Stressbuster

At the core of my life, of my being and of my satisfaction with life lies my sexuality. It is only in the past few years of my life that I have embraced notions such as being a ‘fucktoy’ or a ‘slut’ but ever since I was a wee, small girlie of 5 or 6 I understood that my body was designed for pleasure.

Making use of my body fulfils me. Any fuck is a good fuck because it feels that my body is doing what it should be doing. But, a long, thrilling, demanding, primal session of fucking is what makes me come alive.

In the throes of such a session, my head is empty and my body beats to the drum of longings and needs and cravings that belong to primitive beings. I am kissed greedily and hungrily and kiss back with a lust and a strength that asks, who is the aggressor here?

We hold one another as if we are holding on for grim death: two beings locked together in a grip that defies anyone or anything to part them.

He demands that my body orgasm over and over again, with no regard to how many times my body has climaxed or how long I have been at his mercy.

He makes use of every hole with a sense of ownership and noblesse oblige. They are there to be plundered. No questions asked. It is his duty and his pleasure.

And then, unexpectedly he stops. Picks up the hairbrush and tenderly strokes my hair. Resting me. Enticing me. Making me wonder if it is over.

It is not. There will be rounds and rounds of more expectations; more pleasure; more pain; more lust and longing; more love and life.

When we are finally spent, he will hold me by the hair and have me crawl into the shower; scrub me with a force that leaves me completely pleasured and sustained. Not a girl; not even a fucktoy; just ‘it’.

I am his and he is mine.

And, no matter what life throws at us, we will remain as One.

The circumstances of our lives as they were before the session began remain unchanged and yet the stress and anxiety has...disappeared.

Goodbye, girl. Hello, it. Goodbye, stress. Hello, pleasure and happiness.