Parents are out. I'm stuck home doing chores for my allowance The vaccuume tube accidentally catches my thigh. Like a massage, it pulls. Hmmm, I wonder. Doors locked. Dwars down. Oh God. And again. Three times later I rest. Feeling a little guilty about getting fifty cents.
When she asked for a tantric ritual, I thought, Sweet! she wants to play in my realm. I prepared to worship her every breath and movement. But she couldn't withstand the ego flood that said she didn't deserve. So she shut down. And blamed me.
Innocence surrendered to her first penetrative experience (by something other than her own finger.) He was hot and eager. She was perhaps too trusting. When he said, "I love you," she naively assumed his adoration would withstand the explosion of sexual fluids that henceforth defined her as a female ejaculator.
Our four-way garden of Eden was shattered by a text message which read "this isn't working for us." We left about a dozen messages, begging for clarity. I suspect our intensity freaked them out. At least now my husband will admit we are more than just swingers.
The baby flops around like a live fish, My belly looks like I could've swallowed the whole aquarium. All of this internal movement arouses me. As if there's not enough squirming around, I want to stuff more in. Yet no amount of sex can satisfy me.