A cock always makes me feel better.

An extrovert is someone who feels energized around others.  It’s not about how gregarious we are or socially suave, though we may appear that way to the less extroverted in the world.   It’s how we respond to low energy and feeling lethargic, sad or lonely.  This hard-wiring must have something to do with my sexual urges, I’m convinced, because it’s this bottomless need that never goes away, and it’s part of what makes my life so goddamned miserable when my kid is with my ex-husband every other week.  What do I do with myself? 

Tomorrow, I’m on my own again and I have a knot in my belly.  The past week has been blissfully filled with kissing chubby cheeks, reading Little Pookie books, and watching endless cartoons.  The Neighbor, not surprisingly, has woven in and out of my weekly mothering routine and I have suffered none whatsoever.  I have been content with the balance.  Fucking happy.

Several times he’s come over to say hello or ask a question.  Thursday night was another Hyacinth slaughter at Scrabble during which my baby came out several times “to tell me something”.  TN and I flirted around the interruptions like any couple sharing space with a little person.  Last night, while the late night sky lit up with a mysterious dusty rose and eye-opening electric blues during the first big storm of the summer, he silently came over and stood next to me on my balcony uninvited or announced to watch it with me.  It was a minute or two later before my baby was standing in an over-sized t-shirt with little fists rubbing sleepy eyes and a question mark hovering over tousled hair.  “Look, baby, TN came over because of the storm, too.”

“Hey, Baby,” says TN.

“Hi, TN,” sweetly answers Baby.

I thought how lucky TN and I were that we weren’t caught in an embrace; it was only a couple of hours earlier that his hand was buried in my center and his palm pooling with my juices, his hot mouth on mine.

But tomorrow the spell is broken.  I go back to no priority other than myself and that hungry beast within my core.  Fuck, it whispers.  More, it growls, always, more.

And before you all tell me to go for long runs and get a hobby let me assure you I do all that and more.  Granted, I have a little more free time on my hands than the average person, but it’s not like I’m the idle wealthy.  I have appointments, commitments, and plenty of responsibilities.  I work hard and play hard, but, it’s not enough.  When a cock is inside me, however, it all suddenly is.

My libido and personality have a head-on collision of furious emotional proportions.  It’s cockropractic therapy at its level best; nothing recalibrates me like a good, hard, meaningful fuck.  It’s something I must have.  Must.  And if my current partner likes to play coy and is poised for imminent departure how do I roll with that without feeling like I’m clawing desperately at a cracked window for air?

So, tonight, my least favorite night of the [every other] week finds me a bundle of nerves.  My heart aches for my little one who must leave me and my gut hurts with yearning for intimacy and touch from the one I want most.  I’m a gut-hurting, heart-aching mess.  I’m sure that’s a super sexy vibe.

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In other, unrelated news, I think I actually got hit on in real life the other day at the bank.  First time in years.  It made me think of my dear compatriot, Bimodal, and his Über-suaveness with the real-life ladies.  I mean, this young, handsome teller offered to join me and TN for our naked Scrabble game Thursday night.  That’s a come on, right??

 

 

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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17 thoughts on “A cock always makes me feel better.
  1. I have a sneaky suspicion you get hit on all the time… and don’t realize it. And you can’t deny it because my whole point is, you don’t realize it’s happening. ; ) See how tricky I am!!! Usually the “hitting on” is more subtle than tossing out nakedness. Oh… and I’m all for cock therapy or whatever the kids are calling it these days. In other news, this might be my wordiest comment ever. Sheesh.

  2. A definite come on … hell, the last time I was hit on I was pregnant. He says, “Damn girl, you are fertile. Can I have your digits?”

    LOL .. I hope yours was better.

    Much love … GC

  3. I was cruising down the suburban two lane that leads to my local Wally Mart, when this lavishious blond with tanned freckled legs wrapped in the ribbons from a pair of cheap platform sandals and a short ruffled skirt passes in front of my ride at the cross walk. As I paused to watch the breeze raise her ruffles just high enough to expose her white cotton undergarments I reflected on how wonderful it is to be blessed with a cock and the inclination to use it. I run into the wally mart feeling pretty good about my inborn need to procreate and pick up my wares. As I start the walk back to my ride there stands the blond with her handbag resting in the familiar blue cart with her shiny red lips wrapped around a hotdog bun. I walked up to her rested my hand on her cart and stared right into her $2.00 oversized versace knock offs like she wasn’t wearing them and said. ” Excuse me for my boldness, but I have passed you twice now and I would be remiss if I did not stop and tell you that you are absolutely stunning.” She blushed and cast her eyes down demurely. and said “thank you” To which I replied ” I could say nothing less”. Bid my farewells and continued on my way.
    I hope I caused a lightness in her step and a dampness in her painties. With sunroof open and Boston turned up I made my way back on to the anaconda of a two lane and blew the carbon out of my little black coupe glad to be alive.

    HY you don’t need anything more than the realization that you are indeed boner inspiring. Any other though is just your ego grasping at what we already know.

    Now triple word score, all seven letters with a “Q” and a “Z” seems your running a two pantiy deficit babe.

    Cruel

    1. Awesome, Cruel :). The bank dude confused me because it was intimate (quiet as a tomb in a bank!) and I was unprepared. It was greatly appreciated, though! xx

    1. That’s pretty much what the bank teller said!! He wanted to know the rules. I told him that whenever a 30+ pt word was made, clothing came off, but that it really only worked in my favor since the Neighbor typically slew me, which leaves me with a naked fellow on my couch. I said I didn’t really mind.

  4. I’ve been in the same position (not the bank teller position, the bottomless one) and it isn’t that you just need a hobby. I completely relate to the “What do I do with myself?” I don’t have an answer. I just understand, and thank you for blogging it out.

  5. “Cockropractic therapy”? Oh hy, I love you to bits…we are definitely kindred spirits in our neverending quest for cock fulfillment…
    And you made me think a lot about my situation…my sexual thirst has risen to new heights since my last birdie flew the coop to move in with her beau…maybe empty nest syndrome causes sexual desires to exponentially grow? Hmmmmm….

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