obliterated by bliss

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note the use in sentence. rub it in, why don’t ya. cunt.

I can’t get him out of my mind. God damned vaguely reminiscent of Benedict Cumberbatch. I’m consumed by desire. When we are together I’m obliterated by pure bliss. And I love it.

As a person, he is SO fucking guarded, closed off, private, keeping me at arm’s length, with the longest arms of anyone alive. He claims to have some issue of being “not relationship material”. O.K. But as a lover (I am loath to use this term. It holds that 4 letter word everyone is so afraid of) he is completely open. Totally present. Amazingly attentive and completely in the moment. It’s a complete sharing of total pleasure. A closed loop of fucking bliss.

I don’t use the word “bliss” lightly. That whole “follow your bliss” shit fucking irks me. But when your mind ceases to think, when you become totally present in the moment and one with your partner, there is nothing better. Well, when that is paired with being deeply in love that makes it better. Sure. But if the sex is mediocre being in love doesn’t make that fire burn. It doesn’t make them a more skilled lover.

He and I have just insane chemistry. The thought that I’ll never touch him again is actually painful. I want him. And he’s right across town. And he’s fucking “opted out” of the mailing that is my vagina. Again.

I know it may be for the best. But fuck the best. I want him.

Unlike ballet boy I know he’ll never read this. I’m tempted to send him the link. And terrified to think maybe I’m wrong and he’s been reading it all along. Doubtful. The only thing he seems to be interested in reading is my cues. And he is so literate.

This is just a plea, to you, my dear Benedict Cumberbatch-esque darling. Despite the fact that you’ll never read it. Please, please, please come back to me. Let’s fuck. Please.

It’s too fucking divine to just walk away from. Isn’t it?

 

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