I would be lying, if I didn’t say I ached.

I ache to be bent over a bed.

I ache to  be examined.

I ache to be spanked….

to feel a paddle on my ass….

to moan into a pillow….

to squirm and wiggle as Fred hits my ass.

I would be lying if I said no.

I would be lying if I said that my nipples didn’t miss feeling sore in my bra.

I would be lying if I said they didn’t ache

Ache to feel your fingers squeeze them

Or feel them being tugged

I ache to wiggle and whine and hope that the cane didn’t hit them..

They ache.

I would by lying if I didn’t say that my cunt misses you

that it  doesn’t miss your fingers

that it doesn’t miss spraying all over your bed

that it doesn’t miss the way you can play with it.

May ass misses you too….

but I’ll leave it at that….because well, I can’t even think about it right now because, well

it fucking misses you too.

It’s amazing to me sometimes to realize what rough play provides me.

To do anything but admit the truth, would be lying.

And, well…..lying just makes it worse for me.

It doesn’t miss it all less – it makes it worse.

And to say otherwise, well, it would be lying….

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