“I just wish I could be vanilla,” I choked out while staring at the pillow.
He brushed my hair from my face and reminded me, “You get off when we have vanilla sex all the time.”
“Babe,” I said quietly, “you don’t understand. Do you ever picture things when you are fucking me?”
“Well, I tell myself stories. The more vanilla we are being, the more I have to focus on the stories, and it’s hard work. I want to focus on you, but then I can’t get off.”
“Oh,” he responded with a look I couldn’t place.