At night, I fall into bed, exhausted. I put my ocean waves meditation on my phone and usually fall asleep quickly. Every few days, or maybe once a week, I remind myself that orgasms are a relaxation tool too.
It’s a purely mechanical release, although I do have a fantasy or two just to get me through it. But it’s a cursory fantasy, pro forma. A shorthand cross between the beginning of Story of O and my own training school fantasies.
Hitachi held in place with one hand, other hand on a nipple, I skim though the stories in my mind. One minute, two minutes, three -almost there – four – BOOM. Ok, not the world’s greatest orgasm, but some relief. And sleep.
I was thinking yesterday about getting fucked. It’s been years since I have, and I don’t expect I ever will again. How weird is that? I mean, I know theoretically that could change, but I don’t think it will. I’m pretty tied to MP, and he’s not going to do it. I’m too old/tired/not-even-interested-enough to look for someone else to do it. And I’m not even sure I want to. So there’s that.
It doesn’t bother me at this point. But there was a moment yesterday when I was remembering what it felt like to join, the pressure as he enters, the sensations ~~~~~
The days are full, they fly by. I never get as much done as I want, but I never did, why would that be different?
There are lots of things that are good, lots of things I love. Lots of things that make me smile. I’m going to do a workshop and I’m excited about that – offer it, not take it. I’m making a workbook for my clients, and that’s fun and exciting.
The kids are thriving, still. MP and I went for a lovely electric trike ride yesterday. My daughter is doing really well, even though she doesn’t seem to realize it or feel like she is.
I miss being here, miss having this space to say whatever I’m thinking or feeling. Maybe I just need to be here more often.