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...

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.

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..."

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.