A journal entry

I am so incredibly horny right now that I am daydreaming about taking you into my mouth. You have warned me that I may not like oral sex and assure me that it's okay if, after attempting it, I find that it's something I don't want to do. I don't plan to give up that easily. If I don’t like it at first, I want to take the time to perfect my skills so that I do enjoy it. I want to learn how to ravage you with my mouth. I want to show you how much I love and desire you by the amount of fervor I use in sucking your dick. I want you to be so turned on by my sheer desire, if not technique, that you cum buckets in my mouth. I want to learn to love the taste of cum, your cum, so that the oral sex experience will be as enjoyable as possible for you. If I don’t like the taste at first, I will not let that deter me. I plan to have your cock in my mouth so much that I acquire a taste for it. I want to keep sucking, keep swallowing until it becomes like honey to me. I am a determined little slut. You want oral sex and I want to give it to you as many times as you want. I want to stay on my knees for you while you grip the back of my head and pound my face over and over again until you explode in my mouth while screaming out in complete, unadulterated ecstasy. That’s my goal. I won’t stop until I achieve it.

Dear Vibrator,

I am so pleased to have gotten the chance to make your acquaintance. It's been a long time coming, so to speak. I never thought I would see the day when you and I would become friends. You see, I'm a simple girl from a Southern town that boasts very conservative values. I was taught early on that "good girls" don't use vibrators. As I matured, I began to realize that girls do all sorts of things while still maintaining their goodness. The more I accepted this truth, the more open I became to the idea of meeting you.

Recently, my girlfriend and I found ourselves in an adult store giggling over the dildos and other sexual aids. I was admiring the remarkable resemblance that some of the devices had to actual penises when I caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of my eye.

Your label said you were a g-spot finder. Even though I had never used a vibrator before I was excited by the idea of you and I working together to locate my happy place. Any apprehensions I had about our potential relationship were cast aside when I examined your short, slender construction. Your petite stature, when compared to some of your mammoth friends, was disarming and made you look harmless as you dangled from the display hook. I couldn't wait to get you home.

I had barely walked through the door before I was on the bed, legs splayed, slowly swirling you around my nether regions. The subtle vibrations you produced encouraged me to draw tiny circles with my hips. Once the small talk was over, I took off my pants to facilitate a deeper, more intimate discussion. As the conversation lingered, I could feel you becoming slick with my juices. It wasn't long before I slipped you inside where you purred sweet nothing after sweet nothing until I shuddered in ecstasy.

Our first meeting was an intimate one but you managed to not give up all of your secrets. The location of my g-spot remained a mystery but the time we spent together was so enjoyable that I was okay with you holding onto your secret a little while longer.

Even though I knew we had hit it off well during our first visit, it wasn't until after our next meeting that I longed for you to become an integral part of my life.

The second encounter started out like the first, with slow effortless communication. Eventually the breezy dialogue was replaced with intense, passionate discourse, creating a tension within my body that begged to be relieved. I shook as the pressure that had been building was finally released in the form of an orgasm that radiated from the center of my pelvis outward in all directions until it had reached my farthest extremities. I whimpered like a helpless dog while the waves of pleasure reduced themselves to ripples.

Oh, dearest vibrator, I have grown incredibly fond of you in such a short period of time. You have shown me bliss that I had not known before now. Let's stay friends forever so that we can reach even higher levels of rapturous delight. Maybe one day, if you're feeling up to it, we can bring D into our little sessions. I think it would be fun for all parties involved. But don't worry, I'll always make time for just the two of us.

Angel

Bashing the inner critic

I don't really know who you are or whom your voice represents but I do know that I don't like the things you say. I don't like the way you make me doubt myself and make me think of myself as less than what I am. My whole life I have allowed you to limit me. I have not achieved all that I am capable of because of you. My life would be so different had I not internalized your lies so. I wish that I could say that right now, from this day forward, I will stop listening to you. I want to so bad. But I am afraid. You have made me afraid. Afraid that I would not be able to handle the rejection that I am sure to experience from time to time. But that's not true. Self-help books that I've read say that I can handle rejection. It may not be easy but I can handle it. That voice that says I can't write? Yeah, you. You are the same voice that prevents me from looking for another job, putting my house up for sale and moving to Chicago. You tell me that no one will hire me, I am not good enough, and good things, like fun, exciting jobs that pay well, don’t happen to me. How long am I going to listen to you? How long am I going to allow you to hold me back?

Frustration

My reaction as we ended our phone conversation tonight was borne out of frustration. Frustration stemming from how little control I feel I have over when we talk on the phone. It all started with your move to second shift.

I hated this idea from the get go. I didn't say anything because I want you to be free to do what is best for you and if working second shift helps you to complete your education then who am I to stand in your way? Even though the late night phone conversations cause me to be tired all of the time, I suck it up and deal because I love you and want to spend whatever time I can with you.

My only solace is our Saturday morning phone dates. It is the only time during the week when both of us are completely coherent. The increased alertness makes for much more engaging conversations which allow us to connect on a deeper level. Not surprisingly, Saturday is my favorite day of the week.

Tonight, you brought it to my attention that your changing off days would have an impact on our Saturday phone dates. That didn't go over so well with me. Once again, I felt that I was being asked to make a change that I wasn't completely on board with and I didn't like it. The pressure created from holding my feelings in for months escaped tonight in the form of frustration.

But that's life, right? I can't always have things my way. It's not always about me and what I want. There's two of us in this relationship. Two people who each have their own set of needs, goals and desires. Each of these things must be considered. Occasionally, compromises must be made to ensure that both of us are happy.

In my head, I know this is the proper mindset and I plan to actively pursue it. I just wish I could find a way to not feel so frustrated.

I remember...

I remember how confident and beautiful I felt the day we met for the first time. (I have spent the last year and a half trying to recapture that feeling to no avail.)

I remember being just the right mix of calm and nerves.

I remember watching you come down the airport escalator.

I remember recognizing you and your Sean John jacket from the picture you sent me.

I remember the slight smile that came across your face when you first saw me.

I remember how your pace quickened as you were walking toward me.

I remember the tight and lingering hug you gave me and how it was almost too much physical contact for me to handle from someone I had just met one second ago.

As we walked to the car, I remember you staring at me as I was talking, surveying every inch of my face and body, taking me all in, mentally picturing yourself in a relationship with me.

I remember you folding your 6' 1" frame into my small, economy car.

I remember how uncomfortable I felt in your presence and us sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

I remember noticing that you had moved positions on the couch while I was in the bathroom in an effort to be closer to me.

I remember you wearing white socks and how that almost gave me pause.

I remember cooking you penne pasta for dinner. I remember that you liked it.

I remember how you went for a second helping of Caesar salad even though you said you didn't like salads.

I remember how uneasy I felt when you put your arm around me for the very first time.

I remember immediately tensing up and remaining tense for the duration of the movie we watched.

I remember how amused you were when the waitress at IHOP kept saying "y'all".

I remember how awkward I felt when the check came.

I remember wondering should he pay or should I pay?

I remember making the decision to let you pay.

I still remember the sting I felt when I realized that I had made the wrong decision.

I remember our visit to The National Civil Rights museum and how much I enjoyed interacting with you there. I even remember thinking that I could actually see us together.

But then hours later, as I was taking you to the airport, I remember freaking out over how uncomfortable I felt at times in your presence and wondering if it could ever work out.