A Hand in My Hair

Sitting knee-to-knee at the bar, talking, laughing while we take periodic sips of our drinks.

He leans over to me – kissing me softly at first – but then deepening it.  I lean in and return the passion he is giving.  Enjoying the exploration of his lips and tongue – and providing my own to the mix.

Then I feel his hand slide up the nape of my neck and into my hair.  I take a deep breath in as we continue to kiss. Then I feel him grab a handful of hair and pull my head closer – hard to his lips.  I feel my body submit to him – that Lizard Brain of mine wanting to give myself to him -right there – right at that moment.   My mind is in agreement – my mind wants him – and I feel the moisture pooling between my legs and starting to run down my inner thighs.  I know he can smell my musk – that musk caused when he does exactly that.

Because in that moment – with that act – I want to submit – I want to give myself to him – I want to do whatever he wants – I want to be owned- and controlled.

And when he releases my hair – he releases me – I could just melt right there – fall at his feet and put my head on his knee.  I want to continue to be his  – to feed him however I can.

And all because his hand found my hair – and he is worthy of owning me because of it.  My Daddy.

What do you think?