update, in brief.

I’m not dead yet (or again), I promise. Right now I should be reading chapters 1, 2, and 3 in my textbook, as I’ve just started classes again as a full time student, but I’ve found reason to procrastinate.

I started posting again a few months ago, with fervor, and I don’t intend to let a year go by without writing and interacting, but my life has taken a turn for the better in recent weeks, and that turn has required a lot of time and energy.

First, there is the aforementioned return to academics. After my first attempt at college immediately after high school (which ended terribly and left me feeling rather hopeless in that regard) I took a few years off before starting to take classes casually again- one at a time. Now, with the encouragement of D (my wonderful significant other and support system) I’ve declared my major and started working towards my Bachelors of Science in [unnamed technical field].

Second, and perhaps most important, is the move that I’m making. D. recently accepted a job in a somewhat-nearby metropolitan area and, after roughly two years together, I’m moving with him. Living with him and working a [to be determined] part time job will allow me to focus more on school, which is what I need right now. I’ve lived with family since dropping out of school- and as glamorous as that sounds, it is definitely time for a move.

It’s a big step, for me and for monogamy. I’ll attempt to update as I see fit. I’m sure having our own place will lead to more adventurous bedroom antics- once we actually have a bed.

fantasy, the second.

When I was younger I had a very vivid fantasy life- I’d daydream for weeks about the same scenario as whole stories played out behind closed eyes. Some of these were used for the purpose of masturbation, while others were simply to make my dull life a little more interesting (to me, at least). I could lay in bed and imagine myself nursing an injured knight back to health, or mingling with the gods of ancient Greece. In retrospect, my fantasy life was just about as nerdy as it gets, and occasionally it still is- I have a real fetish for the Greeks.

It sounds incredibly lame to say, but ever since I started fucking on the regular, I find myself fantasizing about my partner more than anything or anyone else. Even lamer still, most of these “fantasies” are just actual events replayed in my mind’s eye, ones I can rewind and play back whenever I please. Truth be told, it is just easier for me to summon up an actual event, rather than having my mind invaded by worries or random (unsexy) thoughts. I am so easily distracted.

The most recent event I find myself reliving is from a few weeks ago. I’d been prancing around his room, showing off my new (matching, for a change) lingerie set under a snug-fitting sweater. After I’d finished smoothing and inspecting everything in the full length mirror I found myself turned and pinned, my hips hugging the edge of the bed as his hands slid over my breasts, waist, and ass. We unbuttoned and undressed only as much as we had to, pants hanging in limbo between my hips and my knees.

He fucked me then, urgently. That is typically how we find ourselves in the beginning, frenzied in our need to please one another, to please ourselves. It is not often that we take things slow. As his cock slid in and out of my dripping cunt, my body pinned to the bed, his husky whisper of, “I can’t wait to come inside you again,” left me spinning.

(Note: We’re sticklers for birth control, after an incident last year that I may write about at a later date. As I’m not on the pill/shot/etc. at the moment, condom-free fucking is a brief and savored treat, lasting only long enough to:

a. lube him up enough to fuck my ass or;
b. bring us back to our senses.

I fucking hate condoms.)

After he pulled out, both of us gasping and eager for more, I was about to suck him off when he told me to turn over. The urgency dissipated, for a few minutes at least, as his cock slipped into my ass and his arms surrounded me. As we drew closer to the climax, our bodies sweat-slick and tangled, he asked if he should slow down.

My reply was wordless, a gasp and a match of pace.

It was one of the first times in a long time that we’ve laid there for a few minutes after the fact, curled up together and content. Usually we’re too busy busying ourselves with other things.

I think I’ve gone soft.

addicted.

Addicted Image’s photoblog/blogblog The Life Addicted leaves me pleasantly tingly and wanting more, like any good sexual encounter. Found via Violet Blue, TLA is fucking funny, for one- but this blog is not about funny. The images below speak for themselves.

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