Monday, February 14, 2011

Who Needs You Anyways?

I lay in bed and think about crawling over to him.  I think about how my body would move, where I would push the blankets to, how he would respond.  ... I just can't bring myself to do it. 

My body aches to feel touched.  Since all recent sexual activity seems to be him pushing me over and slamming me from behind at some random moment to signify his interest, the lack of personal interest, intimacy, and desire leaves me rather unsatisfied.

For my birthday I bought myself several new tools for my artillery.  Granted all of these new toys were couple-friendly.  I think about us, always.  I love to please my partner... but I love to know that he wants to please me too.  He has lost all ability to show me this. 

So, fuck him... or rather, not.  I'm sick of waiting.  Nearly a month since I purchased all this crap... and I haven't had a chance to use it.  Like a school-kid who purchases all the new school clothes in July.  Those new clothes stare the kid in the face all through July, August and September.  Each day, they open their drawers and the clothes are dying to be put on.  Calling to them.  Clean.  Unwrinkled.  Fresh. ... they want to be worn.

This is how my toys are calling me.  Especially going from full-fledged sexual addiction to a man that is satisfied to have sex once every other week or so.  Not only am I throbbing with desire and hot blood... but my mind and body are screaming just as loud.

I take a nice hot bubble bath.  Vanilla spice is all over me... and I'm tempted to lick my own skin.  Something about the satiny smooth, freshness puts me in a serene state of sensuality.  I lightly spritz my body with bath oil and my desire intensifies. 

I pull my new toy from its pretty pink draw string pouch.  Shaped like a 'U'... something I have never tried before.  I cover both ends in lube and attempt to turn it on.  Well, quite clearly it should be turned to your proper setting prior to lubing since I can't get the damn thing on without it sliding out of my fingers.  I check the directions, again to make sure I know which side goes where.  C and G... it seems rather simplistic.

Finally, I am able to find a decent setting of the 14 available.  I place it against me and it slides in like it was meant for me.  And fuck does it ever.  I just barely have time to get the C-spot against me and I'm already clawing at my bed sheets.  MMmmmmm... 3 seconds... is that a record?  I wish he'd catch me.

Fuck it... who needs him and I go for round two...

Thursday, February 10, 2011


Picking out a Valentine's Day card last night was next to impossible.  They all talk about their "wonderful man", "partner", "best friend", "soul mate", "the one", "such a good person", "one of a kind", "best thing ever", "together forever"... none of that applies. 
I read each one thinking... is this what I'm suposed to feel about him?  Because I don't.  I hate him.  I hate him for how much he hurts me on a regular basis and just doesn't give a fuck.  Everything I say that he just ignores.  I don't trust him.  I don't trust him with my heart, my orgasms, my honesty, my indullgence... nothing.  He is careless and selfish. 
I think I read every single card.  Finally I found one that said something about "some night I'm the happiest woman in the world and other nights I swear to never make chili for dinner again".  It was the closest I could find to reality.  I need a card that says... "you are such a rotten asshole so much of the time that I can't believe I endure what you put me thru, but when you are good... we are great.  Thank you for those spare moments you are willing to give me, that I am worth the little effort you are willing to give."  ... None of the cards said that though.  I figured this was the next best.
I don't know what I'm doing.  This is NOT how it is suposed to be. Why can't I just let him go?  I just keep thinking I'm going to tell him it's not working and he's going to say... okay, and walk out.  Like it's nothing.  Like the last year was nothing.  Like I'm nothing.  Because that is the truth.  He has held himself back emotionally since the end of May... so there is no risk here for him.  He can pick up and walk away at any moment without a second thought.  ... That terrifies me.  That will kill me.  That is why I am so afraid to tell him it's over, because he will proove to me all of these fears are true.  That I am nothing to him.  And that I'm putting in all this effort and bearing so much of my soul... for someone who thinks of me as nothing but replacable.
How do I pick myself up from that?  The truth is I will.  And that's my biggest fear.  I will do it all over again.  I will fall instantly... and he really won't give a fuck.  I'll bear my heart... and the next guy will break it.  Because that's what they do.  How do I not care?  I want to not care.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Fast Approaching

Valentine's Day is around the corner.  After the folly that was our anniversary, or at least, my attempt at one I have committed myself to not making anything of this holiday.

So many times I have reached out.  Thrown myself at him, with all my love, devotion, and sexual desire.  He never catches me.  I don't want to throw myself this time.

Last year, around this time our relationship was but a month old.  I spent days on him.  Days planning and then days celebrating.  I don't believe this holiday should be about stuff, but I do believe it should be about love, relationships, and celebration of the person you are with.  One more day a year to really make them know they are your world.  How could a day to express that really hurt?

I planned it all... my dress, my shoes, who would assist me, where I would buy the flowers, the special gift and the details... every little aspect.  It was made to perfection.  He loved it, however he felt like he couldn't match it.  But he did fairly well. 

I don't know what to feel now.  After having planned something big and elaborate for our anniversary it ended with him telling me it was a huge mistake and never saying happy anniversary... the whole week, weekend, month, never.  It broke my heart the little that I allowed.

I want him to dazzle me, truly.  I want him to show me I am as special to him as he has been to me.  I'm sorry, but he owes me.  Maybe that's not fair.  But it is also not fair giving someone so much of yourself to feel snubbed in return.

I'm thinking... flowers - but not necessary.  I know we will have dinner, and I want him to greet me by telling me I look beautiful.  I want him to hold my hand, and kiss it.  I want him to look at me across the table and remind me that he thinks I am important and irreplaceable in his life.  I want to go home to kisses.  Falling against the door passionately devouring one another.  I want to feel his hands on me... on my thighs, my ass, my hips, and the curve of my waist.  I want him to touch me like he remembers how.  I want him to fumble me to our bed where we crash upon it like a tidal wave.  We would rip each other's clothes off kissing, nibbling, sucking, and loving every inch along the way.  ... like lovers do.

I want him to want me.  I haven't felt that way in so long.  And to feel him actually love on me, physically.  I don't need chocolate because I'm dieting and it really doesn't help... but if he buys them I will still find it sweet.  I'd take something sparkly... but truly unnecessary.  I'd take trip tickets, plans, etc... oh so happily.  But they are not required.

I just want a heart-felt card and his love and attention.  His real love, not a fake conjured up depiction of love fiction.  I've had that for over six months now.  If he doesn't come back... then I need to walk away.  I need to feel happy and loved.  95% of the time in this relationship, I do not.  I need him to remember what it feels like to truly love me... adore me and show me.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Under the Blankets...

I curl myself into bed and wrap my feet around my kitty.  He is snuggled into place at the bottom, coiled into the fluffed blanket I leave there for him.  The sheets feel cool against my freshly showered, heated skin.

I reach my toes across the king size bed inching toward my lover.  I beg to feel his warmth.  I beg even more that he feels my proximity and reachs back for me.  He won't... because I am alone in bed.  Sometimes I feel his legs down there, warm, soft and it sends warm tingles up my legs. 

Feeling close with someone is an irreplacable feeling.

I wake up to the brisk motion of the blankets being ripped from over me, and before I can open my eyes he is between my legs lapping away.  This incredible feeling I have been missing for months.

I don't know if he is awake or asleep.  I don't know why he is doing it.  I can only coo and wriggle against his mouth, but just barely as he has me held so tight I can hardly move.  I grab at blankets and pillows over my head and buck lightly.  I'm enjoying this, but feel his impatience growing. 

He slides his hands down and begins to finger my clit.  He wants me to cum.  I'm just not there yet.  After a few moments of hungrily taking my pussy he lifts and slides on top of me.  I lift my legs and wrap myself around him.  I feel him slide in effortlessly through my wetness.

I claw and grab at him, hoping that if I make enough noise or impact he will wake up.  He stares off into space... and I know that he is still asleep.  He begins to slow up as he nears orgasm.  He wants to hold it, but I'm hardly anywhere close.

I clench on his cock and pull my thighs up his sides to the back of his arms.  He burries it inside of me and cums. 

How could he not be awake?  So, I ask him this morning... were you awake? 

"Only at the end..."

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Last Straw?

I don't know what the last straw will be... the thing that finally helps me to let go of him.  I have so many fears and so many doubts. 

I'm afraid to go back to who I was.  The child in a woman's body.  The girl that knows nothing but how to please.  The one who takes over and makes my mind go numb.  Auto-pilot, my therapist calls it.  I have done this so many times the pattern is ingrained. 

I tease playfully, seduce, touch, giggle.  I play my part.  I want them to like me, to approve of me, to want me.  I don't want anything more than that.  Just the satisfaction of their longing. 

But then they do want it, they really want it.  They don't let me stop it.  The press me, push me, control me and suddenly I am on auto-pilot.  I push away softly.  I say no, ever so softly.

They don't hear me... or they just don't care...

They push and I fall into place.  A perfect little puzzle piece, fitting snugly into place.  I coo and cream to their delight.  I am not me.  I am what they want.  They rip off my clothes, pick a nearby surface and toss me on it, they fall upon me hard and fast.  Ignoring all common sense and knowledge they ignore my plea for a condom. 

I've made so many mistakes.  I don't want to be her.  I don't want to live this sexual addiction again.  I fear I would go back to this without him.  I'm so scared.  I want to be strong, but what if auto-pilot comes back. 

I don't feel strong enough and I pull him back in.  Hanging onto this desperate clawing animal... I cling despite tears, scratches, and gouges

Piece by piece I fall weaker, but some days I feel the strength and courage of this conviction.  The man I love is hollow.  He is no longer who I met that dazzled and loved me so deeply our hearts melted into one on the first date. 

I am so scared... I can't envision my life without him.  More tears fall, but it doesn't make this any easier.  Never any easier...

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Frustration Mounts

It is building today.  So many things I've wanted to say.  So many times I wanted to reach out and say stop.  I'm stuck.  The more I speak up, the less he listens... but the less I speak, the less he will know to correct.  It is a catch-22.  A viscious triangle of frustration.

I want him to make love to me.  I begged for it and attemped, stupidly, to explain myself again.  The message goes unnoticed. 

I want to be happy.  I don't know if I believe that he can be the partner that walks with me into that happy place in my life.  No longer will I rely soley on a man to make that happiness for me, but I sure as hell do believe they need to be a part of it. 

I am no cat lady!  I'm not cold or bitter or ready to close anyone out.  I want him so much.  I love him so much.  But it is utterly confusing.  Just like when my marriage was ending.  It was warped with confusion.

I did not know up from down or left from right.  Everything smears and my life just is.  I don't want to just be anything.  I want to be amazing, loving, fulfilled, and fulfilling.

I don't expect to be president but I want to grow, be strong, and feel accomplished.  I lost my shot at presidency when I stood in front of the camera and became her best friend.  Photo after sexy photo... snapping away any life of publicity.  My brief stint as a webcam girl surely seeled the deal, if nothing previously had.

But I should be happy... past or not.  I want these things, and I deserve these things.  So either he will decide he can afford to give more hugs and kisses and passionate fucks... or I will find someone who will. ... I think.  ... Maybe.

Monday, January 24, 2011


No one wants to think or talk about... it.  But it is something we all do at some point or another.  I have had such a hard time acting this out in my lifetime.

When I was thirteen it was easy and enjoyable.  My only fear was being caught.  Probably naughtier than most I experimented with screaming and acting out my orgasms.  I was home alone, so it was no big deal... except to the cat that looked at me like I was positively insane.

Then there came a time when I just wasn't sure.  I decided that it just shouldn't have to happen.  As a woman I should never be 'in need' as there would always be a man there that wanted to hear, be a part of, or to satisfy me.

The phone calls started.  I'd be chatting online, playfully.  And then they'd want to call.  I began masterbating for them.  Letting them hear my screams, mmmms, and aahhhs.  Just the thought, made me hotter.  Knowing they could hear me and that they were loving it. 

The real sex began and it was hot.  I was never able to cum.  But I embraced the motions and his pleasure, whomever he was.  I'd let them do whatever they wanted.  I had no boundaries.  No ability to stop them or save myself from this mad spiral out of control.

The phase began where I did not allow myself any sexual pleasure without a man.  It felt misplaced.  I felt dirty, selfish, and unwanted.  No doubt the PTSD of several years of abuse.  But none the less, I would not let myself, enjoy... me, not without someone there to listen.

I'm growing back into myself.  Facing these fears in therapy, I have been growing.  Growing to love myself, accept myself, embrace myself.  It is 'okay' to feel pleasure on my own.  And more over I need to disconnect this sexuality from my emotional and physical value. 

I can run my fingers down my creamy white thighs without feeling guilt.  I can spread and lift lightly at my clit without wondering what he thinks or wants.  This is my body, my wetness.  The creamy lubrication is made for me to enjoy.  Spreading across my lips and up my navel to my nipples.  I can play however I want.

I tell him over and over I want it.  I want it so much.  I want to feel him and feel his cock slide inside me.  He doesn't give me nearly as much as I want.  This man that used to slide his tongue across my lips, so smoothly has turned off.  He has no desire to lick my wet hole anymore.  Where did this go?  Where did the desire go?  What have I done.

I have to fight the feelings that I have done something wrong.  Because clearly he has met a wall.  Clearly he has a blockage of his own to overcome.  I touch myself while I wait.  I lie in bed with the lights off and explore under the sheets.  It is safe to touch me.  It is safe to cum.  It is safe to enjoy my body.  But I want a man that wants to enjoy me too.  I deserve that.