“Look at me,” I said.  “I’m a kind, fat woman with big breasts who likes to nurture and take care of people.”  We were lying in bed, cuddling, as the moon shone outside, full.

He was nestling onto my breasts, sleepy.  “I’m a cliche,” I said.  “Sometimes being a cliche is ok.”

“Yeah,” he said.  He had been expressing concern that he’s a cliche–an Asian person who’s into technology.

“People benefit from it.  If that’s how you feel, you might as well go with it.  Wouldn’t want to do the opposite just to be contrary.”

“Mm hmm,” he agreed.  I was rocking him a little bit, kissing his forehead, rubbing his back with my hands.  He would gently squeeze my breast or hip sometimes.


“Maybe I keep love in my breasts.  That’s why they’re so big,” I suggested.  “Maybe they’re full of love!”

He seemed to think that was possible.  “What do I keep in my dick?” he asked.

“Hmm, good question,” I said.  I thought about it.  “I think you keep curious kindness there,” I said.  “What do you think?”

He accepted my answer.  “Brilliant generosity,” I added.  “Desire.  Yeah.”

We were quiet for a minute.  “What do you think I keep in my cunt?” I asked him.

“Love,” he said.  “All of you.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” I said.  “I do keep all of me there.”

“The moon,” he said.

I thought of the moon in my cunt, between my cunt lips, or right by the opening of my vagina.  Or deeper in me, by my cervix, round and alive in there.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said.  “Seems like a good place to keep it.”  I kissed and rocked him some more.  “If I have a pocket, I might as well use it. I keep your dick in there, sometimes.”


My clit was feeling aroused, but not really the rest of me.  I would classify that as an annoying boner.  I felt tender and sweet to him, but the desire in my cunt was more discomfort than pleasure.  My mind was not wanting sex.

He was too sleepy.  I thought of offering him a nipple to suck, to see if love would flow out into him, but he was soon sleeping.

I wanted to get up to write and do my day, so I extricated myself.  He was sleeping for real.  I put on my shirt and gathered my phone and water.  Slipped out the door so quietly.

A minute later, he was up.  I was like, “God, you were asleep!  I’m so sorry I woke you!”  Must be like not wanting to wake a sleeping baby.  I never had a baby, or only in dreams.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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