mia loves henry miller – Letter 9 – Missing: Sexy, Black Bustier

mia loves henry miller

Letter 9  Missing: Sexy, Black Bustier

Missing:  Sexy, Black Bustier

It’s been missing for almost two years – it simply disappeared

My Fredrick’s of Hollywood, sexy, black bustier

I don’t think I’ll ever forget how I lost–somewhere in the wintry frost

One of my favorite pieces of seductive lingerie

His wife was out of town for two nights – He bought me a short, pleated skirt – off white

Finally together – my lover and I had a sinful slice of quality time

My panties still get very wet – whenever I think of it – I sweat

So I told myself that I must put this erotic time into rhyme

I was a passenger in his car, unknowing – demanding, “Where are we going?”

I can still hear myself ask in frustration to this day

I remember it was snowing – I asked yet again, “Where in the Hell are we going?”

He looked at me voraciously like a stern hunter does his prey

“It’s a secret.” He replies, slyly grinning – “it must be good,” my mind is spinning

Yet, I know deep within he isn’t going to give in and tell me

We drove through Uptown with me still guessing – I was beside myself- distressing

I had no clue where we were going – it was a fucking mystery!

“I thought we were going for dim-sum?” – “Not yet, my naughty one.”

He said to me, still grinning, making me wonder, why?

Now, my heart beats fast and wild – still as curious as a child

We stop at a quaint, white and brown stucco apartment nearby

I had no idea where this adventure would lead – No idea what would proceed

Suddenly, as quick as a heartbeat, a blindfold covered my eyes!

Quickly, I was pushed through a door – I had never been here before

Unfamiliar hands pulled up my skirt, exposing my black thighs highs.

“She’s pretty,” I heard a woman whisper on the wind, – then, strangers softly stroking my skin

They pulled me forward, leading to somewhere unbeknownst to me

Now, bending me over a large, soft bed – a female hand stroking the black silky hair on my head

I heard a male voice say a loud, “Thank you for the gift, she looks very naughty!”

They pulled up the hem of my skirt – took off my black sweater and white skirt

I felt unfamiliar hands slapping bare skin, high on my thighs, near my ass

“Do you like being our toy?  You can answer – no need to be coy.”

I only smiled – as if the naughtiest girl in the class.

“What a sexy bustier – a lovely piece of lingerie!”

The woman said with her admiring eyes

One by one she undid the clasps – upon removing it, I gasped!

One by one she removed my black lace panties and silky black, thigh highs

After they stripped me completely bare – they pulled upon my long, tousled hair

And then captured me inside a web of black nylon restraints upon the bed

Beside me, I felt her sit – near the end of the bed, he firmly flicked my clit

My arms restrained, – and my legs stretched far, until they were widely spread

The rest of a night was a blissful blur – spankings, stroking, and demanding whispers

I could hardly believe that this was real and happening to me!

I could tell my reader so much more – but then, this poem would be too long – a bore

I might end this poem now and leave you with your fantasies.

But, I must tell you this, my reader, my friend – before this poem reads, The End

When we left, I felt so high, so warm, and flustered – I didn’t fully dress

In my hands, I swear I had my black bustier! – Yes, my favorite piece of lingerie!

I must’ve left it behind with strangers, or dropped it somewhere in the snow, I guess.

–Mia (Inspired by Mr. B)


“Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.” —Anaïs Nin

“You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living.  Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure.  That is all.  It appears like an innocuous illness.  Monotony, boredom, death.  Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it.  They work in offices.  They drive a car.  They picnic with their families.  They raise children.  And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death.  Some never awaken.” —Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

 12/10/2011 – 6:18 p.m. Dear Henry Miller,

The poem I wrote above was based on a highly stimulating, sensual, cold, snowy night which I had with Mr. B several years ago.  I had to write it down in poetry form as if I was taking a photograph to contain the memory, only with written words, shortly after I had this experience.  This erotic memory has been stained deep inside my brain.  I will never forget how highly aroused this kinky, unexpected experience made me.  I think it’s because I am a writer, a passionate person, and an artist that encourages me to love, and to experience life, new things, new adventures, new talents, foods, countries, people and cities.  The things I hold most near and dear to my heart have been my experiences, my friendships, my family and my memories.

My amorous experience on that chilled evening was extremely erotic, surprising, and so sensual.  The woman I played with warmed me with her feminine, hands which were fondling me gently.  She made me gasp and moan with her pinches and twists on my nipples, with her long, lean fingers.  I inhaled her beauty with her soft kisses.  And I cried a loud with her stern spankings, and sought pleasure with her rough, as well as soft caresses.  Her husband was a lot of fun as well.  We all seemed to play well together.  I must say that I enjoyed the intimacy and close contact with the girl the most.  It’s an arousing experience which I don’t get to indulge in often.  The events of the night took me by surprise.  I had no idea a dark fantasy of mine would become fulfilled.  I often told Mr. B my sexual fantasies after sex, eating ice cream in bed.  Being caught so totally off guard on that night was so shocking to my senses, titillating to soul, satisfying to my curiosity and nourishing to my sexual appetite.  I think that life would be wonderful if we always felt the sense of liberation to connect with people we hardly know.  We generally use most of our energy frightened to connect with others, to stop and say, “hello,” or hesitant to even make eye contact with each other.  I find that engaging so quickly in intimacy with others is a massive rush.  What better thing to share with another human being than the sensations of pleasure, love, closeness, and the experience of crossing all boundaries in such a short amount of time?  I find it thrilling!

I do have to tell you that if I didn’t fully trust Mr. B and the adventures which he takes me on, I would never be able to journey upon this erotic path.  I have the same trust in Mr. C and with MJ.  To give them my trust, submitting to the journey they are escorting me upon, is the most comforting sensation I have ever known.  Each experience has carved me into the woman I am today.  It has healed me in so many ways.  I love who I am – the good and the bad.  I have a sense of confidence and well being that is so strong, it feels euphoric, powerful, and liberating!   I have learned so much by developing my skills in the art of submission, which has benefited my life, my sexuality, my ability to dance, perform, create art, and my ability to write.  I have also grown so much by opening up my heart and trusting my lovers, my friends, and my soul mates.  I have found light in a controversial subject which some may judge as darkness.

“If we are always arriving and departing, it is also true that we are eternally anchored.  One’s destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things.” –Henry Miller

Good night Henry!

Much love, Mia


One response to “mia loves henry miller – Letter 9 – Missing: Sexy, Black Bustier

  1. Reblogged this on mia loves henry miller and commented:

    I am re-posting my past blogs in order as I write the last letter in this collection of letters to Henry Miller – Letter 50…so that new readers or readers who have not followed my letters from the beginning can easily read this blogs before they are removed offline.


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