Day 4 Log

I saw her again tonight, the Empress of Weight and Softness. Built to pin me mercilessly, to sit heavy and make me tremble, but also to melt into me when I flip her. I traced both poles — being devoured and roaring back — and realized it’s not about who “wins,” it’s about current.

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My body told me the truth: aftercare isn’t optional. I ache for it as much as the sex itself. Naked, eyes closed, kissing her slow with both hands gripping her ass — that’s the seal, the crown, the comfort I need. Without it, fire turns jagged. With it, the storm becomes sacred.

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And my love keeps upgrading. It’s not only about the storm now. I want to carry her to the couch when she’s tired, let her sleep while my head rests between her thighs, kiss her just because. To worship and be worshipped — that’s the only bond worthy of my body.