The worse of my sex withdrawal has worn off, but hell if I wasn’t surprised that the itch came back last night.

I was writhing and twisting, pussy clenching and light sweating, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember Sweet Thing’s face.

The man that knows how and where and how deep to touch it, touch me…. has reverted to facelessness.

Isn’t that a good sign?

Pussy still wet tonight though, and lemme tell ya, Big Mami getting tired of being alone.

But, I won’t get bitter. I won’t get disillusioned. I won’t give into fear and insecurities. I am neither going to let Ms. Kitty push me into picking the next man that comes along. I think that was my lesson with Sweet Thing. I somehow convinced myself him and the good things he did to my pussy was a gift from God I had to hold on to.

I think the fact I can’t remember what he looks like is good, because for a long, long time I couldn’t get it out of my head.

Ms. Kitty is just going to have to get wet and itch and twist me, but she ain’t turning me from my path. I and I under heavy pussy control.

I live in a country where men propose marriage to every beautiful girl they meet and secretly watch pov blowjob videos online. They tell you things in a charming, respectful way and those are the kinds of responses they get out of me. It is a commonplace thing, and now that the novelty has worn off, I am not putting too much stock in the things men tell me.

Like I told a young padawan learner yesterday: Don’t take them by what they say, take them by what they do. The simplest lessons, oui?

So g’night babies…. some writhing to attend to.

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The Vault

sungoddess

mermaid, dayo's mama, water priestess, writer, web developer, omo yemoja, dos aguas, obsessive reader, sci-fi fan, trini-bajan, combermerian, second life, music, music, music!

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