Too many thoughts get in the way in the day

As I mentioned in the last post, I am having trouble keeping up the teenage intensity for weeks without respite. Just a few days from my knight, my lover's touch, I strive to regain limitless desire. Last night after a heated misunderstanding ("fight" doesn't really describe what happens these days), I let myself wallow--Kris Kristofferson was involved. Then I meditated on nineteen.

The early growth of my libido focused on Bob Dylan. Specifically Nashville Skyline. I still think that the cover picture on that album is one of the sexiest celebrity photos ever! I've avoided Dylan in recent years because he would just make me cry. Seems its time to pull him back out. The music and voice make my hips feel warm. It may not be the intensity that Mr. White puts out, but radiant warmth. My hips want to sway with big hands on them. Added some White to the playlist and put it on repeat shuffle. Worked like magic.

I couldn't stop moving all day. And my skin is on fire for touch. Yoga in the sunshine. A little self-caress while no one was watching. Lots of fantasizing. Back in a lust circle! Fantasy makes housework so pleasurable. Swaying while washing the dishes, imagining my knight standing behind me. All the dishes were washed. Haven't washed ALL the dishes in weeks. Folding laundry, I couldn't help holding his underwear to my face before putting them neatly in his drawer. Down on my knees scrubbing a spot off the floor in my underwear, and in my head my knight was watching but not allowed to touch. The great thing about it all, is that having such a productive day makes me feel good about myself. When I feel good about myself, I lust. Oh the lust. Everytime my thighs touch--a bolt of electricity. I wonder how women with little thighs get that shock. I feel like a teen bride playing house. What a great feeling. I'd play house like this for the rest of my life if I could.

My knight lands home this Saturday. I got a babysitter for that night. I am so ready. Since moving home, my panties haven't made it in the house once after a date. Not sure I should even wear panties this time. Finally that bolt of electricity can pass through my knight again. He's always what I'm thinking of.

--Nineteen and newlywed

Post Script:
I'd like to share the magic playlist. Enjoy.
I Threw it All Away
Nashville Skyline Rag
To Be Alone With You
One More Night
Peggy Day
Tonight I'll be Staying Here With You
Tell Me That it Isn't True
Country Pie
Lay Lady Lay
Your Southern Can is Mine
Seven Nation Army
The Hardest Button to Button
You've Got Her in Your Pocket
I Want to be the Boy to Warm Your Mother's Heart
Hypnotize
Your Pretty Good Looking
Jolene
Fell in Love With a Girl
Hotel Yorba
Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground
The Denial Twist
As Ugly as I Seem
Offend in Every Way
Little Ghost
Forever for Her
Rag and Bones
You Don't Know What Love Is
Old Enough
Level
Salute Your Solution
I Cut Like a Buffalo
Devils Haircut

The Beginning of December

I fell down, of course. And then I got back up, of course, and started over....

Since my last post, I have been 19. Possibly 17. Imagine your one and only love, who is the center of your seventeen year old world, leaving for two whole weeks. Excruciating. If I were really seventeen, that would have about ten exclamation points. About a week into that intense of feelings, my thirty-one year old body could not take much more. Depression set in. Not that this produced any less intense feelings. Every minute away from my night is still a dagger to my heart.

The guilt came after our first child. A daughter. A daughter who I never wanted to experience what I did as a young "adult". Guilt of my pain. Guilt of the infamy I brought to our relationship. Guilt as a result of my knight coming relatively clean to me. Guilt of trying to teach my daughter to prevent the pain. The origin of guilt. Nothing associated with my earlier life was clean. All dirty by association. Obviously this was too broad a net.

One of the things I felt guiltiest about was wasting the intense feelings on boys not worth it. This new intense passion for my knight washes away the guilt. It's everything of a first love. It's everything of an Only Love. It's all consuming. All day. All night. Too much for this old body to handle. Boy is it exciting!

The second day into defeat at the hands of hormones, my knight rode in. He reminded me that being aroused, no matter how aggressively, trumps depression. As usual, he is spot on. On my spot. He also started blogging his fantasies, so that I could be reminded of wild libido anytime I start to forget. Needless to say that I am crouched like the demon waiting for my Pan to take over. My bearded goat-man. I've taught him the lessons he's missed and he wants to take me over.

No guild for the father of my daughter. The father of my son, who I hope to raise to treat his love like his father does. After all of this.. despite of all of this.. because of all of this, I'm the same girl I've always known.

Solute your Solution

Everything seems to happen in clumps. There was the phase when we were all getting married. Then the baby phase. Now seems to be the phase of marital trouble. I guess that is what normally comes after the baby phase. Maybe this has to do with the new-relationship high. It is powerfully intoxicating and sets your whole body and soul on fire. I know it well. Usually it ends with a burn. Practically always. Did the burns cause my sexual confusion?

I didn't have that all-consuming high when I started dating my knight. We had lots of good times. I was attracted to him. To tell the truth, at that age I was attracted to almost anyone with a enough in his pants. My knight came with lots of stress, miscommunication, and fighting. Oh boy, was there fighting! In some ways our wedding was a business arrangement more than a whirlwind of excitement. Not having the high was actually a relief. High = BURN Somewhere subconsciously that was true. While we just kept fighting; we kept fighting. Eventually we got better at it.

Somewhere in that, I forgot how much I love dick. The intrinsic drive was all muddle up with the pain from all those burns. All the highs came with burns, even if I was the one holding the match. During the loss of passion phase of our marriage, I actively avoided touching him there. I lost a part of who I was because it was weighed down by anchor of guilt. Long past time to cut that chain.

During his last week home before this dry spell, I was sick. I couldn't get out of bed. I avoided kissing him so that he would stay healthy. No fun. When I should be aching for his touch from every pore, I was having trouble getting in the mood. I missed him. Just not in that full-body, uncontrollable lust that has re-entered my life. Thank God for instant messaging! My knight started telling me about a current fantasy. It involves going down on him in hotel kitchen. That was it, and I'm back. I do love a big cock in my mouth. His. Now I only want his. I want him. Being invigorated by my true friend and partner in life means there's no burn. Knight + High = Eternal Flame.

Maybe I missed that high when our relationship was new. Feeling pretty blessed to have it now. A new relationship with the only person I can trust completely. A high we made for ourselves and a solution to guilt vs. wanting dick. Just wish he was here to solute my solution.

--19 forced to me 31 sometimes.

He's got me in his pocket.

Thinking a lot about choices lately. Certainly most people would not have made the choices I did. In fact, I wouldn't recommend doing so. How is it that I did everything wrong and ended up with so much right? My knight chose me. What was he looking for? What did he get? What was the price?

Spotted a former 2am "friend" when downtown with my knight on my birthday last week. Seems he is still very into 2am now eight years later. Probably about as much commitment as he can handle. That's fine for him. Although, it is men like him, lots of men, who say they would love a "nympho" wife. What they really want is a nympho at 2am, and then a regular wife. Passion--crazy--comes at a price. A price most men can't, or don't want to, pay. Would Mr. 2am stick it out through half a decade of bad sex, depression, and serious illness? You know the answer to that. Crazy doesn't stay in the bedroom (or, obviously with me, any other place). Crazy is everywhere, but it doesn't have to bad.

I've been in another man's pocket before. In a sinister way. An unstable way. Something with outside instability doesn't last long in my life. I have enough internal instability for any situation. The way my knight has been is different. He's done it the right way. He's held on with all his might and surrounded me with stability. And now he has his totally faithful, nympho wife again. His raging libido has a place to land. Forever. Forever together for each other. Lust and love. And day to day life. And he doesn't regret the payment. Or fear whatever may come in the future to hold it together. Passion makes life exciting. Just knowing a man like my knight exists adds a sense of continuity to the world. A good man also wants to have his brains fucked out on a regular basis. A man is a man is a good man.

I had a brain that felt like pancake batter.

Being separated is harder than it used to be. Guess that is just a reality I will have to deal with in exchange for a good sex life with my own husband. It's just too easy to start thinking about my knight and get turned on. Youtube doesn't help. I'm trying to avoid the more suggestive songs. For me, perhaps there isn't a non-suggestive song that Jack White sings. My body has gone Pavlov, only its bell is Jack White. In between my toes have gone ultra-sensitive. I can feel and smell my knight. I hear or see Jack White, and my whole body longs for the touch of my very own husband. I WANT him. I don't want to be in this bed alone. I want all of him. To lick and touch him.

My head turns to mush imagining scenarios. Some as simple as just a long kiss when the opportunity presents itself. Others racier. Is it healthy to be this in love with your husband? When he's out of town, it sure is the hardest button to button.

Take a Mountain, Turn it into a Mole

Argh moving.
My knight has Stuff. Not the kind of stuff you think about. Or the amount of stuff you think about. Stuff with a capital "C". Serious amounts of stuff. So much stuff. Normally I don't really think about it. As character flaws go, its not so bad. I don't usually think about it and purposefully don't notice.

Moving changes things.

It could be said that I have an innate ability to see spatially. I know how to pack things. If falling blocks never sped up, I could be a champion Tetris player. Now aim me at an eight foot wide, nine foot high moving truck. The problem with having to arrange all my knights Stuff, is that I then have to actually look at. Acknowledge it. Notice. At the end of the first day, during which we only got his Stuff loaded, I was not in a good mood. There is a mountain coming home to its range. So much Stuff. Having to actually be fully aware of this could break a person. Luckily, loading does not last for ever, and we were lovey-dovey again before the end of the weekend.

Now, at the other end of the move I must prepare for the imminent arrival. Storage units and hired movers will be involved. Plans for massive, dual climate zoned warehouse/office in our yard. Jokes about moving my knight out of his own house. And garbage. And Goodwill. So much.

Yesterday was the anniversary of our wedding. Six years we are married. And we don't hold hands with the fingers. I love being married to this knight. I love him. I love being home. On the way home from our "date", I made sure he knew that. The excitement of feeling his body convulse--fighting to continue to drive safe while his senses are overloading--are intoxicating. When we made it into the driveway, it was like being teenagers at an empty house. Good thing the occupants were not the kind to hear cars pull up and look out windows. Things were happening everywhere.

We were able to redress and make it into our home with groceries. Then not being able to keep our hands off each other still, we made it to our bedroom. The room where both our children were conceived. The room in which our son was born. Our room. Our home. Together. We are oversexed teenagers and thirty-something parents. And we are finally home together. Who cares about stuff?

Going to Wichita

Saturdays were always slow. Always easy to believe this was a result of the amount of alcohol I had ingested the night before. Now I wonder. These days I seem to experience socializing hangovers. Not "partying" in the nineteen year old sense. Just laid-up and drained from the sheer act of being social--without the alcohol!

The hangovers themselves haven't changed much in a sense. Sleeping in, naps, ibuprofen, breakfast at two and then back to bed. While that is not exactly what I did today, its sure what I felt like doing. Today went more like the following: Wake up late, mix some cocoa powder (the baking kind) with plain yogurt and frozen berries, get everyone dressed and loaded in the car, fix my daughter's ballet shoes in the parking lot, entertain a two year old for an hour, get home and fall asleep on the floor, wake up at two, take ibuprofen and make lunch (see! similarities!), lay around in the grass for a bit and then get everyone dressed and in the car again to pick up my knight from work. sigh.

Laying out there in the yard, I missed the nineteen year old version--the version that involved afternoon sex and not being the only adult asleep on the floor. Having a hangover with a lover is one of the good times. Saturday morning a blur of naked bodies, showers and kisses, then round 2 (or 3?) after breakfast. Maybe a light dinner with friends later. That's the way to get over a hangover! Even if it is just a socializing hangover, getting through a hangover alone is the pits. After the kids went back inside to supposedly get dressed, but actually to watch "Martha Speaks", I did a bit more than just fantasize in the front yard.

My social calendar has miraculously cleared for the weekend, so we are taking a weekend getaway to stay in a hotel. Isolate our little family from concerns and responsibilities. Two children in one queen-sized bed; two lovers in (or not) the other bed.

Turned it Blue

So my period came almost exactly as my knight's plane landed. And now he is gone again. Gone during the blessed pre-ovulatory time of heightened feeling and arousal. And that is not even it, really.

The one time we had sex between these two trip, it was mediocre. It was forced and not automatic. I am sure some of that was pent up resentment on my part. Some of that was his tendency to loose new information immediately if it is not being used. It's like one step forward and two steps back. Then more resentment on my part, of course.

So, the night before he left town for the second time this month, we talked about it. My resentment. Ideas to rectify the issues. Not much can be done about his having to leave town twice this month. In effect, this makes him absent a third of this month!

This white orchid is definitely feeling blue. How old am I now anyway? Guess I'm thirty. Not so bad. At least we have a place to move forward from and something to practice in the meantime.

With every word I say

Long week alone with two small children. My knight is coming home in the early hours of the morning. I'm patient of this plan, as humble as I can.

Intermittent frustration with people who can't hear the hypocrisy in the things they say. I often imagine what people think about my marriage. About how such a wonderful man stays married to me. The truth is, these things are not an issue for him. The things we fight about are so obscure from public life, that they cannot be imagined by the common bystander.

When I imagine people questioning our marriage, I always hope they think it must be the sex. Even during our years of dead sex, I hoped this. Now that I'm feeling more myself, at least sexually.... Well, pride is a sin, but something close to that. I want coworkers and their spouses to think that he is getting his brains fucked out on a regular basis. That must be why he puts up with my mouth. Little do they know that my mouth does not offend him, but I do fantasize about it pleasing him.

Everyone won't be my friend, but I have one friend. One lifetime friend. One friend who won't leave of his own free will. I hope I wake up when he comes to bed tonight. Luteal phase or not--early morning appointments tomorrow or not--I want to welcome him home the way I hope others imagine.

I am the other hand!

It should be known right away that I love Jack White and country music equally. Well, real country. Texas country. Classic country. Not so much Nashville Pop. This should not be too surprising, as it is all based on American Blues.

At nineteen, there were lots of things I was not aware of. Details about feminine cycle were out of my range of interests. Basic understanding, sure. Not the intricate dance between endocrine, organs, and brain. Being thirty and twice a mother, I am aware of all this. I am aware of when I ovulate. Sometimes I feel it, but always I know when it is about to happen and then the change afterward. Sex drive and sensation increase steadily up to ovulation. The last few days before it pops are the most intense and wild. Obviously that was the weekend at the hotel! That hotel trip was so productive, that until I ovulated, I was able to have thought orgasms again!

After ovulation, sex drive plummets. Orgasms come, if at all, differently with more effort. In the last few years, any sex drive I may have had was only right before ovulation. Post-ovulation was a time of no drive and no pleasure. We would go from two or three times the week before ovulation, to one or two times for the entire luteal phase.

That being said, since the hotel trip things have turned around. Libido lingers and orgasms arrive. We are still having sex five-ish times a week and my knight's smell is arousing me. Sure, this is milder sex. No bathroom counters or wild positions. Sex can't always be wild. If it were, what would be then be wild? Luteal sex is making love. Pre-ovulatory sex is fucking. I'm cool with that. Everyone needs a little fucking and a little love making to feel all happy and balanced.

So masturbation pun aside, lets get to the title of this post.

"In your arms I feel the passion, I thought had died"
This is soo true of our current situation!

"When I looked into your eyes, I found myself"
If this isn't our marriage, our partnership, our connection, I don't know what is.

"When I first kissed your lips, I felt so alive"
Our recent kisses are like having first kisses again! Since I feel alive, I can only imagine my knight is feeling alive in our kiss also.

"I've got to hand it to you girl, you're something else"
Totally feelin' like something else these days!

Listening to this on the radio, I realized it described our relationship to a T, except it is with each other and not extra-marital. I love our life, even when I'm luteal and thirty.

Fan Letter

May 29, 2010
Dear Mr. White,

I often wondered what it is about you that feeds my lustful crush. As you are a celebrity, this crush in no way was going to damage my marriage. However it did exert an effect. I don't usually have celebrity crushes. Sure, I may appreciate the male human form that embodies strength and power, but when it comes to fantasizing my thoughts return to my husband. I love him. Then you entered my fantasies. What is it about you? Finally I realized.

You always seem to be nineteen. Years don't seem to matter. Nineteen describes your vigor, your intensity. Nineteen. At nineteen I was, well lets say promiscuous. I reveled in the power of sex. Conquest and lust drove my socializing. Smells. As I've aged and had children, the memories of sadness permeate that time in my life. I was, internally, very sad as I fucked and belittled men. In the midst of all that sadness, I was rescued. A true rescue by a knight in shining armor. He came and showed me that real men don't hide from conflict. Real men come back, show up, stay. He listened. He saw who I was and stayed.

I always swore I would not be one of those to let having kids get in the way of wild sex. Circumstances combined to prove otherwise. First off, my knight came to me with very little sexual experience or innate knowledge. This was not a concern at first, because it was often discussed that I would be the right fit to draw and train the sexual animal in any man. Right after getting married we started trying for a baby. I was eight months pregnant on our first anniversary. Unlike the stories I heard all my life, I lost any and all vaginal feeling as my pregnancy progressed. Also, I was a bitch. Well mostly. Progesterone and I are not friends. Despite lack of feeling, we continued to have regular sexual activity on his request.

Maybe the resentment started when I was not well supported as a new mother. Maybe it was the lack of feeling involved in our sex life. I still loved my husband, but I was not feeling sexual. He would sometimes reminisce in kind of a complainy way how I wouldn't do certain things any longer. Eventually, after the second baby, our sex life died. I died a little bit. And we were apart for 6 months. Not in a separated from marriage way, just physically in two different states. Sure he would visit. During those visits we would mostly fight and I did not want to have sex with him. I started to feel like the rest of my life would be spent in a loving, passionless relationship. That nineteen year old in me was dead.

Then came Jack White and my lustful fantasies of you. Always in my other fantasies, it would be my husband doing things, and making me feel things. Often these were things that other men had done or made me feel. But I enjoyed fantasies of you and your nineteenism. I needed to remember the good from nineteen and center my thoughts on how to make that happen again.

So we've been trying. And sometimes its there and sometimes its not. Really, lots of knowledge faded over the years of having babies and we needed to start all the way at the beginning. Even his kiss was missing something primal. I know he lusts for me, but has difficulty expressing it.

Last night I had insomnia at the right time. The last few days, really, have been a time of clarity in the early hours of the morning. And clarity came. What would bring the feeling of passion back to our kiss. The steps to teaching him to please me and stimulate different areas. The feeling of power and excitement in pleasing him. We were in a hotel and the kids were together in the other queen sized bed. We never have regular bed alone any more. I had to go under the sheets to wake him up to share. He woke up. We spent a long time just kissing. Passionate kisses. I found my voice to give instructions and express lustful pleasure. Small "lessons" combined with passion instead of feeling clinical. Around 5 a.m., on the bathroom counter, exhaustion hit me. So my knight finished by stimulating himself while caressing me dozing in cool bath. I felt perfection in that moment. I wanted him to feel me and masturbate. Over the years, despite the downturn in sex, we became good friends. We are going to be together forever... and it is going to be fun. Sometimes I will be nineteen.

Thank you, Jack White, for bringing the good of nineteen back to my thoughts. Thank you for kick-starting this journey of sexual discovery within my marriage. Thank you for being eternally nineteen, at least in my head.

Sincerely,
Sometimes 30, sometimes 19.