My mental health isn’t the greatest at the moment, with some stuff happening on the home front, but I really liked this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt, so decided to run with it. It may not be as sexy as my usual stuff, but bear with me.
I am the rock in my family; the organiser who makes sure people get to their appointments in time; the drier of tears and the soother of hurt feelings. I have cultivated endless patience for the outbursts of my children and always provide a shoulder to cry on. I love being the rock. But sometimes, sometimes I, too, get tired. I, too, need a shoulder to cry on, or just a hug. But that isn’t always possible, because my needs come after everyone else. Through no one’s fault but my own, as I place my needs last. Always.
But sometimes this backfires. Sometimes I feel exhausted by the sheer amount of me I give away. And those days, oh those days I dream. I dream of being a helpless, weak little woman. I dream of a strong man, who makes all the decisions for me. Who tells me to undress, lay down and relax. Who uses all my favourite sex toys on me until I am completely spent from all the orgasms I have had. Who wraps me up in blankets and feeds me. I dream of sleep: eight, nine hours of uninterrupted sleep. Breakfast in bed. Laundry done for me.
I dream of being dressed up, of men coming and going to take care of me: domestically and sexually. None staying too long, so I don’t have to feel guilty about having to do something in return. Sometimes I dream of going away for the weekend with a beautiful woman who will tie me up, use me sexually and take care of me. A weekend where I will only eat, sleep and be fucked. No thoughts required. Just two days of endless pleasure and rest. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Of course these are just dreams. The reality is different. The closest I come to a rest is when I travel for work once every half year; when I have one night in a hotel, so I can masturbate to my heart’s content, eat dinner in my room and not worry about having to fight to get the kids in bed. To me that is the height of luxury. Of course that’s just me and my fantasies: I still have to work to get myself off and afterwards I need to clean up the sex toys. But it’s more than nothing.
I wrote this post as part of the Wicked Wednesday meme. Click on the button below to see more – sexy – entries for this week.