I got tired of upping the ante. Needing more vibrations. Deeper vibrations. Different vibrations. Different wavelengths. I wanted to feel dizzy and euphoric. The body needed to be twisted and tested. There was a necessary sense of pain that was required to convince that the mind was not creating another fantasy not within reach. Each new level brought less and less satisfaction. Rolling around in an empty bed with my hands between my legs. It just wasn’t exciting. It wasn’t fun. There were tears of frustration that formed even when the body climaxed. A few seconds of intensity and no warm kisses to prolong this feeling. My body was no longer reacting to the thought of self love. My body was tired of itself. Tired of the ins and out of AA batteries in the middle of the night. What a bore. What a sad tired bore when thoughts of masturbation just don’t do it. Did I stop loving myself the right way? Did I love myself too much? Too often? I know the love wasn’t intense. It was temporary. For the moment, you know? Just to take the edge off of not having a warm, muscular, sweaty hard body next to me. Did it really take the edge off though? Did it? Mornings would come and I, still in the heat of my own thoughts, would rise angrily. Annoyed. Irritated because I can not do the one thing my body needed. What the body needed was out of my reach. So the decision came in the middle of another exhausted session of dissatisfaction. I grabbed my phone, forgetting my chain analysis bullshit, I needed to feel something… something strong. Solid. Thick. And I needed something, well actually someone, to feel me. To explore me. To kiss and devour, to make a meal out of me. I wanted to serve. Offer my body to a very hungry mouth. My body wanted more than another night of AA batteries and a quick cheap way to achieve a subpar orgasm. I was tired and growing very restless. Phone in hand, the decision was made and 3 words contributed to my body becoming your favorite meal ….
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