For the newly initiated, kink without sex is a puzzle—an unfinished script, a question mark. They were never married.
Two altars I knelt before for entirely different reasons.
Add in primal and it becomes even harder to explain.
How do you tell someone who equates touch with sex that the growl, the chase, the grip, the pin—
aren’t preludes to fucking,
What if the climax was never the goal?
To be mentally and physically ignited
while knowing—with full, delicious certainty—
that it will not end in sex
It frees me to fall deeper into instinct,
to writhe without destination,
to let go
and let the creature inside howl.
It simplifies the exchange.
No finish line. No expectations.
Just sensation. Just presence. Just the blood humming under skin.
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