I’m using you and your fake fucking tits all fucking night!
Yapacak bir şeyin yok zevk almaya ve bana zevk vermeye bak!
I’ve never really been much a of service girl. Yes, I want to be good and approved of, I want to do a good job and excel, but the service is not really the heart of the matter for me like it is for many. My motivations are too convoluted and tangled to communicate effectively, even to myself. I’m not sure what compels me, the why. I only know that it is there and refuses to be shut away.
I’m always jealous of the ones that understand the service piece. Since I’m a harsh critic of myself, I naturally presume this is better. More desirable, more rewarding, more peaceful, more altruistic. I’d brought this up recently, stating that I knew it was better, but was told it wasn’t better… just different.
I’d like to believe that. Even if I don’t quite buy it. But maybe, in the end, the underlying motivations don’t really matter. After all, I would assume the position above just the same. I would strive for perfect posture, to stay still, to not spill a drop, and to stay there for as long as required. Because that’s what he wants. And I won’t refuse.
My motivations are different, but the in the end, the results are the same.