One peace protest at a time, this blog slowly finds more and more new women ending their days knuckle deep in themselves all Touchy-Touchy, enveloped in a sweet bliss they all deserve after their hard long days at work or mothering or both or something else.
We all put up with shit – we all deserve a little bliss.
Word porn is the language we speak.
Men tend to whack it to videos, and some ladies, more and more it seems, ease back and thumb down on this blog and get all drippy and tingly from the pictures I paint, with lexical artistry I work very hard to perfect.
But behind it all is man, like any other.
Hurting inside some days, smiling most. In search at my core of the same things most are: a pure existence of unfiltered Passion.
Relentless, non-stop, get the fuck over here so I can show you how I feel inside kind of Passion. Capital P.
Don’t fuck with me I am at my boiling point and I absolutely need to pull your hair, slap your pussy, grab your neck, pound your cervix, and make you cum so many times you think I am a fucking black magic warlock.
That kind of Passion. For eternity. No breaks. No days without it. Nonstop.
Yeah, that’ll do.