In general I don’t really like the terms whore or slut. They are widely used to demean women. We hold on to this belief that women should not be sexual creatures. I also find it insulting that there really isn’t a male equivalent term. The closest I can think of is “player” and that has a tone of admiration to it.
So why would I want to be your whore or your slut? For one, I like the acknowledgement that I enjoy and desire sex. Most of all, I think there is a perception that you don’t hold anything back with a whore. Darkest fantasies carried out and no judgment later.
I know you love me and respect me and you cherish me and treat me like a princess. I am happy and fulfilled. But I also need to know there is lust and desire, physical and mental urges, raw sexual energy that I spark in you as well. I want to fulfill those fantasies for you. I want to be the safe space for you to carry those out. It is just another step in the emotional intimacy journey.
How the hell did I not know about this?!?!
I could have been wearing my tiara to work all fucking week!
A Princess does too swear. So bite me.
Figuring out I am a little / babygirl was surprising and yet made total sense. As a teen I always felt mature for my age. I got married at 18 and we had kids right away. I was a responsible mother and wife and yet when I compared myself to my peers I never really felt grown up.
I think I suppressed a lot of things for no other reason that the feeling that I needed to. Today you may be able to tell depending on who you are.
At work you may see hints if you look around my desk. Lisa Frank calendar, colored pens, MLP water bottle. My actions though are quite reserved. I am not one of the ones listening to PSR at my desk. OMG how incredibly boring!
My extended family sees a bit more. With Daddy near by I am more comfortable. Wearing a tiara and a MLP shirt at my childs graduation party is seen as amusing. My sister likes to make comments about me being the older more “mature” one.
Home is where I get to be me. It’s where I spread my blanket out next to his chair and color and do art stuff. I show him each picture and he pats me on the head.
This weekend he said he needs to hear me call him Daddy because then he knows what frame of mind I’m in. He doesn’t mean like a little space he means that I am happy and ME. ❤️❤️❤️
*photo from pinterest
Tiggs I’m sorry that I made you sleep on the floor. Please don’t be mad at Daddy though, it was my doing. When things aren’t right between me and Daddy I have to put her away. I don’t know if I’m protecting her or punishing him. Probably both. I’m glad things are better and you are back where you belong. Snuggled between my breasts.
you words are like needles
my heart the pin cushion
D: You aren’t weird. You are unique. (I think that is a fine line. 😉 ) I don’t want you to be anyone but you.
me: How would you know it wasn’t me?
D: You weren’t you for years of our marriage. I only want you to be yourself.
me: Who else would I be? – said in a creepy whisper
“Please write about “Love”.”
So broad I had nowhere to go with this. I thought of doing an acronym. Things I love about you. I had lips, voice, and ears? elbows? and your ostrich but you don’t have an ostrich. OH can we get one? So that was going nowhere. All morning I had the tune of Love Will Keep Us Together in my head. Except that is the only line I know. “Love will keep us together. do do do do do do do…”
So I looked it up…
Just stop (stop, stop) cause I really love you (really love you)
Stop (stop, stop) I been thinkin´ of you (been thinkin´ of you)
Look in my heart and let love keep us together, whatever
I LOVE you Daddy!