I try a homeopathic remedy.

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Tea with ginger and cayenne among other things, a nice hot bath, and Dexter streaming away on top of the toilet.

Breathing a little easier, though I still sound like a hoarse bullfrog.

Hopefully I can beat whatever this is on my own.

I stand naked before you.

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Both literally and figuratively.

As always.

 

 

Sinful Sunday
Click to see who else is being sinful!

I take a bath. Naked, naturally.

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I woke in a sweat sometime before dawn today, my heart pounding. I fought to figure out why, then my dream came crashing down on me.

The Neighbor had been lying to me for months. He had been weasling his way into women’s lives and pussies for months and I was a royal fool. He’d rather lie to me than trust me enough to say, “Hy, I’d like to move on and date other women.”

The bitter taste of heartbreak, mistrust, and betrayal has not left my nervous system, obviously. I try to wash it away with his semen, but it lingers like orange juice after toothpaste.

Never mind that he texted me last night as I was about to leave my friends and their warm smiles to say he had something to show me.

His strange request to text him when I got home became a twisted, deviant maneuver in my dream designed to hide the woman he’d had over earlier.

Before he met me at the end of the hall, a light in his eyes as he spied me in my dress, before he kissed me hello, before we peeled off our clothes and together cuddled under my down comforter, limbs intertwined.

My dreams are a manifestation of my waking fears, obviously. As I nuzzled and kissed his hard body last night — never breaking my promise to him to neither suck or fuck him — and in my warm-belly-inebrebriated state, I felt a vulnerable and tender loving for him coat me like mist.

I am so fucked. But I doubt any of you are surprised by this.

And so I soak tonight, alone, and told him I wanted to be solo tonight.

I also shared my dream with him, making certain it was the deceit that hurt so much.

His response was, “Uh, ok. Don’t forget to hold what Dream TN did against Real TN.”

I assureD him I’d never do that, but that telling Real TN always helped because he reminded me that Dream TN was a crazy person and, essentially, not true.

His acerbic response to all of it in general was, “Yeah, that sounds like me.”

I’m drowning again for this brief moment, pulled under by eddies hidden at the bend in the river. I hope to be stronger than this and get back out into the quiet pull of the center.

Go away, Hope. You’re fucking killing me.

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