Pain is.. pain?

There's not been much to write about here over the past couple of weeks.  A dearth of material. I could have written many posts about how I wasn't getting any, that's for sure, but after weeks of consecutive daily posting about the lack of sexual interest in my life, who would come back? Not me.

Anyway, I didn't 'get any' today. I did however, spend a couple of hours in bed with 'good kisser'. We didn't have sex because I, after a whole week of infected bladder and antibiotics that made me feel like I had been steamrollered, got the curse. Again. As an aside, I have just finished 5 years of the mirena coil, which is an IUS intended to stop the monthly nuisance - it worked very well..all that time that I wasn't having sex. My GP mentioned that I might notice an increase in the nuisance for a while, when she couldn't persuade me to have a replacement fitted. And she was bloody right. And now I'm trying to have sex and I keep being limited by this. How's that for bitter irony?
So, I kept my pants on. I have to say though, it was the best pants on fun I've had in a looong time. Mr 'good kisser' is a very sexy man indeed. We have a great deal of chemistry, and when I am with him, moments slip seamlessly into hours. I don't know where the time goes when I am with him.

But you know, he's..it's.. he's the first man that's made me cry in bed for a very long time. Even with my most sadistic lover in the past, in the foulest of tempers, my hair has never been pulled so hard, for so long. Pulled so hard at the roots in either direction that he has immobilised my head and all I can do is open my mouth to cry out. He bit my tits until I almost saw stars, and 6 hours later, it's still uncomfortable to wear a bra. I am a masochist, I have no doubt that pain gets me off. But wow, I've been tested. On reflection, I think I'm complaining because it isn't the pain I 'like', it isn't the pain of implement hitting ass, for example, which is pain I'd choose.
Do I want it to stop, is the question. He would stop, if I wanted, I know it. I don't think he wants to torture me - and spends the vast majority of time we have together focusing on my pleasure. Further, as a sexually submissive woman, when he pins me down so I can't escape and does what he wants to me, I love it. I don't want it to stop, I don't think. I'll still love it in the morning when I have bruised nipples that still hurt, or, like last time, I have little finger shaped bruises on my upper arms as souvenirs of those delicious moments where I've tried (not hard) and failed to escape from his clutches.
I know I can't wait to be with him again, and you never know, next time I might even get nekkid. And maybe I'll take some ibuprofen.

Not Getting Laid - ur doin it rite

Well, Paris was great. It was hot and it was tiring, and I am officially skint, but we had a nice time. I do feel like I need a proper holiday that just involves lying by the pool and drinking cocktails now, but that may just be a bit out of reach this summer, so I'm concentrating on being grateful for what I've had. A bit of time away from my normal life helped me get a bit of perspective on the stuff that's been bothering me, so, whatever the cost, I suppose it was worthwhile.

Otherwise, a fair to middling week. A couple of lunches with friends, plenty of staring out of the window and praying (to whom?) for the rain to stop. My results came through for my first undergraduate year. Seems I am an exactly average 2:1 student. Happy enough with that. All well and good, as weeks go.

But no fucking. Not a sniff. No sweaty bodies wrapped around eachother, no head buried in pillow, no panting and groaning, no frantic undressing, no hot breath in the ear, no orgasms.
Even after spending a couple of hours in the company of a man who makes me weak at the knees when he kisses me (alright, there was kissing) I couldn't do it due to a  combination of not being able to get away at the right time and a really inconvenient surprise(!) bladder infection. Which made me cry. You know, when I look back at some of my encounters over the past couple of months, some of which not described yet on this blog, I am appalled to the degree that my body has worked against me in terms of getting it on. There is nothing you can do it seems, about biology no matter how willing you are.Still, in retrospect, I am happy and grateful that I have found someone who makes me weak at the knees when he kisses me. I didn't have that, not so long ago. It is apparently national kissing day today and I am a bit tempted to ask of he wants to meet up for a snog.

As a brief aside, I have never read 50 Shades of Grey, because I hear it is badly written, and for me life is a little too short for a bad book. Especially when it is a bad book about something that other people supposedly find shocking, and you just feel like what is being described is a bit... cliched. Never mind, here is a very good article about it, for my non-guardian reading pals.