Easter is by far my new favorite holiday. And let you tell me why……

I reconnected with P, an amazing chef and one of my favorite connections, especially physically, ever. We always had a great fucking time. Pun completely intended. Seven years later and the connection, mentally and physically, is even more potent. Only reason I stopped talking to him was because I met Josh, and he, at the time, being 26, did not seem like he was ready to take ownership of me. We met for a beer on Thursday at Invasive and the tone was set. We had a great energy filled conversation. Vibin hardcore. Made plans for Saturday. He picked me up in his ‘69 jet black Lincoln Continental and we went to Barita then back to his place for a quick pit stop that turned into pretty much a 12 hour fuck fest.

Easter is originally known as Ishtar, the celebration of Sex and Fertility. Roman culture Christianized it into what its know for today. Bunnies and eggs?…..come on…..

My god, did I celebrate the FUCK out of Ishtar. It was great. But now, I’m in withdrawal. This is what happens. I become sexually activated, then have no outlet, but torture, to dwell inside. My body just itches and vibrates constantly awaiting for this addiction to be satiated. It’s all I can think about. I live inside it. Breathe inside it. Dwell inside it. Nothing else can distract me away from what fulfillment that desire has to offer me. Worst part is this addiction exists this strongly even without orgasm. Because I’ve realized I can’t orgasm since Josh to mentally protect myself. It’s a self imposed, psychological, subconscious, defense mechanism. I am such a passionate, intense, feeling lover that orgasms only increase the amount I emotionally experience ….and I can’t feel that deeply unless I’m sure that someone gives enough shit about me to feel about. But greats sex still makes me crave more. Imagine what it would be like if I could easily orgasm…..the entire reason behind my subconscious block. The physical intimacy, the amazing sensations, the mental stimulations…it’s my drug. My ultimate drug. Every inch of me trembling internally waiting to be replenished.

I like to fuck. I don’t know why it’s so damn difficult for me to find a counterpart who also likes to fuck and who I’m amazingly sexually compatible with. I’m starting to realize more and more why I was so infatuated with Josh for so long. He fulfilled a big portion of those needs that I craved on a daily basis.

What is this? Why don’t others feel like I do? I don’t understand. Why am I not more dead inside. Why am I so fucking alive and activated and sensitive to reality?! I don’t understand why I am so encompassed with emotional torture. I don’t bring this on myself, I don’t wish this on myself, I just am.