttering the single word ‘Come’, knowing that he will get up from whatever he is doing and come to me. And if I snap and point, he’ll crawl to me.
I miss looking over at him in the kitchen. I drink in his sexy, muscular male form, and I delight at watching his body move beneath a fitted shirt.
I miss his eyes upon me as they follow me when I head to bed for the night. He silently gets up and follows, closing the door softly behind me.
I miss the kneeling he does as I stand before him at night.
I strip naked, and he folds the clothes as they fall off my body. He will bend from that position and kiss the tops of my feet. My toes. My ankles. And when I choose to turn, his lips will kiss my thighs, the cheeks of my ass, the small of my back.
I do nothing at night but strip naked, and get into bed. I lay there in pillows, watching him pick up after me. Occasionally he’ll pull my panties to his face and breathe in deeply and smile. Often times I will have him wear those same soiled panties to work the next day. I miss that too.
I miss what happens or doesn’t happen in the nighttime hours. Sometimes there is sexy, torrid torture, and sometimes I simply grab and squeeze his balls while his whimpers lull me to sleep.
Most nights there are back rubs and petting. He gives and I receive. He works while I sleep.
And every night, there is the worshipful cleaning. The homage. The pleading look that cuts through the dark, where he feels my nod more than he sees it. I will feel his beard upon the skin of my back as he kisses his way downward beneath the covers. Many night he will lay inverted… his face against My ass, his arms wrapped around My legs, his body pressed against mine.
It’s like a thousand warm hands touching me. I am missing each and every one of those hand.
Come back to me soon, my pup. Life is not nearly the same without you.