I want you to come in my cunt. I want to feel the twitches of your dick and the rush of liquid pouring out of it. And I really can feel it, you know. Hard. Especially when you’ve got a raging erection and plenty of spunk to give, the release as you pump it deep inside me is the most delicious feeling. I want you to come in my cunt. I want it so much that sometimes I’ll fake orgasms to make it happen.

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Intimidation is hard to distinguish from excitement, especially when the two so often come hand in hand. That look you shoot me which says ‘you’re in trouble’ can sometimes make the blood drain from my face, tricking me into thinking I’m afraid, before the flood converges in my beating crotch, reminding me that this only happens because I really really want it to.

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The biggest lie we’re told about love is that the start of it is actually The End. The trial and strife and struggle of your day-to-day smooths out into plain sailing when you’ve someone beside you. You’ve walked into the sunset, and you live there now. It’s warm and calm, like the end of a summer’s day. Both of you have made it and you’re safe. The other relationship myths I’ve been told pale in comparison to this one: that love is easy, once you’re in it.

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This week’s guest blog talks about a sensation I think I might have experienced. I have no solid memories of this happening, but when I read this guest blogger’s post I felt like I was brushing up against this sensation in my mind – like I’m straining to remember the detail of something which happened in a dream. It’s glorious. Please welcome Phoenix Rose, who is here to talk to you about sleepy subspace.

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