“How are you ankles?” I asked him. We were lying in bed, in the middle of the night. He got up to drink some water, super sleepy with his eyes half-closed, wearing on his black chonies only. His hair was wildly messy. I’d been up writing, and I followed him back to bed. “Good!” he
“Hey, can I ask you something edgy?” I asked my spouse. “Yeah,” he said. “You know how kids are not supposed to have a sexuality?” “Yeah?” he said. “But they do, right. But we’re supposed to kind of pretend that they don’t?” “Yeah?” “But it’s not a problem. It’s a problem if adults hurt them,
“If you’re going to do all the work of relationship, you might as well have sex a lot,” was the thought I strongly felt in my torso, this morning, waking up my spouse. I want more sex. He slept in a couple hours longer than usual. So I went to the bedroom and turned on
I believe in other worlds. When I write, where do the words come from? They arrive from a long distance. They feel like spirit, to me. Love feels like spirit. Sex is possible with our bodies, but also our minds, at the same time. Or just our minds, in the case of sex long distance.
I was thinking of why people like me–someone on fetlife asked “Why do people like you?” as an open question. The answers I saw others give were big boobs, big dick, round butt. Eyes, good at sucking dick, personality. One or two good cooks. A few people answered “they don’t” like no one likes them,
My mom was soulful, deeply feeling, sensual, great at having fun, and very beautiful. If it’s ok to say your own mom was sexy, I will say that. Yeah, she was a very sexy mama. What a contradictory lady! She had some modesty going on, related to early trauma. She didn’t slow cleavage or leg.
“You going to use me, like the slut I am?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. We were lying in bed, cuddly, naked. On retreat, with privacy and life simplified, we’ve been having sex more often. “You might as well,” I said. “That’s what sluts are for, right? I’m available to you. My cunt, my hands,
dear Friend, I like that moment of our phone call when I ask you if you need anything, if there’s something I could do for you, any way I could help. Seems more important, now that we’re talking only two days a week. Then when you asked me the same, what I need and how
The fat, strong thighs I once hid, ashamed, are comfortable now. I love my body unconditionally, sex goddess. My thighs think of you specifically, and welcome you, wishing to spread for you and accept any desire you would like to push into me. You would invite me to the small room that’s only your own.
he’s the kind of guy who takes a bunch of naked pictures interspersed with not-naked pictures and wants to show you not-naked pictures, but you accidentally see some unexpected dick. he’s the kind of guy who reads difficult books because his head craves exciting brilliant difference. he’s the kind of guy who needs to sedate