Light and Darkness

I've Gone Blind

Dreams last night were EXTREMELY erotic but at the same time very disturbing. Eh! Don't know whether to scour my brain with an S.O.S. pad or write it down for Literotica.com.

New Toys

Friday I went shopping for a new "friend." I had to replace my already worn new one....Ok, if you don't understand air quotes or the subtle reference....I went shopping for a new vibrator. (BTW, this is where I state in my entry that this is going to reference things not so mundane and boring)

I don't care if you are in a relationship or going it alone. EVERY woman needs to have a toy or two. And if you have never gone shopping for one in a store, there are ways of obtaining them without showing your face in the light of day. You can always go to a friend's   Passion Party or order from an online source directly.

I've done all three and I love the sex stores the best but my most recent visit probably was the most revealing about my recent sexual activities.

Brandi from the store (Isn't it always some name like that? Sounding like the owner came straight from a porn shoot.): Can I help you find something?

Me: I'm looking for a new toy.

Brandi: Oh. They're all back here (gestures to the back of the store). What are you looking for?

Me: Well, I've had two different ones that had this (points to the vibrator with both a shaft and a clitoral stimulator). I really liked those but the sheath tore. At least my last one that was only months old did. My first one lasted me several years. I'm looking for something else now. Probably something without the stimulator. (And then I said the thing that would sum up things for me and note the bold-faced type) Something more durable.

...

DURABLE?

...

Good God!

...

Brandi: (picking up a standard vibrator and without skipping a beat) This right here is harder.

Me: Yeah, I want something with different sleeves. Variety. At [other store's name] they had a kit that had several sleeves plus a standard vibrator and a bullet. It was a snow or arctic theme.

...

Ok, I never understood the whole theme thing in adult toys. I mean really....are we, women that silly that we need a dildo shaped as the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz in order to climax? Am I the only one who hasn't gotten into the clitoral stimulator shaped like a dolphin? My fave vibrator had a stimulator shaped like a beaver (funny) and it's shaft was designed to look like an American Indian. WHY? I mean of all the things to get offended by...naming a sports team after Native Americans would be less of a derogatory thing than having a pleasure toy that enters a woman's vagina carved to look like Pochahontas.

...

Brandi: Oh, I don't think we have anything like that. Now this (picking up a kit) has a few different sleeves but is made of a harder material.

Me: (already excited by the looks of the attachment) Ooooo, I like this one.

Brandi: (picking up another) This one has different sleeves also but is made of that material that feels like real skin. Go ahead. Touch it.

Me: Hmmm. That feels nice but I like this one (points to first one)

Brandi: (opening up the package of the hard one) This one is made by [company's name] which is an excellent company. Their stuff lasts a long time.

Me: (notices the 2 C batteries in the package) I like this one. (eyes gloss over thinking about how this one takes C batteries whilst my other ones went through AAs like there was no tomorrow)

Brandi: I had a customer come in the other day that bought this one. She came back and said "Thanks for the recommendation."

Me: I'll take it. (walking behind Brandi towards the register) Are these Ben Wa balls?

No Apologies: Give Me the Hard Stuff

GOD! I need an orgasm! I haven't had one in days. And hell, I wish I could stop with the self inflicted ones too. I need a "bend-me-over, knees-on-the-bed, ass-in-the-air, thighs-spread-wide, face-in-a-pillow, screams-shouting-the-Saviour's-name" orgasm.

...

I need a lay.

Closer by Nine Inch Nails

you let me violate you, you let me desecrate you
you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you
help me I broke apart my insides, help me I’ve got no soul to sell
help me the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god
you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings
you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything
help me tear down my reason, help me its' your sex I can smell
help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god

through every forest, above the trees
within my stomach, scraped off my knees
I drink the honey inside your hive
you are the reason I stay alive

. . .

Yeah, one of those days

Primal instinct

I'm horny.

Is there a more eloquent way to say it when the itch is bigger than the whole of Texas?

My first

You know how the brain suddenly switches tracks while thinking. I had one of those moments and it led me to the memory of when I lost my virginity. There were a couple of close calls before I was nineteen. Once in a canoe as I've mentioned before. Another time at my 18th birthday party with Purple Shirt in a drunken state (THANK GOD FOR FRIENDS). And even once in a dorm room with a guy named Jonathon who could make me squirm just by talking about how cinnamon smells.

But I decided to give it up in the early morning around 2 a.m. on a desk in a Photo Express. What the hell was I thinking?! I'll tell you. It was basically, "What the hell. I need to get it over with. It might as well happen now."

Don't get me wrong. It wasn't as matter of fact as that. I was feeling the mood....sort of....I mean Steve's (Carrie, remember Steve R? The photographer from school. Sang with us. Tall lanky guy with glasses.) kissing and back rubs were a turn-on. It was just...well...glad it was over when it ended.

I don't think the first time for females is good. I've not heard or read of any true account where the sex was. I'd like to be proven wrong but honestly, I wouldn't believe it. There may have been emotional highs during it. There may have been true love involved. There may have been some fucking awesome petting and oral stimulation. BUT....the physical, biological act of intercourse. IT HURTS!!!

It was awful. And in a moment like that, a woman can fake it. The gripping of his body can be seen as some need to have him deeper inside of you rather than you having this need to squeeze something for the pain. The breathy grunts can seem like you're close to climaxing rather than you swallowing the urge to cry. If he's a selfish lover, he'll never know. His face will be buried in your throat. And you lay there staring at the waffled ceiling, trying not to cry from the dry pain in your vagina, and thinking "Oh thank you....he's done."

I laugh at my first time. I mean...how many can say that they've had sex in a photo lab? Or on a desk that belongs to someone else? As their first time? The whole incident was funny especially considering the history with Steve.

There's this horrible pressure for your first time. I wanted to get it out of the way. I don't think I expected anything elaborate, mind-blowing or spectacular for my deflowering. I don't recall thinking of saving myself for marriage or a passionate night out with a significant other. It was sex. It was an opportunity that presented itself and it was done.

Sound so cold, don't I? Don't let it throw you off. I'm actually more lusty than that. And at that time I was actually thinking of having my horrible initiation into that part of my sexuality with a guy I did adore and love. But HE was saving himself for marriage....and believe you me...I plead with him and tried to coerce him as much as possible.

Salad dressing

Just before sitting down to my PC, Em and I ran to Wendy's for salad dressing (ran out here) and a couple of plain potatoes. It was going to be a quick trip but in we walked into a FULL dining area. Sitting at the tables were an entire baseball team. And in line ahead of me were half a dozen or so football players.

Now, these were young men...probably about 18 and never would I even consider doing anything even fantasize about these boys....BUT let me say, my vagina twinged right there. The baseball players were stopping in for dinner evidently on the return trip after a game. And the football players had just finished practice. Sweaty adrenaline ridden bodies. Mmmm! Testerone was in the air. And my poor little body just couldn't stand it. It was weak and defenseless. It's not used to that much maleness in one room.

I was just writing in my private journal how nice it would be to be asked out on a date. Not necessarily accepting it but to be hit on. Damn!!! Every person enjoys that attention. Am I right?! And not having it is like caging a wild animal. The pent up anger and aggressiveness. The tension. The animal of it all. It was all I could do from screaming out "YES YES YES!"

I sooooo need to have sex. Or at least some wonderful rubbing and petting. Hell, making out in a car! Doesn't that sound awesome?! Going some place, parking, and having make out sessions like teenagers.

I left Wendy's with cravings for more than my salad waiting at home.

Tallies

I need sex. Not just a want but a ragged-man-with-sunbleached-skin-and-cracked-lips-dragging-himself-across-the-Sahara-hoarsely-crying-an-inaudible-'Waaater'-need.

I think I've mentioned before that I'm a sexual person. If I haven't. "I'm a sexual person." I enjoy sex. The sensuality of seduction. The animal of fucking. The sweetness of cuddling. The satisfaction that all three blend together in this spiral-art sort of way.

And practicing a sort of abstinence for almost eight years (I'm not at liberty to define the abstinence guidelines here....gotta protect fellow partners in crime hehehe), I'm thinking entirely too much of sex. I thought a good portion of my brain was consumed with sexual thoughts WHEN I was sexually active. That was nothing! All this thinking reminds me of a story.

I had a friend named Chris S. Sexy man. Damn fine! And he could make me blush, not from embarrassment but from the rush of blood to all the right spots. He told me one day that he had heard a news blurb on how often the average man thought about sex in an hour. Just an uncontrolled thought that ripped through his brain while he was doing something mundane....like taking out the trash. Chris had decided to tally his thoughts throughout the day. He recorded his mind's sexual journey on his arm in groups of five. And as one can imagine, the inside of his forearm needed a serious washing.

Ok, is there a problem that I've run out of space on my body?

Sex? Yes, please

If you're faint of heart, you may want to exit now.....

*whistling Andy Griffith theme whilst waiting for faint of heart to leave*

Ok, have they gone?!

Let's get to the topic on hand.

I am in need of a good rodgering. Those not familiar with the term. I need to have sex. Get laid. Do the ol' in-out. Dance the horizontal...ah yeah, I think I've driven the point home...so to speak.

Now, I'm an extremely sensual and sexual person. Even in a non-sexual situation, I tend to touch people. Just a touchy feely person. Tends to make some people uncomfortable. And in the 'bedroom' I'm a damn possessed woman. Problem I have is that I've abstained from intercourse for 7+ years. YES!!! 7+ YEARS!!!! I'm going a little batty. I'm not going to be dishonest and say that I've been completely celibate. I've had a few (and those have been few and mostly kissing) interludes of fun. The actual "deed" has been absent from my life. And I miss it!!!

I miss the smell of a man's skin. The warmth of his body. The sound of pleasure, Feeling of ecstasy. Sweet kisses, erotic caresses, nibbling explorations.

Sigh...ahem...RIGHT! Um, back to the point!

I'm loss without IT. I'm not a nymphomaniac but geez, a person can only go so long.

I think of an episode of Seinfeld that reminds me of my situation. George and Elaine abstain from sex I think because of a bet. George's IQ skyrockets because he's using the portions of his brain (all of it) usually dedicated to his obsession with sex. And Elaine gets...well, disorganized to put it politely. Elaine's boyfriend is an almost-doctor who can't pass the boards but when Elaine witholds sex, he can concentrate and finally passes after the umpteenth time with flying colors. Then he dumps her.

I feel like Elaine. Don't think I really need to elaborate. But if anyone knows of a man that can help a girl out....My phone number is 555-HNOP (help Naomi out please).