Been reading a few Lit stories again, after a long, long absence. Two years, and I'm back to square one as far as my love life goes.
Again it's the Nonconsent/Reluctance stories that've really gotten me going. It's interesting that on my own I revert back to the wilder side of eroticism. I guess I've never been too comfortable with this abhorrent fetish of mine. Whenever I've dated a guy it's always been something I've- not tried to hide necessarily- just. Subconsciously suppressed, curating my own sexuality for a perceived mainstream.
I don't know where this is going. Just some self-indulgent rambling.
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