god, i miss sex.
it's been weeks since the last time, and it was weeks before that, and on and on...
watching queer as folk dvds and john mayer on youtube is NOT helping matters at all. there's always been something about a good blues guitar that gets me all hot and bothered.
someone i love deeply told me not to forget about my right hand, as if i could. no, it's not that. i can make myself come. i can do that practically anywhere in thirty seconds flat. that's not what i want tonight. i crave the look in his eyes and the sparks that fly when he.wants.me.NOW and i know it. i miss feeling the muscles move in his forearms. i miss skin under my nails, thick black hair in my fingers, shoulders between my teeth. i miss the feeling of release. tonight i just want him and i want it dirty and loud and unrepentant.
we've talked about this endlessly in our two years and even recently. he says with everything going on, the very last thing he wants is sex. i get it, and i let it go, because what can i do? i'm not that way; my libido hits high at the first sign of chaos. always has. i'm not blaming and i'm not faulting him. i understand.
it's just that i want things the way they were that night after we got home from richmond. new year's: me on all fours and him in my ear demanding that i come. i ain't never had it like that and it was like a drug. i walked down the street and my hips had a rhythm of their own. it was palatable. i was floating. we both were. everytime he moved his fingers he stared at me. he knew what he had started. and now...now he only wants to sit next to me on the couch watching other people have sex and i am slowly losing my mind.
because this...
...this is all i can see everytime i close my eyes.