You guys. I was reading this post by Violette and I just started crying. Even as I write this, tears are in my eyes. I want this and feel I am so far away from it. I could have a man here right now in a half hour and spend the evening in bed; that isn’t it. I want him. THE guy, the whole shebang.

Sigh. Just read this “Perfect” post by Violette. You’ll see what I mean.


“This feels so good,” he says, as I press my fingers into his back and slide them along his aching muscles. He sits between my legs, naked, his back to me so I can soothe some of his pain.

He works hard. There is a little smear of paint on the back of his earlobe, and a scrape on the knuckle of his right hand. His body hurts— evidence of his hours spent laboring in the heat.

He works hard for me too. Though the labor is much more sweet. He’s tired, he’s not been sleeping, but he still finds the energy to make me curse as his mouth descends and his fingers find just the right spot inside of me. He still makes me sweat, and we slip against each other as he fills me again and again. He still moves me how he wants me, grabs my hands…

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