I’m tired, cranky and sick. Not really sick, just enough under the weather that I can’t think straight.
If Thumper opened a door in me for chastity play, Holly’s opened the door for polygamy. I don’t want to do it myself, but I can understand, for the first time how it must feel to be the ummfriend, and to know that you can never be anything else. It’s devastating.
Wonderboy fucked my ass on friday and then pounded me saturday and sunday, even though he’s a little sick, too. It’s been best sex ever, in all it’s glorious aspects, and that’s probably why I don’t feel like writing about it. I don’t seem to capture what’s going on between us. it’s just action after action of the same thing. He fucked me, he turned me around, he fucked me again. It’s not even important, the position, the actual act. But him. The way we are. What he means to me, how he opens me up, how I’m not afraid anymore. How he’s not afraid anymore and shows it in a way that sometimes scares me a bit, before I fall into oblivion.
He knows me better than I know myself. He underlines, he finds, he pushes, he tries, he loves and gives and surrenders.
I’m so happy that when I sit in my car driving to work I almost always cry a little. That’s the way things are now. I love my boy.
And I better be pregnant. Dammit.