I wonder why I don't much care for sex with husband. Is it he who doesn't arouse me? Or is it that I ceased to be aroused by just a touch? He'll touch my clit, my breasts... push his hard cock against my ass... nothing wrong with that, but I need more. I need words, fantasies, images. I need teasing, playing... If my mind is aroused, my body will follow. But only body - no. Why? As I recall it, a touch in the right place used to arouse me when I was younger. Apparently, not anymore. Not with him, anyway.
Did I get old? Or did something change when I had kids? Or was it that I went through so many years with a dormant, almost non-existant lust? Did it permanently kill off the ability to be aroused by fingers, hands? Or have I just completely lost interest in my husband? Or is he plain boring, who keeps doing things the way he has been doing things for 15 years?
There was a time, a couple of years ago, when I started to find my way back to my own lust, after all those dry years. I found new inspiration online - I didn't tell my husband where it came from of course, but I did try to introduce some new elements to our sex life. He was definitely pleased (and very surprised!), but he didn't change a thing of his own. I should probably have told him to. But it's the same old dilemma as always: I need him to sense my needs, more than I need him to satisfy my needs. He did neither, so I directed my new-found creativity elsewhere.
We had sex this morning. By necessity a quickie (kids awake and only momentarily distracted in front of the tv, and no doors to close, but more or less out of sight behind a corner of the hotel room), and as such, not bad. But... later, a while ago, I sneaked a half hour of my own... and it was so, so, so much better.
Why struggle to improve our routine sex life, when I can have half hours like this? A wonderful buildup, pausing from thoughts of S and J, just building a dream scenario of my own... teased and tormented and pleasured and kept at the edge and made to beg... and then that sweet release that comes from knowing that no matter what I do I will come. My legs shaking, my stomach contracting, muscles deep inside my body spasming, my clit like a conductor, playing all those instruments in the exact right order, until I was panting on the hotel room bed, my back arched, my fingers tired, my eyes closed, my mouth open.
I'm spent, satisfied and completely relaxed. Finally. Seems like forever ago.
Did I get old? Or did something change when I had kids? Or was it that I went through so many years with a dormant, almost non-existant lust? Did it permanently kill off the ability to be aroused by fingers, hands? Or have I just completely lost interest in my husband? Or is he plain boring, who keeps doing things the way he has been doing things for 15 years?
There was a time, a couple of years ago, when I started to find my way back to my own lust, after all those dry years. I found new inspiration online - I didn't tell my husband where it came from of course, but I did try to introduce some new elements to our sex life. He was definitely pleased (and very surprised!), but he didn't change a thing of his own. I should probably have told him to. But it's the same old dilemma as always: I need him to sense my needs, more than I need him to satisfy my needs. He did neither, so I directed my new-found creativity elsewhere.
We had sex this morning. By necessity a quickie (kids awake and only momentarily distracted in front of the tv, and no doors to close, but more or less out of sight behind a corner of the hotel room), and as such, not bad. But... later, a while ago, I sneaked a half hour of my own... and it was so, so, so much better.
Why struggle to improve our routine sex life, when I can have half hours like this? A wonderful buildup, pausing from thoughts of S and J, just building a dream scenario of my own... teased and tormented and pleasured and kept at the edge and made to beg... and then that sweet release that comes from knowing that no matter what I do I will come. My legs shaking, my stomach contracting, muscles deep inside my body spasming, my clit like a conductor, playing all those instruments in the exact right order, until I was panting on the hotel room bed, my back arched, my fingers tired, my eyes closed, my mouth open.
I'm spent, satisfied and completely relaxed. Finally. Seems like forever ago.
Oooh perfect... you have put into words exactly what I have been thinking for years. Stuck in his ways....Need for words, trying to introduce new elements but not receiving any in return, the question why bother working on a stuck sexual rut when you can have such an amazing O just on your own with your fantasies....
ReplyDeleteI did the exact same thing this morning.
Mmm... perfect. It's great knowing I'm not alone with my thoughs. And it's thrilling to imagine you, and hundreds, probably thousands of other women, joining me in panting on the bed in solitude, while their partners are out ;)
ReplyDeleteI know I shouldn't be peeking through your keyhole late at night but somehow...I just can't help myself.
ReplyDeleteAh - but isn't that what keyholes are for...?
ReplyDeleteyes...but we both know I should get over this unless...
ReplyDelete