Last night I barely slept a wink. I was moaning, twisting
restlessly in the sheets totally out of control, begging for release, needing so
much and yet knowing I had no say in what was happening to me. I wasn’t in
charge. I just had to submit and ride the crazy crest I was on until I could
let go and find release. For a moment, I considered what the neighbours must be
thinking. The bedroom window was open, a light breeze coming in through the
sheer curtains, only party cooling the heat of the moment as I panted and
moaned, twisting and promising anything and everything to my tormentor to let
me calm down and drift off, sated, at peace. But it was not to be. Some are
relentless. Some never let go until you’re a crying, whining wreck screaming at
the universe in a moment of complete physical breakdown swearing on all that is
holy that never again will I do 200 sit ups and be in this much pain.
Six pack stomach? Nah, just give me a bottle of champagne like any real woman.
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