Breast Budding Images

do not believe it, my brain is fucking again.
again. Goes haywire again.
I come here, I write four hookers, and in addition to doing good for me someone reads me well.
My brain is losing control again. Why
agrees with both, and it is not possible.
I was there, the cocks ready, with the brain occupied by the cock, her heart tuned to the brain. You said 'if you want to stop me, tell me now because I do not think after that I will succeed'. And I stopped. And it was all too good in his situation because I certainly would not be able to get that last solemn hesitation. It also was not his job to have, she is not busy.
I have. Have a commitment in recent weeks has been ... challenging, ah but laugh. It was not a pleasure. More than one respect a contract.
My brain is failing. I do not accept to be the bastard was going to fuck and fottersela. It is not me. I have always professed more: namely, that if you feel the need for another fuck, not fuck you because you excited humanly but fuck why not hold on and you do not ask the question, might as well jump ship, make it clear what is not go, instead of getting lost in the subterfuge and lies. I never thought of being in a situation that I thought I would be able to avoid.
not accept to be the the outside would judge an asshole.
Yet I feel I'm giving the party more alive than I have and I can not pull out, and not the sex, at least I think not.
feeling of being stuck in vain to save something that will die anyway, whether I like it or not, I go out to fight or not.
this morning thinking it was getting stronger, and that's why I woke up unable to breathe, unable to still the beating. Do not have to start all over again, I do not allow it. I will not stay caught up once again, unable to think clearly for a very long time before explode and go crazy.
I can not accept that the same person who knows how to pull beautiful things out (and I claim as the truest part of me!) will eventually make her a bad dog.
I can not think of having to start all over again in fifty years.
I accept the crap they provide and, in spite of her, save me. Otherwise, hide and I end up walking on it, ignoring it, and forgetting all that I know I have good side.
Why am I sick because I need an absurd amount of attention and affection that I miss since I was born, and I try so morbid, and if I am afraid to take.
Curse as I wanted to fuck her blind eyes.