Daddywolfbb - Romantic Shit

I greeted him at the door on 4" heels, a high ponytail, and a satin apron.

He pushed me into my apartment with hungry kisses and desperate gropes.

I peeled back the layers of a long day at work: briefcase with a thud by the door and the friction of his belt through each belt loop. The buckle jingling as it fell to the floor.

He bent me over the table and thrust himself against my back and ass before unzipping and revealing his excitement to me. I ran the stiletto heel up his inseam while using the mental map of his body to guide my hands to revisit my treasure.

His mouth and hands raced to discover every spot that would make me gasp or moan. I cocked my head and squirmed in the shadow of his stature. The high ponytail danced against my skin.

He grasped my long brown tresses at the tip and recalled all the photos and videos in his wank bank of arched backs and bent necks.

He yanked so hard that he herniated C5-6. During the surgery for my artificial disc replacement, my surgeon found a bone shard 3mm from my spinal cord.

The man who whispered in my ear of how i was “marriage material” moved to Toronto 2 weeks after he damn near made me into a quadriplegic. He closed on a house the day of my surgery.

To this day, I jump when someone puts their hands near my head. My ears ring constantly. And every time I see one of you all post a photo of someone having their hair pulled, I think about all the pain one dumb, badly-executed move caused me.

1. Get consent. 2. Give warning. 3. Grab slowly and smoothly at the roots 4. Movement comes from the wrist (minimizes chance of injury to directional force) 5. If need be, let the person with the hair being pulled hold on to your wrist to either limit your movement or as a failsafe. 6. Over time develop trust with your partner to dial up neck extension, force, or speed.

All that and the fucker never even gave me a single orgasm.

🍑🎀

So very hot

“My mother used to tell me time would heal all wounds, but it’s been two years and I’m starting to think that maybe she only told me what she wanted me to believe. I mean the pain has dulled to a soft throb at the back of my head and most of the time I’m not really aware of it, but sometimes I jolt awake at night with your name on my lips and the ghost of your hand clasped in mine and at this point I don’t know if I’m going insane or if it’s become a habit of mine to count all of the ways I’ve been missing you. How your laughter filled every room. How you told your stories in a way that always felt like I belonged in them as much as you, only that I never did. How being held by you felt like home. My mother used to tell me time would heal all wounds, and at some point it might just do that. But I can’t erase a connection like ours. Even if so much time passes that I barely remember the exact colour of your eyes or the freckles on your nose, it can’t do everything that happened that made me want to keep a part of your memory alive.”

— time heals all wounds / n.j.

(via noosa-aussie-2, noosa-aussie-2, steelwingangels)

How I envision underwear sizing in the back of Victoria's Secret

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