Saturday, March 17, 2012

When it rains

It's here again. Storm, the literal and the figurative. My brain filled with images I can't control. My body vibrates with desire, the need to be touched, to touch, taste, feel. Incoherent scenes flash through my mind. My fingers gently tracing the soft swells of a woman, painting her skin with my tongue, my touch. I'm drowning in the sensations of my imagination. I need to focus, do the daily things I am responsible for, but I cannot escape the driving desire. It will not leave me alone.

I wonder if other women feel this way; are they slave to their sexual desires? I don't see the hunger I have in anyone else's eyes. Do I cover it up that well? It seems so bare to me, that surely everyone must know how wanton I am.

I can only be at peace when I surrender. His acceptance gives me permission to be hedonistic. It absolves me of responsibility and keeps me safe from myself.

Tonight I want to experiment; to see if I can orgasm simply from having my nipples teased. In the middle of the storm, I feel like almost everything makes me shivergasm.

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