Sometimes that desire is there to simply impale oneself on a penis. As though it will take away the shittiness of the day, or erase all those times one didn’t impale oneself. Those missed chances, they follow you around like a bad smell.
What about the man? Does there need to be a man attached? Yes, it’s helpful. Self-serve just isn’t the same, yet it seems to be all there is these days. That feels-like-real silicon cock is just a click away on Amazon – what’s more, they’ll even finance you.
There needs to be a man attached. But he needs to not have feelings. Or eyes. Hands are good, if he knows how to use them, and so many don’t. Like a woman is something to be tuned for clearer signal – hey, buddy, those are breasts, not dials. How about a blindfold? Because it’s the eyes, every time. He looks at you and, regardless of the color, regardless of how badly he’s using his hands, suddenly he’s a person. Emotional. Vulnerable. Fucking interesting.