Highland Park arrived at 8 pm and left at 11 pm.
I can still smell him on my body, all around me, but especially on my arms.
I haven’t been held, touched, kissed, made love to, or fucked like that in years. I don’t know when I ever have. He is so tender and tough.
Don’t fall in love.
This can’t evolve into anything. Ever. Except what it is.
Which is what?
Just sex. Just. Sex.
Is it possible for me to keep my heart out of this equation.
I couldn’t have an orgasm, though, and that pissed me off. Here I was, with this fiercely sensual man loving up on every single inch of my body, and I COULD NOT COME.
And I know why.
Zoloft. That motherfucker. It makes having an orgasm really fucking hard. So hard that, in the past, I have wondered if I sprained my hand trying to get myself off; sweaty and exhausted from trying.
I am quitting Zoloft.
I want to feel all of it; the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Bring it on.