I didn't realize I was his Sheila until today. At first, I'll be pissed off. Why does he come home from church and wants to drown in my pussy. I felt that was hypocrisy. I tried to save him by always saying no to him. I am a nymphomaniac remember? So, saying no to sex could mean other things. It doesn't mean I don't want to go down too.
Source
But the more I say no, the more he desires it. My no turns him into a monster I can't describe. I guess if he wasn't in my apartment or he didn't have a reputation to protect, he would rape me every time I resist him.
Now, I understand, to him I represent the forbidden. That part of him he can not express outside my home because he has a religious reputation to protect. He can't possibly express his manly needs to the women in his church. That would be absurd. In short, his pastor would reprimand him and probably serve him a seat at the back of the church.
The forbidden... That's what I represent. That part of him that can only be revealed in between the sheets behind closed doors. That part that the world of the saint shouldn't find out.
Even the thoughts of anyone among the brethren finding out scares him to death. But the strength of his needs and emotions makes him wrap his legs around me every night pleading, asking like a child desiring candy, begging to get his orgasm. An orgasm that probably brings him back to his senses once it's over.
Ps: Sheila is the strange woman the scripture asks men to stay away from. And to this religious guy, I have a feeling, that's the person I represent in his life.
