Finally–I’m fucked

I was kinda whiney in another post I wrote the other day…wrote it and then made it private, because seriously, you don’t all wanna hear about how I’m not getting fucked.  Right?

Well, that finally changed. Rings sealing me shut came out and I woke up at 5AM to find W pushing into me, past the pain of the new piercings…into the pain of the new piercings…so fucking sweet. Such piercing (pun intended) pleasure and pain.

And so, so lovely to feel wanted again. To no longer have the guys be so “hands off” with me.

I don’t know if there is a category for this in that book about love “languages,” but I do know that when my men aren’t lusting after me, aren’t grabbing and mauling and fucking and pawing at me, I just don’t feel…loved. I need their desire, their physical demonstrations of that desire, to feel loved.

Hmm, after having read the above, I realize it’s not just sexual touch, or strictly sexual touch. It’s any kind of touch. Sleeping curled in their arms. W throwing an arm and a leg over me in the middle of the night, possessing me. Them holding my hand as we walk. A hand on my cheek, or curled around the back of my neck.  A casual stroke of the arm.  So yes, it’s any kind of touch…but also…I need the sexual kind as well.

Was needing it kinda desperately in fact. Something W definitely enjoyed.

But now–the embargo is off!  Let the fucking begin!

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