I don’t know how you cunts do it.
In a way, you’re my life’s work, a puzzle I was built to ponder. I’ve spent years listening to you and analyzing your conflicted, constricted, and convoluted thoughts; you’re all such sad little knots, awaiting an Alexander to untangle you with the edge of a blade. I learn something new every time one of you comes apart for me.
But I’ll never truly, viscerally understand how you manage it, how you turn the sundering of your mystery and the exposition of your shame into abject, sobbing need. I suspect the answers will forever elude me.
Fortunately, a wet hole is its own special solace.
*Secretly wondering what it would be like to kneel and lick your shoes greedily* 😍
I’ve really missed you, ya little freak.
I’ve never been one to use my feet in a kink context. But since you were last here, I’ve kicked a Tumblr girl in the cunt, cut her off mid-sentence by smushing her stupid face with my foot, and, y’know… stepped on her throat a little. Haven’t made anyone lick my shoes, though.
With that said, I do have a new pair of Timberlands. And while the box didn’t say so explicitly, I think they’re slut-proof.
So hope springs eternal. 😁