Need

I need Him.

I like to pretend that I don’t, you know. That I’m a normal, vanilla woman. That I’m busy in my life, my career, my family. That when I go to bed tired at night, I’ll just sleep.

But.

I don’t sleep. I look at Tumblr, at all the nasty little blogs that I follow. I get wet when there’s forced blow jobs, when there’s rape scenes, when there’s double or triple penetration pictures.

I throb, thinking of them.

And then I think of Him. Of the dildo in my ass when he fucks me. Of the feeling on my ass when he bites me after spanking me ruddy red. I remember the shocking pain of his pinching my tits, my belly, and the intense pull of his mouth on my nipple when he sucks my tit into his mouth…and bites.

That’s when I pull out my toys and it doesn’t take but a moment to cum.

I’ve been walking around in a half-aroused state for days now. Despite some really shitty stuff going on in my vanilla life, I’ve been able to shake that off. But not this…need. Not the desire to be slapped around, fucked into oblivion, beaten, and bitten. He’s one of those Doms who likes to make me cum. And cum. And cum. And when I think there’s nothing left after hours of this?

He makes me (yes, makes me)  cum again. And again.

Until I can barely think, barely walk, barely move. I’m a puddle of slut, in every sense of the word!

I miss that. I miss Him.

I hunger.

Grumble. Grumble.

I woke up grumpy.

Don’t you hate when that happens? The second I get up the kids are all over me about some thing or other, the dogs are clamoring to go outside NOW and I have to pee.

And it is humid, wet, drizzly outside.

Later, it clears enough to make it hot and humid. O joy, my least favorite thing. This summer it seems like, just when it cools down to comfortable levels, and is not humid, BLAMMO, we’re back in the soup. Honestly, I don’t know how all you all from the south can even stand it!! I feel all droopy, non-productive. I AM productive, it just feels like I’m slogging through mud. My hair hangs down my back, and even in a ponytail it sticks to me, and makes me hot. I’d cut it but Himself would *kill* me. It’s finally at a length where he can wrap it a few times around his hand. He loves that. Eventually it will need to be cut, a good few inches at that. And he usually lets me do it in the fall (otherwise I get headaches from the weight of it) when we don’t have as much time to see one another. We’ll see what He’ll let me do.

So I’ve been mopey and hot and uncomfortable and just out of sorts today.

Then I stop and think…maybe it’s….subdrop?

Can it?

Could it?

But … our playtime was weeks ago. Two, and two days…who gets subdrop that long after the event? My bruises have fully faded. I’ve had several hours of downtime to miss him. I don’t wince when I sit.

OH. MY. GAWD.

I’ve turned back into vanilla nilla.

GASP!!!

Quick, break out the whips ‘n chains! This slut needs help! (That’s some more hyperbole there, JZ!)

Upon really thinking about it, though, it isn’t impossible that I could be feeling the blues from our playtime being over. I rode the high of that a good 10 days. For 7 of them it hurt every damn time I sat. For the last three it was tender, but I could sit without holding back a gasp. Then I got busy, and have had a pretty full few days. So with some semi-downtime in the offing, it’s really a time to focus on how it was with Him, how it is without him. How my body yearns. How my brain is churning out little tales as I fall asleep at night. I’m turned on as I’ve ever been…but no place for it to go.

It’s weeks and weeks until our next time. It’s time enough for me to let the yearning build, and become accustomed to the feeling of neediness. When the subdrop morphs into mere wanting, rather than sadness at not having what I want, I know things have turned the corner. Tomorrow, if we follow the pattern of other subdrops, will be better. Today is “crisis” day, and things can only go up from here.

(That was not a euphemism for a hard-on, btw, despite how much I enjoy “things”  going up…hehehe!!)

Tomorrow is going to be a better day.

It will, because I’ll make it so. Even though I miss him. Even though I have no marks to touch. Even though the high has faded. So too has the low. Writing to you all about this has helped. Remembering the good time we had together pushes away the sadness.

But gods I’m so needy.