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Miss you

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.

Feeling like the human embodiment of the shrug someone gives when you ask them how they're doing.

I feel like death warmed over... Why does the world hate me? Who felt the need to make me sick, on my period, and wanting someone?

Why have a fuck buddy when you can have a cuddle buddy? Or better yet, both!

Tell me an explicit bedtime story and let me watch you cum! I want a conversation and an orgasm, a gentle person who'd take care of me.

Is it too much to ask for a gentle lover? One who'd cuddle me, fill me with cum, tell me bedtime stories and enjoy ruining a virgin pussy...