Last night, talking with S, was just so very intimate. I knew he was naked, in bed, in the dark... so I undressed, and lay naked too, in the dark. It felt as if we were in the same room. As if it was the darkness, not the distance, that prevented us from seeing each other.
There is so much... I've always found it hard to believe that a person can repress memories, but I've seen much proof of it in my conversations with S - how his non judgemental attitude has made me open up completely, and release memories that have been hidden for 20 years or more.
I may share one such important memory on here one of these days, one that suddenly popped up a couple of days ago and has made me see some things about myself in a different light.
After those moments of intense sharing with S yesterday we imagined something, and it was hot... and we both came to it... and today we couldn't resist continuing the fantasy. I hadn't planned it but I was suddenly in the middle of, shall we call it an experiment. Which aroused me so that I had to make myself come directly afterwards. And now all sorts of props are scattered around me on the bed and I really, really should work.
And no, neither the fantasy nor the experiment were in any way related to the memory.
I feel like an open book. I know, not to you - I realize I'm being very secretive here. But to myself. As if I've just now found a book named "Johanna, the true story". Perhaps not of much interest to others, but to me - very.
There is so much... I've always found it hard to believe that a person can repress memories, but I've seen much proof of it in my conversations with S - how his non judgemental attitude has made me open up completely, and release memories that have been hidden for 20 years or more.
I may share one such important memory on here one of these days, one that suddenly popped up a couple of days ago and has made me see some things about myself in a different light.
After those moments of intense sharing with S yesterday we imagined something, and it was hot... and we both came to it... and today we couldn't resist continuing the fantasy. I hadn't planned it but I was suddenly in the middle of, shall we call it an experiment. Which aroused me so that I had to make myself come directly afterwards. And now all sorts of props are scattered around me on the bed and I really, really should work.
And no, neither the fantasy nor the experiment were in any way related to the memory.
I feel like an open book. I know, not to you - I realize I'm being very secretive here. But to myself. As if I've just now found a book named "Johanna, the true story". Perhaps not of much interest to others, but to me - very.
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