Avoiding what I should be doing…

This was my morning:

Get up at 10am…

No wait, it starts earlier than that.

Wake up at 6:30am with A. Tell myself I will get up and do “all the things I wanted to get done” during my break. Promptly go back to sleep.

Get up at 10am. Wander out to the computer, look for email from W. Respond to a comment in my LJ, fart around reading blogs and write in my LJ, think a bit about what I am “supposed” to be doing. Write email to W. Think about play, think about sex, think about cocks and pussies with their lips spread open. Go to bedroom to masturbate.

Don’t come.

Goddammit! Even using Baldy, I can’t get there. Of course, my fingers have been working better lately anyway. Or maybe it’s not my fingers, maybe it’s being with one of the guys, because I haven’t masturbated alone in awhile. A says, when I call him and tell him (quite pitifully, I might add) that I can’t get off, “Maybe it’s Pavlovian. Maybe you gotta have a finger or a hand or a cock inside you to come now.  Hey, that’s fun, maybe we should ring a bell every time you orgasm, train you like a dog to come to the bell!” Ain’t he just too fucking funny. “So I think you should come home now, make me come, then go back to work,” I say, all serious-like. Guess he didn’t agree, since he didn’t show up at my door ten minutes later and I still haven’t had an orgasm. Fuckin’ hell.

So I start cleaning up a bit, fold clothes, straighten books. Post to this space. You know, little things to keep me from having to actually CLEAN or something.

I wander over to read another blog I follow and found a post on using her safeword, which of course we don’t use. But then I get to the part about safewording because she farted…okay yeah, maybe I do need a safeword. If I am farting, STOP THE FUCKING SCENE. I’m done, no more, it’s all over. Not into THAT kind of humiliation. Speaking of which, I had planned to go get an enema kit, give myself a nice thorough cleansing, hadn’t I? Hmmm…wonder if that would give me the orgasm I am in such dire need of. Because it IS a need you know. I need to goddamn come.

Not like I didn’t have a rocking orgasm last night. One of those kinds that roll one into the other, so that even as I lay there “after,” I could kinda squeeze my thighs, tighten my vagina and have myself a tiny new one all over again. Yuummmm. I’m just a horny girl, I guess. Insatiable, right? No, not really. Must be thoughts of sugarplums dancing in my head…or crops and ropes and floggers and W’s fingers digging into me…

Pffft~~ I really do have to do other stuff now. Like figure out if I can use my old bathtub masturbation technique–will the water run hot enough/hard enough to make me come? I’m desperate here, truly.

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