Claudia Rodriguez

There are those times when feelings are so disorienting, feelings that intimacy like a skeleton key manages to set free. Sometimes they are intense feelings that have nothing to do with what just happened. It happened to... And sometimes it happened during their heavy playing, emotions that had no business being there surfaced all uninvited. Well sort of, they say don’t hate the player hate the game but with BDSM, it was a game of “dropping my guard for you. I am going to fall back and I know you will catch me, in your web of leather strokes and skin-melting-hot- metals. I will be vulnerable with you, to save my vulnerability, be able to trust again. Catch me please.” BDSM, like ALL relationships, is a tough game. It’s easier saying you’re going to let go then actually doing it. It’s not always our choice either to lose it, and BDSM creates that illusion; CONTROL give it and take it. Consent. Bringing down my walls conceptually. But our heart, our mighty mind collide, like all g

It started when I saw you naked in the hotel bathroom, I heard the water drop with urgency anxious to glisten against your backside. I walked towards you to hand you your razor, as you nicely asked. I approached the bathroom wondering if the Grizzlies were capable of finding that underdog fire inside them to beat the San Antonio Spurs- at least one game. You parted the curtain, bent over, reached out for the razor with your left hand perched your right one on the edge of the tub while the water smacked off your ass your hard nipples waved hypnotically before me. As the razor flowed from my hand to the floor I imagined myself walking into the tub, lifting you so you could hold onto the towel rack that hung from the ceiling placing your thighs on my shoulders and you Cobraing your legs around my neck. My breath constricted I forced my tongue through your thighs Buried it hot and deep inside your chocha, drinking you como agua de coco right out of its shell You tasting sweet And being so

Stroke Strokes across the tight smooth canvass vast strokes fine strokes pelitos on her belly fine. Strokes thick like thumbs pressed pressing windpipe. Strokes I don’t get I give to myself. Strokes I can’t get I give to myself. If I were your Master would you would do what I’d say? I’d say write me sonnets paint me views meant only for a blind woman help me see make me savor cook me meals with your sauce sauciness satire. Stroke me my ego there you go like that you like that self confidence in me ego let go my Ego roam free it go fast it go zoom sweep you off your feet. Please don’t jump over my broom. That’s crossing the line. Be like me like me I don’t like too, much. Serial Seriousness No more I’m serious. Not marathon Mono-gamer anymore I’m serious. Each day I am faced by my values the things I like appear in so many shapes and sizes. They are so scattered- wanna connect the dots hand gliding across from one dot

Mi mujer Al mirar en sus ojos color cajeta me pierdo en mi imaginación, veo su corazón latiendo por mi fuerte como el palpite del mío chocando contra mi pecho. Sus labios son finos y suaves Como bombones Al tocarlos con los míos Se desbaratan como burbujas es la sensación que me dan sus besos burbujeos en mis labios mi cuerpo se llene de emoción Su belleza de mujer domina todo mis sueños. Dominante Dominatrix su belleza es un don la veo por las noches su figura consume mis pensamientos todo el día. Belleza omnipresente por dentro, por fuera consumo de lo que me muestra. Me consume el deseo de tocar su cuerpo rozar su piel canela como la de la Malinche deseo pecaminoso causa rechazo. Pero así lo dijo el destino Y estiro su rizos suaves y sedosos, los atrapo entre mis dientes y los estiro sus rizos fragantes a coco, me invitan a que entierre mi cara en ellos. Me hacen cosquillas en las nariz como el olor de aquellos churros con canela que saboreábamos cada domingo después de misa. Me ac