A moment alone [F]

It’s been a long three or so weeks and I’ve been swamped with near-constant reading and writing (midterms are awful). I barely have time to eat, sleep, clean, or do laundry — basically, I’ve been thoroughly exhausted. I should be working on a paper for a class right now, but instead I’m writing to you, reader, about what I did tonight.

Most of today was spent in the library, then at a friend’s place where I watched the beginning of the Oscars. I came home after that, threw my coat and bag onto a chair, and promptly collapsed onto my bed. I ran my fingers through my hair, against my scalp, thinking of how long it’s been since someone had touched me. I thought of how much I missed another person’s warmth and weight against my body. I thought of waking up in another person’s arms. I thought of the 4 pages of essay and 150+ pages of reading I have to do tonight.

I thought I’d at least take a shower just to relax a bit and hopefully put me in a comfortable mindset to work. My roommate wasn’t home and probably would not be for a while — if it’s this late and she’s not home yet, she’s probably staying over at her boyfriend’s place tonight. I took off my necklaces, all three of them; the rose quartz on the silver chain, the shorter gold chain that sits a bit closer to my neck, and the black velvet choker that subconsciously run my fingertips over every now and then; nervous habit.

I took my vibrator out of my sock drawer. It’s just a silver one, an inch in diameter, about the length of the average ballpoint pen; a nondescript little thing. To be honest, most of the time I forget that I even have it. I’ve always preferred using my hands — they’re always right there and it’s just convenient more than anything. Like I said, though, it’s been a hellish few weeks and I wanted to give myself at least a bit of time to enjoy myself.

I pulled my hair out of the loose bun it was in and let it fall. Most women’s hair doesn’t fall soft and gracefully — I combed my fingers through it a bit again, gently untangling the ends. It was pretty. Messy, needed to be washed, but the curls were playful and imperfect.

You don’t need a Nabokovian description of the process of washing my hair. It was a sensual experience. Starting at the top of my head I took my two hands and slid them slowly through my hair, running the same direction as the water, until I reached the nape of my neck. It’s such a sensitive place. Kiss me or touch me there and I will literally melt in your hands and do whatever you want me to. As I massaged shampoo into my hair I got to the back of my head and leaned against the wall of the shower and mmmed to myself.

White sudsy lather still not fully rinsed out of my hair, I put my weight completely against the wall, cheek pressed against it, one hand to balance my stance, the other moving down my body. I held my breasts in my hand, fingering my nipples, feeling them getting harder. I took one between my fingers and pulled, hard. Then harder, and harder until I felt it between my thighs. The water still raining on me, I closed my eyes, to not get soap in them, and to bring back certain moments with people that I never wanted to forget.

I lay down in the bathtub and took my vibrator from the countertop. I put it on the lowest setting and even that was an immediate, sudden surge of feeling — it had been a really long time since I had used it. Eyes still closed, I moved it around my clit, exploring which parts I liked the most, maybe teasing myself in the process.

I thought of the guy I’ve been seeing, how much I love the feeling on his fingers and his tongue, his accent and the way he says “good girl.” I thought of the time we had both smoked weed together and then had sex, his fingers deep inside my mouth, how natural it felt to run my tongue over them. The first time I let him put his hand around my neck, that was so fucking hot. The way he gently choked me with one hand, ruthlessly got me off with the other, his mouth against my ear whispering to me don’t you fucking dare come until I say so, I’m not finished with you yet.

I thought of my ex, one of the most wonderful guys I have known, the only one who has seen me at my most physically and emotionally vulnerable. The only one who, during sex, will look me directly in the eyes and just hold my gaze with such care and focus. I took the vibrator one notch higher and then I really felt it, felt his cock grinding against my clit while he fucked me slow and deep. I imagined if he could have been there, actually touching me instead of just in a memory. We’ve both been with people since each other, but god, there’s just something about him.

I thought of other memories with other people. I thought of myself. I thought of things I wish I’d done. I thought of nothing at all. As much as I wished I could be with someone, in that moment I just felt so perfectly alone and able to experience it in this really pure and immediate way. I started to breathe faster and heavier, finally couldn’t hold back the moan, and I kept myself going for as long as I could, until I couldn’t take it anymore and I broke down, something shattered inside me, and it would be pointless to try and describe it any further but I will just say it was exactly what I needed, very, very desperately needed.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/488qa8/a_moment_alone_f