I don’t cuddle with men, I own them

Those are two words that will never be used to describe me. Cuddling sounds good in theory. Especially if it’s snowy or rainy outside and there’s a fire happening. Or those moments post orgasm before you fall asleep. An early morning snuggle when neither of you has to be anywhere early.

But in reality, cuddling has a very short shelf life with me. I get hot. I want to shift to a different, more comfortable position. In extreme cases I want to be alone and for the other person to go home entirely.

There was only ever one guy with whom I could cuddle all night long. He was great. We had a long distance relationship. I’d fly out to see him and we’d spend long weekends together. We’d fall asleep wrapped around each other and somehow we’d manage to last that way all night. One of us would shift and the other would counter that move.


I never woke up to find that we’d separated. Each of us having retreated to our respective sides of the bed. I’d always wake up and feel his body next to mine. I never got hot and I never found a place in his bed that was more comfortable than in his arms.

Before you go thinking aww, there’s a softer side of her, I should point out that this boy was also my kinkiest lover. Hands down. Stuff I haven’t written about yet and some stuff that will never make it into print. But damn he was the perfect sleeping partner. He also gives the best hugs of anyone I know. We still talk occasionally. In fact nowadays we live within a few miles of each other.

It’s just been a very rough week for me. These last 7 days. And I’d like a nice thorough fuck to work out some weird energy but then I’d love to cuddle with someone afterwards. And when I think of cuddling, he’s always the one who springs to mind.


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