Naked Truth

His blue eyes stared into mine like waves crashing in the darkness as our bodies fumbled towards each other. His pink, sweet, swollen lips pressed against mine like a familiar lover, like it had all happened before. For the first time I saw the small hairs of his back rise in the gray sunlight that bled through half-opened blinds. I could hear my breath against his neck as his hands cupped my body into his, keeping me close like a keepsake. The warmth of my heaving breasts reverberated against his chest as I bent down towards him, my wild hair canopying our faces. Not a single word was spoken then, just breath as we pushed closer towards each other, as we felt the easy rhythm of our heated bodies, as we kept open eyes. Closer then quicker, and space no longer existed except for around us as I arched my back and his body sunk into mine. Silence and his azure eyes burned through skin. 

I’m on my third month of being entirely sexless and I’ve never been hornier than I am this week. It’s brutal. All I want is a warm body on top of me, under me, behind me…Somebody’s fingers sneaking under my dress as I bend over, sliding my soaked panties to the side, exposing me…Your tongue teasing my pink, pulsating clit…

It’d be easy to go next door, knock on B’s door and undergo a mediocre fuck. However, I don’t want a mediocre fuck. I want a great fuck. A fantastically electrifying, earth-rumbling fuck. I want to be able to say, “That was the best I’ve ever had” (the best I’ve ever had was a 28-year old, frat dude, who also had a handicap hand, if you were wondering). I want to be blown away. And then I want to sit around drinking beers, talking about books, music and pop culture, possibly share a smoke and finally nap. Then wake up and sex it all up again.

Honestly, I just want a charming man who knows his way around a clit. Hell, be an asshole, but be a charmingly witty, preferably generous asshole and share your beer with me afterwards. I’ll share my cookies, I promise.

Oh jeez, I’m sorry, kiddies, that I abandoned you on Valentine’s Day. I hope you all had a great, loving day though. I love Valentine’s Day, so I spent the day pampering myself before having a lovely date night with my girl friends.I even wore my sexiest pair of panties and a red dress for the occasion. 

Unfortunately there was no sex. However, I did have an immensely dirty and much-needed impromptu video session with Sir M at the end of the day. I also received two declarations of love, which, although sweet, is a strange thing for me considering I don’t handle romance very well. Alas…

Nevertheless, it was a successful day and I hope you all enjoyed your dirty selves as well. 

I’ve been in a weird place in relation to my sexuality since early December. Evaluating my sex life I’ve come to realize that, thus far, it has consisted of merely fuck buddies and one-night stands. While I’ve come to create wonderful and lasting friendships with some of my fuck buddies (though not with many), I still lack an emotional intimacy that has just recently become more appealing to me. I would like to have sex with someone that I truly care about—I have never had that.  The one time I had sexual relations with a guy that meant something to me simply happened because I was too drunk to say “yes” or “no.” I came out of my drunken daze in the middle of it confused and terrified. But that’s a different story…

As for the night I lost my virginity, that night changed my outlook on sex completely. My virgin friends asked, “Do you feel different?” No, I didn’t feel different. I felt nothing except for a little soreness. Sex became just another weekend activity. Since then, for the longest time I took pride in being able to not entwine the physical with the emotional. It was convenient, carefree and entirely easy.  I would never get hurt. While other people were off getting their hearts broken because they got too attached, I was enjoying being numb to such things. It was all pussy, no heart. I never stayed the night, never cuddled. Once I didn’t even want B walking me home the next morning. There was no “us”, just me. Well, “me” is a lonely place.

My friend and I would always joke about how we were never picky about our sexual partners because “it’s just sex.” I had no qualms about getting between the sheets with men whose hearts belonged to another’s. It was just sex.

Looking back at all of that I feel like a complete and utter monster.  I’m not okay with it. I want to feel something, I want to be picky—shit, I want the fucking heartbreak. I’m tired of one-night stands. I want to know your name; I want to know what music you like. I want you to know that I’m not just “a wild girl” in bed. There is so much more.

I really am sorry that I’ve been so negligent of this blog and of your questions. But right now, in regards to my sexual life, I’m trying to figure out what works best for me, and this blog is part of that. I may have to change what I do with it because I’m not really feeling it. This tumblr is about my sexual awakening and my growth as a sexual being. At the moment I’m self-reflecting on that part of my life and changing what I don’t like and doing my best to move forward towards a place in which I feel at home.

My apologies. 

Today I donated blood for the first time (yay good deeds!) and one of the things they warned me against was “strenuous activity.” I never would’ve guessed that masturbation fell under that category. I feel a bit light-headed now…

Although I love buying my lingerie for myself, it would be nice to have someone else appreciate it every now and then. 

I’M KIND OF STOKED. 

Remember this post? Well, I got the lingerie set. Move over Santa’s helpers ‘cause I’m bringing holiday sexy back. 

I’m heading to NYC tomorrow night and that is why, on a very non-sexual note, I’d like to entreat you, specifically those familiar with NYC, to give me the scoop on all the hip places to eat, drink, and sleep shop. Would you please and thank you?