WANTED: Some Sex

This post is based on this week's TRDC Write On Edge's Red Writing Hood prompt: 
Let's get all steamy up in here and write about sex.  But there's a twist.  You can't write about the act.  I don't want to read about any heaving bosoms or girded manhood (please tell me someone else giggled besides me).  Limit is 600 words. It can be fiction or non-fiction.

WANTED: Some Sex

Gosh, when was the last time I had sex? Honestly? Ages ago. I can’t believe I’m actually going ahead and writing this prompt. Because this is as good as it gets: I haven’t been getting any.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, or wondering why this girl isn’t gettin’ any, let me explain it in a nutshell: my husband says he doesn’t love me anymore, and we might or might not be getting a divorce. But, I’m not here to complain about that. I’ve dealt with that.

I just haven’t dealt with the lack of sex yet.

My besties Ms. Lips and Mrs. Mouthy would testify that I’m not [usually] a very sexual person.  In fact, they’d laugh and tell you, “You’re actually talking sex with Sweaty? Seriously?!?” I’d like to think it has something to do with the anti-depression meds that I’m taking, but mostly it’s probably just my tendency to be on the extreme side of things.  Somewhere in my mind, the fact that I am a ‘mommy’ had apparently short-circuited my libido fuse. For years following my daughter’s birth, sex was the last thing on my mind.

But to give me some credits, no, I wasn’t always like this. I used to buy racy—really racy--lingerie and wore them.  I’ve had frantic sex while my cousin was banging on the front door of my apartment.  I’ve had sex videotaped (uh huh. Let’s hope you won’t see it anytime soon on the internet.  That would NOT be cool).  I’ve had sex naked on a beach under the moonlight (oh yes I did).  I’ve had sex in front of mirrors too (kinky, but true).

Then, slowly those lingerie were replaced by boring, but oh so comfy, grandma panties and wire-less sports bras. Forget late-night fumblings underneath the blanket, I need my beauty sleep! Gone was the spontaneity, replaced by practicality:

• ugh, do I really want to take another shower?

• And re-apply my day/night face/eye/neck cream/serum?

• Honey, can you go brush your teeth first, and while you’re at it, wash ‘you-know-what’ junior a bit, and perhaps put on some cologne and/or that aftershave that I like?

• Oh but my head has found that perfect spot on the pillow already and if I were to move…

• Um, can you not touch my hair too much, I just had it styled and it’s such a pain to put it back together afterwards.

Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah, the lack of sex, when you’re [possibly] going through divorce.

Given my previous record when it comes to sex, you would’ve thought that I would have no problem whatsoever dealing with this little ‘inconvenience.’  But oh no, not I!   I didn’t mind not having sex when it was my choice, but the moment it became a no-choice, that’s when my body decided, hey, some a LOT of sex would be good.

No kidding, those reverse psychology bullsh*t apparently works on me. I want what I cannot have.  As always.  For the first time in years, I want to wear those racy lingerie again.   I want to feel breathless, my pulse quickens, my sense heightened.   I think of the pleasures that comes from lying entangled, limbs to limbs, skin to skin, just tasting the taste and inhaling the scents off each other’s skin.  I want to be desired, touched, filled, consumed.   I want it fast, slow, roughly, and gently.  Oh for f*ck sake, what I want to say is, JUST GIVE IT TO ME already!!!

So there.  That’s my take on sex.  Right now I’m so horny I could hump a tree.

-THE END-