Chapter 2: Love; Lust; Limerence and other drugs

​I belong to him; like I’m a part of him.  It’s a waste of time even talking to other men.  I would look for him forever in someone else knowing  I’m never gonna find him.  Nobody fits me like him, nobody gets me like him. Our eyes haven’t met in four years time  and if I close my eyes  and breathe in; I could smell him  like he’s standing right behind me.  If I lean to the left of the right, I could feel him right beside me.  If I squeezed my legs together  I could feel him deep inside me. If I pressed my lips together, I could feel his kiss. If I focused on my skin, I can feel his grip. If I close my eyes  and looked into the darkness,  I could see his face and form. It is pointless for a man to love me,  cause I belong to him like a possession and it ain’t by choice. I didn’t not speak this into existence with my voice. I did not call him from the aethers.  I have begged the universe to purge him from my heart and ...

​I have forgiven myself for loving you.  I repented from my wanting too.  I have cleansed myself, both spirt and soul.  I purged my heart of you; the fire is now cold. I still feel this nymphs addiction coursing through my veins.  Fingers pressed against my lips; slick, pudenda divides to call by name .  Fighting for breath as our tongues search for lovers obsession. I’ll give myself grace; stop this fantasy in action.  Opponent to my orgasmic siren , I still crave you deeply.  Our tantric playground treads not mindlessly. It is a garden of bliss best enjoyed by you company. Frail desires; crushed; pounded; dried and grounded to dust then ferried away. I have forgiven myself for wanting you; you never wanted us anyway.

​I’m sitting here covered in dance sweat. I danced so hard my stomach cramping.  Maybe I should dance in the mirror.  Maybe I should push myself to climax  before my reflection. I should look into my own eyes and think of you when I arrive, M y Love.  I should like to whimper your name.  The whole thing.  Maybe then in your dreams I could fuck  the dickhead out of you.  I could take a shower and oil my skin up put on pink laced panties and dance  until I glisten.  Take my panties off; kiss the crotch with red lipstick; and mail them to you.  I shall enclose a card that says nothing;  just three periods and my signature.  Why?  Because in three moons time… Your love grew dull but sharpened mine.. Like you don't remember... My flesh and sex is thine...

​Do I love you? My beloved muse; you are my fixation and my fascination. I long to see you immensely satisfied; to mount you slow and enjoy my ride.  Do I love you? I do want you to feel your hands on my  body while; I beg you not to tease me then push in  deeply  till I gasp your name. I do so desire to hear those words “not until I say” in you lowest growl with your hand pressed firmly against  my throat.   Must I love you love must I.  My love aren’t some things only to be  seen in the eyes, Felt in a touch, heard in a whisper or  e xpressed through acts of love? Yes. I fear I do love you too much.

​ I adore every facet of you that I know; and my body weeps with anticipation at  the rest. I crave the sound of your voice, like chill bumps introducing orgasms. I beg; leave me trembling gasping for  breath. Basking and covered in the scent of  your sex.   Yet you would give way for another to  grind my concupiscence to dust,  calculated and emotionless your wilds and vices chilled to frost. You may even send me to wolves and  let them claw over my flesh. You would stand back as beast suck at  my breast. Stand silent beyond frost, frozen and  frigid to wish me the best. I would rather have your worst my love; but since you insist. 

The nights  quiet is low enough to be a hum.  Hiding the deeper mind away in shadows.  I got back on to mind altering  substances  with first names. I thought I had enough of  wanting to be  loved; but never enough of him.  I still must bid ado t o my favored  weaknesses.  These castle walls are not high enough. He finds me wandering the grounds during the daylight hours.  As the sunsets he sings erotic riddles in my ears; he  lures me to his lap. I lure him to my thighs.  “Give me your head and I’ll give you  mine.” I fell too far too fast into our garden of lust. I am too far inside my head; far too comfortable hunting in his bed.  We rolled from the blanket of stars to  the  earths bed; our limbs and digits  intwined; our members continue to  collide. My mind that  volatile  complexity; drags me back to my lovers bedpost. He is the craving destroying me  that I  seek out...

I have an addiction. These are written accounts of my experiences with the paraphernalia. Love; Lust; Limerence and Sex are my drugs. My addiction is so intense that I don't look for the fix. I look for the scores and overindulge in them till they don't get me high no more.  Men are no more than razors; needles; spoons; lighters and torniquets. To help the addict get a mind dulling hit. They are my choices; my preferences and my acquired taste. I choose to love them all; but that can stop and any of them can be replaced. Love is the best drug; in its pure form its feels like the most exhilarating delirium. Being intoxicated by scent; sight; touch; sound. Being inebriated beyond belief yet wanting more. Takes me from nun to nymph; from nymph to mania.  Love is my favorite drug. I'm an addict so ultimately I just need to get high. When I do lust will get me by. Lust is a rush; you can take hit after hit  and never get enough. Like you have to pinch your nose and tilt back y...