For me marriage has now become more of an servant relationship for me. Lately I’ve gotten much better at serving, I’m used to getting up earlier to make breakfast, take care of the home, I give excellent massage and oral sex has become a daily thing in my recent relationships. I know if I were to ever marry, the ring would symbolize not just a bond, but ownership. I’m not rushing to marry but if I ever do, I know I would be hers forever.
Long ago, in the days of the Internet surfing highway, there was a purity test with over 1000 questions. I found a copy of it. Posted for your viewing (or take the test) pleasure.
THE UNISEX PURITY TEST
If you thought the millenial purity test was bad, well you ain’t see
This is the 1500 point Purity Test!
We felt that the 1000 point version lost a lot of the “fun” of the
earlier versions, so we re-wrote it, adding a few new sections, and
a shitload of questions. This test is guaranteed to be nosier that
your parents, more invasive than the census, and containing something
to offend everybody.
Also included is an answer form so that you can remember where in the
test you were, or show to a friend.
Wicked Wednesday – Wave
I like the wave of his hair. Most men with long hair just don’t interest me. They let the hair get tangled, they don’t seem to wash it enough (or they just sweat too much). For some reason long haired men never turned me on. Or if one did, it would be about the rest of him, not his hair.
Jeff… I’ll just call him Jeff, has a thick, wavy head of hair. The front is a layer of bangs which tend to fall over his face. At the back it grows long, a little past his shoulders, soft and luxurious. In the wind his hair blows around his face. When he tips his chin up he looks like a lion with a proud mane.
I like to have Jeff chained to my bed in the morning. His arms resting along the top of the headboard, his wrists chained or tied to the bedposts. His head bowed down, hiding his expression.
If I look closer I will see him watching me. His eyes peer up through his bangs. Accusing, when I left him tied up while I enjoyed a nice Sunday morning breakfast and coffee, without him. Pouting, when he thought I’d been too mean the night before. Best of all, is the slow burn of his smile when he is hoping for more. Of course, I don’t see his smile. It’s there in his eyes, the seductive twinkle. Looking up at me, through that wavy mane of his hair. I know he’s just pretending to be patient, waiting, lurking, tied up in my bed.