clearly - silly and good (part IV)

He was all hyper immediately afterwards. More than I’ve ever seen him. Phew, he kept saying. Trying to shake it off with a sigh. He put on a deep voice, joked about trying to ‘play it cool’ , said he was trying to be like, well that was fun, enjoy yourself now, bye, but that no, that was good. No that was really. quite. good, he kept saying. Maybe cos it was unexpected, he said. I don’t know. Wow…. Sweeeet... Duuude..You know what I’m saying? I was gasping with laughter after each mock adolescent exclamation, always easily amused when weak. I volunteered a Whoa and snorted. He was laughing, rambling like the kid he can sometimes suddenly be. I was grinning and giggling through my haze. Phews were still being passed all around. He kept jokingly apologizing for being so annoying.

I was quite enjoying it.

I’ll leave you to enjoy your bliss in peace soon, he said. Gimme a few more minutes.

Even if we don’t fuck again, at least now we have this thought, he said as we shut the phone.

I got up later and placed my hand between my legs from behind, and found watery cum had leaked out, slippery on my legs, still wet on my hand. (And I’m not usually much of a leaker.)

And I was naked in the mirror, and I felt fantastic, happy, energized, yes doesn’t matter what happens now, that was just so good

clearly- yes (part III)

Then you’re telling me you’re stroking yourself, that you don’t usually like to stroke sitting down but that it feels soothing and good. I’m throbbing and quiet. You’re afraid you’ve said too much and I say no. Fuck, so horny, you’re typing. Fuck. Mmm.. is all I’m typing.

Then you want to hear more, want your ego stroked more as you stroke yourself, you want to be compared, and you know it’s bold and wrong, and I’m laughing cos I don’t care. I'm lightheaded and my legs are burning and I don’t care. And it’s subtle so I don’t know what to say but I want to tell you all… I don’t care, I’m shameless, I just want you to cum, cum from knowing what you do to me. I tell you how addictive and perfect and smooth and tight and warm you feel when you push inside me. I’m shameless. I tell you how it’s just a yes when you push inside me, and I laugh at my own silly lyricism. Fuck. I curse your pianist’s rhythm, laughing still, telling you how insanely good your rhythm is inside me, never mechanical, capturing me.. Fuck. You sound like you want to cum, I say. Are you trying to make me cum?, you ask at the same time. Always simultaneous, you joke.. We’re laughing. I was just saying what I felt, I say. K maybe I want to make you cum a little bit, I admit. We’re laughing. I’m wet. I hope you’re really hard.

Then you say watch this, you’re showing your cock on camera, we’ve only been talking like this for a minute, but you are longer and harder and thicker than even expected. You tease me with it in your hand. Mmmm. I’ve never seen you with it in your hands, alone, stroking like that. You shut the camera off, say it’s your first time on webcam. Tease. I’m asking if you liked it. You’re asking if I liked it, if it brought up any pleasant memories. Bastard. I just say yes. You type a moan, and you know it just won’t do. I have to hear you. I need to hear you. I tell you that. I say I’m gong to call.

Then we’re on the phone. So you need to hear me? I just say yes. Have you missed my cock? Yes. You ask if I have anything to show you. You say it’s only fair.

Then I’m on camera. The image is blurred, I’ m trying to fix it with shaking hands. My hands are inside my panties, I’m stroking my clit. I’m telling you about it because it’s hard to see. Show me your cunt. I’m standing. I’m pushing down my panties and lifting up my nightie so it’s hiked around my waist. Yes that’s it. I have the phone in one hand. You’re groaning. I’m standing, my cunt is there standing for you, my hand stroking it. You tell me yes, that’s the cunt I want to fuck. I can barely take it. I can barely take it now just typing it. Can you cum twice?, you’re asking. Yes, is all I can say. Yes? You tell me you want me to cum now like this, and then have me cum again with you later, enjoy it fully.

Then I start to really stroke, I start to gasp, my spine starts to collapse from the waist, my head lolling sideways down to my waist, phone tight in my ear, sobbing, yes, yes cum on your feet, you say, your knees weak, cum while you stand.. I’m moaning cos I’m going to fall, I’m going to cum, legs bending, cum leaning against the desk, I can’t scream, my roommate’s around, I collapse on to the side of the desk, my breath ,trying to catch, then you tell me to shut my webcam and lie down in bed and relax.

Then it’s just your voice, I’m in bed, I’m on my stomach, still panting, you’re telling me how you want to fuck me on my stomach, deep, you say you want to try and give me a different orgasm, make me squirt, put your cock deep and stroke my wall, find my spot, how I could let go to it, let it build, feel it strange, how I’d fight it, and you’d be able to hold me down, overpower me, how you’d love to see me fight it, moan, how you’d be fucking me, you’d see me, but I would just be there being fucked, and if I let go to it, I would just cum, feel it like a man does, ejaculate, maybe a little, maybe a lot, maybe a whole gush, but how gone I’d be right afterwards regardless, unable to cum again, completely emptied, just soaked onto your cock, would you like that you ask me, would you like for us to do that, I just say yes, dying, I’m going to cum, I tell you, don’t, don’t, sob, don’t cum babe, let me own your cunt, groan, move your hands in rhythm with my words, don’t cum, gentle and firm as always, let me own you, sob, you want me to own your cunt?, yes, you like when I own your cunt? yes, then don’t cum…moan.. you like when I control your cum?, yes, then don’t cum, I’m whimpering hard, trying to control my hands, zoning in on just you, whimpering, don’t cum, soon, soon you’ll cum, whimpering, tightening and tightening inside, feels so good to wait right at the brink, wait, hand slipping and sliding, thrusting onto my hand, listening to only you, faster, faster, fadingaway, cum, hard, you’re screaming it, hard, hard, hard, oh I wish I could scream, I hit hard against my hand, into my wet plush self, and I cry out, wish I could scream, cumming out of my lungs in a silent tortured aaaaaaa that I can’t sustain, breaking into a loud gasp, you’re groaning so loudly through it again because you're cumming too, groans I’ve missed, god that’s a drop, you’re mumbling between groans, god such a drop, I’m blanked out on my pillow listening and panting, barely there, you really focused on me there in that last bit, I could tell, thank you, thank you for that. you say all in one breath, I just say yes.

Then thank you.

..to be continued, last little bit.

clearly - i ache (part II)

The next morning I woke up and I felt calm. I saw the fear that had been clouding everything up and making everything needlessly impossible. The same panicky fear every time there’s a change.

After writing down of the intensity with T the night before, I realized it isn’t something to fear. It’s just what it is, and I enjoy it thoroughly. It’s what I want. It’s what I crave. It satisfies me. That was it. Why run away?

When I caught T online this time, I was ready to talk. He said if I needed more space it was fine, but no I was ready. I wasn’t doing very well, I was still a little all over the place, but this time I was calm. I told him how it had been startling to be filled with a huge, strong craving for him, after having sex with someone else. This was tricky area, and even typing it now I cringe a little. I told him how it made me feel bad for N a bit. Still, the craving couldn’t be denied. I told him about talking with N, told him about what seemed to be lacking. I didn’t write N off completely because I wanted to be fair to him, and I really hadn’t known him long enough to tell.

Long silence. He had told me from the beginning, that I could take all the time I wanted, but that I had to give him input, because he couldn’t come to a decision about us without hearing from me.

I tried to think of what I wanted to say.

T: Anything you want to say regarding us?
L: Hmmm

Long silence.

T: You don’t have to.
L: I know.

Just tell him what you were thinking yesterday, I thought. You typed it out before here. Now type it to him.

Still silence. And then…

L: I was thinking of how much I really do like to hear of your want for me. Like if you tell me you want to hear me cum. It's very.. real. I really feel like I’m always completely there… and you are too.
L: I guess we’ve mentioned it before kinda…
L: But it really does leave my cunt instantly aching when I hear that, every time.. It's powerful

Pause. I felt nervous. I was tingling though just from talking about it.

T: That’s hot
T: That made me hard at once, out of control

Oh. Unexpected. Yes, I was definitely aching again. And it was good.

Blurry and good.

to be continued

clearly - it doesn't matter (part I)

Things started to fall into place bit by bit suddenly today.

Last night I finally chatted with N. I told him vaguely of my strange, confusing talk with T.

I was in the middle of trying to remind N in my own hum-haw-errr kind of way that him and I had agreed that if this goes just the sexual way, then I would reconsider my current stance on not seeing T. Ugh.

He cut me short, praise the boy-

N: So basically you’re saying that rather than have two fuck buddies you would choose T.

I was a little askance at the titles, but relieved, yes this was the kind of choice I was attempting to talk about.

L: Well, I’m saying it would be a difficult choice. :S

N is fun, cute, lots of energy, super kinky, yet cuddly and tender at times. Incredible eyes, ever changing blue-gray with a fleck of hazel in the center. He DID make me eggs that morning, and he did fuck me hard and dirty, ramming his cock in my mouth, cramming his finger into my ass with lube, strapping me to my couch. It was quite good. It was new and exciting. I’m still very attracted. Maybe something light and nice like that would be good to have. Maybe it would be easier than what I have with T. (I suppose I have a strange idea of what constitutes easy and light and nice) But still, something missing, something that made him impossible to write about without just feeling like I’m just prattling off sex acts, impossible to really fully want.

N: Don’t sweat it babe. I’m just buggin ya.. I’m cool either way. You sort out what you have with T. If you wanna fuck, you tell me. You don’t, you can tell me that too.

I felt so relieved to hear him say that all of a sudden. It cinched it for me in a way. He really and truly didn’t care either way. He never did. I hadn’t expected a fight or a plea. But hearing it put like this, I realized fully what had been niggling at me the whole time. His general indifference. It’s what made some things feel like a pantomime. And I realized suddenly that it didn’t seem to matter a whole lot to me either. All our encounters had been fun. They had been impulsive. That was it.

We could do it again, or we couldn’t. It didn’t matter.

It was so obvious. I felt strangely like hugging him. The conversation ended pleasantly on that note, with no undercurrents of tension.

N: Rest easy pooks..concentrate on the important stuff.

Yes, yes I would. (Pooks?..Well, guess it’s cute.)


to be continued

inhuman

T,

Why can’t I talk about this with you?

I told you yesterday about the sex I’ve had with N. You were surprised. You thought I was going to be taking it slow. You thought I was after a relationship.

No, here we are T, here are the facts. I fucked N. No more, no less.

You were surprised. Not angry, not sad… surprised.

You wanted to know about it. Wanted to know my reasons why. I tried to talk, pedaling and backpedaling, nothing like the full truth seemed to ever come out of my mouth.

You were bruised. Your ego. You said you had thought our sex was inspiration and satisfaction enough for me.

It hurt to have you question that. After all this. Everything in this blog. But I didn’t blame you.

What could I tell you? That nothing but your cock in my cunt will do? Where does that leave me if it’s true?

This is not why N happened, is happening. What if it is? I know how wrong that is.

I couldn’t help but tell you I already missed your intensity.

As the conversation ended, you said abruptly, wow- it really is weird to think of you with someone so recently. Said you guess you’re only human.

I said, Better than being inhuman.

(But fuck it T, be inhuman, don’t let it affect you at all. Or be inhuman, be irrational and angry, cast me off. Own me, T, for just this second, for just this moment, I want this. When you respond to me right now, be inhuman, be fully mine, or be nothing.)

The feeling passed. We were us again, we were nearly theres, little grey bits of this and that. We were friends, fuckers, incompatible and intertwined. You said not to worry, that it is just that this is new for us. We just need to figure out how this will affect us.

You asked if I didn’t feel weird too. Our story goes a long way back, you said.

And I thought of ‘my story’ here that I could never finish telling. And I thought, yes it does, but what way does it go forward?

Weird is an understatement, was my only response.

I spent all night thinking it out in circles. There may be more to N or there may be nothing to N at all. Same goes for you, really.

I must have slept.

I woke up this morning and I still wanted to be in this closed empty ball of thought, under my sheets. My heart felt heavy. I put on your music for no smart reason, and crawled back in to bed. The phone rang a minute later, it was you. My heart felt heavy. I shut off your music, and picked up, throwing myself back into bed. You’d just got up too.

You asked me how I was doing, said that you wanted to check that I was alright. I chirped that I was ok, just a bit confused. The strangled cheerfulness was not me, but it was all I had.

You said you’d warned me about taking things too fast with N, that you knew a little bit of how emotional I was. Yes, I knew.

Not that I’m sayin- I’m not-you know, trying to... Yes, I knew.

It was not only N I was worried about though.

You really are quiet, you said. Yes.

Strangest thing, you said, after all that talk yesterday, I had a really erotic dream about you last night.

From our very beginning, I've felt nothing more seductive than hearing of your want for me. In all your different ‘I want you’s, I’ve felt so strongly the me in your you, the you in your I. It is not just general want for cunt. That kind of want, maybe the way it is with N, is fine, is fun, is free. But you want my cunt. Consuming. You want to feel your cock sliding between my walls. You want to hear my cries. Consuming. You want to fuck me, hear me, feel me build and cum, like you have before. So consuming. Why? Why is that so powerful? Why does it make my cunt ache, ready to be your want? You know I’ve wanted you the same way too. Can I ever admit this fully to you, how terrifying and wonderful this is, how much this blows my mind?

I wanted to moan all of sudden, but I held back. The dream is just the ego trying to reassert, I tried to tell myself. I fucked with other than it, and now it wants to fuck me more.

It is just like you though, the way you admitted this, in this darned if this isn’t the way it happened kind of way. You step over taboos with such gentle reassured ease.

I thought I might have just made it up at first. But then I thought wait a minute, I wake up, hard, pounding with this thought, that’s a dream. I ‘made it up’?? that’s what a dream IS..

I laughed, because I’ve struggled with this some mornings too. Even if it is a dream, how much of it is being remolded by our conscious self, as we try to recapture and retell it inside our mind?

It was practically a wet dream, you continued. I woke up ready to cum. I had to calm down a bit before I called you. But yeah, for a second there… I wanted to - rape you.

Your voice went quiet and breathy, a tinge of laughing shame, a tinge of laughing heat, saying that last part.

Ache. Throb. Ache.

Hmm, I said with a strained laugh, trying not to sigh. Quiet. Trying not to picture it. You didn’t tell me more about it thankfully. But I wanted you to.

You could tell I didn’t want to talk about it. You could tell actually that I didn’t want to talk much about anything. I knew I was just making this more difficult. I wanted to talk more about how I’m feeling. I wanted to answer your questions, because they do help, but everything that slipped out was just not what I was thinking at all. Or just a part of it. Short, staccato sentences with huge silences in between. I contradicted myself almost immediately, felt a panic building up, and you stopped, uncomfortable, and said, OK this really feels like you are not enjoying this at all.

I admitted that I really didn’t want to talk about this today. I didn’t want to talk with anyone about anything today.

I’m sorry, I told you, I'm just.. my head, it's not.. straight. I can't.. I'm sorry..we will talk.

You said it’s ok, though it did make it more difficult, for both of us. I knew.

Hey, on a lighter note, you said, your voice perking up, I had a really great dream!!'

That’s good, I said, smiling despite myself.

Damn good dream..

That’s good...

We laughed. Funny because I was glad for it, still am, ache or no ache.

I was still apologizing as we said our goodbyes, and you were telling me it’s ok and telling me to take care. We shut the phone.

I lay around all day… thinking… not thinking…

a billion and one ways to say 'we'll see'

Tommorow night N comes to my house.

Herpes issues have been pretty much resolved. Another doctor I trust told me the symptoms didn’t sound like it at all, and also I did turn out to have a vaginosis that might have lead to a blockage of glands. I’m going to stop talking about it now cos I didn’t want this to be some gross look into the things that reside in my vagina. I just wanted to clear it here, though of course you never can completely after a scare. All I can say is condom use prevails regardless, I’ve definitely learnt that much.

I also got to talk to T a bit more, as I’ve tried to mention here and failed. Mixed feelings would be an understatement. He seems to think that I am a bit more serious in what I want from N, or this is how he rationalises my reasons for wanting to do this. But in the very least, he knows that N is coming to my house, and it’s very likely that we’ll have sex, and well, we’ll just see how it goes from there.

I’m not sure what I want from N. Our talk has always revolved around sex, and if I look at him from a distance, I just see a 21 yr old boy who wants sex and who’s found a girl he can have it with easily. There’s nothing hugely wrong with that. I don’t need to have every part of me to be valued at all times. I think if this is all it is though, then he should value my sex, just as I would his. I don’t want to be a generic cunt for his anonymous cock. Yes, let sex be all we’re having, but I’d hate for it to be about how many girls he’s chalked up, and what kind of prestige his experiences with me are going to give him. He hasn’t given me cause to quite believe it’s like that, but I kind of worry all the same. I want real sex.

I don’t know if it’s worth giving up the more intense kind of experience I’ve had with T. I may be runining away from complications that intensity brings me sometimes.

I think N is confused about what more he wants from me anyways. We don’t put a name on it for now, friends with benefits, dating with a kink, what is it? We’ll need to soon. I’ve never dated you know. I’ve never understood it. I’ve had one two-year boyfriend and T. Deep down I don’t think anything that starts off this hugely sex-based can lead to anything more substantial. Maybe just an old wives tales?

Whatever it is, we’ll just be people and try to be careful and hopefully all will turn out fine.

The nice thing about N is I don’t feel like he’s a creep. Isn’t that a roundabout kind of nice thing? He was quite charming on our first luncheon date. I catch him online every day and he talks about his parents and his friends and his schoolwork. We talk about our exes. We talk movies and music and politics. He is overly smooth perhaps, but not malicious I don’t think.

And I will say this for N, his enthusiasm IS a lot of fun. He has a lot of things he wants to try, and though his motivations for wanting to try them are a bit suspect, he does really really want to try. He has this evil gleam in his eye that he knows he has, and loves to play up. And he is a bit superior about it in his ‘watch out for me’ kinda way, and I shouldn’t fall for these kinda games, but I want to. I want to be this little kink of a girl who he can try things on. It’s hot for me. What can I say?

His conduct when he came to my house was quite impeccable. We had sex because we wanted it. I would talk about it more because it was interesting at times, though not as consistently smoothly rich and sexy as it has been with T. It was a mixture of uneasy kissing, shy laughter and surprise, and raw, brutal, just doing this sex. I remember one particular instance where he whispered in my ear ‘I’m going to fuck you’ and proceeded to do just that, pushing me backwards onto the bed, while I laughed, partly from nervous excitement, partly cos I was brattily thinking, ‘Oh, you can do better than that’

I think I don’t feel like talking about it much cos of my guilt for not telling of it to T when he asked on the phone. I want to act like it didn’t happen. Maybe, maybe though, it was because it was nothing that inspired me to write about. We’ll see what happens this time.

I was chatting with him just now and he’s told me that I’m kind of 'innocent in a very corruptible way’.. It makes me laugh. I wonder if I’ve played at being that way. I don't think so. Something about being seen as something to be corrupted gets under my skin in a queasy way. It turns me on, and then pisses me off at the same time because things like corruption and seduction imply no choice and control. Well it is the dilemma of anyone who likes to submit some control during sex, I’ll deal with it. As I’ve told him, I have no hold over him, just whether I choose to stick around for it or not. That goes for anyone really. That is always my choice.

We should have fun. I’m writing this all so I can put it aside and just enjoy myself for once. Stop buying into every worry in the world and just do what I feel.

We said our goodnights a bit ago, and we both proclaimed that we were psyched, and we were both grinning in anticipation of what might come.

He’s going to come to my house late because he’s catching the bus after class. I’m going to be waiting for him. I’m going to be tidying the house and remembering to put water in the jug in the fridge and looking for extra sheets.

It’s going to feel sneaky and dangerous again, this tall boy with grayish blue wolf eyes ringing my door bell around midnight, me letting him in. Will we start right off the bat, or will we be shy and awkward and crack weird jokes?

I think we’ll have some drinks and unwind in my living room, find ourselves relaxed and sprawled in it, him sneaking off clothes from me like I didn’t want them off anyways.

Will he grab me like he wants to, will he hear me screaming again, will he really, really grab me, really just take and fuck me the way I know he wants to? I want to see him do it, really let loose and do it. I want to challenge him and fight it, I want to laugh at him, tease and goad him if he doesn’t give it his all. I want to feel a fury and see it be held down by him and squelched in his moment’s fuck.

Plus, he said he’ll make me eggs for breakfast.

(There's room to be cynical even there, but what am I coming to, if I can't just simply enjoy a man making me breakfast?)

what to write?

I want to write about what's actually going on in my life.

But the thought of sitting down and detangling this mess of fuck and feeling and putting it into words is so exhausting.

I want to write, but I don't want to know.

I want to write. About my immature N and doing this with him cos I can. About T finally talking of the lack of kissing between us, when I had already fully understood why 2 months beforehand, also roughly 2 months after whining about it here I guess. And being ok with it. And then a part not ok with it. About the heart in our mind that only wants to know 'what if?' About kissing N and feeling not quite right. But feeling excited still. Yes, 'what if?' About this thing we call a heart, just our hope in disguise, bloody organic sticky, merge my life, my thoughts, my codons with you disguise, keep knocking, keep living, the divine, the eternity in a lifetime disguise. About cumming loudly for T right after telling him it's time to hold off for a bit . About being glad for T and sad for T. About boundaries and whether we open them for love or love opens them for us. About the advice T gave me in this. About people who’ll tell you to unbunch your underwear whenever you show any alarming signs of giving a shit. (Hah. Even our idiom for caring is ugly.) About N possibly being one of those people, and still wanting to fuck him. About passion and earnest truth and lack thereof in me, N, and others.

Today, no learning. Just going.

(But then, this already has me thinking, so this is why they hide, we hide, I hide.)

forget

He’d wake up in her bed with the sun in his eyes. He’d complain that she had left the blinds half open again, and she’d giggle.

She was always laughing at the strangest times, and then forgetting the joke.

He’d part her grey and white striped legs from behind. He’d grimace half-blind as he slid himself in. She’d titter as he plunged his hardness into her. He’d feel kind of annoyed.

He’d roll her over onto her stomach, grab her by the roots of her hair, furling it into an angry French twist.

She’d arch her amused back, her ass sticking comically up. He’d be curled around her ridiculous curves, his teeth laid close, ready for her back.

He’d bite malicious marks all down her back. Punch purple brackets into her heaving back.

His annoyance would slip away, he’d be still inside her, a fact hard to forget, as she’d start to drip, patters of drips onto his cock with each bite and tug.

They would stay long like this, in this push or pull, this hard or soft, this moan or laugh, this bright or shade. Her cunt the shining wet on his teeth, his hard cock the cut in her back.

Until he could finally be still, leave the fist of hair threaded between his fingers, comforted on her head. Until he could leave his teeth resting in the place he was last, flesh caught gentle in between. Until he could finally move inside her, finally just –I’m here- thrust.

Forget her until the next sunny morning.

breathe

I’ve come closer in this past year to peace. It may not seem like it from my posts, but I feel it nearer every day, tantalizingly close. I feel a surrender to events that doesn’t have to mean giving up. I feel a smile that is neither happy nor sad. I flow, all I know is I go, one way or the other.

Sweet Anna tells me to breathe, to think back to a time when I was happy and breathe. It inspires me, and I thank her for it. And I think on my happy times, and on my bad times as well, and I breathe.

The good, the bad, the panic, the calm, the cum, the laugh, the cry, they’ve all taken my breath away, they’ve all held my life in their hands for a moment, and given it back. My heart’s pumped another day.

Time smooths you down, so my mother says, you stop feeling as much.

Age is a distance.

And I learn again and again that all the clichés are true, and every cliché can still be mine and mine alone. I learn to choose sappiness over indifference. Sincerity over uniqueness. I trip, but I fall forward.

This smooth marble feeling creeps up on me, begins to gloss over me, not in my grasp, but nearly there. I start to pearl over. I begin to realize this might not be a catastrophe. That there is a balance. A reserve. My center remains molten.

Day and night start to fall into place. My wants multiply until I want it all, and then needs start to feel irrelevant. Some things I will strive for and never get, some things will fall in my lap undeservedly. It feels so good to just desire.

So much more to go, and yet I’ve come so far. The realization that my life didn’t have to feel common, wasn’t, has wrought such a change over me. I’ve found the people with words and actions and faces that can touch right underneath my nose, me and you.

I start to love without trepidation.

I hope to come to the point where I can string love in garlands everywhere defiantly, and see the love that has already been strewn here and there on my path, in my every interaction with the world. I hope for no shame and no fear in this. I know I will feel those too.

I hope for courage.

I find myself in everything. I find everything in myself. There is so much hope for me. I pile dirty thing on top of dirty thing till I am overwhelmed, and then hope crashes them down, pushes me to move on.

Someone saw me over the holidays after a 15 month absence and told me I’d changed.

“Your face, something, you look different.. better.. your eyes or something “

“I grow old, I grow old”, I quoted with a laugh.

I have. I shed innocence in exchange for awareness every day.

lost

I’m in a whirlwind. I have herpes. I don’t. I’m irresponsible. I’m a slut. T’s words are in my ear fucking me. N is nibbling on my throat. N’s lips meet mine. X is hugging me tight. I need you. I don’t. I don’t need anyone. I’m telling lies. I want the truth. Did I trick N? Did I trick you? There are no words. I try to speak. N maybe we should. X you shouldn’t have. T I don’t think I should. I don’t need your intoxication. I want it. I crave it. I crave you too. Do I need him to hold you away? Why did I start this? Why are you you? No courage in these thoughts. I can’t walk away from you with your cock still in my cunt. And they all think something that’s not, and it’s all my fault. I don’t even like N that much. Why am I doing this? Well I like him. But still no trust. Too volatile. Too reckless. Too immature. Like me. No love. No need. Just a vague interest. Feels like a pantomime. Could be real. I’ve missed kisses. I’d forgotten how. His face is vulnerable. Yours never is. Not with me. Which do I prefer? Which is scarier? What am I doing? Lost. Why have I been doing this? Why do I let things move so fast? And still be so cautious? Because I can. I can’t admit all even here. I don’t want to, I was doing so good. You all are reading, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. I just get off being someone’s hot fantasy. That’s all N is? T T T T you’re worth more than an initial. I am so overwhelmed by you sometimes. I want to run so far. I should. I think that’s what I wanted. A distance. Hah. So glad you called me back two times. I missed that voice telling me when to cum. You floor me. I flirt with N. I’ve already fucked once with N. I haven’t told you. You floor me. I haven’t told you. Everything you are. My fucker. Not mine. I talk to you on the phone and you make my cunt hurt with a sentence or two. None of this N like easy generic teasing with you. All my yous here are Ts and that is scary. I tell you I think we might have to hold off the sex for a while if I am to date N and I think, what the hell have I just said.?? I haven’t even thought about this. I’ve thought of it too much. You understand. What you can give, what you cannot. You miss hearing me cum. You’ll say no more. We wish each other a nice day. I sit there wanting to fuck you. You call back, because you know, when have you not? I tell you we can play but I don’t want to have sex with you. Don’t misquote yourself, yes you do, is your answer. I stutter. Let me rephrase that for you, you say, you want to fuck me… Well I want but I don’t want to because. I want but I can’t. There are things holding me back. These are my answers. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have said anything to you from the very beginning. I shoot the gun and I make things difficult. I owned up too late and not fully enough. You call back again. We cum. I’m loud and you want me to be. You are always so good. You always bowl me over. I miss the effect your words have on me. I'm afraid I'll be 50 with a husband and I'll still have thoughts of you. Intensity leaves marks. Maybe not so bad. Maybe it won't detract. Just chalk up. Chalk up another good experience. Chalk up another mistake. I can date N you know. He’ll take me on a date. Dinner and a movie and a hotel. I like N. He's younger than me. You're older. I'm stuck in the middle. I fucked with N. I haven’t told you. I just told you I might soon. N laughed at how loud I was during sex. It surprised and amused him. He knew about the possible herpes scare and didn’t care. Said we’d be careful. We used a condom and no oral and he washed up afterwards. Why the pointless lies? Stupid near truths and missing information. Stupid when the truth isn’t much worse. Shame. And I know you, I know I could have told you all. You deserve it. I try, I’m not proud, I try and I’m nowhere near what I want to be.. Happening fast, didn’t know what to say. I fucked up, I didn’t want it like this. It was good. He has potential. You are already there. I like his enthusiasm. The evil glint of oh the things we could do. You have it too. Deeper. And I want to say it’s not that you’re better than N. Cept you probably are. In many ways. Where’s the dilemma then? I hoard people. I want it easy. I like N. I want to know him. I want to be the girl who shows him. I want to be free. This is all so predictable. All so whiny. What will I tell everyone? What will I tell you? Him? What will I tell myself?

I keep wanting to cry all day and it’s back to wintertime here again. Wanting to get back to another time again.

Breathe.

I might have herpes. I can’t think of any better way of starting this post, even if it is a new year, and after a long absence.

A round bump on my inner labia appeared, swelled up painfully and then disappeared over the course of three days. I was still away and with family, so I didn’t go to the doctor. The country I was in isn’t very open in its attitudes about a sexually active woman anyways. I feared taking into confidence a possibly hostile and unprofessional doctor.

I should have just gone.

I got to a doctor here as soon as I came back, but the damn thing had healed. I was told it might be herpes but I would have to wait to see if it happens again and get the lesion tested. There are blood tests, but they seem to only work a couple of months after infection, if at all.

It could come again in a month. It could never come again. It could be nothing. A blocked gland or something. I could never know. I’d still have to tell every potential partner about it.

I told T of course, and he’s perplexed, seeing as he’s never had any problems and has never heard from any partners. Apparently something like two thirds of those who have sex have it and around 80% of them don’t show any symptoms. So it wouldn’t be very surprising.

The weird thing is I don’t really care for myself. It sounds pretty harmless. Even if I get a symptomatic outbreak every month. A little extra pain in my life, a little more risk for a baby during pregnancy unfortunately, but whatever, I’ll deal with it.

But who the hell is going to be willing to deal with it with me?

I was going to meet up with N (new boy, initial worthy after all) and well, we were really rearing to go. Now I had to tell him about it, and of course it put things on hold. I think he’s hoping that I’ll somehow find out it was nothing. But I don’t see that happening any time soon. And I don’t see him sticking around forever, or commiting enough to take the risk, no matter how careful we are.

I’m not so near-sighted as to be complaining just about not being able to have sex now or for the next few months. The question is when then? And with whom?

Someone else with herpes I suppose. And with the same type as me. Though testing for the type in Canada seems a bit difficult.

I can’t do any other way I don’t think. I can’t imagine forming a solid long-term relationship with someone without having sex with them. I can’t imagine being with someone who doesn’t want to have sex with me. It’s a vital part of my life. I don’t want to lose it. Is this shallow? Should I rethink this?

I’ve been calm about this whole thing, trying to swallow the consequences of actions that were my choice.

But last night in bed, I started to think about how N may be coming down for dinner today, and of how badly we’ve wanted each other, and how little we could probably do now. (I don’t feel ok enough to talk more about N and implications for T. Maybe later.)

I thought maybe we could kiss, then I thought maybe I had spread the infection to my mouth (happens, but rare) and maybe he wouldn’t want that risk. So no blowjob either. Handjob maybe. Maybe just slip his hands into my pants. Wash them with soap afterwards. Maybe just through my pants. Maybe just my breasts. Just a hug. A hold? It hit me all at once, I felt like a leper, I started to cry.

All this, for something that might turn out to be nothing. I’ll go get a second opinion.