He comes to me
He fucks me – inventively and well.
But then he leaves.
This time, he took the time to take the cuffs off, to help me stow the rope.
But he still left.
I don’t know how to tell him that when you fuck someone like that – when you whisper in their ear that there will be no mercy, that you’re not to move – that it does things to their head – and that then just leaving isn’t ok.
At least hold my hand for a moment.
And I get it – he needs to drive home – it’s a long way and it’s a late night and all the other pragmatics…
But last night he left and I felt so empty.
Haven’t cried like that in a long time.
Boys are stupid.