In honor of the amazing sex I had this past weekend, I changed my user picture.
I like it on top.
Think about it, all of the best things are on the top. Like the cherry on an ice cream sundae. Where is the best place to be at the Empire State building, or the Eiffel Tower? And where is the prime position during intercourse? On top, baby. On top.
Frank blew into town over the weekend, and during this time he quickly made all of my current love interests dissolve into love disinterests. He makes everything fall away. It's already Wednesday here and I've got no idea what happened in the past couple days, since he's been gone. Somebody please tell me.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. He was passing through to pick up his daughter at summer camp. I don't remember telling him I moved, but somehow I wasn't surprised to get his call. Maybe a part of me hates that he always knows how to find me and I never, ever know where he is in the world. But a much larger, and much more important part finds it very, very hot.
When he called, he said he wanted to take me out. I told him I didn't want to be taken out, I wanted to be done in. You know, done in my bed. Done in the desk chair. Done in the kitchen up against the fridge. Done in passionate blazes on the stairs, on top of the piano, on the shag rug in the foyer. Done in steamy, lustful throes like in a trashy romance novel. Done not just in, but up and down, too. Backwards and sideways and upside down. Done in every way we can fathom.
But I didn't really say any of that. It's all about how some things are better left for fantasy and imagination, and reality can be left well enough alone with all the dirty mischief we got ourselves into. Regardless, it's been hard trying to adapt back to my real life. I got everything I've been yearning for lately. Straight-up fucking, a lover that I have history with, no strings attached. But he left more than just stains on my sheets, he also left stains on my heart and in my mind. I keep going around like a giggly, silly young girl . . . dizzy with her lust and prowess. I can't stop thinking about him.
Think about it, all of the best things are on the top. Like the cherry on an ice cream sundae. Where is the best place to be at the Empire State building, or the Eiffel Tower? And where is the prime position during intercourse? On top, baby. On top.
Frank blew into town over the weekend, and during this time he quickly made all of my current love interests dissolve into love disinterests. He makes everything fall away. It's already Wednesday here and I've got no idea what happened in the past couple days, since he's been gone. Somebody please tell me.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. He was passing through to pick up his daughter at summer camp. I don't remember telling him I moved, but somehow I wasn't surprised to get his call. Maybe a part of me hates that he always knows how to find me and I never, ever know where he is in the world. But a much larger, and much more important part finds it very, very hot.
When he called, he said he wanted to take me out. I told him I didn't want to be taken out, I wanted to be done in. You know, done in my bed. Done in the desk chair. Done in the kitchen up against the fridge. Done in passionate blazes on the stairs, on top of the piano, on the shag rug in the foyer. Done in steamy, lustful throes like in a trashy romance novel. Done not just in, but up and down, too. Backwards and sideways and upside down. Done in every way we can fathom.
But I didn't really say any of that. It's all about how some things are better left for fantasy and imagination, and reality can be left well enough alone with all the dirty mischief we got ourselves into. Regardless, it's been hard trying to adapt back to my real life. I got everything I've been yearning for lately. Straight-up fucking, a lover that I have history with, no strings attached. But he left more than just stains on my sheets, he also left stains on my heart and in my mind. I keep going around like a giggly, silly young girl . . . dizzy with her lust and prowess. I can't stop thinking about him.