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.