I've learned that when it comes to my relationships, I'm the problem. I'm the reason for the arguments. I don't understand. I don't listen. I don't care. I don't answer questions correctly. I won't change. I don't consider other's feelings. I don't make time. I don't plan dates. I don't cook for them. I don't cook well. I'm always in/on my phone. I'm always on my computer. I'm always on a social network. I don't talk to them. I isolate myself. I don't try to bond with their family/friends. I'm sneaky. I lie. I hide shit. I'm secretive. I'm sensitive. I'm argumentative. I LOVE to debate. I'm stuck up. I'm not humble. I'm childish. I'm not sexual. I'm cold. I'm not affectionate. I don't care about how I look. I'm not tidy. I'm wild. I don't make good choices. I'm emotional. I'm rebellious. I'm not wife material. I won't let anyone in. I don't know what goes on in their life. I cheat. I'm stupid. I'm a bitch... I'm too analytical. I'm like Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory. It's like I want everybody to know how smart I am. I like words. I like to manipulate words. I got things fucked up. I'm hard to talk to. I make conversations difficult... I'm petty. I ask too many unnecessary questions. I am aggressive in my speech. I am disrespectful. I'm passive aggressive... I'm immature
The memories of last nite when you joined me in the tub and how when you brushed me as you climbed in triggered something within. My juices got to flowing miraculously and uhh the way you felt inside me. The way my vagina hugged you never have you experienced this kinda warmth. Member how you cradled my hips as I rode The look in you eyes as you slip in and out... of consciousness. The music we made a lovely melody of "ohh baby you taste so sweet" as your tongue glide across my clit while you use it to write the alphabets my toes curled, my fingers grab your back, the sheets, your firm little ass cheeks the feeling of your love drippin on my skin I take u in and devour so many positions our bodies intertwine on the couch, on the floor, on the kitchen counter, against the front door… "Baby, don't stop… more, more… deeper I wanna feel u in my lungs… faster" You go harder your stroke I'm speakin in tongues… "Whose is it?" "Baby it's yours...
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