The last time I had an orgasm was 5 hours ago. It was a pretty nice one. The last time I had sexual intercourse where I was penetrated was in December of 2011. I will give you a moment to pick your jaws up off of the floor before I continue.
The longest I’ve ever gone without sex with another person is 22 months. I am approaching that mark yet again. The circumstances are very different though between then and now…….kind of.
Then was after a separation with The Man. It was an ugly separation as our separations often were, or at least they felt that way to me. I was in a fuck love, fuck sex, mood then. I wanted no part of interpersonal relationships and I wanted to just fold up and hibernate. The idea of sex then was not attractive to me because I needed to heal the wound left in my heart and soul when I had to say good-bye to The Man.
I was empty and broken and no amount of sex would have healed me.
My current drought is something kind of different. It once more comes on the heels of a separation with The Man, but I’m not broken.
During our last attempt at happily ever after the happily part was exceptional. It took so many years and so many attempts at it, and it felt like we were getting it right. It felt like I was getting it right. There was nothing wrong with our existence. It was not perfect but it was good, until it wasn’t.
I didn’t see what happened coming, and I don’t know that he did either. I vaguely have memories of him telling me about the magical line of 40 when we were twenty-something, but details escape me and there are no answers that he can share at this moment. One day we were living, the next we were fighting for what we both needed but it took too much to want any longer.
A great portion of my celibacy this time was spent committed to my relationship, unwilling to confirm that he was less than a man, unwilling to confirm that he was less that what I needed, because the pain of that would injure him.
Turns out that it was untrue. To this moment I still see him as I last saw him, magnificent, but how I see////saw him was///is not enough.
I’ve always had the option of picking up the phone and saying hey there can I fuck ___________? Our relationship was not poly in nature, rather it was evolved past the unrealistic expectation of monogamy into the understanding that physical attraction happens, and when it does sometimes sex happens.
He of course carried the power of veto, where he could say yea or nay, but I never exercised that option. I’ve been hot for others, but never to the point where I felt the need to ask to walk outside. He was all that I desired at that time. Even in illness, extended illness, I chose to remain without physical intimacy.
I wanted to wait. If it took a month, a year, or five years I had no desire to feel the touch of anyone but him. That desire remained, even as my libido protested, when we were still connected. Sex is good, intimacy is better, connection is paramount.
I am still a sexual creature, but I’ve realized that there are things I value more than the act of sex. I value my relationship, my partner’s feelings, my future with my partner more than I value my orgasm. Trust me, I value my orgasm a lot.
As long as he and I remained connected my need for sexual penetration was subdued. As our connection eroded due to illness, my needs increased. A funny thing happened though. As I tried to satisfy my physical needs, I found that I could not. I masturbated until I thought my clit would fall off and there was no release to be found. No amount of porn, or filthy fantasy helped. During my relationship it was made clear to me that my orgasms belonged to him. He would grant or deny them at his whim. I was never denied, not once.
But my mind and my body was all in with the idea, and it took time to let go of that.
A short time ago I found my orgasm once more. Lord how I missed her. It was about that time that the concept of being underneath a man again began to seem appealing. Being touched – teased – licked – squeezed – appreciated – and degraded began to swirl in my grey matter and damn it all to hell I realized that I wanted it.
I still wanted it from The Man, but I was willing finally to take it from someone else. Take it was the key to this realization. I was once more awake, aroused, and in huntress mode. The problem is I surround myself with dominant men. They are the king of the jungle, unfamiliar with bowing to the queen. It’s quite the predicament. To be at the top of my game, and in capture and kill mode, when your prey is the natural predator.
It creates a conflict of sorts, and some of the most delicious foreplay that a girl like me could request. It creates a hyper awareness of my sexuality in ways that I’ve not experienced in some time. With The Man it was perfect, with this new single world it is challenging. It is also wet.
I’ve spent the past two weeks in a form of heat. Always ready to pounce, and unable to quench my thirst. Insatiable x 9 if you will.
It’s both a beautiful and ugly place. The good news is that I am approaching the place where I can quiet the beast who lives within. Or she may just find that feeding her only makes her more hungry.
I will keep you posted and who knows I may have a story or three to tell when the week ends.