(X-rated) April 5 2023, Buck Creek to The Haven Hostel
(Hostel and people’s names have been changed):
My pussy grew super wet from brushing my ass up against Voodoo’s morning wood. He greeted my desire by slipping my leggings off and sliding himself in—slowly and deeply filling me with his girth as I fully awoke to the sound of my own moans.
Shortly after, he pulled his lubricated cock from out of my pussy and came all over my ass. I scooped off as much as I could and ate it up for some early morning protein. Then, he helped me get dressed—his cum stains soaking into the fabric. He knew me well. I didn’t even have to tell him what I wanted. When he stood up, I could see the cum stains from when I rubbed myself on him and it turned me on to see my mark.
Voodoo really wanted a hot breakfast and to take a shit in a real toilet, so we packed up and got a ride into town by Crazy Horse. He dropped us off at Subway and we got some breakfast sandwiches and cookies. Feeling my arousal grow, I stared at Voodoo as we sat across from each other. There was this careless elegance about him that carried so much sex appeal.
“I wanna play,” I flirted.
Secretly under the table, I traced my fingertips on his inner thigh and told him how much I was thinking about his tongue on my pussy. He blushed and told me to stop because he was getting a boner.
“I wanna feel,” I said excitedly.
He scooted closer as I grabbed hold of his bulge—his cock throbbed steadily in my needy hand. My eyes grew big as I moaned pleadingly. I leaned my body over the table, pulling him close—desperate to feel his tongue against mine. We gave the employees a little show as he tongue fucked me.
“We should go fuck in the bathroom,” he voiced.
I smiled and said, “I agree.”
“No, that would be so dirty of you,” he retracted.
So cute, I thought, he hasn’t even seen the extent of how dirty I would like to get.
I stood up and walked into the bathroom. He knocked on the door as I was in the middle of playing with my pussy—just about to put my fingers in my mouth to taste myself.
He knocked again… I rolled my eyes and opened the door. I got down on my knees and started to blow him while he watched me in the mirror. I only gave him a little tease—felt I’d rather build up the energy throughout the day.
When we finished eating, Crazy Horse dropped us back at the trailhead to continue north. We took a road walk detour so we could stop at the Haven Hostel to fill up on water. Immediately, we fell in love with the place. The energy felt so welcoming—the owners, Susie and Greg, were so hospitable, nearly begging us to stay.
They said, “We’re going to be making hot dogs tonight!!”
The temptation was strong, so we stuck around for a moment. Voodoo played a guitar—my pussy ached for him as I watched his fingers guide the chords. I loved how he kept revealing different talents… giving me more and more insights into his soul… I was falling for him.
We paid for a shower and Voodoo suggested we should fuck in there, but I wanted him as dirty and filthy as he would let me have him.
“It’s a turn off being clean,” I said.
He smiled and joked, “How about we turn on the shower and just fuck right beside it?”
We went in the bathroom… I dropped his pants and started slobbering all over his cock, using both of my hands in a rotating motion to jerk him off.
I looked up at him and told him how turned on I felt feeling his cock growing in my mouth. I made love with his genitalia as I french kissed his piss hole—so inviting and warm, gifting me a trickle of his sweet pre-cum. My mouth grew wet from his intoxicating taste.
I said, “Fuck, I love going down on you.”
He pushed his cock further down my throat as I watched in the mirror.
I came up to kiss him and he backed away slightly. Figuring he didn’t want to taste himself, I asked, “What, you’re not gonna kiss me?”
He looked at me aggressively, then grabbed me by the neck and pushed me against the mirror. As I slammed into it, he stuck his tongue down my throat. I loved when I got what I wanted—spoiled brat at my finest.
Then, he propped me up on the sink and gave me his rod—what I so desperately longed for. My favorite feeling in the world—a hard cock sliding into my inner world. Often times, I would tilt my head and close my eyes from an overload sensation of pleasure.
But this time, Voodoo grabbed my face and said, “Look at me. I won’t tolerate you not looking into my eyes.”
He thrusted balls deep and insisted, “I want you to know who’s fucking you.”
It was right in that moment I knew I would forever be hooked on eye contact during sex. He didn’t let me take my eyes off him for a split second.
My ass rested on the sink as the wooden shelf penetrated into my spine… the tin walls inverted back and forth as we pushed our hands into them for balance. I moaned when he spat on my face just the way I loved—disrespectfully. We were absolutely filthy—covered in dirt and musky sweat from the trail—I swore, those pheromones got me on a different kind of high.
He lifted me up in his arms and started fucking me as he had my ass cheeks spread open. God, I felt like I could fuck him forever and ever… his cock… my haven… where he came to temporarily fuck the promiscuity out of me.
When he saw I was on the brink of pleasure, he made me get on my knees so he could cum all over my face. My tongue ready for his sperm… he shot his load all over my face, hair and glasses. I watched him watching me, addicted to the way he looked when he came for me.
Then, we showered as we soaked in our afterglow, all smiles and lovey gushy feels. We wrapped our towels around our bodies and sat on the couch for a minute. Voodoo pulled out the map to do some math for how many miles we “had” to do. It felt as if we were getting vortexed and we couldn’t decide on what we wanted to apparently do: stay or go. Then I remembered, Oh yeah, let me ask Spirit.
I tuned into what felt good to me.
I said, “Babe, what feels lighter for you? To stay or go?”
He looked at the map again and started calculating the miles in his head.
I gently pushed the map aside and said, “No, without calculating or planning. What feels lighter?”
“To stay,” he responded.
“Me, too,” I said with a smile, “so let’s stay.”
We celebrated and told the owners we planned on staying there—they were ecstatic! It was obvious they really just wanted hikers to have a space to relax, even if they didn’t spend the night. It was nice to feel so loved and wanted.
They weren’t there to rip hikers off and even commented, “We really don’t make anything by doing this. We just wanted to make a space where we could help out hikers along the way.”
A lot of the places on the AT felt like they were using hikers for money. After I spent $65 for a short ride in a Prius, I got really turned off to ever getting a shuttle again. The worst was when shuttle drivers labeled themselves as trail angels. This trail felt much more money-grabby in comparison to the other trails. It reminded me that I would much rather hitchhike and meet people along the way. There was no point in hurrying anyways because we weren’t actually going anywhere.
It also seemed most people were not open to hitchhiking, perhaps because it was their first thru. On the other trails, you bet your ass you’d hitch, for that was the only way you could get to town—or starve. Most of the time, there was no cell service. And to be honest, I didn’t even recall any paid service that was even offered on the other trails.
Anyways, Susie traded a macramé piece with me for a place to stay. Then, Voodoo and I took our clothes off to get our laundry together. I started playfully teasing him as he was trying to find some loner clothes. He picked me up, threw me onto the bed and started kissing me—knowing damn well I was a little princess who wanted the attention.
We started getting frisky, I got all ticklish and started laughing out loud. I wasn’t able to focus so he threw me onto his back and spun me around in circles.
He burst, “Okay, let me try to do a push-up!”
He got on the floor and pushed down, then let out a loud groan as he attempted to push back up. We thumped to the floor and busted out laughing.
“I can’t do it, you’re too squirrely,” he justified.
Mm, it felt so good to have the whole place to ourselves. We laughed so much, made ourselves a pot of coffee, ate Nutella on tortillas and french kissed every couple of minutes.
He said, “I love that you don’t hold back your laughter from me,” then stared at me as though he was falling in love and said, “You’re so beautiful.”
He put on the movie Forrest Gump; I felt more inspired to write, so I half-ass watched it. I just couldn’t focus when Voodoo’s sexy self was so close to me—my cunt began to crave him again.
I kept looking over at him, wondering if he would let me feel his lips again… fantasizing about his erotic eyes locking with mine. I felt like I wanted him so badly, I just couldn’t be a good girl and sit still. I started touching myself, looking at his masculine-featured face and lean body to help get me off. He paused the movie and asked what my problem was. I smiled guiltily.
Then, he pushed me into the couch and started kissing me while I continued to finger myself. He put me into the spooning position, placed a blanket over us and started to engage physically with me. He grabbed hold of my hips as he thrusted that addictive cock into me. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter the deeper he went. We were going hard in the heat of the moment and, with the blood coursing through my veins, I felt a wave rush over my body in anticipation of my climax.
Suddenly, Susie opened the door and announced, “Just wanted to tell you guys the hot dogs are almost ready!”
Startled, Voodoo and I—covered in sweat—jumped and all I could think to respond was, “Sorry, we were watching a movie.”
The movie was paused.
She says, “Oh, okay. Are ya’ll alright?” I turned beet red and started laughing hysterically because I knew his cock was inside of me the whole time she was talking. It could not have been more obvious what we were doing. The laughter became uncontrollable; my face wet with tears. I just found the whole situation beyond hilarious. It was so difficult for us to simply behave just ONCE in a hostel.
When she left, we took it to the bed and finished off as I rode him till I squirted my juices all over him. He came in my mouth, then proceeded to start telling me a story of how one time he was eating out a girl—I cut him off as I felt a surge of annoyance come over me. I had voiced a boundary to him numerous times that I didn’t like hearing about other women—ESPECIALLY seconds after we had sex.
Regardless if I was seeing someone romantically or just having sex with them, it was a massive turn off to hear about other women. Even in a roleplay setting, I got off on being the only one. I often felt I would be great in a cuckold situation where I would get off on having my dude watching me get fucked by multiple guys.
The journey of sexual exploration was about owning what I liked and what boundaries I apparently had, even if they seemed off-putting to those around me. My apparent kinks have often tested me, just as they have tested people in my experience. But, it wasn’t up to me to have to explain myself—I just wanted to feel accepted, despite what I appeared like on the surface. I wasn’t open to being ridiculed or shamed for something that was out of my control.
Voodoo was in the other room while I was in the kitchen. He started making jabs and teased, “Freyyyjjja, are you jealous? Why are you so jealous, Freyja?”
He came to my face to rile me up some more, not picking up on my vibe. He lifted my chin to connect my eyes with his. I forced my gaze away from him and started crying silently. His face changed to match mine and he started tearing up. He didn’t know how to handle it—said he could see it in my eyes that he was scaring me away.
I re-explained to him why I wasn’t comfortable with comments like that, how it invoked a trauma-like response. I apologized for being so emotional, which I quickly realized that wasn’t something I had to be sorry for.
He voiced, “I love that I’m actually seeing your emotions rather than you being some cold hearted whore who just liked to fuck around. It wouldn’t feel so good to know that.”
But still, he didn’t understand why I was getting upset and I said, “I don’t understand either. Sometimes, I get caught up and start taking the feelings to be real.”
He teased, “I like when you get jealous.”
“That’s not a healthy character trait,” I said.
But, I knew what he meant. I often enjoyed when men got jealous, too. I knew I was getting the same experiences I put out—playing with fire was part of the game.
I apologized for acting crazy and, once again, immediately noticed the pattern of feeling guilty/unworthy of the desire to have my needs met. I took it back in my own mind.
He started making jokes saying that all women were crazy. I truly didn’t think women were crazy—I actually felt most men just couldn’t handle the emotional waves of a woman, so it was easier to say she was crazy instead of admitting he didn’t know how to lead her into her radiance.
He asked me to be more open and talk because he felt he didn’t know me, yet the second I spoke he would get really defensive which caused me to go quiet again. When he tried to repeat anything I said, my words became completely twisted and backwards—crazy how people’s minds interpreted words. I felt he was still childish in his way of dealing with things so there wasn’t much I could work with, or more-so, I didn’t have the acquired patience to work with it.
I communicated to him that I felt a lot of red flags were coming up—that the sex was up to par, but emotionally, it felt really off. It’s as though we would only come alive when his cock was inside of me—the connection would be strong and vibrant. Yet, anytime we stopped, there lacked to be anything.
He said, “I don’t want to be another bad habit in your life.”
The way I viewed it was as simple as asking myself, Is this the kind of relationship I want to partake in for an extended period of time?Because, all in all, I was really picky for who I let into my energetic space for an extended period of time. I could count my closest friends on one hand—so few who knew only the outer depths of my mind.
He asked, “So, if you are experiencing emotional pain through me, then why are you tolerating it?”
Because I love the sex, I thought.
But then I sunk into it deeper. He really made me step back—what a gift to receive such a contemplative question.
I remembered, Oh yeah, I don’t actually have to put up with anything that doesn’t serve my highest needs.
Yet, the inspiration guided me to stick around. There seemed to be more lessons I had to learn. The energy calmed and we moved back into a space of childlike connection. We ended the night by devouring 12 hot dogs, a basket of onion rings and tater tots. I rested my head on his shoulder, my heart longing to feel something more than the physical.
(Hostel and people’s names have been changed):
My pussy grew super wet from brushing my ass up against Voodoo’s morning wood. He greeted my desire by slipping my leggings off and sliding himself in—slowly and deeply filling me with his girth as I fully awoke to the sound of my own moans.
Shortly after, he pulled his lubricated cock from out of my pussy and came all over my ass. I scooped off as much as I could and ate it up for some early morning protein. Then, he helped me get dressed—his cum stains soaking into the fabric. He knew me well. I didn’t even have to tell him what I wanted. When he stood up, I could see the cum stains from when I rubbed myself on him and it turned me on to see my mark.
Voodoo really wanted a hot breakfast and to take a shit in a real toilet, so we packed up and got a ride into town by Crazy Horse. He dropped us off at Subway and we got some breakfast sandwiches and cookies. Feeling my arousal grow, I stared at Voodoo as we sat across from each other. There was this careless elegance about him that carried so much sex appeal.
“I wanna play,” I flirted.
Secretly under the table, I traced my fingertips on his inner thigh and told him how much I was thinking about his tongue on my pussy. He blushed and told me to stop because he was getting a boner.
“I wanna feel,” I said excitedly.
He scooted closer as I grabbed hold of his bulge—his cock throbbed steadily in my needy hand. My eyes grew big as I moaned pleadingly. I leaned my body over the table, pulling him close—desperate to feel his tongue against mine. We gave the employees a little show as he tongue fucked me.
“We should go fuck in the bathroom,” he voiced.
I smiled and said, “I agree.”
“No, that would be so dirty of you,” he retracted.
So cute, I thought, he hasn’t even seen the extent of how dirty I would like to get.
I stood up and walked into the bathroom. He knocked on the door as I was in the middle of playing with my pussy—just about to put my fingers in my mouth to taste myself.
He knocked again… I rolled my eyes and opened the door. I got down on my knees and started to blow him while he watched me in the mirror. I only gave him a little tease—felt I’d rather build up the energy throughout the day.
When we finished eating, Crazy Horse dropped us back at the trailhead to continue north. We took a road walk detour so we could stop at the Haven Hostel to fill up on water. Immediately, we fell in love with the place. The energy felt so welcoming—the owners, Susie and Greg, were so hospitable, nearly begging us to stay.
They said, “We’re going to be making hot dogs tonight!!”
The temptation was strong, so we stuck around for a moment. Voodoo played a guitar—my pussy ached for him as I watched his fingers guide the chords. I loved how he kept revealing different talents… giving me more and more insights into his soul… I was falling for him.
We paid for a shower and Voodoo suggested we should fuck in there, but I wanted him as dirty and filthy as he would let me have him.
“It’s a turn off being clean,” I said.
He smiled and joked, “How about we turn on the shower and just fuck right beside it?”
We went in the bathroom… I dropped his pants and started slobbering all over his cock, using both of my hands in a rotating motion to jerk him off.
I looked up at him and told him how turned on I felt feeling his cock growing in my mouth. I made love with his genitalia as I french kissed his piss hole—so inviting and warm, gifting me a trickle of his sweet pre-cum. My mouth grew wet from his intoxicating taste.
I said, “Fuck, I love going down on you.”
He pushed his cock further down my throat as I watched in the mirror.
I came up to kiss him and he backed away slightly. Figuring he didn’t want to taste himself, I asked, “What, you’re not gonna kiss me?”
He looked at me aggressively, then grabbed me by the neck and pushed me against the mirror. As I slammed into it, he stuck his tongue down my throat. I loved when I got what I wanted—spoiled brat at my finest.
Then, he propped me up on the sink and gave me his rod—what I so desperately longed for. My favorite feeling in the world—a hard cock sliding into my inner world. Often times, I would tilt my head and close my eyes from an overload sensation of pleasure.
But this time, Voodoo grabbed my face and said, “Look at me. I won’t tolerate you not looking into my eyes.”
He thrusted balls deep and insisted, “I want you to know who’s fucking you.”
It was right in that moment I knew I would forever be hooked on eye contact during sex. He didn’t let me take my eyes off him for a split second.
My ass rested on the sink as the wooden shelf penetrated into my spine… the tin walls inverted back and forth as we pushed our hands into them for balance. I moaned when he spat on my face just the way I loved—disrespectfully. We were absolutely filthy—covered in dirt and musky sweat from the trail—I swore, those pheromones got me on a different kind of high.
He lifted me up in his arms and started fucking me as he had my ass cheeks spread open. God, I felt like I could fuck him forever and ever… his cock… my haven… where he came to temporarily fuck the promiscuity out of me.
When he saw I was on the brink of pleasure, he made me get on my knees so he could cum all over my face. My tongue ready for his sperm… he shot his load all over my face, hair and glasses. I watched him watching me, addicted to the way he looked when he came for me.
Then, we showered as we soaked in our afterglow, all smiles and lovey gushy feels. We wrapped our towels around our bodies and sat on the couch for a minute. Voodoo pulled out the map to do some math for how many miles we “had” to do. It felt as if we were getting vortexed and we couldn’t decide on what we wanted to apparently do: stay or go. Then I remembered, Oh yeah, let me ask Spirit.
I tuned into what felt good to me.
I said, “Babe, what feels lighter for you? To stay or go?”
He looked at the map again and started calculating the miles in his head.
I gently pushed the map aside and said, “No, without calculating or planning. What feels lighter?”
“To stay,” he responded.
“Me, too,” I said with a smile, “so let’s stay.”
We celebrated and told the owners we planned on staying there—they were ecstatic! It was obvious they really just wanted hikers to have a space to relax, even if they didn’t spend the night. It was nice to feel so loved and wanted.
They weren’t there to rip hikers off and even commented, “We really don’t make anything by doing this. We just wanted to make a space where we could help out hikers along the way.”
A lot of the places on the AT felt like they were using hikers for money. After I spent $65 for a short ride in a Prius, I got really turned off to ever getting a shuttle again. The worst was when shuttle drivers labeled themselves as trail angels. This trail felt much more money-grabby in comparison to the other trails. It reminded me that I would much rather hitchhike and meet people along the way. There was no point in hurrying anyways because we weren’t actually going anywhere.
It also seemed most people were not open to hitchhiking, perhaps because it was their first thru. On the other trails, you bet your ass you’d hitch, for that was the only way you could get to town—or starve. Most of the time, there was no cell service. And to be honest, I didn’t even recall any paid service that was even offered on the other trails.
Anyways, Susie traded a macramé piece with me for a place to stay. Then, Voodoo and I took our clothes off to get our laundry together. I started playfully teasing him as he was trying to find some loner clothes. He picked me up, threw me onto the bed and started kissing me—knowing damn well I was a little princess who wanted the attention.
We started getting frisky, I got all ticklish and started laughing out loud. I wasn’t able to focus so he threw me onto his back and spun me around in circles.
He burst, “Okay, let me try to do a push-up!”
He got on the floor and pushed down, then let out a loud groan as he attempted to push back up. We thumped to the floor and busted out laughing.
“I can’t do it, you’re too squirrely,” he justified.
Mm, it felt so good to have the whole place to ourselves. We laughed so much, made ourselves a pot of coffee, ate Nutella on tortillas and french kissed every couple of minutes.
He said, “I love that you don’t hold back your laughter from me,” then stared at me as though he was falling in love and said, “You’re so beautiful.”
He put on the movie Forrest Gump; I felt more inspired to write, so I half-ass watched it. I just couldn’t focus when Voodoo’s sexy self was so close to me—my cunt began to crave him again.
I kept looking over at him, wondering if he would let me feel his lips again… fantasizing about his erotic eyes locking with mine. I felt like I wanted him so badly, I just couldn’t be a good girl and sit still. I started touching myself, looking at his masculine-featured face and lean body to help get me off. He paused the movie and asked what my problem was. I smiled guiltily.
Then, he pushed me into the couch and started kissing me while I continued to finger myself. He put me into the spooning position, placed a blanket over us and started to engage physically with me. He grabbed hold of my hips as he thrusted that addictive cock into me. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter the deeper he went. We were going hard in the heat of the moment and, with the blood coursing through my veins, I felt a wave rush over my body in anticipation of my climax.
Suddenly, Susie opened the door and announced, “Just wanted to tell you guys the hot dogs are almost ready!”
Startled, Voodoo and I—covered in sweat—jumped and all I could think to respond was, “Sorry, we were watching a movie.”
The movie was paused.
She says, “Oh, okay. Are ya’ll alright?” I turned beet red and started laughing hysterically because I knew his cock was inside of me the whole time she was talking. It could not have been more obvious what we were doing. The laughter became uncontrollable; my face wet with tears. I just found the whole situation beyond hilarious. It was so difficult for us to simply behave just ONCE in a hostel.
When she left, we took it to the bed and finished off as I rode him till I squirted my juices all over him. He came in my mouth, then proceeded to start telling me a story of how one time he was eating out a girl—I cut him off as I felt a surge of annoyance come over me. I had voiced a boundary to him numerous times that I didn’t like hearing about other women—ESPECIALLY seconds after we had sex.
Regardless if I was seeing someone romantically or just having sex with them, it was a massive turn off to hear about other women. Even in a roleplay setting, I got off on being the only one. I often felt I would be great in a cuckold situation where I would get off on having my dude watching me get fucked by multiple guys.
The journey of sexual exploration was about owning what I liked and what boundaries I apparently had, even if they seemed off-putting to those around me. My apparent kinks have often tested me, just as they have tested people in my experience. But, it wasn’t up to me to have to explain myself—I just wanted to feel accepted, despite what I appeared like on the surface. I wasn’t open to being ridiculed or shamed for something that was out of my control.
Voodoo was in the other room while I was in the kitchen. He started making jabs and teased, “Freyyyjjja, are you jealous? Why are you so jealous, Freyja?”
He came to my face to rile me up some more, not picking up on my vibe. He lifted my chin to connect my eyes with his. I forced my gaze away from him and started crying silently. His face changed to match mine and he started tearing up. He didn’t know how to handle it—said he could see it in my eyes that he was scaring me away.
I re-explained to him why I wasn’t comfortable with comments like that, how it invoked a trauma-like response. I apologized for being so emotional, which I quickly realized that wasn’t something I had to be sorry for.
He voiced, “I love that I’m actually seeing your emotions rather than you being some cold hearted whore who just liked to fuck around. It wouldn’t feel so good to know that.”
But still, he didn’t understand why I was getting upset and I said, “I don’t understand either. Sometimes, I get caught up and start taking the feelings to be real.”
He teased, “I like when you get jealous.”
“That’s not a healthy character trait,” I said.
But, I knew what he meant. I often enjoyed when men got jealous, too. I knew I was getting the same experiences I put out—playing with fire was part of the game.
I apologized for acting crazy and, once again, immediately noticed the pattern of feeling guilty/unworthy of the desire to have my needs met. I took it back in my own mind.
He started making jokes saying that all women were crazy. I truly didn’t think women were crazy—I actually felt most men just couldn’t handle the emotional waves of a woman, so it was easier to say she was crazy instead of admitting he didn’t know how to lead her into her radiance.
He asked me to be more open and talk because he felt he didn’t know me, yet the second I spoke he would get really defensive which caused me to go quiet again. When he tried to repeat anything I said, my words became completely twisted and backwards—crazy how people’s minds interpreted words. I felt he was still childish in his way of dealing with things so there wasn’t much I could work with, or more-so, I didn’t have the acquired patience to work with it.
I communicated to him that I felt a lot of red flags were coming up—that the sex was up to par, but emotionally, it felt really off. It’s as though we would only come alive when his cock was inside of me—the connection would be strong and vibrant. Yet, anytime we stopped, there lacked to be anything.
He said, “I don’t want to be another bad habit in your life.”
The way I viewed it was as simple as asking myself, Is this the kind of relationship I want to partake in for an extended period of time?Because, all in all, I was really picky for who I let into my energetic space for an extended period of time. I could count my closest friends on one hand—so few who knew only the outer depths of my mind.
He asked, “So, if you are experiencing emotional pain through me, then why are you tolerating it?”
Because I love the sex, I thought.
But then I sunk into it deeper. He really made me step back—what a gift to receive such a contemplative question.
I remembered, Oh yeah, I don’t actually have to put up with anything that doesn’t serve my highest needs.
Yet, the inspiration guided me to stick around. There seemed to be more lessons I had to learn. The energy calmed and we moved back into a space of childlike connection. We ended the night by devouring 12 hot dogs, a basket of onion rings and tater tots. I rested my head on his shoulder, my heart longing to feel something more than the physical.
