Tuesday, February 26, 2013

The Cure

I am highly, highly oversexed. I don't like that word because it makes it sound like I have too much sex, when in fact what it means is there is no such thing for me. I think about sex constantly. I may stop thinking about it for a minute or two at a time, but thinking about sex is my general state of being.

It's only natural that when the time allowed me, I'd start writing it too.

Being monogamously married to and owned by a man I adore is wonderful, but it sometimes carries a woeful amount of misunderstandings with it.

I get sad when we are not having some kind of sex at least every day. I'd prefer multiple times. We compromise and I think we're both pretty happy with where things are. Sometimes, though, life gets in the way for a day or two (or God forbid three or four) and it just doesn't happen. Sadness overtakes me then. I'm still thinking about sex all the time, but not having any, and I feel pathetic and undesirable. Things I could normally get through give me difficulty. Lethargy sets in, I feel depressed, I wonder what the point is to anything. Even through the fog of sadness I still read and think about sex, which just fuels the depression but isn't something I can shut off.

So he senses my sadness, or in some cases, he outright sees it. I cry easily and am overwhelmed by parts of life I should have under control. I lie awake well into the early morning, unable to fall asleep. He sees these things and he holds me, comforts me. Herein lies the miscommunication. He sees his girl sad and laden with woe and, not being turned on by sadness, he holds her through yet another sexless night. I feel even more worthless because the one thing I want is being retarded by my very reaction to not getting it. I despair, sunk deep in the self-digging hole.

I tell him this, trying to shine a tiny light of knowledge up at him from the bottom of my pit. I tell him that the words he once spoke to me years ago echo in my head, making me keep my silence. "It's hard to want a girl who's sad all the time."

By some miracle, he gets it. Not immediately, but quickly, after I choke back a sob to tell him that that's a self-digging hole. I start to say something else, but his palm is pressing on my face, pressing against my nose, covering my mouth. I moan. His hand moves, pressing against the other side of my nose, squeezing my face. "You were going to say, girl?" he asks, and his voice has changed. The solicitousness is gone, and in its place is a rough, dark rasp. His legs are none too gentle with mine as he yanks them apart.

His feet dig into my calf as he pulls my legs open, and it hurts. "Ouch!" I say, but my thoughts are already captured in the present moment as he climbs between my legs. There is no room for sadness in the suddenly electric atmosphere he has created. If he's acting, he's very good at it.

"You were going to say, girl?" he asks again, his hand pressing all over my face, tangling in my hair, tugging it until I gasp with the sheer joy of it.

"N-nothing," I gasp.

He's moved across me now, on my other side. So much of what happens is a glorious, glorious blur. He's spanking me, his hand delivering sharp stinging blows to my backside. He buries the whole of the thenar and a good chunk of the thumb of his free hand in my mouth, and I am biting down into it, screaming into his hand while he tortures my nipples.

"Do you just have nothing to say when your body is being slowly reduced," he pauses to hurt me more, to make me scream louder into the amazingly effective gag that is his hand, "mmmm... being reduced to fuck meat?"

I scream. The hand not in my mouth is touching my pussy, my clit. "Fuck meat," he said, and I scream and scream and scream. It's primal, what those words are doing to me, and I can't properly record anything before or after the ground zero of those words. That moment is shining and brilliant and all the other bits around it, amazing though they are, fade.

He makes me come. "Oh, it's been far too long since you've come for me," he says. "You're going to do that now, aren't you, fuck toy? You're going to come for your master now." My head is slowly arching back away from him as he talks, as his fingers work their magic on my sex. It feels to me like the whole thing happens in slow motion, as my body tenses and I am crying out, all the tension releasing as I come and come and come. My legs shake against him. "Oh look at you, no self-control at all," he says, and he is right. He controls me. He makes me come again, tugging my head backwards by the hair until my groans of delight deepen into guttural grunts. I am bent very far back when he finally lets go.

He won't fuck me with his cock. He suggests it, he teases, he makes fun of me, makes me beg. "Look at you. Why would I give you my cock now? In the state you're in you'd never give it back. Would you?"

I moan my negative response, tossing my head as his fingers fuck me.

"See. I'd never get my cock back. What does that make you?"

I don't answer immediately because I am screaming. He teases me to orgasm with his words. "A slut," I answer, my voice cracking because I have reservations about calling myself that.

"My slut," he clarifies, and he is kissing me.

Finally I have begged prettily enough, and he is atop me sliding his cock inside. I groan as he fills me. He feels amazing. I fuck him from beneath, just really driven wild by everything that has happened so far.

I'm falling. I'm falling, I'm flying, into an abyss and he's holding me there under him by my hair. That must be why he's pulling it so hard. His kisses are hot and urgent and he is forcing me to stay there when I would float away. I hear my own screams as if from a distance and I want to be in this moment - this moment - forever. My head is spinning, my sense of balance is all out of whack, and he just keeps driving his cock into me, drawing the screams from me with every thrust and every tug of my hair.

"I think it's your turn," he says. "I think you should get on top of me and fuck me."

"Anything you want," I gasp out breathlessly, unable to really catch up to the situation. A whole lot of delicious things have whizzed by me that I couldn't fully assimilate. Mostly fantastically dirty things he has said that made me scream in the moment but are now lost forever because my brain is overloaded. I'll take it though.

"That's right," he says, "anything I want." He rolls off me onto his back, waiting.

I dive after his cock with my mouth. It tastes sweet and salty and I moan as I lick it all over.

"Oooh, I didn't say you could suck the cock," he admonishes me. "But I suppose you're just a cocksucker who couldn't resist, huh?" I give his cock a long swirling suck for answer as I pull my mouth away, and then I am lifting my leg over him.

"Oh yes, give me that pussy," he says as I lower myself onto him, as his cock presses up into me. He grabs my hips and I scream. His hardness has never felt like this before. "I think you know what to do," he growls as I begin to slowly rotate my hips, gasping as I feel all the new sensations that changing positions like this causes.

It really doesn't take long before it starts to feel amazing. His hands are on my hips and when I start to scream he keeps moving me the way I was moving before. I am screaming, he is moaning deeply, and we are coming at the same time.

I lay on his chest for long, long minutes afterward, kissing his neck and shoulders, rotating my hips against him, listening to his soft sounds of pleasure as we both catch our breath.

After I roll off into his arms, I kiss him again, softly and with great respect and tenderness. "Thank you for rescuing me, sweet master," I whisper against his lips.

He's already half asleep, but he squeezes me tightly against him. "Love my girl," he answers.


18 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. We do try to have a lot of it. But we'll save some for other people now and then too. :) (that sounds weird ... but I'm going to go with it)

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  2. Very hot indeed. As usual. :)
    But honestly, I understand this, where you are coming from, and what he said "It's hard to want a girl who's sad all the time", its true, isn't it? I used to be the sad girl, the one over there nobody wanted to get to know, cause I was too sad all the time. I am so glad I don't get like that most of the time anymore. Its a sad place to be.

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    1. It is a sad place to be. He said that to me SO LONG ago that I forget even the exact circumstances, but the words linger. And then I feel sad for feeling sad.....

      But thankfully he's learned a lot about how I work since then and does an excellent job not letting me stew in misery. It is a terrible place to be.

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  3. You really are an amazing writer, Conina! I feel like a voyeur when I read your posts because it's like I'm actually there, watching... ;)

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    1. Oh wow, thank you! That's such a lovely compliment; it actually made my whole day. :)

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  4. Smart, smart man you have there. I've been thinking still about your advice to me about how to get more of what I want. I don't get sad like you, but maybe just antsy, frustrated, irritable, etc. It's time for something to shift into place...

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    1. I get the antsy, frustrated, irritable too - and when I recognize it, it turns to sadness. It's like "oh hi, misery, I'll be miserable now."

      I think a lot of times our spouses take a long, long time coming to an understanding when our libidos are just out of sync... it's like "What? Isn't everyone like me?" Well... no. :)

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  5. The love you two have for one another is so obvious here and it's amazing! Things like correcting you "my slut" instead of "a slut" and the fact that he knew just how to rescue you speak so loudly. I'm so glad you've found one another.

    Oh and yes, very hot!

    P

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    1. I'm glad we've found one another too - every single day I marvel at the miracle of it. :)

      I'm glad the love comes across well. I worry sometimes when I write about sex with so much violent content that the affectionate part (that is definitely there in the moment) might be lost in the hustle... thank you for the feedback. :)

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  6. I started reading and I knew exactly how you were feeling, I have been there. And my husband is not really attracted to me when I am upset. I use to find it hard to explain but I am getting better and he is better at reading me and taking care of me.

    But geez C, the rest is frickin awesome. I agree with Subbie, sometimes I feel like a voyeur too when reading your post. It makes me want to call the hubby and tell him to hurry home.

    You should be writing books.

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    1. It's amazing how difficult it is to just come out and say things sometimes, isn't it? Social conditioning ftl. :)

      Oh, wow, you guys make me blush - and I LOVE making people want to have more sex - I think it makes the world a better place. My husband has told me I should write books too... but unfortunately I only get the fiction muse when I am sexually frustrated. So I could just compile all my sex and call THAT a book, but I dunno... :)

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  7. I needed to read this- I've been feeling that way all week...the sad girl :(

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    1. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that! That's such a horrible place to be. Can you shine a light up for Mr. FH to come rescue you?

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  8. Exceptionally written..as always!

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  9. Did you know that you can create short urls with LinkShrink and make dollars for every visitor to your shortened links.

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Thank you for reading. I hope you'll let me know you were here - I like friends!