So I hit “Publish” and wandered away when a paragraph from the preceding post kept pulling on my brain stem:
I’ll stop right here and say my feelings were not acceptable. Natural, understandable, but not acceptable. Or, at least, any hint that I was feeling them was unacceptable. It’s like I can’t figure out what I want. On the one hand, I crave her control. I want her to rule the cock. I crave submission. On the other, I want to fuck. And those two conflicting objectives often clash within me.
Not my finest work.
Not only were my feelings entirely acceptable, they are, in fact, the whole fucking point. The clash between my animal sexual desire and her cool, feminine control over it is the crucible from which all the emotions I crave emanate. I can’t figure out what I want? Rubbish! I want to feel that conflict rage within me! I want to crave the feeling of her hot, wet pussy wrapped around the cock and not get it. Jesus, what I wrote is like saying Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland is my favorite ride but I’d like it to have fewer friggin’ pirates!
Somebody slap me next time I say something so stupid.