the hour

he had emailed me that he wanted me to spend my lunch on the phone with him. i pondered this for a few minutes only because it has been so long since we last talked. i wondered if his voice was going to make me want to come as it had so very many times in the past. i needed something to break up this week and i emailed him back with “ok” and my number since i was sure it was lost from his memory and phone.

i waited.
i waited.
i waited.

while i waited i watched porn. i hadn’t seen porn since i watched a really bad one with R. i knew when it was well past noon and heading towards 1:00pm that this call was not going to happen so i had to take matters into my own hands or hand to be specific. i shoved my vibrator down my panties and nestled it against my clit. i was soaking wet and i needed to come. i rubbed and pressed, rubbed and pressed. hoping with an ounce of hope that my phone would ring and i would be coming in his ear within seconds.

i pushed and slid the vibrator against my clit and without much warning i erupted crying out to the world pleading for a God. i panted and pressed the vibrator again forcing myself to come again and again.

it wasn’t the best nooner i have had but i couldn’t waste it once the flood gates were opened.

rumination

i love looking back on a past weekend and thinking about the things we do. it always puts a smile on my face. i will remember a sentence, a word, a sound or a touch. several times this week it lead to the uncontrollably need to come. i enjoy the fact that my cunt is ruling me because for those moments i know how a guy thinks when lead by his appendage (it’s that always?).

it’s his touch that sends me nerve endings singing down to the inner depths of my core. anyone could touch my arm or back and it would be a normal touch. it’s when HE touches any part of me that makes it feel like instant foreplay and i want him to fuck me to exhaustion.

when we kissed last weekend, it was intense and teeth were scraping against it each other as we tried to devour one another with our hungry mouths. those moments of grabbing, biting and desperate need that make me want to come begging for him to fuck me.

the mind is a terrible thing to waste.

orgasm

since i just ended my night with a self induced orgasm, i noticed lately when masturbating that i can only have one orgasm at a time. if i try for a second one immediately after, i get this plateau feeling. i used to be able to rack them out up past ten in well under five minutes. i wonder if it’s because i don’t masturbate as obsessively as i used to due to saving it up for my weekend sins. either way, it’s frustrating to actually have to wait a few minutes to get a proper orgasm. maybe i need to go back to masturbating excessively to get back into the swing of things since my sex drive seems to be on the rise again. ahh the joys of hormones and aging.

now i am thinking about one day being a cougar that is not into younger boys but the older ones. i don’t know the term and for some reason i probably don’t want to know it, so don’t tell me. i will just continue to enjoy my time with the older boys and call it a day.

note: HOWEVER, i do not seem to have a problem with multiple orgasms when i have a physical partner. it’s just the solo act that is baffling me at the moment. now i am thinking i might need to go back to phone sex because that always seem to do the trick of self inflicted multiple orgasms.

yes, i am up late. yes, this is a ramble. yes, i will end this now.

simultaneous

hurt me
hurt me
hurt me….

his hands moved, ended up around my neck and squeezed. i was mostly shocked at this gesture and that split second of shock moved into an orgasm. we both came at the same time with his hands wrapped around my neck and my hands holding them in place. we tend to come at the same time but the added sensation made the experience that much more “special”.

a cautionary song

There’s a place your mother goes when everybody else is soundly sleeping;
through the lights of Beacon Street and if you listen you can hear her weeping, she’s weeping, ’cause the gentlemen are calling and the snow is softly falling on her petticoats. And she’s standing in the harbor and she’s waiting for the sailors in the jolly boat. See how they approach.

With dirty hands and trousers torn they grapple ’til she’s safe within their keeping. A gag is placed between her lips to keep her sorry tongue from any speaking, or screaming. And they row her out to packets where the sailor’s sorry racket calls for maidenhead. And she’s scarce above the gunwales when her clothes fall to a bundle and she’s laid in bed on the upper deck.

And so she goes from ship to ship, her ankles clasped, her arms are rudely pinioned.’Til at last she’s satisfied the lot of the marina’s teeming minions, in their opinion.

And they tell her not to say a thing to cousin, kindred, kith or kin or she’ll end up dead. And they throw her thirty dollars and return her to the harbor where she goes to bed, and this is how you’re fed.

So be kind to your mother, though she may seem an awful bother, and the next time she tries to feed you collard greens, remember what she does when you’re asleep.

The Decemberists
A Cautionary Song

frustrations of the orgasm kind

it’s Friday, the day before i get to see him. i have sex implanted on the foreground of my thoughts. i can’t count how many times i have resisted the urge to just masturbate and come. it would be a disappointment for me to just cave in when it’s so close to Saturday. if it were any other day i would have given into to my primal need.

i feed from the anticipation and it will make me even more sensitive to the experience. on the other hand i may end up being a rapid bitch in heat slamming against his cock to make sure i am getting every bit of what i need. either way, i don’t want to give in so easily to an orgasm.