Writer's Tears & a Bronx Fire Escape
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2am. Top space has me tightly in its fist. Sisterhood bonded. Energy shared. Knowledge imparted. Friendship built. The truths we reveal sippin Writer's Tears in the cool breeze on a Bronx fire escape and over platefuls of piping hot empanadas leave us nowhere to hide.
Leather Living explained...the sex...the pain. A different level of it all. Messy. Hot and sweaty. Piss. Even shit. Real. Raw passion ripped from flesh and spirit without filter. Tears licked. We leatherfolk wallow in the grit and purity of our religion because there...we find our truest selves.
The floor...fuck yes that mother fuckin floor. Where there is no pride or ego. Where we let go. Where we are stripped bare of everything...
Except our fucking surrender.
To the Universe.
To one another.
To ourselves.
To the One who in that moment holds our pain, our minds, our hearts, our bodies, our very fucking souls.
The floor is where serenity and peace finally find us.
Amazing fucking night.
~DominaKat
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