This was my morning:
Get up at 10am…
No wait, it starts earlier than that.
Wake up at 6:30am with A. Tell myself I will get up and do “all the things I wanted to get done” during my break. Promptly go back to sleep.
Get up at 10am. Wander out to the computer, look for email from W. Respond to a comment in my LJ, fart around reading blogs and write in my LJ, think a bit about what I am “supposed” to be doing. Write email to W. Think about play, think about sex, think about cocks and pussies with their lips spread open. Go to bedroom to masturbate.
Goddammit! Even using Baldy, I can’t get there. Of course, my fingers have been working better lately anyway. Or maybe it’s not my fingers, maybe it’s being with one of the guys, because I haven’t masturbated alone in awhile. A says, when I call him and tell him (quite pitifully, I might add) that I can’t get off, “Maybe it’s Pavlovian. Maybe you gotta have a finger or a hand or a cock inside you to come now. Hey, that’s fun, maybe we should ring a bell every time you orgasm, train you like a dog to come to the bell!” Ain’t he just too fucking funny. “So I think you should come home now, make me come, then go back to work,” I say, all serious-like. Guess he didn’t agree, since he didn’t show up at my door ten minutes later and I still haven’t had an orgasm. Fuckin’ hell.
So I start cleaning up a bit, fold clothes, straighten books. Post to this space. You know, little things to keep me from having to actually CLEAN or something.
I wander over to read another blog I follow and found a post on using her safeword, which of course we don’t use. But then I get to the part about safewording because she farted…okay yeah, maybe I do need a safeword. If I am farting, STOP THE FUCKING SCENE. I’m done, no more, it’s all over. Not into THAT kind of humiliation. Speaking of which, I had planned to go get an enema kit, give myself a nice thorough cleansing, hadn’t I? Hmmm…wonder if that would give me the orgasm I am in such dire need of. Because it IS a need you know. I need to goddamn come.
Not like I didn’t have a rocking orgasm last night. One of those kinds that roll one into the other, so that even as I lay there “after,” I could kinda squeeze my thighs, tighten my vagina and have myself a tiny new one all over again. Yuummmm. I’m just a horny girl, I guess. Insatiable, right? No, not really. Must be thoughts of sugarplums dancing in my head…or crops and ropes and floggers and W’s fingers digging into me…
Pffft~~ I really do have to do other stuff now. Like figure out if I can use my old bathtub masturbation technique–will the water run hot enough/hard enough to make me come? I’m desperate here, truly.
This was my morning: