I’m still here at your house. It’s too late to drive home. I’m wearing the Burgundy Calvin Klein shirt I bought you and sleeping in one of the kid’s beds.
Kissing you goodnight… I could feel your tongue on my lips. It made things tremble. My heart feels heavy just thinking about it. I had to pull away to keep myself from going too far. It feels like I’m going to explode.
Your cat is in heat and I understand how she feels. You used your tongue to clean your glasses earlier and your hands to describe something… The roads in my head must be wet because my mind keeps slipping into the gutter. But holy fuck, I feel empty in places that haven’t known a man’s touch – well, anyone’s touch, actually – since the last time you touched me. By the gods I want you to touch me. I feel more connected to you than ever before. It’s strange and terrifying and wonderful.
We talked so much tonight, the hours just slipped by. We talked about our trauma, our relationship, growing up, family, love, bullies, old hurts… you reminded me not to be so hard on myself when I look back on my mistakes. That I couldn’t gain the wisdom I have today without learning from my failures. I’ll probably need the reminder a few more times before the concept really solidifies, but it means a lot to have a partner that not only has grace for me, but also encourages me to have grace for myself.
I know we aren’t saying it yet, at least not out loud, but I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped… my guard was up because of how much we hurt each other. We were still growing up. Still learning how to be adults and trying to do something neither of us has the skill for. I’m not regretful that we had this time apart. I know we needed it for our growth… to become the kind of people we needed to be for ourselves, our children, and each other.
If someone told me two years ago that we’d be where we are tonight, I’d ask which mental hospital they’d escaped from. I know it will take time for you to get where I am… but I’m looking forward to the day when I can give you all of me. And when you can give me all of you. I’m glad to have even just a little of you for now and thankful for any time we can have together.
I feel like I barely slept last night. I masturbated twice, thinking about your mouth on me, your hands exploring my body, your hard cock pressing into me. I also realized that I may have a praise kink. I ached to hear you growl how good I taste. To hear you say I’m such a good girl. To hear how much I please you.
I must be ovulating to be this horny.
I want you to worship every inch of me. I want to do the same for you. I’m fantasizing about going down on you and making your toes curl. Throwing you down on the bed, ripping off your pants, and giving you the blow job of your life… drinking every drop I can suck out of you and making you shiver with pleasure.
I want you deep inside me. Your hands grasping my hips as they grind my ass against you. You pulling me back so I slam down on your thick cock, my pussy dripping wet as you hit just the right spot over and over. I want those big hands grabbing my ass, pulling my hair, squeezing my throat, and massaging my breasts. I want you to rip the screams out of me while my pussy grips and milks your cock.
And I want your mouth on me, sucking my clit. Your tongue lapping up all my cum while you drive those thick fingers into me, curling them and caressing my trembling, wet insides. I want your teeth to brush the soft insides of my things and your hands gripping my ass, pulling me closer. I want to feel your moans of ecstasy as you bury your face between my legs and inhale my scent. I want to hear you tell me how wild the smell of me makes you, how delicious my pussy is. I want grab your hair and throw my head back as I come on your face, screaming your name.
I want to mount you. Lowering myself onto your thick cock, stretching me out with every Ince and filling me up. I want to go slow, riding you while staring deep into your eyes, your hands on my hips, on my thighs. I want to inhale the scent of you, of our sex. I want to feel your cock twitching inside of me as your come. Your fingers dragging into me, bruising my flesh.
I want to feel that amazing tongue swirling against mine while your hands explore my body, pulling me close to you. Grabbing my ass and hiking up my Drews. I want to see your eyes darken as you see my red, lacy panties before you rip them to shreds and cup my sex. Slipping a finger in and bringing it to my lips, so I can suck your fingers clean. And when you kiss me, You’ll taste my juices and moan against my mouth, tell me what a good girl I am. Sucking on my ear, nibbling my neck, biting my shoulder. All the while, fingering me until my legs grow weak then climbing on top of me and fucking me until you cry out with pleasure, driving your cock deep into me and filling me with your hot cum.
Fucking hell…
But we can’t do any of that. Not yet. I need to know that we can be good at more than physically pleasuring each other. I need to know that I can confidently communicate my needs, my fears… without it causing a rift. I know we’ve had some practice… but we haven’t had a real conflict yet. At least, not this time around.
Or maybe we have. Maybe this is the most conflict will ever be going forward (a girl can dream) and we won’t ever devolve back to the screaming, contemptuous, nonproductive arguments.
You apologized last night. You said you had so many things you were sorry for. That you’d been an asshole. It meant so much to hear your apologize. I know we’re different people now and I’ve committed myself to viewing this relationship as a fresh start, to not hold any animosity towards your past self. And you reminded me last night that I deserve the same for myself.
As much as I can hold a grudge against someone else, I think being made at myself has been second nature. Living with so much regret and self-doubt hasn’t done anything from. And if I can forgive you, I should offer the same redemption for myself. Not to say I should sweep everything under the rug, but acknowledge my mistakes for what they were and use them as learning opportunities to do better going forward.
It’s only now 7:00 AM. You’re sleeping across the hall. I can hear you breathing. I just want to crawl into bed next to you and snuggle. Listen to your heartbeat and run my fingers along your chest and stomach… and yea, I want to grab your morning wood and rub it up and down, teasing the head. Squeezing and releasing until you can’t stand it anymore and you reach over to finger me only to find me sopping wet and ready for you.
Ugh… I must be a masochist to be torturing myself like this. I’m clearly in need of a good railing and you are such a skilled and attentive lover. And I miss your sexual touch so fucking much. I need a cold shower. Or an ice bath. Honestly, I’m shocked by my libido. I know I’d been aching for a cock to fill me up for quite some time now – I can’t even remember the last time we had sex. At least 7 months ago – I know it’s been longer than that.
Maybe I can get another hour or so of sleep. Hopefully…
Your alarm went off this morning while you were cleaning the kitchen. I was confused at first because you were already away and I figured you would have shut it off. But when I saw you rapidly swiping the screen on your phone I realized what you were doing. It was like my heart fell into my gut. That despair you feel, tight in your chest as it quickly travels past your stomach, sending it spinning before landing in your pelvis like a baby dropping. My insecurities flooded me again. I hate this feeling and it’s such a struggle to fight against my instinct. Not just because it’s so strong but because I have so much self-doubt.
Our workbook says that trusting again is something we’re called to actively choose to do. That I need to trust myself to be able to realize the resistance to trusting others. I’m terrified of being wrong. But I so desperately want to be able to take you for your word. I want to trust you. But I can’t tell if swallowing this down is the right course of action and I can’t talk it out with you without saying everything.
Current feelings: helpless, embarrassed, hurt, intimidated, confused, distraught
My inability to communicate all this to you is a clear sign that I’m not ready for sex, no matter how badly I want it. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m not ready for any of this. Or feeling that way is just me not trusting myself. Ugh, I don’t know. How are people supposed to do this? How do I overcome 36 years of poor decisions? How do I trust you? Myself?
Is this really the rational side of my brain? I just feel like you’ve been dishonest. Does she really need you to remind her to take her meds every morning? Couldn’t she set her own alarm? How does she remember to charge her phone or get refills of her meds? Why has this become your responsibility? What did she do to survive before you started doing this? It feels like an act of love and I think that’s why it makes me nauseous with anxiety. Combined with your description – a very impassioned description, I might add – of just how beautiful you think she is. I feel inadequate.
Will you tell her when something goes wrong? Will you complain about me to her so she can comfort you and take your side and make you feel vindicated? You haven’t spoken to Topher in weeks but this woman gets a piece of you every morning without even asking.
If you want to, you will.
I had to ask. I had to tell you what I wanted. But you were so ready and willing to meet her needs without be asked.
You even told me she rejected you… so why? Why would you continue talking? I want to quiz you, since you’re such good friends.
So I read all that to you. You were very supportive and patient. Each time I’ve come to you with a fear you’ve been understanding, attentive, and reassuring. I’m so thankful for that and for you.
I’m also thankful you made 100% sure I didn’t violate my own boundaries. Kissing you goodbye and feeling your hand on my chest… has it really been 2 birthdays?
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