I realised how little I’ve been writing this year has a lot to do with knowing who reads these posts. I’ve found myself censoring stories, omitting details, not writing at all, simply because I’m unsure how much is making its way back to people I don’t want in my life anymore. I also know my sisters read it sometimes, depending on the nature of the content, and that has certainly had an impact on choosing what and whether to write or not. Heads up ladies, there’s going to be sex later in this post.
But, I’m on holidays this week, unscheduled but necessary holidays to regroup. I’m feeling pretty devastated about work and have been for several months. I’m struggling with the increasing inevitably of what has to happen, and I’m really sad it’s come to this point. Moreover, I realised that for the better part of the past three years, work has been the constant in my life. It has been stable, enjoyable, a happy spot on sometimes dark horizons. It has kept me focused through broken relationships, broken friendships and broken hearts.
The idea that this is going to change has completely unnerved me. I’ve lost motivation, productivity, joy. Sitting at my desk makes me anxious. I cry driving to meetings, to the work Christmas party. I am disengaged and despite trying to talk through it, I am struggling to see a path forward. And I am bored, so incredibly, gobsmackingly bored. And boredom has never looked good on me. So, on Friday I requested a week’s leave (I had plenty) and I have switched off.
I did not expect the relief to be so palpable nor so nourishing. Then yesterday I lost myself – utterly and completely – in sex. Not good sex or great sex but can’t remember my own name sex. The kind of sex where you can’t feel where you stop and they start.
It has been a long time, an incredibly long time, since I’ve had sex like that. I’ve had good sex this year and even great sex this year but this was next level headspace stuff. The kind that reminds me why I sought out kink and BDSM in the first place.
I thought I would detail it all out but part of me wants to hold onto it, just keep it for a little while in my mind without breaking it down into a blow by blow. Because I can’t do it justice with all the adjectives and cliches usually strewn through my posts. But, because I also know this is how some of my readers get their kicks, I will say it involved: hog-tie restraints, a riding crop, a Doxy and anal. Let your imagination go wild readers and then, go harder. You might just come close.