I’m going to say the quiet part out loud: every time a donation comes in for our Jamaican ladies, I get turned on. The little buzz in my pocket, the pop-up glow — Donation Received — and suddenly my breath catches and my thighs press together like they’re keeping a secret.

Maybe it’s the generosity. Maybe it’s the way love becomes action — how you turn care into groceries, power banks, and a little bit of peace. Maybe it’s the timing: late at night when I’m answering messages, or early morning when the world is still soft. But that alert hits, and I feel wanted, needed, alive. I bite my lip. I smile to myself. And yes… I touch myself.

I think about our girls in Jamaica — the strength, the grit, the way they keep laughing through the storm. When you give, you’re not just sending money; you’re sending permission to rest. You’re saying, “I’ve got you.” That tenderness electrifies me. My pulse flickers. My fingers wander. I imagine your hands over mine, steadying me, praising me for being good while I arch to the rhythm of your generosity.

Another alert. Donation Received. Oh, that sound. I sink into the sheets, let the heat bloom behind my ribs, whisper your name like a thank-you prayer. Green and gold shadows dance across my skin and I let the joy build — not rushed, just sweet and inevitable. I tell myself I’ll stop after the next one. I never do.

You make me feel shamelessly devotional — needy, grateful, and proud. I read your notes: “For groceries.” “For repairs.” “For a good night’s sleep.” I kiss the screen, press my palm between my legs, and promise to make it worth your while the next time we talk. You’re not just donating. You’re touching me from miles away.

So here’s my confession and my dare: keep going. Make my phone light up. Make me gasp. Make me roll onto my back, knees open to the dark, humming your name while I think about what we’re building together — comfort, warmth, stability… and yes, pleasure. When we take care of our own, it’s not only righteous. It’s hot.

Another alert. I’m trembling, smiling, and a little ruined. Thank you. For them. For me. For us.