vagina usuria

There’s this way I’m feeling right now. Right now, every third, maybe second, maybe fourth, maybe every other man, I want to pour myself over him like melted butter. Right now, the way I’m feeling, I see men and I want to pry them open like oysters and pour them down my throat. I could sink my teeth into that guy’s thigh, him, right there, believe it or not. I imagine shucking him of his clothes and nibbling him to wet, sweet morsels. Right now the way I’m feeling is omnivorous. I see a man and I could devour him whole.

My vagina, maybe it has grown teeth. It is that voracious. (The LOLCat photo would show my kitteh going "Nar nar nar!" enthusiastically.)

Right now, it’s been over two months since I’ve been properly laid. Over eight weeks, more than 56 days, or 1,344 hours, or 80,640 seconds have passed since I’ve been  penetrated, fornicated, fucked, in short. In the grand scheme of time, it’s not that long. Intellectually, I recognize the relative brevity. But in my panties, it feels like an eternity.

I don’t even exactly recall the details of my last copulation. Vague memories hang like the vestiges of those spray-on spiderwebs that remain in less well-kempt bars. I remember in thin sheets, the last time I fucked. It was, of course, with Donny, my then-boyfriend/now-X. That I know for absolute certain. I absolutely remember coming. I am fairly sure it happened in my bed. Beyond that, details haze and blow about like smoke at a Zeppelin concert. There was kissing, there was sucking, there was the piston-fornicating, and these details I am sure of because there is always kissing, sucking and piston-fornicating. Other points feel as blank as an empty Post-It note.

I walk around with this pelvis bone-deep hunger. Puissant as it is, this hunger crept up on me. The winds of the emotional vicissitudes of the past couple of months had buffeted me about so thoroughly that the dormant party in my panties was just about the last thing I was thinking about. I masturbated out of a sense of duty than joy. I had to remind myself to do it, like grieving people need to be reminded to eat. I would drag out toys, wash them off, lube them up and have a genital go of it more out of feeling like I ought to want to than out of a genuine desire. Now I find that dormancy has passed, and I am left with this gnawing need.

Donny and I have talked about sex. We warily circle the topic. We pick up the sex talk, but we drop it quickly, as quick as if it had singed our fingers. We neither of us seem ready or able to hop into bed like MDMA-laced bunnies, even if the rabbits keen silently when we are together—or when we’re apart. Unable, or unwilling, to strip naked and fuck, we hug passionately. We don’t even seem able to trust a kiss. Our kisses are closed mouth, a little more than a peck, but a lot less than a soul kiss. We press our lips together and they linger, but they don’t part. Our tongues don’t stray. We don’t let our libidos off the leash. We could bundle; we are that restrained, that delicate with one another’s hearts, that chary of one another’s naughty bits.

Which all leaves me with this hungry, hungry pussy. I could wind it up and toss plastic bits into it—shoes, shirts, tiny tin can replicas—and it would still be starving. I have tried. I have fed it vibrators and dildos and vibrating dildos and other buzzing plastic and silicone and stainless steel masturbatory flotsam and jetsam, and my pussy, indiscreet as a goat, has swallowed it all, burped, and asked for more.

Like the Mariner, I am surrounded by water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink. I can’t turn my head without seeing—and sometimes smelling, and if I’m on the subway, rubbing up against in a bonus urban frottage—men. They’re everywhere. I see them and I want. My nose is pressed up against the glass of the sweetshop that is heterosexual sex. I could cram them all into my greedy child’s mouth with my grubby fists. I am that hungry, hungry as a post-hibernation bear.

And yet, hungry as I am, needy, greedy and keening as my pussy might be, I deny it all with the remarkable self-abnegation of a holy man. No, I tell myself, no, and no again, and I wag my finger at my hungry self.

Not now, not yet, not with him, not with anyone, not until I feel ready and sure and able to digest it.

Comments

[Desi couples]

Nicely written.

I resonated with the first line of the post. I can tell how horny I am by calculating the percentage of women I find attractive on a particular day. Monday after a wild party of twosome, threesome and moresome, I don't even notice the women I encounter; but a week or two of non-indulgence changes my attractiveness-threshold. The girl at the Starbucks, the brunette driving in the next lane, the model on the bill board, the teller at the bank, all of them look so sexy and alluring. On Monday, when my carnal desires have been satisfied, one in 1000 women look gorgeous, on Friday one is 10 looks sexy and on the following Friday I'd jump in bed with one out of three.

[marx marvelous]

For me, closed-mouth kisses have always been masturbatory: they "approximate" the real thing without even stroking its engorged edges.

Thanks for making me consider the minutes.

[Calico]

Right now, the way I’m feeling, I see men and I want to pry them open like oysters and pour them down my throat.

Oh, my.

I recently ended a relationship too, but it had been a long famine before we split. You capture exactly how I feel about the returning hunger.

[AngelBaby]

Your writing never fails to amaze me. And it always captures what I would love to say, but much more eloquently than I could ever imagine.

Even talking about fellatio and sex toys and threesomes and orgies and dirty-hawt-sex somehow sounds classy and refined when you write about it.

This entry is no exception...and is perhaps the blog I feel the closest to.

"I see them and I want. My nose is pressed up against the glass of the sweetshop that is heterosexual sex. I could cram them all into my greedy child’s mouth with my grubby fists. I am that hungry, hungry as a post-hibernation bear."

After coming out of a 6 year relationship wherein sex happened at a very regular frequency...I haven't been so lucky as to even have a nibble of anything, and for this bear, it's getting harder to ignore the 5 month hibernation....

[Karen]

"indiscreet as a goat"

So cute!

[mike]

I could help smooth your nerves.

Call Me,

Mike

[Free]

" I deny it all with the remarkable self-abnegation of a holy man. No, I tell myself, no, and no again, and I wag my finger at my hungry self. Not now, not yet, not with him, not with anyone, not until I feel ready and sure and able to digest it."

A woman who is attractive to an average degree can find a man to fuck any time that she wants. A man, attractive to an average degree, can fuck any time he can find a terribly desperate woman who has given up on sublimating her sexual urges. Ergo, no man can understand self abnegating denial. Never had it, never will.

[Th Fury]

goodness you are masteful with your will power. I too have that mastered..alas, i'm recognizing that at some point we all must give in and fuck the hell put of someone. not just for them, but for us.

[Selena Kitt]

I was waiting to see how many men would post their numbers and emails in the comments section! *grin*

I'd offer to ease your hunger, but I'm the wrong gender...

And you're smart, Chelsea-girl. You know what's what. I truly enjoy that 'bout you.

[Phalse]

I'm impressed. It isn't often that i hear of such stories, true or not, but this is really awe inspiring. I think you have managed to punctuate the problems that some people have when between relationships. For the time being get to know who you are again when it comes to sex. Remember what it is like to be single and enjoy it. Forget what it is like to be a couple having sex and just enjoy it yourself. Sometimes it is best if you just "lend yourself a hand".

Just know that after some time you will find someone who can fill that void, and fill it well. I remember having the same problem but now I'm married and that isn't an issue now. It just took me a long time to find that happiness and I know you will find someone too.

I'm impressed at the lack of guys who offered up their contact info and are willing to respect you temporary desire to abstain.

[tom paine]

We think of single people having such rich sex lives, but it is, of course, those in relationships who copulate. The same is true for non-monogamy: the swingers with spouses to dangle do much better than alone, unless they are a woman ready to fuck a couple. Even the single women on the hunt for men have their issues.

[SNJacobson]

Love the piece. One comment bought to mind a photo of mine that can be seen at:
http://snjacobson.com/vagina_denta.htm

Your welcome to to post it on your blog. All I ask is that you credit me
photo by S.N.Jacobson

You obviously write quite well. It's a shame you are writing the Donny blog, and not something more general. Just slightly more general. About, anything else. Because as well as one may write, having every post about an unworkable relationship lumps you in the teen-angst-emo blog arena. You are so very intelligent, urbane, et al? Prove thusly and move the fuck on.

[chelsea g]

Oh, Anonymous, misused commas and limited analysis are so hott.

Thank you for your advice. Now I see the light and shall amend my teen-angst-emo ways forthwith.

cheers,
chelsea g

[S.P.]

Heh, heh, heh... she said "Puissant"...

[Austin]

vagina dentata: not a record by the police