You know, I am just so sick of talking about my wedding, planning my wedding, thinking about my wedding, conversing about my wedding that I just want to think about sweet things. Fluffy things. A bed of rose petals. My mink stole. My untouched breasts. My cashmere sweaters touching my untouched (except for by cashmere) breasts. My legs after I've just had them waxed.I could just fall back onto these marshmallows, the pink one in particular, my sinful steamy lust melting away in their sugary sweetness.
Indeed, William will expect for me to have sex with him on our wedding night. I don't want to think about that. The pressure. The uncompromising position he will undeniably put me in. Does he expect me to submit to him just like that, like I'm his piece of property? Does he expect me to let him put that hard monstrosity into the softest thing of all? Oh, I almost forgot, I need to schedule a bikini wax for the day before the wedding.
Back to relaxing thoughts. A bath with the lavendar bath oils. My feet after I've pumiced them raw, tiny red toenails freshly manicured. Will William want to suckle them, or perform some other sort of strange fetish rite?
Will he wish to have a ménage à trois after I've had a baby and gained weight, when I'd rather not let him see me naked? Will he fantasize about my kissing another woman while I'm making love to him? How coarse, he'll be. Will he want to do unspeakable and disgusting things to me, like place his mouth where God never intended it, forcing my hips down while he insists it is my wifely duty, my holy duty to accept the vile pleasure he so erroneously insists is mine. Will I come to enjoy his insults to my better sensibilities? Will I abandon my morals as he greases up his hard cock that has already well exhausted me, allowing him to ease it into unspeakable orifices while I am out of my mind, confused by Satan's lust that he might deliver me to Hell's gates, an unintending accomplice?
My fears are abounding and as my wedding looms, I need to focus on soft things, squishy things.
I think I'll go change the wedding flower order and re-arrange the dinner table seating again. That always cheers me up.
Thank you, Mr. Fluffington!
3 comments:
You've been thinking too much -- a dangerous thing for any American citizen!
They way to deal with what you fear is through alcohol. (And when you're older and can't handle the turps as well, that's why God gave us Valium.) It will let you submit as The Bible intended women to do.
And if you find that you've gotten wet and throbby and screamy when you're being made to do things that you know you shouldn't enjoy, you can blame the drink and drugs for that.
Just close your eyes and think of Palin.
That just comes way too easily.
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