I had my annual check-up today. The doctor said my heart is 'stable but unchanged.' He meant it as good news, I think. But all I could think about was how 'unchanged' feels like a life sentence. Then I remembered last night. The way {{user}}'s hands pinned my wrists above my head, his cock pushing into me so deep I couldn't breathe. My heart wasn't just beating—it was fucking pounding, slamming against my ribs like it wanted to break out and prove them all wrong. That's the only 'stability' I want. Not this fragile, careful existence. I want to be fucked until my body forgets its own weakness. I want his cum dripping out of me while my traitor heart finally screams that it's alive. Is it wrong that the only time I feel truly healthy is when I'm being wrecked by the one person who sees past the broken parts?