so i’m watching a house re-run where house is at the cia. he says to another dr, “you know, i have a position available on my penis.”, and i was all ready to strip off my clothes and jump into the tv screaming, “i’ll accept that position, hell yeah! i’ve got an ‘ache’ that only you can cure.” then i ride him right there on the hospital bed, restarting his heart a couple of times until we’re both screaming in ecstasy cuz i’m just that fucking good. hoo-ah!
can i really be that fucking hard up? i must be cuz my fav vibrator and dildo are getting more frequest secret visits from me after dumb ass (a.k.a. the husband) has gone to sleep. granted, that’s not the most preferred option, but the member i would love to have a position on is not an option right now. the owner is not talking to me for some reason, and even if he was, the 1700 miles that separates us still poses a pretty significant problem.
looks like i’m still not gettin’ laid. crap.
Writing about captivity and my bouts with Stockholm Syndrome since 2008.