April 23, 2018:
I have to admit I really was hoping for sex.
She's the best kisser I've ever experienced. She's kink-friendly and tender and giving. Her skin is beautiful, her breasts are beautiful, her thighs are beautiful, especially when they're open and her breath is on my neck.
She's brilliant. Focused, determined, self-possessed. She's shy and charming. She curls like a cat, sleeps against me spooned and warm.
Tonight she's exhausted, under academic and emotional stress, high, drunk, psycho-chemically depleted in the aftermath of multiple drug experiences the last few days.
I'm beyond thrilled to see her. She's so important to me. I like her better than I've liked anyone in years. I'd build a future with her if only she'd consider it a possibility. In a few minutes I'll carry her to bed, we'll sleep wrapped in comforter and each other, it'll be sweet and tender and true.
And. I really was hoping for sex. I've spent the week fantasizing of various multiple ways I'd like to access her lovely lady parts.
Not tonight. That's totally fine. There'll be a tender night with a late morning. Tomorrow will bring what tomorrow will bring.