Today I reclaimed my sexuality and my womanhood, in honour of the two of us... I've had it up to here (I'm pointing just above my ears) at the sordid tales of das leben der anderen. Don't get be wrong, I knew that everyone around me was at it like rabbits, I knew that from the days of blissbox... the London air is full of sex... but I turned a blind eye - in some bizarre puritanical ritual (I was a nun in my past life).
While you've been choking the chicken I was preserving the holy temple, in some needless sign of abstinence. God knows I've tried!
But I'm no robot, and I have become more than a little preoccupied with sex and namely the lack of it. "It" infects my dreams, makes me want to stay in bed longer to keep the thoughts of the two of us doing lascivious things to one another in my mind - just a little longer before the feeling fades... I've missed talking about sex, I've missed the anticipation of it, I've missed the general groping under the duvet, the pressure, the warmth, the texture of you as you enter me...
I miss you.
So I took a little me time and had a glorious session, followed by a second one because I got greedy and realised I'd denied myself slivers of pleasure in these bleak times... because you were with me (by means of my excellent imagination and the help of a photo that I could zoom in on)and because quite frankly my body turns me on - I didn't feel too alone.
Of course as that beautiful Irish Pixie Sinead O'Connor said, Nothing Compares 2 U... but I bloody needed it... Even as I write this I feel the tingle of pleasure "down there" (your equivalent of "It Moved")
I am actually taking a little bit of time off... I know I should be working, but instead I plan to make a nice lunch and watch Sunset Boulevard...
and in honour of the late, great Gloria Swanson I'll end with this picture of the queen indulging herself - (watch the right hand)
"All right, Mr Gamaker, I'm ready for my close up..."
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