I sent Antonio an email today that included a bunch of information about my day, what I’m up to tomorrow (work in the morning, and picking up Mom from the airport in the afternoon) AND I sucked in my breath and then bashfully thanked him for his text messages today.  (I dunno why, it can be hard for me to talk about this kinda stuff.  I feel all shy and I blush like a total prude.)

I said in the email: Btw thanks for your text messages today. you had me thinking about the horrible, bitter, gag-inducing feeling and taste of drinking your hot piss. I hate the act. But I love the feeling of intimacy, humiliation, and your domination over me. It’s incredibly wonderful to feel your ownership and my status as property.

Everyone please note that I once again clarified that I hate the act of drinking piss.  I very clearly said I HATE IT. 

He replied to ONLY that portion of my email.  Wanna know what he said?  Oh, what’s that?  You DON’T want to know?  Well, that’s just too bad, innit!  He said:

Translation: You love drinking my piss, cunt.

Well then.

*ahem*

He says it – it must be. So I take it all back.  I’m officially giving up my position on hating the piss drinking.  Perhaps it’s not my business to HAVE a position on this anyway!  (Unless we’re counting “on my knees with my mouth open” as a position…Then of course, it’s entirely my business to have that position.)

I hereby declare that The Man is right, and I love it.  I love drinking his piss. 

*nods*

(I’m trying to write an entry and it’s well over 2,200 words at this point.  I really, REALLY need to shorten it but I have to head over to see my brother soon, so it won’t happen until tonight, if I’m lucky.)

In the meantime, have I mentioned I’m going to visit The Man at the end of the month?  I so am!

So, in that vein… In a great and time-honored tradition (aka, I did it one time because Lexi did it), I shall share my text messages from this morning about how he plans for this visit to go.  (I’m green, he’s white.  Only the last four matter, the one above was from last night so I know it’s cut off, but I promise it’s unimportant.)

He’s REALLY fucking awesome, isn’t he?  

Incidentally, the other day he told me to “quit pretending” I don’t like drinking piss. 

No matter how many times I explain that I hate it, loathe it, and want to spit it all over him and never ever ever do it again… And that my deep hatred is the very reason it makes me feel good… He never GETS it.  He seriously seems to think I’m pretending to hate it.  I suppose normal people don’t do things they truly hate in order to feel all owned and worthless and property-like, do they?  And between the two of us, Antonio is light-years closer to normal.  So perhaps that’s why it fails to register with him… 

Or, you know, it just hit me… Maybe he totally understands, and he just likes hearing me talk about how much I dislike drinking his piss.  Huh. Clever.