I Can’t…

I know, I know…

You came hoping for the next chapter, which is locked between my ears, still.

I can’t write. I’m going to see Him in a few hours. It’s been 3 weeks since I last saw Him. Three. Fucking. Long. Weeks.

And when I see Him, it will be playtime!

Is it any wonder that I can’t compose more than a few words? I’m excited, and nervous, and happy, and lusty, and want to fall on my knees for Him, and want to kiss His beardy face, and…

…be beaten.

Be fucked half to death.

Be put against the Wall and tormented by His dastardly toys, and thrown on the bed and wildly fucked, and turned over His knee and spanked until I can’t bear it…

…and somehow still want more.

So you see, now, why I can’t? My head is too full of moving pictures of what could be–and of my deepest longing to see Him, touch Him, smell Him, taste Him.

I can’t…and I’m sure you understand.

Love,

nilla the yearning slut…

(is it tomorrow yet?)

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