Naked Massages

Last night I had a function to go to, it went ok, nothing too exciting. I left a little earlier than the end, and drove myself over to (s)Ex's house.


I wasn't really in the mood for an all out romp, but occasionally even yours truly needs a curl up, back rub, quiet drink and some kissing.


Exactly what I got. I turned up, all heels and tight tops and quickly stripped down to just my cheetah print lace g string. He loves me in Victorias Secret. I stretched out on the couch, curled my head up in his lap and sipped my Canadian Club. 


We gossiped a little, and he ran his hands over my skin, massaging, caressing, kissing, rubbing my breasts, shoulders, neck, back, legs for hours. 


I kissed him back, enjoying the sensation of his skin pressed against mine. His lips on my ear was perfection. Just the attention I'd been waiting for.


After six hours of long slow foreplay we were both worked up, and I'd been rubbing him through his boxer shorts for a while.


I always like leaving him frustrated and turned on occasionally - it means when I see him next he's all pumped up to fuck me hard all night.


By four am, I'd been there for six hours. The Canadian Clubs, the massage, the warm heater were starting to kick in. He tried to bend my will to stay the night. I didn't want to. I wanted to come home.


While we'd been curled up on the couch, touching sensually, I'd been pausing occasionally to message Punk.


Punk is still away. He's a two and a half weeks away from coming home. I'm actually missing him a little. I didn't think I would. Turns out I was mistaken. Punk and I have reached an understanding of sorts. He likes me, I like him. That's the understanding. Both of us are too emotionally dysfunctional to actually say much more.


Truth be told, I want to love Punk. I hate him, I love him. I want to pull him close and push him away. 


I never know what I want, but I know for the last ten years he's been in and out of my life. This time, I'd prefer if he stayed. I can't make him though. I can't stop him from walking away. All I can do is wait and see.


I'm not lonely in the traditional sense. I don't want someone here every night. I don't want to move in with a man. I don't want someone to watch TV with and talk shit with every day. That would be more than I could do.


If I could choose, I'd choose someone who was close enough, understood me, respected me, who could lead their own separate life. I guess I like being alone, but perhaps a little less alone-ness would be nice?


I'm sure both of them would object to being in the position their in right now - Punk away, texting me, talking about his feelings, while I'm curled up naked with (s)Ex. I'm sure that they'd both be odd about it. At the end of the day though, I don't know really what those two get up to... maybe they're the same? 


I wouldn't care about (s)Ex. He can do whatever he wants, it doesn't phase me much. Punk though.... I dunno... I might care...