Y’know, I look back at my writing from when I first started blogging, under an alias, behind a mask…
And I was so much more open, so much more honest. I wrote what I felt, said what I meant, was explicit because it never occurred to me to make things “polite” or “safe for work.”
And somewhere along the way, I started censoring myself. I stopped saying what I meant because someone might see it and criticize me over it. I wrote less of what I really felt because those emotions didn’t really need to be “broadcast” so loudly. I turned to euphemism because I was told that I was too crass, too vulgar, too much.
I have been struggling to remember how to do what I once did. I have to work to un-learn the bad habits I’ve picked up.
I really want to be fisted. I have been craving that for quite some time now. I’ve stopped bothering to count the days (the years) since I’ve had my ass fucked, I just know it’s been too long. It’s always too long between. Between any particular sex act, between any sex at all with another person (masturbation is just sex with myself, even if I’m someone I love.)
I have so many things that I need, sexually. And if you count masochism as a separate thing from sex (I don’t always, but sometimes…), then there’s still plenty in that regard that I need and lack.
But what’s been on my mind the last few days as much as anything else, is how much I miss the little bits of affection that often come along with having a girlfriend: running her fingers through my hair, a hand on my cheek, a hug hello, a quick little peck of a kiss before bed, a smile as she catches me looking at her with lust, putting on an impromptu sexy dance to a song that’s playing, putting on an impromptu silly performance to a song that’s playing, making breakfast together in our underwear, relaxing as she gets dinner started, calling out for delivery and scrambling to get dressed to answer the door because we got distracted fooling around while waiting, holding her close while she cried on my shoulder, being held close while I cried on hers, the look in her eyes when she’s lost in thought, the little “you okay? wanna talk?” when she sees the pain in my eyes…
I miss having someone around, someone who cares. And yeah, holy fuck, do I miss having sex more than once every few months and trying to be grateful for what I do have… but I think if I absolutely had to choose, right now, between the two…? I’d take the affection and romance over eating pussy and having my ass fisted while I cum.
I’m lonely. And it’s more than touch that I crave.