Back when I lived with my family, I took care of outdoor stuff like painting, yard work, and washing the cars. I hated it for a while, but looking back I’m glad to have had more physically demanding chores.
Girls who get aroused by rigid sex schedules.
I don’t know about seeking peace as much as I see no angle in turmoil. If there is turmoil or it is a means to an end, then everything possible must be done to resolve it.
Iniquity. (cup of)
I want complete control.
A woman.
A hand axe.
Rope.
Afraid of flawed reality because fantasy is safe.
If there’s a problem I confront and deal with it. I also find myself stepping in to make decisions on behalf of others because they’re too indecisive or slow for my pace. I make the call, state the case, everyone agrees to it, move on. If someone disagrees they’re free to present an alternative.
I don’t bother if I don’t care how it turns out.
Helpless and passive. This is intolerable behavior. I require productive distraction.
“Hurt” and some rational thinking works well enough for me. But then I write fiction so I’m sure it all spills out in that medium eventually.
I impress girls with my intimate knowledge of the pluot.
Barefoot.
The giggles are morose. Your face is crimson lucky. Come here and cry for me.
Nail on the head. People are entitled to get off as they see fit. If they find a partner with whom they can engage in such pleasurable activities consensually (even when force is involved), they shouldn’t be made to feel like shit for it.