Way, way too much information

I would like some sex, please.

I’m probably ovulating, or something. But I would really like sex. Dirty, energetic, bitey, sweaty, laughy, earthy, un-self-conscious sex. I miss the penises I have known and loved in the last 18 months. It’s sad that the men attached to them were total dicks, but they did have nice penises.

My ex-husband’s cock was beautiful. I know there is comfort and joy in the familiar, but I suspect a stranger would be delighted with it, too. Circumcised, always beautifully clean and manicured, and a lovely size. Not too big, not too small. Ah. Just right. Smooth against your lips. He had lovely bollocks too. Weighty and pendulous. Nice and slappy. A fine set of tackle.

The Boy-Child’s cock was… hmmm. Not that pleasant, now I think. But it was incredibly eager, and rose to the occasion again and again and again. Which is, you know, flattering. Oh, and his cum was like water. Absolutely no viscosity, a little oily. Not for me.

The Pirate’s cock… Jaunty. A little periscope foreskin, befitting the nautical vibe. I’d say it was cute – a bit meerkatty, nosy somehow – but men don’t  like words like ‘cute’ being used in association with their bits, right? Not the biggest of cocks which, judging by the many self-deprecating comments he made, bothered him. Can’t say as it bothered me. It was a thing of beauty (and it was big enough to make me bleed. That’ll do, pig. That’ll do…).

Two good things – it smelled amazing. (Naturally. It was attached to him…) Even after a day in fishing waders. Sigh. And it tasted even better. His cum always, always tasted delicious. Actively delicious. Not just tolerable. Lipsmackingly moreish, no matter what he’d eaten.

I really like giving blow jobs. I take pride in my work. I miss giving blow jobs. *I want sex.*

I really wish I could do casual sex. The world would be a fine place if I could. I’d probably still be sleeping with The Pirate. He might be here tonight, fucking me from behind under the fairy lights, doing bad, bad things with the candy canes from the tree, biting my nipples, drinking Baileys from my belly button..

But I’m a stupid rubbish girl, with stupid rubbish emotions that get in the stupid bastard way. (Though with The Pirate, I suspect it was pheromonal as much as emotional. I’m pretty sure no-one’s cum tastes that good without some serious chemical shit going on.) I wish I was a boy. I want sex.

And alongside this physical itch that so very needs scratching, there’s the need to be touched. No-one touches me any more. It makes me jump when people do. My boss touched my arm today, a supportive squeeze, and it freaked me out. It felt like an invasion, because no-one touches me any more. And I am *such* a tactile person. I want to be stroked and hugged and – oh god – kissed.

Yeah. I want sex.

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3 Comments on “Way, way too much information”

  1. iamsplatt says:

    Jeez. Now I want sex. Your writing is clearly contagious, plus your descriptions of the different men’s penises? Genius! You make them sound like their own little person!

  2. Itches can be contagious…

  3. I love this post… Especially the last part when you wrote “nobody touches me anymore”. I’ve been there. Not until I entered post divorce singlehood did I realize how much I crave physical affection.

    Hang in there sister. This is simply a moment in time– temporary. This too shall pass & you’ll have the touches you crave.


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