i don't care to call this anything anymore. i am distancing myself from it. i am i and you are you.
we had sex, finally. you go too quickly, what's the rush? "i like these actually. white is good on you," you'd said. then later, "i can't get the image of you in those white underwear out of my head."
i was mean to you, perhaps meaner than usual, i texted you first, we carried on a casual conversation all day, you brought up that i'm mean. said you wanted to get me drunk, because i promise i'm sweeter when i am. more affectionate, that's for sure. but do you like affection? i want to wrestle with you beneath the sheets, next time. more tension. make you work for it. i want you tonight...but i'll wait. i'll make you wait. you said, "is it weird that the verbal abuse turns me on?"
i know why the verbal abuse turns you on. it's because handsome you, you're used to being given everything you want. you like the challenge, you like that i make fun of you. you want my standards to give you something to live up to, work towards. i don't give you the satisfaction, and you try to take it from me. you love to dominate me, throw me down, put your hands around my neck and pull my hair. slap my ass. i bite and scratch your skin, pull your hair. you take my hands away from me and hold them so i have no control. i said, "no, it's not weird. it works for our dynamic."
you said, "for once, i actually agree with you."
we have a dynamic, that's it. and you turn me on.