I had lunch yesterday with the Photographer.

I’m not so sure about him.

I felt really sad when I left the restaurant… I think my gut knows he’s not the one for me, although I enjoy his attention and it does feel good to be kissed.

He asked me to dinner again tomorrow night. I said yes.

I feel another wave of hormones hitting me now… those tiny twinges of longing that feel like warm-up orgasms… the goosebumps… the non-stop fantasies I have about being caressed and kissed over every inch of my body… the images of a strong man filling my bedroom with delicious, confident masculinity… the anticipation of the inevitable satisfaction that comes only during really great sex.

I want to be exhausted from it.

But I don’t think it’s going to happen with the Photographer.

Au suivant!

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