… a kink scene.
Not just any kink scene.
A beautifully violent kink scene. Where I can throw someone around. Slam them against walls with my hand around their neck. Kiss them passionately in a brief moment of tenderness and then throw them onto the floor to remind them where their place is for that moment.
Someone I can tie in the most intimate of ways, switching between aggressive control and fleeting glimpses of the connection rope can bring.
Someone who I can trust to trust me to take them to a hair width away from their limits, and not a step further.
Someone who will scream and moan and gasp and giggle as I take them on the ride of their life.
Then a time of aftercare where I can just hold them. A time where we can both just let go and revel as our bodies share the warmth and pleasure of screaming neurons and dumps of chemicals only our brains will produce and understand. A time when I can let them know the world is ok, and that is was all just a scene. A gentle dream that passed but was not forgotten.
I am craving a projection of myself and what I need.