I'm feeling overwhelmed and frustrated on multiple levels. I'm having some difficulty in learning Spanish that I'm not quite sure how to overcome. On top of that, I'm stuck where I am with my job until my schooling is finished, but based on my most recent calculations, I will not be graduating for another *4* years. In two more years, I'll have been in school for officially 10 years (with a 2 year hiatus for the birth of my little one). I know that I am making progress and that it will happen but I despise my job. It is not want I want to do and many of the calls I take (yeah, it's customer service) can be EXTREMELY negative. Even if I have gotten better at dealing with it and remaining calm and focused during the calls, it still taxes me greatly. On top of that, because of schooling, I'm at home pretty much constantly without being able to get out. This means I haven't had sex in longer than I care to admit and playing only happens these days when I can actually get out of the house.
I realize that my situation is only temporary and I will be finished at some point but right now, as I'm in the middle of everything, I'm just so disheartened that it makes me cry. And of course every time I need that input of energy from even just a friend coming over, no one is available. I just... I'm ready for a change but I'm not situationally positioned to be able to accept the change.
Pardon me while I wallow in my pity party over here for a while, but find some rope and drag me out if you don't see any bubbles coming from the pool of tears.
January 31, 2015
January 7, 2015
Seeing You Again
I see you from across the room and I can't help but smile. I love how sweet your face is and how soft you are. I can't wait to hug you because when you hug, you hug me with all of you, almost like you're wrapping yourself completely around me. Non-reserved hugs are the best hugs ever. Not to mention I can be incredibly geeky with you and you get it all. Not only that but you're excited about it too!
And then there's that look. That look you get when you're thinking things. Naughty things. I kiss you and you sigh, resolving yourself into the kiss and falling into it. Into US. In that moment no one else exists except you and me. your hands caress my back before reaching down to cup my ass, pulling me into you. I can feel how hard your cock is and it turns me on, making me moan softly as you continue to kiss me.
We haven't seen each other in so long we can't stop. We keep kissing as we move over and fall softly onto the bed, you on top of me. My hands work to unbutton your shirt and push it down, over your arms then off into the floor. You stop the kiss to pull my shirt off of me, my bra following just after. Your kisses trail down my neck to my nipple. You take my nipple into your mouth, teasing it with your tongue and teeth. You know this drives me crazy, causing me to whimper and writhe under you as my hips take on a life of their own.
My hands make their way to your cock, finding your pants were shed as you kept me distracted with your talented mouth. I stroke you, reveling in the returned teasing as you moan softly. I lean up to kiss your neck, whispering how much I enjoy seeing you wrapped in pleasure.
Nearly dizzy with hunger, you finally spread my legs and I gasp as your cock thrusts into me, feeling the desire burn even higher in intensity. You start thrusting slowly, teasing yourself as much as you are me, before starting to thrust faster. My hips undulate on their own, attempting to make you go faster, trying to take you as deeply as I can. You fuck me in earnest, both of us lost in the moment before suddenly we've plunged over the edge and the sounds of us cumming fill the room.
Slowly, the room fills our vision again, and I curl up against you, giggly and cuddly but also sated. For the moment. I've got to give you a little time to rest before we start again after all.
And then there's that look. That look you get when you're thinking things. Naughty things. I kiss you and you sigh, resolving yourself into the kiss and falling into it. Into US. In that moment no one else exists except you and me. your hands caress my back before reaching down to cup my ass, pulling me into you. I can feel how hard your cock is and it turns me on, making me moan softly as you continue to kiss me.
We haven't seen each other in so long we can't stop. We keep kissing as we move over and fall softly onto the bed, you on top of me. My hands work to unbutton your shirt and push it down, over your arms then off into the floor. You stop the kiss to pull my shirt off of me, my bra following just after. Your kisses trail down my neck to my nipple. You take my nipple into your mouth, teasing it with your tongue and teeth. You know this drives me crazy, causing me to whimper and writhe under you as my hips take on a life of their own.
My hands make their way to your cock, finding your pants were shed as you kept me distracted with your talented mouth. I stroke you, reveling in the returned teasing as you moan softly. I lean up to kiss your neck, whispering how much I enjoy seeing you wrapped in pleasure.
Nearly dizzy with hunger, you finally spread my legs and I gasp as your cock thrusts into me, feeling the desire burn even higher in intensity. You start thrusting slowly, teasing yourself as much as you are me, before starting to thrust faster. My hips undulate on their own, attempting to make you go faster, trying to take you as deeply as I can. You fuck me in earnest, both of us lost in the moment before suddenly we've plunged over the edge and the sounds of us cumming fill the room.
Slowly, the room fills our vision again, and I curl up against you, giggly and cuddly but also sated. For the moment. I've got to give you a little time to rest before we start again after all.
Writing & All That Comes With It
I love writing. Those close to me know how much I enjoy it, and in fact even need to do it. But I can't do it all the time. In order for me to write, in essence, I have to be called to do it. When I feel, I feel deeply. My writing is an outlet for those emotions that are so strong that to contain them would surely be to hurt myself. It is a release and it drains me emotionally to do it. Which is why I only do it every so often, I suppose.
I have thought about asking to be put on prozac or some such but the problem with those medications is that they take away ALL of my emotions. The sadistic side of me loves feeling the emotion, of having to let it out by writing. I like drowning in myself for a short time and making something that I can look back on later and be amazed that *I* wrote it.
I wish that I could write more often than I do, but when the school semester starts, I become entrenched in my school work. Everything else falls to the side. And by everything, I mean EVERYTHING. l can't seem to help it. And then, when the semester is over, it all comes flooding back and the need to see my friends, be with my loved ones overwhelms me and I curl up into a ball because the longing is so bad. Hence the flurry of writing all at once. It's that I don't constantly miss them, it's just that I'm preoccupied. Whenever I get a message from my friends or companions, I try to respond, to show that I'm still here. I appreciate the nudges because sometimes I am so absentminded I'd lose my head if it weren't attached.
Sometimes I get requests to write. I love that it's requested because it shows that people like what I write. It's just... well, it's difficult. Because I have to dig into that ether where my emotions reside and allow myself to slip into it, to be lost for a while before I come back down to see what I've written. I will write again, I promise. I just am not ever sure when I'll get hit in the stomach by my muse.
I have thought about asking to be put on prozac or some such but the problem with those medications is that they take away ALL of my emotions. The sadistic side of me loves feeling the emotion, of having to let it out by writing. I like drowning in myself for a short time and making something that I can look back on later and be amazed that *I* wrote it.
I wish that I could write more often than I do, but when the school semester starts, I become entrenched in my school work. Everything else falls to the side. And by everything, I mean EVERYTHING. l can't seem to help it. And then, when the semester is over, it all comes flooding back and the need to see my friends, be with my loved ones overwhelms me and I curl up into a ball because the longing is so bad. Hence the flurry of writing all at once. It's that I don't constantly miss them, it's just that I'm preoccupied. Whenever I get a message from my friends or companions, I try to respond, to show that I'm still here. I appreciate the nudges because sometimes I am so absentminded I'd lose my head if it weren't attached.
Sometimes I get requests to write. I love that it's requested because it shows that people like what I write. It's just... well, it's difficult. Because I have to dig into that ether where my emotions reside and allow myself to slip into it, to be lost for a while before I come back down to see what I've written. I will write again, I promise. I just am not ever sure when I'll get hit in the stomach by my muse.
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