I Need Love

July has been crazy. Started out in Fresno with a three way I didn’t have because the husband still supports Trump. When I asked him why, he had no solid reasons and said the words Deep State. I asked if the wife and I could be alone, but I passed out before I could see it through. Ecstasy effects me strongly. Truth be told I hadn’t done it in 8 years before that night in Fresno, I met my ex husband on ecstasy and fully believed we had known each other in a former life. So to control the experience better I took it in tiny crushed bits that Janet rubbed on my gums. I felt it for sure and felt the vibe with this couple, but after the conversation with the husband the whole thing felt gross to me and at 3am I went my room and soundly passed out. 

When I got back to LA, I did a backslide with someone I shouldn’t have fucked again, but I couldn’t help it. Between the ecstasy and the sexual possibility that never blossomed, my clitoris hurt. I had to come. And he made me come, alright, but the next morning I let him know that I can’t fuck him anymore, but thank you for being there for me when I needed it. He texted me twice after that, but I never texted back. Right now, I need more than he can give me, even though he gives me great orgasms. 

Then the Fourth of July comes and I feel like I am spending the whole day turning down dick. My friends and I got to six parties, and in everyone is a guy trying to get something. This Armenian New Yorker I met is pushing me to leave the last party with him. I have zero plans to. I’ve been drinking since two and am ready for bed. He insists I give him my number and he texts me gross stuff until I block him.

A week and a half later I deign to let someone in my bed again. He is funny and so cute. Half Korean and half black, a classic LA combo. His skin is soft and he has tattoos all over his muscular chest. He played college football and still goes by his number, Five. It is tattooed over his heart in scrolling long hand. I swear when he smiles everyone in every room he has ever been in falls in love with him. But not like romantic love, like you love a child, or a puppy, or a rose in bloom. 

Five knows nothing about the female anatomy. Or the orgasm. Or how to please me in the slightest, but he is so cute his ignorance is almost endearing. He asks if I have a condom, and as I am getting it he takes his clothes off. I turn to see him naked and give him the condom. I take off my clothes too, as he puts it on.  Then without ceremony he flips me on my back, like I am sure he learned as a college football player. He puts his penis in me in one very strong thrust that actually hurts. He is not big, but it feels like a glass dildo it is so hard. 

He goes at it fast and profound as he can for about 30 seconds. Then he takes a break. Then goes at it again as hard and fast as he can. I have to stop him, because I am so confused and not enjoying any of it and kind of in pain.

“Oh, am I too fast?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I respond, kind of pissed that he has obviously gotten this note before, and is still dong it this way. This man is 27, so he should know better. I have slept with lots of young men, most when I was young also, but I never remember a young man being quite so sexually inadequate. I have a feeling his looks, his wit and charm, and his status in college made him never have to learn how to please a woman. They all just flocked to him. I lay him down on my bed and get on top. At least this way I will be saved from that jabbing dagger. 

I am riding him for a couple minutes and begin to start to have an orgasm. I get in a good rhythm and tell him I’m going to come. He looks at me dead faced and says, 

“I already came.” 

“What?” I say in confusion because nothing in his face, voice or body language says he came. 

“Well, you were doing so good up there, and…” He trails off. I take a deep breath and say it’s ok. And we snuggle for a while before he leaves. 

Five days later, I meet someone I have an instant psychic connection with. We communicate with our eyes from across the bar before we speak. When we shake hands upon meeting, we get a spark of static electricity. We laugh and try to blow it off, but we both know what is happening. He can dance as well as I can, and our bodies melt into each other’s.  The glow is all around us and his friends are coming over to meet me one by one, like a reception. But I get scared or something and run away and don’t give him my number. I am regretting that to this very moment. 

Then H returns with a phone call. He wants to see me, and I do no want to invite him over, so we have a drink at a bar near my place. He starts about how he has been going over people in his life who are worthy or not worthy of his time, and I am so worthy of his time. He finds me very attractive and not just on the surface. He likes everything I have to say, and my energy and he appreciates the relationship that we have been off and on from for almost two years now. This is all wonderful to hear, but I can’t forget that a month ago I told him I wanted to be loved and he ran out of my house like there was a fire. I want to fuck him, it is true. He is the most cosmic sexual connection I have ever had, but I need to be loved right now. I send him home with a hug. I block his number too after he makes it clear he cannot love me, and turns into a dick about it. I need to cut off that connection. It is holding me back.

I am sexual. I love to fuck. I want wild outrageous sex with sometimes multiple people and sometimes with just one special person. I want to experience everything under the sun and beyond. I love being polyamorous. It feels fun and exciting and natural to me. But I am feeling the need to wait for the right moment and the right energy to enter my body. I want love. It doesn’t have to be any kind of traditional set up, but I need to be valued. And I’m just gonna sit on this pussy and wait for it.