I am horny. Again.
I could take care of it myself, or wait for my husband to get home. Increasingly however, I find that it’s not dick I think about on some of those days when my husband is away on business and I have to make like a physician and ‘heal myself’. It’s not what I want. On those days I crave the taste of a warm, slimy pussy and no man, not even a buck naked Michael Ealy could convince me to stick to dick – and you know he fine as hell.
I’ve thought about women a lot over the years. I have fantasised about soft skin and pillowy breasts and wide hips and hard nipples. I’ve wondered what it would feel like to kiss one, caress her, make her come with my tongue, my fingers, my clit and do it all over again. I have never tasted a woman. I did have opportunities in my twenties, being away from home but I never followed through. I never let this control slip because I am scared. I am scared because I know that human beings are fickle. The way I was raised makes me reluctant to identify as a possible woman-lover. Being the kind of person I am, a woman who can only sleep with a person she trusts – even if that trust later proves to have been misplaced – I know that I will confide in any lover I take about how I feel, about how scared I am to be outed. And I would hate to hand over that power, to know that should they choose, they could take me to the cleaners. They could crush this life I have tried so carefully to build. It frightens me to have another human know that part of me. The world is not so wide as we think, especially with the never-forgetting internet close by.
And yet, that is what marriage is all about. I already have the confidant side of things down. My husband knows who I am, right down to the labia-licking desires I have. I trust him implicitly. I am not afraid of being my deepest self in front of him. The sex is good. It’s not his fault he doesn’t have a pussy for me to nibble on occasionally.
We’ve talked about threesomes but I always baulk at the idea. We have kids. Imagine arranging the babysitting around that one! The superstitious part of me also thinks that the minute we both leave for the hotel, lightning will strike and the house will go up in flames! I don’t think God will be punishing me or anything like that, but I have the most terrible luck like that. This is why I haven’t yet picked out a lover either for us to share or for me to play with. Chances are, I will pick someone who will reveal herself to be a complete psycho.
Then there’s the other thing of course. The sharing. As in, I don’t want to. In my fantasies, sometimes my husband is there, but I believe that is just my rational, logical mind including him. He is mine, I am his. But if I were to be truly honest with myself, I would prefer that he sit somewhere in the room – I trust him after all – or maybe that he not be there. No dick. Just for the first time, or the first few times. Just until I have turned her the fuck out by myself. (I won’t lie. I might borrow some of his tricks. He is very good.)
This may be because in my mind, this fantasy has been there long before I met and married him and so it would not be complete until I do it alone. Or it could just be that I am a selfish bitch.
Now I know this is a fantasy. It does not have to be fulfilled does it? I think this and I get really pissy and upset because I feel as though I am being asked to cut off my arm or something.
I am a naturally curious individual. I was created to be curious. It seems so unfair that I am encouraged by society, by parents to seek out things which feed that curiosity and yet grossly discouraged from that natural curiosity leading to sexual undertakings, especially same-sex ones. It’s any wonder I can function in my marriage, I’ve been so fucking repressed. Now you know why I am writing anonymously.
This is what I want; I want a girl. I want a girl who is cool with herself and is also cool with me being myself, with all my fuck-ups. I want a girl who takes care of her health and is clean – I could never have one night stands because I am the kind of lover who has to go everywhere. I can’t be doing that condom/dental dam shit with you. It means that for a while, you will be mine and I will be yours. And when you want to move on, that will be it. I want a girl who will lie with me when we’re done and be cool with being quiet, or will converse intelligently. I want to be unashamed of how stupid and retarded my face looks because I am so fucking horny and want you so badly. I want a girl who laughs when she queefs in bed. I want a girl who likes kissing and who will have no qualms telling me what she wants and does not want. I want a girl who will not expect me to act differently in public – I will be funny, and nice and kind as per usual. This is not some grand love affair. I will not introduce you to my folks. I will not hold your hand. I don’t do that with anyone except my kids. I want a girl who is cool with verbal flirting. I like to flirt. I like to write and text, it is how I communicate most effectively. \i want girl who is herself around me, you is open with me. I want a girl who understands where I come from, who knows that just because I want to keep her for me – or us – does not mean I am ashamed of her. I just don’t want to come out. What would I be coming out as? I want a girl who wants me.
I don’t want to fuck you if we’re friends. It will ruin things. I just know it will. I don’t want a girl with girlfriends whom she tells everything to, dissecting my every move and word. I don’t have those myself. Talk to me. I can tell you best what it is I mean. I will be honest with you about everything, even if you are not honest with me. But that’s the thing. You must be honest or this will not work.
I want a girl who has as much to lose as I do if this comes out (there’s that selfishness again) and as much to gain from us being together. Basically I want to be fucking married to you for a while. I have basically described the marriage I have now, without realising it.
In return I promise you all of me, for a time, for a season or for however much you want me. I’ll go back into my marriage, happily, having scratched that itch. Hopefully.
I’m trivialising things. It’s more than an itch. This is who I am. And that’s the problem. The way that modern society is constructed means I cannot eat my cake and have it too. But damn, I wish I could. I’m not greedy. I don’t want the whole thing.
A bite, just a little bite, just to be okay, that is all I ask.