Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’m horny. “The Rabbit” (as I’ll call her here) just loaned me a couple of books of photography to look through — one by Sam Haskins, the other by a guy I didn’t know… but the photographer wasn’t the point, the “lesbian” sex was, and it was so perfectly what I’ve wanted (the porn) for so long. Extensive use of soft lighting, almost to the point of vignette. Warm colors. Lots of lace and stockings and outfits-as-props. Trimmed — but not bald — pubic hair. I would guess late ’80s, maybe early ’90s. Just deliciously perfect, and I gave her my thanks and told her so — and why.
And I’m horny, as I mentioned. Normally I’d masturbate and be done with it; I don’t want to reach my hand down because I’m not horny that way. I know that my hand won’t find what it’s reaching for either, because my pussy isn’t there yet… and I know that, but I want to reach down and finger myself. I’m really pissed off. No, that doesn’t express it… I want to rage. I want to smash and break and scream. I’m really fucking angry, and I don’t have anywhere to direct that anger out, not even into a productive channel. I’m way too tired to try to do any cleaning or organizing my stuff out on the back porch, I don’t have any sort of physical work I can do, and I really ought to be going to sleep, even if I don’t really want to.
I guess for now I’m just writing, because there’s nothing else to do. I may as well tell a bit about The Rabbit — she’s been my good friend/girlfriend for a little while now, helped me get most of the work done with packing up and moving my things out of that old hellhole, driving me around to and from the storage unit I’ve rented for the moment. She’s my place to crash for now, as I mentioned in my last post here that I’ve got a temporary situation — in her guest bedroom. I don’t relish the though of jumping right back into house-hunting again, but I’ve been working as much as I can on that in my down time, while I’m still trying to get the rest of my belongings into storage as quickly as possible.
It would be really nice if I could more easily arrange another meet-up/hook-up with my new friend (yes, the “with benefits” kind) “Smash.” I’d forgotten how much sex I need, and how much I need sex; going without or with so little for so fucking long must have left me in a bit of a libidinous coma. Now, just like when I get a great meal after going hungry for ages, my body remembers that appetite and clamors to be filled. Since Smash can’t host, and I’m not entirely certain of my ability to do so here, I’m really hoping it doesn’t end up being a long time before we have the chance to fuck again. I’m really hoping to take a strap-on for the first time, almost as much as I am to just in general getting pounded hard. It’s been a long time, and then almost entirely with the psycho ex (and her cock was her own flesh.) One hook-up and fuck so far with Smash, plus a coffee and lunch date, still leaves my balance in the red… with all the lights the same color: STOP HERE. I need to go, go, go… and there’s nowhere I can get to!