I had to have her, and I did. She got on her knees when I told her to. She slipped easily into play and out again, becoming her witty, intelligent self seamlessly. She wasn't intimidated by me. She teased and challenged me. She kissed like she meant ...
Being under him, trapped, objectified, I lost all fear. With Jonathan, I felt safe. I felt a loss of control so complete, a surrender so honest that it became a luxurious indulgence.
Her sexuality wasn't coy or cute. She wasn't saucy; she was feral. Her very presence on the earth stirred me.
When had I turned into a 5-yr-old girl? At the very least, I needed to get my libido under control before the song finished, because I didn’t think that my raging hard-on would be a good icebreaker. I thought smugly.
For a split second, I wondered if he were some type of sexy sorcerer, who was able to remove my clothing by the force of his will alone. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the buttons of his shirt, willing them to pop off. It didn’t work. Then ...
Good-bye. I’m sorry,” I said. “Don’t be sorry.” He stood straight, his chin proud and his shoulders relaxed. “This isn’t over.
I was momentarily stunned by his odd announcement and told him as much. "Let’s just talk about the fact that you composed a sonnet to my vagina, shall we? You are sending off some major stalker vibes, which is odd because you’re gay. You gay, rig...
Trust no one, I scold myself. Even if they smell good.
