Here it is... four o'clock in the morning, and I cannot sleep. It's not that I'm not tired, because I am -- very much so actually. The reason I fail to find that long longed for delivery by the sandman is that tonight I will go to bed completely unsatisfied, in the most physical sense of course. It is in this time where I am stressed to the point of exploding in bits of rage at everything that I need to be loved the most I think. Not held, or hugged, or reassured. Not bent over anything and ravaged. Loved. Completely and deeply, and in a way that only he could give me. I can't tell him this, that I feel somehow everything would be better if he would only have sex with me. That's not even it. I don't want sex, or to fuck or screw or whatever term you choose to describe this fornication. (By the way...fornication is one of my least favorite words in the English language, guilt anyone?) I want only to make love with the one that I love. Instead I lay with his naked body pressed up against mine, holding me close...and me, well, I guess there's no sugar coating needed -- I'm frustrated to the point of tears damn near. In this moment I realize that I would fail at writing erotica. I'm much to much of a hopeless romantic. It's not enough to talk about quivering members, throbbing cocks, and slippery wet pussy. (Another of my least favorite words.) I'd want the characters dancing in my mind to fall in love and have a happily ever after. I guess... you can have both, right?
Which kind of brings me to a point which I've brought up with my best friend, but not with him...directly at least. The disconnect. Our usual ... sexual adventures, if you will, are full of this passion. It's raw, and it's definitely carnal. It makes me feel empowered even if I'm being 'dominated' and it gives me this amazing rush during. When it's over, it feels like the world I was just in sort of melts and there he is beside me. Like...he's not the same man that was just with me. I'm dating two people, or something. It sounds insane I'm sure. However, it's like there's this super caring and loving individual who is silly and we can laugh and joke and such together with ease. Then there's this I'm going to bend you this way grab you here and fuck your brains out guy -- who I am a fan of, for sure and definitely. It's weird though, that somehow in my reflections of the world...these two, personalities, if you will - they aren't the same person. They are in the fact that they generally look the same and feel the same and taste the same. There's something more animalistic in him than normal, a throw back to a time when we lacked higher brain function. I don't know how many tabs he has open at that moment, but I don't care. All I want his him to flip me around grab my arms and fuck me harder, deeper, faster. To pull my hair and to pinch, bite, and suck everything else he possibly can. To make me writhe in pleasure to cry out in complete and utter physical ecstasy. And in writing that I note, perhaps there is a disconnect not within him, but within myself?
Regardless... tonight... I didn't want that. I was slightly frustrated from a less than fantastic, and definitely not par for the course performance of earlier, sure. I wouldn't be lying to say it sucked...Anyway. That's not what my concern was. Rather than sit there and..compare notes and test this and that. Rather than talk about anything, well... I just wanted the night to be...I don't know. The only time that I didn't have the disconnect I mentioned is when I asked him flat out to just love me. It was then that I felt my soul reaching out and ...dancing intertwined with his. Dumb, I know, but it was something so deep and real and...nearly spiritual as blasphemous as that may be.
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