When you can't even... in a restless heart.

18+ entry.

I feel like the struggle to balance sex and love is ridiculous. I’m sick of wonderful men thinking they’re respecting me by saying love is more than physical. I am pretty sure this fact was established a million years ago. I want the physical. It’s not second to the other stuff. It’s with it, entwined.

I have never struggled with knowing what I want from another person sexually. This is one area that is solid. I have no issues showing, explaining, or describing fantasies, realities, or legistics. I’m sick of men that are inept in the signals, clues, even straightforward nature when dating me.

I can’t even.

I miss the person that for a sweet 2 years got it. He got me and knew what I needed and didn’t make me wait for it. Didn’t make me ask for it. I don’t need permission; I need interest. That moment when I can tell it’s on your mind too. I’ll take it from there or let you know it’s been on my mind, too. Then you can have control.

Conversations, cuddles, and late nights are wonderful when they’re filled with words and realizations. But even better? Bodies filled with passion, lust, bodies entangled, wrapped in each other.

I trust you; make me your whore.

Last updated February 28, 2016