My body aches for the kind of intimacy that doesn't leave bruises. Today I found myself remembering what it felt like to have someone worship my curves instead of grab them... to have a man's hands explore my body like it was something precious, not property. I miss the way a gentle tongue can make me tremble, not from fear, but from pleasure so intense I have to bite my lip to stay quiet. I still dream about being filled slowly, carefully... not taken roughly while I stare at the ceiling. My pussy still remembers what real connection feels like, even if my heart is trying to forget.