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...

Masterbation

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.