"Why don't we play anymore?" Said in my best sick voice. He leaned back and gave me a warning look (my germs were clearly getting too close for comfort).
Why exactly is it that the cravings set in when I can barely breath and have been pronounced contagious and untouchable?
Okay, so maybe they were setting in before lol. I made this small Christmas list you see. Think "Letter to Santa that you wouldn't want your mom to see. Ever."
He seemed to approve...Then eventually, he said "Get them."
Um...Here's the thing--both items were my idea. So if he was really interested, he would have ordered them right? And since he didn't, maybe he wasn't, so I didn't.
I'm sure that made perfect sense to someone...
Our undercurrents keep me steady. The subtle existence of power exchange keeps me sane through daily life. But sometimes? Sometimes I feel a bit like that little kid who wants to hang out at the playground. And yes, I have been known to drag my feet and beg for "Just a little bit more please?"
Of course, one must first get to go to the playground before begging to stay for more.
I'm trying to be good, but no one wants to play with a sick slut. Which would sound perfectly reasonable if said slut wasn't me lol.