The Reason Why You Never Made Me CUM....

I tried to tell you. I told you that I had to have it, well, different. Non-vanilla. I don't want pain, well not alot of it. Just a little.

You pulled my hair ONE TIME. Then you quit. Why? 

You slapped my ass on two different occasions. Then you quit. Why? 

You could kiss as if a demi-God sent upon this earth to tantalize by tongue and lips alone. I could lie in your kisses for hours. 

But I still wanted to lose myself in sex. 

You are an addict. Addicted to Molly, and heroin, and prescription pills that you snort to no end. 

I am addicted to sex. 

Yet a very unique kind of sex. 

Sex where I trust the person I'm with to take care of me. To make me feel just enough pain that I can relax and lose myself in the moment. Yet, not enough pain that the old familiar panic hits. 

You asked me why. 

Why could I only orgasm if it was rough, repetitive, and hard? 

Why would I only squirt like that, when I had so many times before been beaten and raped against my will? 

I could not answer you. 

Anymore than you could answer me as to why you couldn't stand to cause me even the slightest pain, despite my begging for it. Despite my wanting the full release of orgasm. 

You and I...... we both have been abused. She tortured you. He tortured me. Yet somehow we came out of it on opposite sides of the spectrum. 

You: soft, loving, gentle, romantic. 

Me: hardened, calloused, rough, practical. 

Did I ever tell you why I loved you so? 

You told me that you felt like I could look inside you, past the walls, and see the part of you that you kept hidden and locked away. 

That hidden part you kept locked away is why I loved you. 

Because you were as hideously broken, shattered and beautiful as I am.