Let me tell you something, my thing wit H fluctuates between a dirty affair and love affair.
Every time we experience something new, I feel closer, and something right after makes me step back a little- I am too old to have my heart broken in a million pieces.
Having him jerk off and finishing inside my mouth, having me swallowing all his cum, woke something on me, not as a good bitch that I am, but as his lover, as a woman that loves to please her man.
When he was waiting in that house and opened the door taking me by the hand and guiding me upstairs, he was nervous; I could feel his pulse, he doesn’t take me for granted, he loves me, even if he didn’t tell me with words – even tho he does, and often- I could see it inside his eyes and the way he looks at me.
H loves me, and I love H.
It doesn’t make things easier; I find it hard every time we say goodbye and a sad wave consumes me every time I think we won’t be able to live things that I would like to live.
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a Demisexual creature, and I could be able to have sex without some kind of emotional connection. It would be easier, much easier, but maybe not as fulfilling as it is.