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Women Only
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Straight Female / 27
Romantic Illusions, Real Life
My romantic illusion was love and a home and children. The reality was sex, power, authority and submission. Children came later when he allowed you the pleasure.
I was young. A new boy showed up at school, from England. All I asked was whether he knew him. He said the English have dirty filthy dicks. He put his forehead against mine, I will fuck you, you will suck my dick. Now go back with the girls and keep yourself apart, is that understood?
And I kept myself apart, I was chosen.
I grew up, 27, he came to me and held me. He was my husband and the father of my children. He wanted affection, to be kissed, to be held. Not much had changed, the English still had filthy stinky dicks and I held myself apart.
Sex which in romantic poetry is never fully described is dirty, messy, dominance and submission. It is better to give in than to fight, sex is better that way. Let him win, and then you win. Something like that.
Love is a many splendored thing. Love is love, you can't explain it. It exists. It's alive, you cannot conquer it, just submit.
Am I right?
I was young. A new boy showed up at school, from England. All I asked was whether he knew him. He said the English have dirty filthy dicks. He put his forehead against mine, I will fuck you, you will suck my dick. Now go back with the girls and keep yourself apart, is that understood?
And I kept myself apart, I was chosen.
I grew up, 27, he came to me and held me. He was my husband and the father of my children. He wanted affection, to be kissed, to be held. Not much had changed, the English still had filthy stinky dicks and I held myself apart.
Sex which in romantic poetry is never fully described is dirty, messy, dominance and submission. It is better to give in than to fight, sex is better that way. Let him win, and then you win. Something like that.
Love is a many splendored thing. Love is love, you can't explain it. It exists. It's alive, you cannot conquer it, just submit.
Am I right?
