The feminine urge to absolutely fuck him into oblivion. To pull his hair, push his head face down into the mattress, pound his ass and cover it with handprints. I need him to be moaning, sighing and bucking like a starved animal. Then to cuddle. Is tha
You'll probably never get the apology. Or the truth. But you're still here. I'm still here. There is world enough and time enough for us both. Let's jump all in on all of this and let this thing of ours lead us rather than us trying to lead it.
