Perhaps I should confess. Sitting across from each woman – I am in silent prayer.
Please God, let it be that she is totally, utterly, completely consumed. By something. Anything. Okay, maybe not sugar or shopping. But let it be that this woman in front of me – this intelligent, put together, gorgeous woman finds herself on her knees tonight, crawling, reaching, yearning, aching and tormented by something she cannot outrun.
Let it be that someone or something reaches up through her pussy, her heart, into her mind and yanks down. Hard. A grip in the center of her soul that re-orients her – forces her to live every moment in relation to that thing. Let her flail against it, rage, ignore, withdraw, cry, pray, beg. And let it be that it remains unmoved and unmovable. Something entirely, for once out of the domain of her control. Let it please take her, trembling and if necessary, humiliated, out of control. View full article »

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