Submitted anonymously under the pseudonym Peaches. “I am bigger than what you see. Don’t let my filthy innocence amuse you into too much comfort.”
I need you to understand, what its like to want to get laid, but dololo. Men may complain about getting blueballs, but its not particularly pleasant for us ladies either. It’s like getting hit on that soft pad on the outskirts of genitals when you come so close to having sex. After turning each other on, ‘hickies’ have been planted to show the evidence that indeed, a powerful congress of the genitals took place that left the involved parties pleasantly exhausted and satisfied after such filthy gnashing of bodies. That all I wanted. For his body heat to be mine. For our spirits to bond. But no, a splinter, the size of an anorexic toothpick felt I hadn’t earned sex. Like really? Unless you are in a long term relationship bad sex can’t go forgivably wrong. I must be great until you have graduated to a place where lust and love are in a balance. I was sad, angry, frustrated, embarrassed and above all horny.
All I wanted was a few minutes (by few I mean nothing below 30mins as that accounts for a quickie) of sin. I was now in a desperation that could result in conception if I kept arguing with the voices in my head and tolerating the bad air keeping me from getting laid, I was slowly feeling myself slip away into insanity, I had planned this moment for so long. I had practised the look on my face when I would feel him fill me, the noise I would make to express gratitude and excitement to motivate him to love me more. I really just wanted us to have sex. I could feel the tears of embarrassment well up in my eyes and start to silently flow down my face, I wasn’t sure why I felt horrible, after putting so much effort and allowing my mind to be ravaged by thoughts so filthy, I had reduced myself and no, I’m not crying for d*ck. Or maybe it was the pain of the splinter in my bum making my eyes urinate. Whichever it was, it didn’t go unnoticed.
I felt him suck up air, to summon strength to lift me off the table and cradle me, my warm tears running down his chest and circling around his nipples, it was a long few seconds where I could feel my disappointment exposed for anyone to gawk and laugh at. ‘but babe what’s wrong?’ I looked up at his amused eyes knowing if I spoke I’d cry like someone had died and be totally incoherent in speech. I decided to slump my body into an undignified heap on top of him to signal defeat, forcing him to fall backwards and entangling my arm in an awkward twist. In the battle of waterloo to free my arm, I found him gleefully on top of me. Was he a masochist? A sadist that got turned on by my pain?, which I was now certain was emanating from my bum, and in the few seconds that I waddled in confusion trying to understand how my human could be so dark and twisted and not pity my tears, I felt it.
In all its full form, congress of the genitals began, and forget the practise and expectation, I saw lights and stars and the blur from tears that where as my soul was ushered into unspeakable realms leaving my body at the mercy of this beautiful beast. He pumped, like a man filling a tractor wheel with a bicycle pump, knowing he needed to go strong, and steady and exhibit endurance. Our love was destined to be majestic, our lust intoxicating and now it was my moment, finally, peaches for dessert.
