I’m in the kitchen, dinner nearly done - burgers finishing, green beans softly steaming - while a scandalously good book murmurs in my ear. And somewhere between the heat of the stove and the heat of the story… I’ve found myself a little undone.
I just need a moment.
Just a moment to slip away and tend to the indecent throb between my thighs, to ease the distraction splitting my thoughts. Will it be possible to return to the kitchen looking composed and appropriately resigned for the evening?
I love this video because for 17 perfect minutes, I do not see a single mom, fretfully worried over her kids. I do not see a full-time college student with essays floating around her head. I do not see a stressed-out employee who cries every day at work. I do not see a weary body reaching with a milestone birthday approaching. Rather, for 17 wonderful minutes, I see a woman, utterly twitterpated, full of life, passion, and lust. I see a boyfriend's raw vigor and the adoration pouring from his face. So...what do you see?
The function with friends was delightful, and we returned to the house at nearly midnight, filled with joy. I was still feeling frisky and flirtatious in my little white sundress. Not ready to sleep, I decided to surprise Jack with a bit of naughty fun before going to sleep. The thrill of anticipation for his reaction was so intense that I was rather impatient for him to finish his evening preparations, but it was so worth it!
Just got home… still dressed, still composed… but I couldn’t ignore the insistent, gnawing ache between my thighs. I stole a quiet little moment, but I had to be very, very careful not to make a sound… Do you think I was quiet, or are your eyes focused somewhere lower...
Happy Friday. We were gifted a new piece of furniture and were eager to try it out. We had just been to the gym, and I was itching for a shower, the thought of it was like a sweet promise after a sweaty workout. But Jack had other plans. Caring little for my glistening skin, he intended to ensure I deserved my shower! The most surprising discovery with this additional piece of bedroom furniture is that it almost necessitates a third person to use it properly. It's a twist we didn't see coming. Now if only a third was available to help!
It's a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. I feel my need, desire, and loneliness pulling my thoughts away from my to-do list and back into the bedroom. I don't have time for this, the windows are open, what if someone hears? Honestly, though...I don't mind if they do. There is nothing wrong with a little self-pleasure.
I don't want to just run through the motions and I decide to slip into a little lacy, green one-piece, surprised how it melts like butter, conforming to my body. With a chagrinned smile, I realize the cup size on my lingerie is much too small for my new breasts. A good problem to have, I muse.
I turn the camera on, moving in front of its eye, I'm far too critical of my body but seeing the dark green lace caressing my body, I'm a little tickled to enjoy myself. Feeling confident, I decided to take things a step further and bring out my dildo. I rarely play with him...he just brings the intense longings for a partner to the surface. I struggle to fully leave my body and immerse into the blissful release of an orgasm. But not today.
Deep breath...this is about me enjoying myself.
It's Saturday night, and if I'm honest, my heart is a little heavy. I've tried all the things—worked out, stayed busy, checked off the boxes of self-care—but some nights sadness lingers anyway. So tonight, I'm choosing not to run from it. I'm choosing to sit quietly with myself, offer myself a little grace, and practice the often difficult art of self-love. Healing isn't always beautiful. Sometimes it looks like a woman alone on a Saturday night, loving herself enough to stay.
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