If I am fucking, I am full.
I’m lying here in a blissful stupor. I think to myself how wonderful it is to be satisfied in so many ways. I’m full. A few hours ago, I had a wonderful T-Bone steak and lobster dinner. Less than an hour ago, I had an outstanding session with the man who bought me that delicious T-Bone and lobster dinner. I don’t think anyone could ask for more than to be satisfied physically and mentally happy with their life.
Long ago, I figured out that if I wanted to have a great time during sex, hunger could not be part of the equation. Therefore, I decided that anytime I was giving up the coochie, then I was going to be full, and that has worked out very well for me.