Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Finding Forty, Day 21; Situations

It's only 8:42 a.m. and I feel spent. Wish I could say it was from mind blowing sex, but despite the high probability of starting my day out that way, somehow I got derailed.

Okay, somehow is a lie. I know exactly how. Even though A and I have troubles, our sex life thrives. When he woke up with his morning wood and I felt squirmy between my legs, well, odds were pretty good that we'd soon be getting it on.

Until, that is, he dipped his hand below the waist of my boy short panties and noticed my newly waxed bikini zone. Feeling fresh and sexy, I anticipated his response. As his fingers began to explore, he laughed. Yes, laughed. And I don't mean a nervous, sort of shy or excited giggle. It was just an all out laugh.

What? My mind sort of did a mental double take and my brow furrowed. Did he just LAUGH at my newly waxed love box? Why yes, yes he did. And in that instant, a switch flipped and I no longer felt sexy or hot or in any frame of mind to fuck him. But, in typical fashion, I pushed my resentment and uncertainty down. I stifled it. Until he started trying to finger me and it hurt. It wasn't just uncomfortable, it hurt. We'd had really rough sex the day before and maybe it was related to that, but I truly think it was because his laughter had ruined the moment for me.

"Ouch, that hurts!" I exclaimed as I sort of scooted away. "Oh, I'm sorry, maybe I was going too fast?" he wondered out loud.

I knew he wasn't going too fast. When I want sex, I'm wet in no time. I take pride in my ability to never need lube. I just didn't want it anymore.

You see, I was letting myself get into my head. During my therapy session yesterday, we talked about how I have an overwhelming tendency to escape reality. When things don't go as I hope or if I'm bored, I slide into a fantasy land where I can construct things any way I like. I can't deny that I do this and have done it all my life. Apparently the first step in overcoming it is realizing it happens, beyond that, I have no idea how to quit.

So, there I was, in bed, hoping to fuck my brains out this morning, but being thwarted by a laugh and my mental state.

What happened was that I flash backed to the first time S and I truly made out. After passionate, breathless kissing, his hands made their way under my skirt and into my panties. It felt so good and so fucking hot, I readily squirmed until my panties were down around my knees. And S's response is what is seared in my mind. "Mmmm" he moaned (he's a moaner), "look at that perfect pussy!" And he devoured it both in spirit and in person. His obvious attraction was a complete turn on.

Throughout the course of our affair, his love of my pussy was a big topic, or at least it came up quite often. And I always felt completely comfortable describing the current state of my "situation", as we called it. He loved it and I loved him loving it and was willing and planning to give it to him the rest of my life.

I'd never given thought to the state of my pussy, other than that it had birthed three kids and I was convinced it was ragged out and past it's prime. I also knew that S was into porn, so he sees a LOT of pussy and for him to love mine, well, I was flattered. Yes, as ridiculous as that sounds, I was flattered that he adored the looks of my sex organ.

Flash forward to this morning and I get laughter. I don't mean to compare and I know I can't. It's not fair and it's not even valid.

Any asshole with a dick can admire a woman's pussy, especially when she's practically shoving it in his face. I realized that wasn't that much of a stretch.

Of course, the moment was ruined for us in bed this morning. Without going into too much brutal detail, it was obvious that he'd let me down. What followed was an hour long conversation about love and protection and fragile egos and life.

A told me he's just tired. Tired of everything in his life never going right. Tired of feeling like a failure. He says I'm more trouble than I'm worth and that I'm exhausting. I just listened. What could I say? How could I argue? I knew what he was saying was right and hard as I tried, I was still working on getting over my disappointment at his weird reaction to my pussy.

It all ended with us crying, me cradling his head in my chest as he cried all over my breasts as they overflowed out of the top of my shirt. You know, when he saw what I'd slept in last night, he said..."I bet your breasts look amazing in that shirt without a bra".

We should have started there. A is a total breast man and I bet starting at the top wouldn't have ruined the moment.

Live and learn.


1 comment:

  1. Good lord. I don't blame you though. I would have reacted the same. When I have sex with my husband it doesn't it hurts. It shouldn't. It didn't with the "other". It wasn't that it hurt like he was hurting me, it was that I don't want it. That makes a world of difference.