Girls and boys must experience things differently...
...although since I'm 36 now, I should probably start using more grown up terms for the two genders.
Yesterday K asked me to flash my tits on skype. Today he asked to see my knickers. Somewhere in between he sent me an amazon wish-list (of underwear) he'd like to shop from on my behalf. He was a little miffed on both accounts when I said no to the flashing and mostly shrugged about the underwear.
K has been keeping busy running errands with his family, going thrift-shopping and looking at paper-work. I have been doing sod all. All my craft things save for writing is at the Oast - and quite a few of my notes are at the Oast too. (Left my dad another message, still no word, so I don't know when I'm leaving and starting to wonder if he would really rather I didn't turn up at all.)
In five days, I have consumed one bottle of gin, one of orange juice, two slices of bread, 3/4 of a punnet of grapes, two slices of ham and several cups of tea. That compresses into a ham sandwich, some grapes, and a large friday night bender. Why? Because my tummy monsters don't know what the point is either, no more than the rest of me.
I want my keecher. I talk to him on skype 'cos it's the best I can get, although it's a very Pyrrhic victory and tends to make me more miserable. I don't need to say a special hello to his chest or his dick - just him. And yes, I know he's frisky and it's a very boy thing to ask. It's just... I don't know.
I'm miserable and he's frisky I guess. Who'd have thought?
Yesterday K asked me to flash my tits on skype. Today he asked to see my knickers. Somewhere in between he sent me an amazon wish-list (of underwear) he'd like to shop from on my behalf. He was a little miffed on both accounts when I said no to the flashing and mostly shrugged about the underwear.
K has been keeping busy running errands with his family, going thrift-shopping and looking at paper-work. I have been doing sod all. All my craft things save for writing is at the Oast - and quite a few of my notes are at the Oast too. (Left my dad another message, still no word, so I don't know when I'm leaving and starting to wonder if he would really rather I didn't turn up at all.)
In five days, I have consumed one bottle of gin, one of orange juice, two slices of bread, 3/4 of a punnet of grapes, two slices of ham and several cups of tea. That compresses into a ham sandwich, some grapes, and a large friday night bender. Why? Because my tummy monsters don't know what the point is either, no more than the rest of me.
I want my keecher. I talk to him on skype 'cos it's the best I can get, although it's a very Pyrrhic victory and tends to make me more miserable. I don't need to say a special hello to his chest or his dick - just him. And yes, I know he's frisky and it's a very boy thing to ask. It's just... I don't know.
I'm miserable and he's frisky I guess. Who'd have thought?