It’s the opposite of lust around here and it feels a lot like real love with a splash of intermittent fear. The fear comes from worrying about the lack of desire both from myself and my husband.
We laid in bed last night and kissed. I rubbed his back and chest and we laughed about him being a “fat cat” despite his slender build. Like the cartoon Garfield, my husband was completely satisfied and ready for a nap! After a few moments, though, I could tell he felt the silent pressure.
The dress is navy blue with gold paisley overlay in the bodice and big fancy ruffles on the bottom. It appears as if I’m walking on air when I glide through the room. “I think I’ll start the night in this one,” I said turning to me husband for approval. My skin was tan, and […]
The kissing was so passionate, like we connected lip to lip and fireworks went off all around us. It was sweet and succulent as I nibbled ever so delicately on him breathing enchantingly and delivering myself fully to the moment.
Last night was the night of breasts. I pushed my buxom chest against his as we locked mouths and felt his fingers run down my back. Eventually they found my nipples and stayed there for awhile squeezing and rubbing gently. Warm erotic feelings pulsed through my body and out my mouth as my tongue made love to his.
I’ve lost count of the days without sex. Was last night day 10 or 11? My focus seems to have shifted from quantity to quality, from shear connection to deep intimacy. We didn’t make love because my husband set me up. He recommended we watch a movie which always puts him to sleep, and by the time the movie ended, he was snoring like a baby, and I was energized from the story. Total opposites, we are, but it works somehow.
He woke me up this morning tonguing my pussy. As much as I wanted to tell him no, I couldn’t. He has me in the palm of his hand, sexually that is, and I will do whatever he wants.
I fingered myself as I waited for him to come to bed. My nails are longer than usual which made the penetration a bit uncomfortable. Like a bull in a China shop, rigid nails feel out of place in my squishy pussy. I realized then that I generally keep them short so as to not […]
He was on top of me and my knees were pushed into my underarms. The room was bright and the bed was cozy cozy cozy. My pussy felt warm and inviting despite the lack of four play. She knows her job and does it well. I didn’t want to get up this morning at all. […]
Relax. Sit down. There’s no race to win. Stop being the rule maker. Stop telling everyone what to do. Enjoy yourself. Smile. Laugh. Play music. Cut up. Life is too short to live it any other way.
That’s what I had on repeat in my mind last night as I awaited my husband’s return from work. He did let me know he was playing on his new toy, that small boat, taking it over to a friend’s house and might be an hour or so late.
We watched two videos last night. Both were sent by a dear friend who suddenly began to enjoy squirting orgasms in her 40s. Both videos were on achieving the vaginal orgasm.
My intention was for us to make love afterwards with a few more pussy tricks in mind, but that’s not what happened, folks. A knock down drag out emotional argument ensued instead complete with crying, frustration, passive aggression and stonewalling.
“Wanna go on a boat ride in an hour?” the text read.
“Yes!” my was response.
My husband launched a little 10′ boat into the water from our RV resort property. It was rudimentary and striped down which meant I used a life vest for a seat and stayed thoughtful about balance when either of us moved positions. But it was fun!
I’ve been so proud of myself for writing every single day. I have to admit that on days like today where I have no sex to talk about and no major issues to divulge, it seems silly to even open the computer, but write I must.
Choosing to write everyday is like choosing to make love everyday. It’s deciding what you want and keeping your eye on the ball, staying focused, and not letting the fear of imperfection sway you. Inaction is the only thing that will now disappoint me, and that’s the failure to limit distractions and reach my goals. Consistency is a skill I must build.
