I went to my first meditation class tonight. My co-worker, who is recently single also, found it online and asked if I would go with her. It was interesting, I met some good people, apparently the tingling I felt in my head put me at the front of the class. But I’ll tell you a secret, actually three secrets (they aren’t really secrets):
- the song Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on played on the radio when I was driving there and I couldn’t get it out of my head, still can’t. It was way in the back, quiet, but it was there;
- I was afraid to relax because my body was dying to break wind. And you know it would be the smelliest fart in the history of farts; and
- I couldn’t stop thinking about sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. I like Joel’s hands, Lanny was kind of cute, I am a whore (in the best possible sense, of course).
This whole breakup has really awakened my sex drive. At first I couldn’t figure out why, but tonight it came to me – I have been giving for five years. Not that I was the instigator or aggressor of our sex, quite the opposite to be truthful. He always went down on me, made sure I orgasmed first and “tried” I guess. But my orgasms weren’t genuine. I would come from time to time but they were mostly forced, finish fast so he can finish fast so he won’t feel bad that he isn’t able to sustain an erection and I can get on with my night.
It happened gradually and was completely unintentional but there were just so many rules with him. I learned in the early days – before I broke up with him the second time, long before I actually moved here to be with him – that he didn’t like it when I was aggressive. He didn’t want me to be loud. It didn’t turn him on when I was on top. He didn’t like it when I touched his neck. So many rules, so many things to remember. I thought it would ease with time and familiarity but it only got worse. And I gave up.
I gave up. For the last couple of years I associated sex with pain. Yes, I liked his mouth on me, but then he would start ramming his fingers against my cervix, terrorizing my clitoris or irritating my g-spot. He wouldn’t listen. Softer, please. Be gentle. But once I get going I like it harder, so he would start hard and think he was doing a good thing. Pair up his low self-esteem with his lust and it just hurt. I stopped wanting to have sex with him long ago, I just kept doing my wifely duty. For as long as he could keep it up.
Of course, Unionguy and I have this really swell, graphic, intense and fucking hot cyber sext thing going so I’m throbbing pretty much all the time. Put me in a dimly lit room with a couple of guys (seriously, two guys and about 18 women) and I’m good to go. I could be a slut again. I am tempted to fuck everyone I see just for personal entertainment and gratification. I probably won’t. Well, not everyone. =D