A month of celibacy, possibly more.

I haven’t had sex since June 22nd.  I have a period tracker I’ve been using for years to mark my sexual activity and all of July was e m p t y.  I had one tryst at a guy’s office that was hot, but it wasn’t sex.  We were both in the middle of our work day and I didn’t want our first time to be over his desk.  It was certainly a better lunch break than most others were having, though.

Other than that, not a thing has happened to me.  It’s so still, so quiet.

The Golfer is heavy on my mind and I’m deciding what to do with him.  The best sex of your life with a drunken, wealthy, golfer with issues basically balances out to a zero sum game.  I feel trapped in my own lustful desires.  My heart isn’t involved, but my molecules are.

Sex like what we share doesn’t happen every day and I feel closer to the Universe in those moments of release and abandon.

I can’t stop thinking about his turgid member pounding me in all my holes, the twinkle in his eye as he pulls out a new toy he’s bought for me, for us, or his sweet, praising words.  “Fuck, you are so fucking sexy I can’t keep my hands off of you!”

I haven’t heard anything like that in so long and I don’t see any respite in sight.

I pop onto some sites here and there and engage, but immediately disengage.  Do I even have the time or energy to expend on searching?  Perhaps the best course is to commit to celibacy and wait for my lover to resurface then greedily drive to his little suburban paradise and lose myself in our buckets of cum.

Perhaps the best course is to cut all ties and just focus on other things.

Perhaps the best course is to find a replacement.

Perhaps the best course is to sleep.

Perhaps the best course is to make love to my Hitachi more.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

I am lost, but a little found.  Fuck, I want to fuck.  Fuck, is this what it feels like to be lonely?  Is this loneliness?  I can’t tell.

I’m fidgety and angsty and frustrated.  I want my atoms to mingle with the stars, but I also want to get lost in a love’s eyes.  A love’s.  But I don’t know if I’m built for love anymore, just lust.  Lust I know, lust I trust.

I wish TG would hurry up and just come back already so I didn’t have to feel a thing.  I like not feeling.



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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7 thoughts on “A month of celibacy, possibly more.
  1. I’ll see your June 22 and raise you an unknown day in August. Yeah, that’s August 2017.
    Playing the Celibacy Card might seem like a good idea, but remember you’re sitting at the table with a fucking (or rather fuckless) pro!

    In all seriousness, I feel your pain!
    I don’t know if I can feel love any more (nor even whether I know what it is) and until I can get the lust sorted, (and obviously all the shit that needs to be in place first) I think that’s all I feel.
    Yes, it probably is what it feels like to be lonely.

    But look on the bright side. You haven’t fucked your Hitachi to death (yet) and you’ll soon have your hands around the shaft of The Golfer’s club and you can polish his balls before he gets a hole in one in one of your holes. &#128536

  2. I have a feeling that this is a good process you are going through, even though you say “I like not feeling.”. You also say “I am lost, but a little found.” and I think by the way you have cut out people from your life who only seem to be using you, you are finding yourself. Hang in there, wifey, things can only get better. Love you.

    Rebel xox

  3. I see you August and raise you February *sigh but clearly AC has us both beat (hugs to you man)

    I feel your pain on the sex front big time. I want to get fucked. It is as simple and complicated as that


  4. In a simple and straight forward way the golfer is no good for you. If feeling “closer to the Universe” is important to you, men like him are not the answer. He is a user who who will suck the life out of you. The oblivion you seek through addictive sex like this is temporary at best. What it leaves in its wake is emptiness. Stick to the Hitachi

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