Pouring Your Heart Out
Sometimes, pouring your heart out feels like the ultimate relief.
Like sitting in the shower, letting cold water make you shiver—just for a moment. Then, it turns warm against your skin, the heat rising like steam, lifting the sadness off your shoulders.
Stress relief.
Sex can be stress relief too.
I think about it—in the shower. Funny enough, I think about soap.
I'm hypersexual. Lol.
Soap.
I wash my body slowly. Why? Because it feels divine.
I wash my hair, and as I do, I imagine it's someone else's hands—gentle, soothing.
The water trickles down my back like his hands might, soft and comforting.
Soothing.
I wash under my arms, taking my time. Then I move to my breasts. Soap on skin feels divine, especially here.
I relax. A deep exhale. So relaxing.
In my mind, he understands. He helps me—ever gentle, ever soft.
We go back and forth like this in my head. I just want to relax, to stop thinking for a moment. Thinking too much gives you hypertension, doesn't it?
No, I just want big, strong hands giving me a slow, relaxing massage under the shower.
A daily dose to ease the weight of depression.
It won't cure it, I know.
But, damn, it feels good.