Pulling Outward from the Past

I'm good; in many ways. Now, however, I do not feel like being good. I feel very hungry and naughty and ready to be ripped apart . . .

I used to be a gal whose libido waxed and waned with the amount of sexual activity I was having - if I was involved with someone and regularly engaged in horizontal and other positions, my hunger and desire stayed and grew along with that relationship. If it ended, the longer I went without, the less I needed, desired, was distracted by thoughts about it until that libido was nearly a faint memory that would only be triggered by a scene in a movie or book or a glimpse of a couple of lovers engaged in an embrace.

Now, however, that does not seem to be the case. I find myself fondling my pussy almost without conscious thought, though I know they are there, many of them, behind the curtain. Did I really just slap my clit? Just to feel, again, that sweet sting? I hunger, knowing that what really satisfies me can not be accomplished alone. Frankly, my vibrators and imagination are having a hard time cutting it in the dampening of this ever-growing fire within me.