Love letter to ball busting

[Nocturne]

To me, *** is one of the purest expressions of love. The trust to cause titillation but no harm. The mutual bond when you hold the power over someone's most sensitive sensations. Of course I can't simply forget that, let that go and let it disappear into the past. All of that confidence in one-another to engage in what might as well become mutual combat, knowing the other's reactions, knowing what keeps them safe. I miss the intimacy of having affection come through as suffering, whether that be the physical *** of ball busting or whether that be the tease of the lack thereof. Either way, begging will ensue, for *** or for mercy. And denial can be ever so fun. But if I had the chance now, to be in the right mind space, the right moment of complete trust, to deliver such ache, to see such reactions, I would snatch it without a second thought. To be given the gift of the most intense variety of ***, willingly, enthusiastically, is something I would love to have again, some day. 

[Nocturne]

I have yet more to express, inspired by the thoughts that I expressed about those activities when they were still something I engaged in.

The feeling of holding power is what fuels my desire to keep going, watching one submit, seeing their reactions. If there's anything more intimate than the *** that is shared, it's the moment when the *** swells and lessens as I hold them, the recovery serving as nothing but a preparation for the next hit, until it's time for aftercare. The juxtaposition between *** and comfort, tackling both in the same session, back and forth between the two. The trust for the *** to only happen when wanted, safely,  finally being able to feel truly excited about intimacy. Being challenged so you can prove yourself right, watching them realise and adore you even more. *** is so much more of an interesting sensation to explore, to me, than pleasure. 

These beautiful evenings have been some of the most emotionally intense things I have felt, especially in terms of positive feelings. I miss it, for none of the intimacy I've had has felt as beautiful to me as this exchange of love and ***. So at least I need to write it down, let go the idea of revisiting that place, move on, but still feel the beauty of it. I am used to moving on from things after I find out they are ugly, that the trust I gave was unwarranted, so it's a different journey to move on from something that to me still feels poetic and beautiful.