First Thoughts in It's Art, You Wouldn't Understand

I’ve must have orgasmed at least 15 times today. It seems the peak of my heat cycle has finally come and I feel at ease. My favorite orgasm was the one with Chu. The deep, long, rhythmic thrusts that had me speaking jibberish and when I finally hit the note I was looking for this overflowing joy bubbled up from my belly and I just started laughing. I’m not even sure what the hell was so funny but I laughed until I cried. He just massaged my tummy and watched me with this amused grin on his face. I never laughed like that after coming. What an amazing feeling.

That was my second kind of “new” orgasm I felt in my life. The first one was sweet. He stroked me so good that I tasted sugar on the back of my tongue when I came. The taste sat there for a good hour afterward and the buzz was very mellowing. The sweetest orgasm I ever had in my life and I smile now just remembering it.

After the joyful session, I was on my own. I begged him to use me, I wanted to feel slightly degraded and used and even a little cheap. He pumped me until he reached completion and then came on my tits. He threw me a dry paper towel to clean myself up with while he went back to whatever he was doing. I didn’t want to finish. I think I ended up falling asleep afterward.

I woke some hours later, he was lying next to me, totally engrossed in his new video game. He gave me a few kisses and I ended up using the toy for the next couple of rounds.

“You still got it in you huh?”

He didn’t even take his eyes off the screen. Bastard.

My body has been on fire for weeks now. I don’t think I ever had a heat cycle last this long. I have a week before my period starts and just now I feel my blood is cooled. What a ride.

Now with my mind clear, I can focus on the upcoming week. Tonight, I want to take a hot shower, really wash slowly and with purpose. I feel exhausted physically and I want to snuff out any lingering embers before bed. Maybe two more times?

I think the shower will calm me down though. It will be a good transition to keep my mind out of the gutter for more than an hour.

Right now I’m thinking about my teenage years. I’ve been reading a lot of stories lately, mostly about first loves and such. They make me smile and remember my weird decisions and feelings way back then. Thinking back on it, I was obsessed with angst. I’m not sure why but 16 year old me really thought that anything that didn’t include major tragedy was fake or plastic. I guess I was trying to beat life to the punch when it came to kicking my ass. I wanted people to cry when they read my stuff. Tears were always real and transcended any culture or language. Everyone remembers when they last cried and I thought that if my words could evoke that feeling then maybe I could live forever.

All my stories had crushed hearts, shredded bonds and mind-numbing deaths that the character could just never let go of. I would go to church every Sunday and read about redemption and salvation and then come home and write about darkness, anger, and death. Classic sheltered little girl. Was I that dull that I had to fabricate my own misery?

Now I’m addicted to color. Bright yellows, pinks, and blues are the staples to my everyday style. I want to gorge myself on pastels until everyone around me fresh with happiness. I avoid triggering new stories, watch lighthearted romcoms and try not to dwell on the past too much. I don’t even want to read my old stuff. Heh.