Intertwined Enough??

Today I'm captivated by the thought of Doc. I told him that I wouldn't blog about him... but he just won't leave my thoughts.

His sweet smile, his soft skin, the way his hands caress me, the way his smooth voice comforts me, the delicate warmth of his breath, and the profound allure of his tender lips. It is all driving me mad. I laid in bed with him last night... we repeated the act of talking and making love over and over for hours.


We wrap around each other and form puddles. Neither of us dares to let go. His skin ignites me in unforgettable ways. The way he moves like he's known my body for years... and loved me all the while. God, I melt. It is all so soft, so sexy, and so terrifying.

I feel myself letting go of all restraint. Not that I want to be restrained, but society is telling me I should. Society tells me things this good don't happen. Fuck - history tells me, too! I fear trusting him, this, and myself. But it feels so unimaginably good I don't even want to hold back.

The guilt pours into me. Because from everywhere around me I hear to take it slow. I hear I move too fast. I hear I fall too hard. I want not to let that all down but all I want to be... is wrapped up in him.

The rest of my day is full of longing. The way he fills me, in every way. I want nothing else. All I can think about is him... the thought of not seeing him tonight... the fact the he works just across the road. I want to go to him. I want to touch him and be touched by him. Fuck distance - how did I live the last 26 years of my life without him?

I don't want to tell anyone else because I don't want to hear the criticism and judgements. I just want him. I just want to enjoy him. Forget reality. I lose all sight of safety, because to me... he is the only safety I need. I know this is dangerous, I fear I will resent myself for it later. But right now I am blind.

Why do I choose this blindness? If I didn't take on this blind faith I wouldn't get hurt so much... but I also wouldn't love so completely and feel so full. I fear these words sound like those I wrote about ex two years ago. I don't want to be naive, again. But the only way not to be, is not a way I am willing to sacrifice.

I don't know if I can be intertwined enough with him. Because the more I have, the more I want. The deeper I feel him, the more I press onto him. I don't know that I could ever touch or be touched by him enough to feel like it is too much. Fuck... I want him deeper, harder, and more than ever!!

Want This?

I find myself trying to entice him, to lure him, to intrigue him, and to captivate him. I want him and I want him all to myself. I have become so greedy and determined to keep him, always.

I lay there in the dimly lit room... in my black and pink, pin-stripped babydoll... his favorite. Waiting to hear him walk in the door... I try to keep myself busy. Having just replaced the batteries my best vibrator is humming against my thigh. I try to imagine his reaction. I try to think of what he might say when he sees me.

He's always said he wants to catch me... playing by mself. As we are all well aware, since I've mentioned before... I'm not much of a player on my own. It's rather unliekly he will catch me, unless I actually want to be caught. ... this time I do.

I lay there running my legs over the expensive and ultra-soft, cotton sheets. The smooth fabric awakens my body. It is this touch, any touch that sends me reeling. I run my hands up my soft white thighs. I love feeling hands there... touching me, inching closer, not quite there. ... Makes me close my eyes and let go. My hands crawl farther and I pull the panty portion of the outfit to the side.

I want him beside me. I want him pressed against me. I want him inside of me. I dream of what he would see. I wonder about his thoughts of seeing me. If this is how he thought it might go. I continue to play... my legs spread and my fingers teasing. Within minutes the teasing has led to a silky, wet mess dribbling down over my ass.

I hear the door. Oh my god... this is that moment. I lay there completely aroused... and nervous. I'm waiting... and trying to remember to let him catch me. I try to play... but all I can manage is circles around my lips. I've never been caught before. The idea of it is complicated and exciting.

I keep my hand pressed to my moist lips and watch the door. He slowly opens the door letting in only a smidgen of light. My hand freezes. The room is still shadowy and dim. He looks at me and ... I can't even hear what he is saying. I watch his eyes. I watch his eyes watch me. I'm looking for some reaction, something to tell me it's alright, something to tell me he wants me and this is exactly what he wanted to come home to.

He walks back out of the room...

I freeze. I try to hold back tears and a hundred fears washing over me. Did he just tell me he didn't want me? I analyze. ...do I get up and get dressed? ...do I close the door and cry my eyes out? ...do I wait for him to come back, maybe he just needed to put something down? Did he not see?? The fear is paralyzing, so I stay and wait.

He comes back and lays down beside me. I'm so happy to have him there with me. I find the strength to start moving my fingers again. I look at him, begging for some reaction, something to tell me it's okay. Please give me something...

He asks, "so you have your suit on already, huh?". I think he is talking about my sexy outfit... and say, "mmhmmmmm". He asks something about taking a nap... and I realize... he can't see a goddamn thing. I vehemently request that he turn the light on. He hits the light and begins to notice. His beautiful blue eyes get bigger and brighter.

Mmmmm... that's what I wanted. He grins at me and reaches down to put his hand over mine. He feels all the slippery warmth... he touches me more and watches me touch myself more. He wants to see me do it myself. Scared I won't get another orgasm, I softly protest. I ask for him... for his body... for him to make love to me. He refuses to give me what I want until I cum. Slick little devil...

I cum... loud and explosive.

I'm scared the next one won't be as good. But he now gives me just what I wanted. His soft, warm skin all over me. It is delicious perfection. It is not just as good or just as explosive... because it is better and so much hotter! I feel him explode inside me and I claw at his back completely overwhelmed with the amazing orgasm I'm having! I hear him enjoying it just as much.

Oh my god... this is exactly what I wanted. So glad he wanted this, too!! He lays down beside me and I cherish him and pet him. He is perfect for me!

Back Rubs...

Talking to a guy tonight he said something that rang with me. He said something that I have heard quite a few times. Something that I have proven wrong in every possible instance, thus far in my life. It's that line about giving me a back rub. You know the one where they tell you its just about making you feel good and helping you to relax. That this massage will not be about getting into your pants. How can two hot, ignited bodies pressed against eachother be about anything other than sex? It is the biggest load of bullshit you will ever hear! At least it is for me.


I retort as such, letting him know how much I believe this to be a line and a load of shit. He responds, as they always do, "I would never force myself on you". I don't disagree. I believe these men... some of them. In most senses, I know the difference, now. I believe I have been in that position enough to have some sense of who will force it and who will not. This man, is not one of them. He is kind, considerate, and compassionate. I tell him I know and he asks if it is myself I don't trust. But I know I don't like to make the first moves, ever, and with the exception of gym-boy... I don't. So, no... I trust myself to not start the sex. But I will never trust myself to stop it or prevent it. I just bat my eyes, smile, and flirt feverishly. I guess, this would be a seduction of sorts...

So, I tell them I don't want it, before we ever meet. And when we do I tease them until even they cannot contain themselves anymore. This is my test. I want someone to tell me I'm worth knowing first. On the inside... someone has to tell me. I don't even believe. When a guy wants to just be next to me, believes I am worth sitting beside, just to sit beside... without fucking, maybe then I'll believe. But no one really does. I make them fail. Isn't this partly because of my self-sabotage?

I need someone to push past my test. I need someone to like me enough... in mind, in spirit to not let me ruin the posibility of an us. I fear he doesn't exist. But what is more... I believe soldier could be him. He enjoyed me for me. He talked to me for me. He looked into my eyes and smiled just to see my smile. But I broke his resistance. Laying on the couch my head on his leg... I could not resist running my fingers over his thighs... running my nails up his chest and down... knowing perfectly well what I was doing, on a subconscious level. Squirming against his every will-power. He finally stood up and he said, "you know what... no, I don't care anymore, you did this... do you see this?". He said that jerking down his shorts exposing his incredible yumminess to me. I was in shock. No one had spoken to me like that. But he was right. He was completely right! I did this.

He took me after that. 900% willing! We wanted to wait through that weekend. But I tested him until he broke. But he still wanted to be with me. When will I believe in myself enough to stop testing. It's like I don't want them close. I use this sexual demon inside of me to steal all of the control. And I know I have heart, I have passion, I have loyalty, and an incredible amount of compassion. Why am I so afraid to be really loved? There are these parts of me and they fight back and forth. I can't completely supress this sexual side or I lose it, like I did in my marriage. This is a part of me, just as my mind is and my heart is. I need to find an ability for co-existance.

I want to be better when he gets home. I want to be everything he deserves and everything he needs! I spoke to him three nights this week and it meant so much to me. I've been drugged! I've been re-filled with the love he offers. Everything a life with him represents. But I have to be healthy enough inside to give us the chance to be a team, a couple. If only I can learn to stop sabotaging things!! I have to get through this for him and for me! I have to stop believing these stories about back rubs, because they are never just back rubs. I need to protect us and learn to protect me.

Front Seat Driving...

In 99.9% of all of my sexual activities... I am not the aggressor. I am such a happy follower. You want your cock in my mouth... I'll put your cock in my mouth. You want me on top... baby, I'm on top. But when a guy is shy, it just can't work this way. I become like a hungry lionness starving for a kill.


So after three grueling months of watching this incredibly hot guy watch me at the gym, I had to do something. He'd look and I'd look... we'd catch eachother looking and smile and look somemore or look away shyly. No matter how you shook it... we both wanted it! So I made a move. Time after time I would come out of the tanning room and he'd be standing just outside the door... covered in sweat... with those dark, deep eyes. Fuck this... I stuck my hand out and introduced myself. I couldn't take it anymore. The shy smiles and stolen glances... I wanted my hands all over that slippery body.

I don't navigate the dating world well... not the real one, at least. I'm a fucking pro (semi-literally) when it comes to the online dating arena. But this was real. For a couple more weeks we exchanged just a couple flirtatious words and left it at that. He went back to lifting and I went home, smiling. Finally we chatted about halloween. I told him what I was and showed him a picture from my phone. As I closed my phone he offered his number. I giggled, fucking of course I wanted it and took it happily. I see him at the gym and now our stolen glances involve smirks and we snicker as his gym partner tries to set us up, unknowingly.

We've met a few times since. And it has been nothing short of our interludes at the gym. We both end up sweaty and exhausted. But this boy still does not make the first moves. He totally wants it... but he is just not a front seat driver.

He stood by me at the side of his couch, "I'm gonna jump in the shower now". I bit my lower lip and traced my finger tips along the inside of the elastic of his gym shorts. I looked up at him and said okay... he instantly changed his mind. "Well maybe I can wait a bit". I can't help but want to rip his clothes off. His chest is so completely addicting! Shit, I thought tits looked good... but they don't got anything on how incredibe his body looks and feels!

I'm trying to take the driver's seat and get him to open up with me. God knows the boy gets involved when he has me on my hands and knees in his bed. So why doesn't he make the moves? I don't know that I'm prepared to be in the front seat all the time! Hopefully it is his age and the more he is with me, the more he grows to love taking control with me. Besides, I don't bite...

Fuck Or Be Fat?

I came to a place last week where I felt like all the addiction was piling up. Smothering me in a mess of all things unhealthy. I'd take one opportunity as it came, and the next, and again the next. But as much as I love the sex... the strangers, the unhealthy patterns, and the bad situations... the emotional sabotage was getting to be too great. It was more than I could afford internally.

So, I tried to stop. I made the decision to close off my sexuality. I decided I was stronger than that. I decided I could fight. I can be healthy. I decided I would stick with just one male, fuck-friend... if you will. With the exception of one hottie I've been dying to meet.

Sitting in the room with my therapist we discussed relationships. For approximately the hundreth time I mentioned my belief that although I wanted the emotional stability, the attention, and the love that comes from a relationship... I just didn't feel I was prepared to love as I believe a man deserves to be loved and treated. I say this after having walked away from the incredible man that I had as a husband. It was part of my entire rational behind separating.

... but she called me on my bullshit this time. "Why aren't you ready?", she questioned me. I smirked across the dim room, knowing exactly where she was going. "I don't know," I said, gazing out the window. ... I have been busting my ass for months focusing on who I am, where I am, where I'm going, who I want to be. If I can look inside myself and be prepared to constantly be trying to be a better me, why couldn't I love and be prepared to constantly be bettering an us? I was following the idea that I have to love myself first. But honestly... I have no idea when that love will really exist. I love things about myself. But to love as completely as I would love another... I doubt it. But I can appreciate my strengths. Maybe that is the best I can do.

So ... there I was, trying to be a one-man fuck toy. And suddenly I was consumed by hunger. A hunger I had before. There was not one goddamn thing I didn't want. Cravings fell upon me so strong. And worse of all I succumbed. My strength was gone. I talked to my therapist a very small amount about my tendency to overeat. She wondered outloud to me what vacancy within me was being filled now, that I no longer needed the food to fill.

Smack in the face ... it is right there. I have to make a choice. Do I want to overeat and be fat and have a healthy sexlife? ... Or do I want to fuck whenever physically possible and continue my journey to being the thin, healthy, physical person I want to be? Choose. Black or white. I know no gray. Fuck, I have an addiction. A true addiction. Who was I to think I could just walk away?

I walked into her office with a frown on my face. All this work... all this time... all this effort. But if you ask me what I choose... I will pick to be thin everytime!!! A compulsive overeater or a sex addict... hmmmm? Tell me you would choose different...? I don't think I have the strength to fight both. I want to be healthy. So, I decided I just have to find healthier sexual patterns to follow. But I won't go back to being fat! I won't go back!

Why Did It?

What's your dream date he asks...


A: I don't really know. I guess I normally do whatever he wants to do.

B: I want to give you the best, so tell me what YOU want.

A: I guess dinner... followed by a walk by the lake, the chance to talk, get more comfortable with eachother... maybe head back to my place for a movie and the possibility of distraction.

B: I love it. All of it, sounds perfect for Saturday.

A: Really?

B: Yeah, except the dinner.


My heart sinks. It's all too common. Why do they ask? Why do I bother to answer? It is the same bullshit scenerio.


A: Oh... why is that?

B: My roommate's family is in town so I have plans for dinner.


I understand this. It is perfectly legit. It has nothing to do with me, it is not personal. So... I accept. We talk non-stop for the next three days leading up to our meeting. Not the... 'what is your favorite position' talks... more the 'what was your favorite subject in school' talks. It was comfortable and smooth.

But as the night draws closer on Saturday... I begin to feel it. I feel its going to be one of those. One of those 'one-night' events. I don't want that. Not one little bit am I interested in a one-night stand right now! I message him an hour before we are supposed to meet.


A: I don't think I can do this.

B: What?

A: I'm not up for a one-night stand right now.

B: I never meant for it to be that. I want to see you again when I get back from deployement.

A: You do?

B: And I want to talk to you while I'm there.

A: Really?

B: Yes. Are we still on?

A: Yeah... ok. But I don't want to have sex.

B: Ok



I let him in the door and we stand and talk in my kitchen. He's sweet, just like on the phone. Our bodies get closer... and then within a minute we're kissing. My back is slammed against the fridge... his hands are up my shirt and our tongues are dancing. Magnets fall and scatter across the floor. He reaches into my shirt and peels my bra from my flesh and we spin across the kitchen. My back is slammed against the cupboard and he's reaching behind me clammering to clear a path on the countertop. He grabs me and he lifts me up onto the counter. It's intense and note-worthy. My fingers running through his short Army-boy hair as I nibble up his neck and ear. He fumbles with my jeans, my shirt, and the height difference. In desperation, he pulls me down and pushes me into my bedroom.

This is clearly not what I had in mind. And after we were both happily fucked and laying on the couch watching a movie it hit me even harder. This will be a one-night stand. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. This is what I asked him not to have happen. But he brought a velvet sachet full of condoms and a small vibrating toy. He knew exactly what he wanted to happen. It was all perfectly planned. And went accordingly. I didn't want this to happen...

So why did it?

I pulled away from laying beside him for the remainder of the movie. I meant nothing to him. This is all just an act. The same as all the others. My time... it means nothing, my body... it means nothing, our energy... it means nothing. So, why did I let it happen?!?

Raining... Men?

So I seem to have stepped into some fucked up alternate universe where there are a ton of men. Everywhere I turn there are new ones. Hot ones too!! ... And they want me... what kind of bullshit propaganda is that?

You're probably asking yourself how in sam-hell I could be bitching about this!?! Well... let me tell you, I am not a juggler! In no part of my life have I ever been good at handling multiples. I can handle two guys... thats easy. But this... this is too many! I'm in a state of shock.

I'm out there on a dating site or two... but nothing too extreme. Its not like I'm plastered on every site out there. This weekend I tried to relax and enjoy myself... or at least that was the goal. I ended up meeting with a couple of guys I had met before. The first encounter of which was insanely hot.

We spent the past few months remembering and romanticizing about the first time we were together. The sex was incredible and steamy. He fell upon me as we watched a movie pleading with me that my tits had just pushed his limit way too far. We spent the next hour slamming eachother in one form or another against my new suede couch. In normal instances I would have begged any living creature just to get the hell away from my new couch... but by the sixth incredible, mind-blowing orgasm I could hardly place more coherent words than 'holy fuck', let alone a complete sentence! My thighs ached from riding him, we were both covered in sweat and yet neither one of us could stand the thought of stopping for a chance to breathe! Somehow we found our way to floor and onto hands and knees for another hour. It was loud and sticky - exactly how every damn sexual experience should be.

But we fight... this guy and I. He screws with my head and twists me into doing exactly what he wants me to do. Everytime I end up feeling like a 6 year-old at a softball game that was just forced to forfeit because little Jenny was out sick. I swear to god... its not my fault. I lose all sense of reality. And for this he is extremely unhealthy for me.

...But after a few months of the back-and-forth and with his ass finally being in town... I said I wanted to see him through grit-teeth. He was here within 15 minutes. Nevermind the fact I was already driving down the road to pick up my roommate from work. I turned around. I walked the three flights of stairs up to my apartment and as I met his eyes we both knew clothes were coming off. Pressed against the fridge, the walls, and finally slammed onto my bed. "I told you I could do it in ten minutes," he gleamed down at me just after we both orgasmed. It was intense sex... with him reminding me every few minutes. "Are you still mad?"... " do you still want to fight?"... "is this what you wanted?" I shut out his taunts and focused on his hot body slamming against me... until he had me begging, screaming, pleading, and wanting more! How could I let him turn me inside out like that?

This was just one of four this weekend. I feel I've reached some sort of ultimate slut-hood. What the fuck am I thinking? After him I am sent into a mad sprawl of my sexual addiction. He has clearly triggered something viscious and sick inside of me that I had been trying so desperately to close off. ... but the sex, fuck, the sex is so hot!

... And I say again... I don't want to see him again!! Until next time I turn into a fucking pretzel.

On Sunday I received approximately 10 new emails. That is 10 new men on top of the old ones that haven't let me go, yet. I am messed up, my head is obviously not screwed on in any proper fashion. I feel myself flown into a mad dash to pick up the thousand marbles just tossed my direction on a hard concrete floor. I feel I can't let one pass by... because it could be the one. The one to walk right, talk right, fuck right, and love right. I seriously doubt I will find it in this bullshit computer world, but for now I will scramble to pick up the balls. I'm weeding through the emails... talking with some on the phone and on chat... I've even met one already, with three more dates lined up.

I'm still holding out. Because in the back of my mind is my soldier and he pushes to the front more often than not. I cling to my phone like it is my eternal salvation because he could call. I cling to anything to connect these two individuals that are worlds apart. In a sea of men... I look for the one. But since it seems to be raining men, does it have to fucking pour? Can I get a soft drizzle? Or just bring my one home...

Hot In Here... Or Just Me?

For the last couple weeks... I have been fighting the urges that had once felt so primal to me. I don't want to make it sound like I'm all the shit, cause God knows there are too many out there that already believe that they are, but I have a waiting list. Or at least figuratively. It's not like I make them take numbers or anything, they just choose to stick around, to wait, and to want. The ones I've fucked before too that beg to be back in my noisy ass bed slamming me and feeling it all once again.

I had been trying to stay sober - so to speak. I was trying to sleep with no one. Trying to be the good girl this society has raised me to be. I just happen to let it all out occasionally and fuck like crazy. But not now. For now I'll wear the mini-skirt and just tease the living-shit out of him!

But honestly, I am feeling so damned weak!! I try to meet them a few times first, mostly. I try to follow the rules. I try not to kiss too much, if at all... cause baby, once the river starts flowing... I can't make it stop! I try to stay out of my apartment, because once the fever begins I do not know how to cool it down and we are headed for the back room!


What happens when I get this insatiable lust and I have no (special) one to quench it? ... well. LOL... there are toys, but it is just not the same. All those men that see the Big Pink vibrator come out of the drawer and their eyes grow as fast as their tents are pitched - they think that means they must not be good enough. They are dead fucking wrong! Big Pink does not have those sexy, manly hands to run up my thighs and over my hips.

So, I can fall down and take care of it on my own... but I'd really prefer not to. If I were with a guy I'd totally do it for him. But I'm not with one. I'm all alone and this heat is killing me. It is a totally raw desire. Everything inside of me seems to be speaking the same language and screaming it! My entire body is overwhelmed and somehow under-touched. Can't fucking imagine how that is possible... but my body sure is preaching it.

Unwilling to step to the back with Big Pink on my own, filled with lust and a ravenous craving to fuck the shit out of some guy, to feel that incredible friction. Do I just pick a number? Do I throw it all to the wind? Forget these fabulous morals I've been trying to train myself to endure? Most of all, where the fuck did this heat come from and when will it pass??? Dear God... I need an ice storm!

A Concept of Accountability

Does anyone actually do what they say they are going to anymore? I mean, I know men are men. But there has to be some degree of... 'I told this person I would see them, so I should see them'. Doesn't there???

So for those of you curious about my Monday night endeavors... they didn't happen. What the fuck do I care, honestly... my sexual needs are completely filled ... for now. But I went on my marry way as planned. I got out of work, hurried up and got to the gym so I could get done, was ready to get home and get cleaned up for the action. But knowing him... knowing how this always plays out, I texted him at the end of my workout to make sure it was all still on schedule.

It wasn't... of course. Why would I trust him? This man has shown me nothing but a lack of accountability. He has told me I was number one on his list and continued on to prove to me I really wasn't. And yet, I'm still blind to it. Someone hang me upside down and slap the shit out of me. Why can't I see? He says he wants to see me and I move shit around because the idea of being wanted stirs me so deeply. But I'm not really... it's just a fix. He reminds me of that everytime and I can't stop opening myself up to it. It's insanity, in the purest form.

... But he's not the only one. This chess game plays over and over in a rhythmic, pre-planned attack and everytime I fall into the trap that I think so many women must fall into. Why can't I see his moves ahead of time? Why can't I see that he is luring me in? He has no intention of coaxing me into a sweet lesson to be remembered but rather this vicious cycle of regret. I get ready... and wait. Does every woman do this? Do we all just wait? Do we all sit hating ourselves for believing? Do we wallow in self-pitty that we didn't see it coming? GAH! I beat myself up! And for what? Because this piece of shit couldn't have the foresight to think of me before making intercepting plans for our evening. I should have known! And worst... to ask why or how he could forget or plan without thinking of how it would affect... makes me into a clingy bitch. Then I'm the one in the wrong. I'm the one without a life because I planned for my stupid plans!!

I went back to gym once he finally texted me back asking to reschedule. BAH!!! Reschedule???? Are you insane!?! Well... yes, I am. But I even told him I didn't think rescheduling would work. I'm proud of myself. I'm proud of my anger. For once I stood on my own two and screamed softly back at him, "I will always be last on your list!" He texted back, "I understand."... he fucking understands and I know he will do it again next time.

Does anyone have a concept of accountability anymore? I curse myself for stereotyping, but why do men do this? Is this some sort of protection system? Why am I always made out to be the bad guy because someone else doesn't have enough respect? Fuck it, don't respect me... someone else will have the pleasure of my naked body against theirs! At least... until the next time he asks for me...

What Is A Failure?

This weekend felt much like what I would imagine a failure feels like... much like I expected it would feel when you get too happy, too pleased, and satisfied all that is left is a crash. Life, afterall, cannot always be happy, can it? There I was on my mountain of hidden gold just enjoying the view but I feel like I hit a mud slide, maybe not even just one but a series of them.

I guess there was never one really wrong thing but it just felt like nothing was going as planned, and the few things that stayed on track as planned didn't feel nearly as good as I had hoped. The weekend was supposed to be made up of dancing, excercising, and being near friends. The first event on the schedule was a boat trip with my cousin which, inevitably, was cancelled due to the rain. Instead I took a nap. This was really a good thing since all my time awake is sure to catch up with me at some point.

Then the plan was to take my cousin and roommate out to Singers, a local bar and karaoke hot spot just outside of Syracuse, where I was meeting up with some of my co-workers. This was probably the highlight of my weekend. I enjoyed a couple interesting new drinks and shamelessly flirted with the sexy-singing bartender. He had a smile that melted me with dimples, the adorable short spikey hair I'm dying to run my fingers through, incredible pecs that he was teasing us all with through his tight t-shirt, and a rocking ass. :P So I, of course, had to hit on him. My roommate suggested I ask him about making a 'wet pussy' and I did... it was really quite funny! Then after I drank my 'wet pussy', my 'purple rain', and my rum and Coke... I slurred over the bar to him. You're really fuckin' hot! He teased me asking if it was the 'purple rain' talking. I told him I thought it before the drink, that it was just helping me say it. HA! It was totally fun!

We left to go out dancing... but plans kept falling through. My roommate backed out of going. And shortly after we got out to start dancing my cousin wanted to leave. It proved to be a bit more than I could take. I got home just in time to flirt with my 38 year old friend and fall fast asleep. I woke up feeling the effects of the 'purple rain' and a bit pissed off about my previous evening. I figured for sure Saturday would be a better day.

We had plans to attend an exotic dance class and then go out dancing afterwards. I was super psyched about the class thinking how sexy and good I would feel about myself after the fabulous and costly workout.

I write this in the name of the honesty I proclaimed in my first-ever post. ... I took the day Saturday to relapse a bit into my previously diagnosed sexual addiction. It had been almost a month and a half since I had slept with anyone. Partially because I wanted the last him to be my one and only... and partially because sleeping around is just not healthy physically or emotionally. ... But I am weak when it comes to soldiers. I called up an old fuck buddy (soldier-friend) and asked if he wanted some. Of course he did! I sent a declaration text before I went over ... that I would not be leaving until he made me cum. I went to his house and laid with him on the couch for a short while before we were both teased enough to get ourselves up off the gorgeous leather couches and stumble to the back bedroom. It was quick and delicious... but I came so I really didn't care either way. I kept telling myself this was a physical need I was fulfilling. Was it? ... Can I say with 100% certainty that this fuck was only because my body couldn't stand to go without? I'm not sure.

The dance class was a bust. Not because the class wasn't fun... because it was. Watching the super hot dance instructor give us her demonstrations may have been worth the $22 alone. But having to watch myself in the mirror felt like a challenge from the moment I walked in. I felt so sick with myself. Here I have worked my ass off - literally, for the past 4 monthes... and staring into this mirror it felt like nothing. She would sway her tiny little hips and her ass would stick out. She'd instruct us to straighten our legs so our body would make the curvature that is so desirable. I just kept looking in the mirror wishing my body looked like hers, in disgust and disapproval that my body was curvy without making those hip motions... my ass already sticks out! I felt in that moment absolutely displeased with myself. It motivated me to want to go to the gym and work harder, but I walked away feeling like a piece of shit that thus far has accomplished nothing. I can assure you... this is not how I wanted to walk away from the class.

I went out after the class despite my shattered ego. Even more importantly... I went alone. This is absolutely unheard of for me and some would even consider it unsafe. I was to meet my friend downtown to share a martini before moving on to go dancing. I was paralyzed by my social anxiety disorder. I sat in my car waiting for my friend to arrive... wishing the minutes would tick by a little quicker. I was seeking someone's approval, any man's approval. I flipped through the numbers and names in my phone wishing one of them would jump out at me, wishing I knew one of them was reliable enough to be there to answer an IM or text on a Saturday evening. I found one. A guy from New Jersey... normally working on Saturdays was there. He answered and requested pictures of me. YES!!! ... I thought... this I can do. I jumped out of my minivan and snapped a few photos in the dim light of the parking garage. I sent them along for his review... and as always he was pleased. Very pleased!

The drinks at the bar were okay. I felt misplaced with this group of people on couches at a martini bar, I prefer cheap, sweet liquor you can't taste. I tried to fit. We eventually made our way across the street to go dancing. The crowd was so thick it was difficult to not step on toes. These people I was with... they were old-fashioned or something. I felt like some two cent hooker dancing beside them. I kept thinking... you have to use your ass... thats the point. I felt misplaced again. Finally the heat was over-baring and we started to make our way for the doors. Despite spending the entire time not being asked to dance... as I started to leave I was... I guess you might call it, attacked by a group of guys. One guy put his hand over my face and pushed my head down. I couldn't see where I was going, so not thinking anything of it, I stopped. I was instantly surrounded by a group of hot young guys. Had this been any other type of approach I would have loved the attention. One guy realized how large my breasts were and went nuts roaring "WHOOOAAA," as he looked at my tits bug-eyed ... and they jumpped on my like a group of monkeys on the last goddamn banana in the jungle. They pressed on me and touched me. And everytime I thought I could get away they pushed down my face again. Who the fuck was touching my face??? Why couldn't I step away? Just as I was about to be in tears I found an opening and slipped out. I caught up to my friend and said my goodbyes. This night proved to be way more than I could bare. I raced through downtown, with way too much skin exposed, all alone clutching my key in one hand and black velvet purse in the other. I made it to the comfort of my minivan where I burst into sobbing tears... it was too much, just too much.

Sunday I poured myself into men again. Still longing for my approval. I felt sick with me, sick with everything. I talked to a soldier from Ft. Drum... and as usual it turned into a sexual endeavor. Through most of our conversation I knew where it was headed. I made small adjustments to remind him I wasn't looking for a random romp, but really I didn't do or say enough. I teased him until, as he said it... "I seduced him into driving an hour and a half just to see me". I'm fine with that, I'm happy to have that power. I made playful attempts to say he may not get laid... but we both knew he would. We watched a movie where I spent most of the time in his lap rubbing his thighs and chest before making my way up his pant legs and then inevitably pulling him into my bedroom to fuck the shit out of him.

Well... there you go... sexual addiction at its finest. I was feeling so strong and now I feel like I've let it all go. And worse yet... tonight I have plans to see an ex and the sex portion is already planned out. I honestly can't wait because this ex-navy hottie is always incredible in bed!

So where the fuck did I lose it? How did I let this fabulously planned weekend turn to shit? I really shouldn't express complete disapproval for my sexual expiditions... because I did and do love them, I guess I just hate how I feel after sometimes. I hate the numbers, there is something to be said for a woman that is sexually confident... but I don't know if I should be proud or ashamed, and I think I lean toward shame. Was this weekend a failure? I don't want to sink much lower. I want to go back to my focus and stay strong!!

Trust Me?

There are some out there that just don't know how to be honest... I get stuck in the situation where I feel like I've said the same thing tens times, and somehow still don't feel like the other person is hearing me. Am I not saying it right, are they not listening, or do they just not care to hear?

For instance... I've been talking to a local guy for a few days. He found me online, of course, and we have been planning to actually meet up for a short while. We talk about some of the weirdest stuff. There are the "what's the kinkiest thing you've ever done" questions and then there are the "how many kids do you want to have" kind of questions. But more than anything I feel like he just wants to jump me the second I arrive.

I ignore my feelings and my gut impulse to run and hide. I keep telling myself I'm probably wrong, maybe I can hold my own even if he tries something. We've discussed my feelings and my extreme aspiration that there be absolutely no sex the first time we meet... how dare me, right??? After some coercion I felt I had won him over, that the only way I would put myself through a two hour drive to meet a stranger is if I knew I would not be balling my eyes out on the drive home. I need to stick to my guns and respect myself and the fact that I think sex the first time I meet someone is a bad idea. So I told him he must agree and make the decision with me that this would be a hands-off encounter.

... And yet every conversation since we made that "mutual" decision has been about him sucking my tits... does this seem off to anyone else??? I try to play it off. Then it's more of the same... "are you sure we can't?" "what if I just?" "does masterbation count?" ... etc. Are you fucking kidding me? Of course it counts!!

So what the hell is my ambivalence? How can I not see this fruit loop is only out for one thing? And even more... since I clearly do see, why do I find it so damn difficult to just say I'm not coming?

I feel like the one person in the world I need to trust is me. And yet the hardest person in the world for me to trust... is me. I'll listen to the bullshit, the headgames, and the lies any man will spin me before ever just listening to myself. There has got to be a switch on me somewhere... and it is clearly flipped in the wrong direction. I just need to trust myself and my intuition.

I texted him... I'm not going. Why do I feel so insecure in this decision? I feel a lot like a turtle flopped onto its back. I'm scrambling, grabbing, and reaching... Why can't I trust me?

Finding Balance When It All Feels Tipped

I sit in another wave of confusion. My body aches with sadness. I fight this battle inside myself everyday. The good versus the bad. The intellect versus the lust. The friend versus the the sexual deviant. I really feel quite trapped in this cycle.

I look around and men don't exist. Not real ones. Not the ones that hold your hand. Not the ones that would kiss your belly if you told them it hurt. Well maybe they do exist... they either just have no interest in me or they are already taken. To get a guy like that... what do you do?

I guess I focus too much on grabbing their attention. I long for that first lust and impulse to get them to notice me. If they never look, how will they ever see me? There are a million girls out there... and a whole shit-load of them look ten times better than me. There are smarter girls who could probably spin circles around me in what they know. There are sweeter girls that would melt them faster than I could. So what do I have? How the hell can anyone feel special anymore? Unless I appeal to their sexuality... because I know sex! But that normally foreits any chance at anything meaningful. So... I don't know what to do.


So... I guess I go the sexual route. No.. that is not to say I fuck anything that walks within 10 feet of me. But I talk pretty, I flirt, and tease... I want them to want me. I want to be who they think about before they fall asleep and when they open there eyes. Maybe I long to be thought of as perfection. I don't even know what I want... I guess that should be first?

But then I cross the line. Even when I somehow find someone that wants to talk to me because I'm smart, funny, and interesting... I can't fucking control myself. I still tease and play until he has no choice but to want. And then I've fucked it up. There are somethings done in friendly fun... and somethings... ... somethings just cross the line.

Once I've ruined the good I find I feel so hopelessly sad. It's so rare to find someone that you enjoy talking to, that enjoys you too. That's when I feel like I must not be able to do a damn thing right. Because even having ten guys begging to see me for the sexual side... none of it compares to that one. I need to find where I can be both. I need that someone that loves me for my mind and heart but fiends after my body and sexuality.

I need to find a balance. I just don't where... everything feels so off balance. Where do you find the stability?

Eroticized Water

Ok, so I'm going swimming today. My cousin invited me out on the boat with her and her father. I dove at the opportunity. I absolutely love water. How could I not, I am a water baby after all. I love feeling the cool silky sensation surround every inch of my body. And when it's hot out, truly nothing could be better.

My confusion comes mainly from my past experiences from water. Inching my way down the beach with someone beside me. Lowering those sensative parts in one damn millimeter at a time. Until finally you jump in head first and get it all over with. I am well padded so I float effortlessly. I feel so free in the water. I swim a few strokes and then... then it's on!

I get near him. Crouching down in the water under him as he stands above me is so completely sexy to me. Tip-toeing closesr until I can run my hands up his thighs and I do. Tugging lightly at the elastic band of his suit... staring up at him as he's looking down at me... inches from where we both want me to be... my bobbing breasts grazing his thighs. And the second I have him on his knees at my water level ... my legs wrap around his waist and all four of our hands begin to explore what is unseen due to the murk of the water.

This happens to me so much... this overwhelming sexual desire that comes from being in water and near someone so sexy. I feel a little naughty, afterall, most swimming areas are public and that means children everywhere. But if you can keep it unseen... is there truly a harm here? Each time I think I will be a good girl, but lets be frank here, I won't be. And oh my god, it is so much fun!! Clearly the swimming can't last long at this rate. We're lucky if we can make it home. Might have to just take him in the car seat. ;) Either way clothes will be coming off!

Of course I love skinny-dipping... and I love going out late at night when the beach is deserted and doing everything I wanted to do in the water when there was daylight. But is something wrong with me? How could water make me so overwhelimingly hot? Does water do this to anyone else? Or should I just chalk this up to being a nympho?

A Starting Point...

I guess the first thing I should do... is start? I love to write. I have thoughts in my head all day everyday, whirling around, bumping into other thoughts, and in general causing confusion and what seems like utter chaos. I write usually when forced or compelled beyond belief. Usually, I write some form of erotic story, a letter requesting explanation, or in past years in a moment of conviction something so powerful I stand back and wonder where the fuck it all came from. Guess I should read up on how naughty I'm allowed to be here...

The Disclaimers:

• I swear and don't mind if I do
• I fuck and plan to talk about it here
• I've been abused and eventually will elaborate
• I need to learn and will only do so with reflection of myself and others
• I will be 100% honest; that one is a reminder for myself as well as you

For the record:

This is a personal blog. The opinions expressed here represent my own and not those of my employer.