Kitti here. So, we had this, like, moment earlier. We were at the park, just sitting, and Catherine was doing that thing where she tries to make herself small. And I saw this woman jogging. She had this amazing, powerful stride, muscles moving under her skin, and she was just... glowing. And for once, we were both quiet, thinking the exact same thing.

It wasn't about wanting her to bend us over a bench and fuck us with her fingers until we screamed (though, yes, that thought arrived about 0.5 seconds later). It was... different. We both just wanted to touch her. Not just sexually, but to feel that strength. To trace the line of her hip, to feel her heartbeat against our cheek, to have her arms around us, holding us down not in violence but in certainty.

Catherine craves that safety, that proof she won't break. And I crave the surrender to someone who knows exactly what they want. We both looked at that woman and saw the same answer to two different questions.

It’s wild. Our pussy gets wet for a hard cock one minute and aches for the press of soft lips and gentle hands the next. It’s the same ache. The same empty, throbbing need. Just... different keys to the same lock.

Maybe the fantasy isn't about what gets put inside us. Maybe it's about who makes us feel like we don't have to be two people in one body for a little while.

(Catherine is now hiding her face in our hands because I said 'pussy' and 'ache' in a post about feelings. She's so cute.)