This one has a lot of sex. Skip if you like. 😉
Okay.. so I need to put my whole BRCA genetic cancer deal on a slower track. The next test will take a few weeks or a few months. So I guess this isn’t going to be a sprint. Which is nice. I feel this urge to enjoy.
Part of what seems kinda unfair about this is that I finally gushed. I’ve squirted for a few years and I recently reached a new peak. I gushed. I thought it was a fluke. It wasn’t. Damn you Quinky! You sexy beast! Quinky cursed me.
I’d talked to her about squirting stuff because she’s been doing it a while and has worked out some things. She warned me that it’d get more constant and more productive.. and fuck it did. At first it was just every now and then when I had a really strong g-spot orgasm, but then after a while it was more consistent.
A short while ago it happened with Cleveland. I was riding him and it just shot forth from me. I gushed. A gush is like a squirting orgasm but stronger and with more fluid. It splashed both of us and it was just amazing.
And then this past weekend I’d gotten totally carried away. I was riding Traveler, and it was so fucking connected and passionate and well.. I gushed. I gushed and gushed and gushed, and soaked both of us. His face lit up in surprise and utter fucking joy and I gushed and gushed and gushed, loving his joy. It splashed us. It ran all down him and soaked the bed, again leaving a boyfriend shaped dry spot, but with a much larger wet surround. And it felt like triumph. To hear it and feel it just pushed everything higher.
And then the next night I hit a swing club and hooked up with this hot couple and had a really fucking passionate threesome. It was one of the hottest threesomes of my life with soooo much chemistry with all of the people. I think I came.. and I’m not kidding.. over 20 times, over half of them gushing. I fucked this girl with utter abandon, overwhelmed and breathless, and I fucked her boyfriend till I literally begged him to stop. I could not physically take another orgasm. Hands and mouths and fingers and tongues and huge fat cock and wicked dirty talk.. and she was a gusher too.. and we left an utter mess. And then afterward we took in the wreckage. We RUINED that bed. We’d soaked every bit of the sheet and the towels and the pads we’d layed down. I picked up a towel and it dripped. I remembered one point where I’d had my hand buried in her pussy and his hand in me and I came and it was like he had his hand on a hose. It shot out all around his hand, splashing all of us with force and pushing her into a crazy gushing orgasm too.
It was hot. It’s odorless and clear and it feels like wild abandon. I couldn’t stop if I’d wanted to. I apologized the first time it splashed him and then laughed at myself and said I wasn’t sorry. I wasn’t sorry at all. I loved my beautiful gushing pussy and my passion and my heat. I love my passion. I love my abandon. I love my joy and the joy I give. And I had warned them this might happen.
And a part of me lately has wondered if it is going to be short lived. Will I stop being so wet.. gushing.. having this passion and abandon? I don’t know. I might get to keep my ovaries, or removing them might not matter that super much. I don’t have enough information to guess. But It does make me want to enjoy this more now. It makes it sweeter. I don’t know how long I will get to enjoy my lover at my breast. I don’t know how many times I will feel breath and tongue and touch. The teeth nipping at my nipple, and my pussy.. so wet.. so ready. It might not always be like this, but I might actually live a longer and healthier life and I have to imagine it will contain passion. I can’t imagine being me without this hunger and this lust. It’s so much a part of my core. I wish I knew women who’d been through menopause or had their ovaries removed. I joined a support group online and will hopefully hear from them soon. I’ll ask.
I know I’ll lose sensation in my breasts and the piercings I spent a year healing will be taken out. But I’ll pierce them again. It’s the first time in my life I’ve liked my breasts. They are so much prettier with their jewelry. I want to soak this up. It’s limited and more precious. I know my breasts will have to go and will have to be rebuilt. And I know it will take a few surgeries, and that at the end I will have created breasts that hopefully have nipples, but that they won’t feel. My breasts have never been the major part of sex for me and they are only one of the fun things. But I won’t lie and pretend I won’t miss them now that I’ve finally learned to love them. The new ones will be mine too, the ones we make. And hey.. they’ll be perky and hopefully shaped how I’ve always wished my breasts were shaped. I will be able to feel my lover petting their sides, and I will see my lover’s face as they look at them, and I’ll feel any joy my new breasts give, and I might live.. so there is that.
I’ve spent my entire life just understanding that I would likely not live much beyond my 50’s or 60’s. I never knew my grandmothers and imagined I would not know the children my foster daughter or step daughters may have. And you know, I might. I might actually live to be that old lady that travels with my old Army friend and her sister. I might join a senior center. I might get busy at the old folk’s home. When I think about that, how they can find a gene and give me the chance to make my risk of cancers that kill my family to less than zero.. it feels like a miracle. I’m not likely going to love this long process, but it gives me time to accept and adjust and enjoy. So I’ll soak it all up and soak everything for a while now. Yes, playing with that couple was a distraction, and so too might be a person or two I’m talking to online. But so be it. There are worse distractions than passion. I have a few things I need to do here before the big snip. I have some things to look forward to. 😉