A Tizzy

My beautiful metamour, please skip this one.  Thank you!

sex 1

I am in a tizzy.  Maybe it’s the sweltering heat.  Maybe it’s all the naughty adventure talk.  Maybe it’s imagining what I’d like to order Yarn Hooker to do.  Maybe it’s reliving recent fun adventures or not having had a taste of the man I just started dating recently.  Maybe it is what is happening between Traveler and I.  Maybe it is our plans together or the plans I’m pursuing alone.  I don’t know.  It’s delicious.

I feel like I am in heat.  I cross my legs at work to feel them press against my pussy.  When I am walking and my rings rub I find the lick delicious.  I am on fire.  We’ve been exhausted and had little time together for weeks until this last weekend and still it is hotter.  This rabbit hole!

I’m planning an adventure…two actually.  One adventure Traveler and I are undertaking together.  One I am undertaking myself.  I have a long held fantasy and I am going for it.  I have to admit I worried about it, worried about hurting this thing with Traveler and I.  It keeps going deeper.  It keeps getting hotter and I have more here than any woman has a right to… right here.  Last night while he worked his magic I felt high with desire.  He played me like a viola.  I was panting.  I could not get my panties off fast enough to let his fingers inside. I could not stop the stream of sex and desire pouring out of my mouth.  I whispered.  I sang.  I breathed “I want you”.

We had spent the night sharing kinky desires and making plans.  We shared fantasies about Yarn Hooker and talk about the fantasy I’m pursuing.  I’d been scared to talk about it too much… scared to trust him saying that he wanted me to pursue it.  I’m so used to men saying they love my sluttiness and turning cold.

I remember my ex husband fucking me from behind in the hotel in Maui, knowing everyone standing right outside the door was listening and could hear, could see our outline, fucking me so hard we were both screaming with passion and then asking if he could cum in my mouth, telling me he wanted to fuck my face and loving it, he cried out while I swallowed every drop, he eagerly talked for days about how amazing it was to finally date a woman who he could be his every passion with.  And I remember the way his voice was cold shortly after our wedding when one night I asked him to cum on my face.  How quickly it all turns.

But it isn’t here.  If anything Traveler is wanting me MORE.  He doesn’t share this kink.  He doesn’t want to go there with me, but he wants me to go there and loves me for being authentically myself.  I think he might love me more for the sincerity here.  More and more and more I feel his want and his need and I’m comforted.  He sees ME.  He knows ME.  And he LOVES ME.

He doesn’t want me because I’m fulfilling a kinky desire for the slutty girl.  (Although I sure do like a slut lover).  He doesn’t want me just today because I am the porn image and he’ll reject me when he loves me, for being too much.  He wants me because he wants me, I think very much like I want him.  He wants to hold me and kiss me and love me and fuck me and be with me.  I can’t tell you what that does to me!

Last night I told him on my way home that I needed him naked.  He laughed and said I’d just had him.  We had fucked so quietly, after a long hot day, exhausted, but needing, trying to avoid the houseguest hearing and I’d come so hard trying not to make a sound that we could hear the splashing.  I’d controlled my breath and my ragged sounds and it had only made it more intense.  When he’d held his breath and bucked beneath me while he came thrashing with the pressure he’d held in, I felt him cum and I’d come again once more, soaking us both and making an audible rhythmic splash.   But I needed him again.

I needed him because I always need him.  I can’t imagine not needing him.  But I needed him too because I have been on a tizzy of desire.  I am overflowing.

We fucked hard last night after hours of teasing talk, urgent and with abandon, saying slutty slutty things, and I’d lost it when he said what he wanted me to do, and even then – right after we finished I could not stop coming and I’d played with my pussy when we’d stopped fucking, coming again all over him. It was amazing to look into each other’s faces then, unable to break a spell.

And wouldn’t you know it.  I’m still in a tizzy.

Again.

Again.

What it is to be loved and wanted and heard.. and still.. loved and wanted.

3 Comments

  1. These topics – of open acceptance, of sharing with trepidation, of partner response – have been coming up a lot for me lately.

    I was having an email conversation with a good friend recently and we were discussing how so very few people are open to knowing The True You, and how, often, those who *are* open cannot handle certain truths. It makes it a scary proposition to share those dark secrets, those kinky desires. To expose our soft underbellies for fear of it (whatever ‘it’ may be) changing their good opinion if us. Which makes it such a heady high to be in your shoes right now: to have put it out there, and to have been embraced for it.

    There is a lyric I love in Johnny Rzeznik’s song “Come To Me” (Goo Goo Dolls):

    Come to me with secrets bared
    I’ll love you more so don’t be scared

    Wouldn’t that be a beautiful reality?

    You have the rare privilege of experiencing that beauty right now. It’s definitely something to be cherished. 🙂

    Like

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