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An Open Letter to the one I Love

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(transcribed in print)   Jamie, I think that falling in love and losing your mind share some enormous common traits! If they’re even different at all. If the first is not just the other, dressed in a fancy button down. I have so many things I want to say to you, but the first is this: I’ve again and again imagined every single version of you. At every age, any height, with and without your hair, clothes, and teeth. I just madly love them all! I love even the versions of you that I have yet to meet. I envy the people who have known you all your life because I want to do everything with you, from the very start. I can’t pretend that I don’t believe you hung the moon. What ecstasy fills me to be under the same sky as you are as you read this! Every night, I blow a kiss to the star that I always wished on for you as a little girl.  I can’t wait to share everything with you. And walk around all day with the smell of you on my clothes. If you were to cut open my head, you would find...
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journal entry, 7/19/2023 3:45 AM

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  The night I saw you, I saw our first kiss.   The next night, I saw our first time. And in many broken visions,  that put me in pieces and reduced me to a besotted, whimpering animal.  You’ve begun to melt my steel. You are turning my diamond into a soft, soft thing.  I am engulfed in massive waves by the need to touch you like the sun does. You smile and make me nervous like a little girl.  I want to bottle your mood and taste you a tongue’s tip at a time for fear of running out.  One day I’ll be your mirror.  I’ll hold you up to yourself and show your sublimity to you, the way that I can see it.  This feeling has built a nest in my mind and has wound itself into two simple phrases, echoing louder and louder in seeming incantation; I want to make you calm and warm. I want to make you cum.
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Thank you, or welcome, or both

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  Wanted to take a brief moment to thank anyone who has/continues to keep up with this blog! I’ve been away for a while, but I’m back and I’m badder. ❤️ I never want to be inauthentic or do a half-assed job at anything I love, so it didn’t feel fair to my own work or to you, to write something that wasn’t true to me. If we haven’t met, my name is Soleia (so•lay•uh) or Soli, I started this blog as an outlet for myself and other (former) sexually repressed individuals to keep as a sort of judgment-free, shame-free, journal of horny thoughts (?)  Anyways, thanks for you interest and I hope you have as much fun reading as I do writing.  S.
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Crushed

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I feel something crushing me. It pulls in the skin of my waist, and crackles my ribs. Sucking sweetly and wholly, the air from my lungs. It’s harmless and it doesn’t hurt…  Me I know that you can see the quickening in-and-about rhythm beneath the collar of my shirt. Strong enough to move my body when your gaze meets mine. A wavering, hot red ray of light forming between  You and I Never to come, but to form in a way that is ultimately connective and invisible. A subconscious dance. To fall into my far-away daily mind and into your wet dreams. Uttering my name in the dark and to no one. Imagining the taste of me in brief, fragrant passes. I watch your eyes drift from an appropriately ordinary thought to obscene reverie, losing your time on my lips. I know you place yourself between them.  I know all of your truths and the many lies spoken between your mind and body. You Will never touch me. You’ll never run the silken string of my panties through your fingers or pull them ...
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Sex Questions Forum/Chat

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If you've ever wanted to make a confession, tell a story, ask a question, feel free to do so below in the comments.  All are anonymous unless you chose to use your name. This is a completely safe and judgement-free zone. Please leave a "♥️" at the end of your comment if you're comfortable with me sharing. You will still remain anonymous even if you're comfortable with me sharing, and even if you use your name here. 
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home

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To see you again is so familiar like unlocking the door to my favorite room in the house  The tone of your voice floods me with nostalgia and  the smell of your skin fills my mind with ensuing daydreams of swaying to-and-fro during our first embrace and dropping bags when our lips meet The realization that I have unlocked the door to my favorite room and that I am home in you 
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Untitled

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I want to grow all up and through you Twisting and weaving like a long, wild weed Past your tongue  and into your lungs To climb into your being  and take off my shoes I'll have a long look around, stretch my arms and legs, and put up my feet   I'll walk and walk around in circles through the woods of you,  Unable to trace the crumbs I've dropped I want to sit in your garden  and comb through your soil I'll collect your season's yield I will be a perfect little scythe I will cut straight through to your pit The more I rake, the more I collect The more I unearth I want to pick from your trees and wash your leaves I'll work all day long I'll keep picking until it's too dark outside to see, surely reaching the end So, I'll keep waiting for an end  but it won't come I'll just keep finding more fruit And more  More of you, more of this feeling I dream you up over and over again How I want to wish on your pappus and watch your seeds sail on the win...
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An introduction

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I've always felt that sex was more important to me than most. Vital, even. Not only the act of sex, but the vast and ever-broadening spectrum of sensuality and sexual expression. I grew up feeling like a constant nuisance (𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵) to those around me, because even though I didn't have a name for it, I 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 it so well. I felt it around and within me all the time. I wanted to talk about it to anyone who would listen. I had an orgasm while riding the bus. And in the morning, while washing an orange. And after taking the first bite of it.  Its juice, mild and sweet, running down my chin, onto my wrists. To describe what pleasure truly means to me would take an incredibly long time. A lifetime , maybe. I can feel myself getting annoying to people whenever I try. I can't help but wonder, if it felt to them the way it feels to me , wouldn't they be able to think or talk about anything else? I can, however, describe an orgasm...
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