Are You Satisfied?

It’s another boring night and I’m more sexually frustrated than the night before. Letting out a repressed sigh, my body demands release. I’m definitely suffering from extreme sexual frustration and more than guilty of having sex on the brain. Nothing else crosses my mind lately. This constant need in between taunts me. I sit in my hot stuffy room thinking back to my last masturbating experience.

I was using one of my mother’s many vibrating toys when an internal alarm went off telling me they’d be home very soon. I quickly shrugged off the idea and could only focus on the vibrations teasing my clit. I was on the brink of an orgasm when the door lock began to turn. I jumped up and threw the vibrator into the closet and ran butt naked into the bathroom. I stood there trembling, feeling both excited and afraid. My heart pounded wildly in my chest and my body still craved that orgasmic rush. Once again it would just have to wait.

Back in my room, safe and sound, and still incredibly horny, I thought about the very first time I masturbated. I couldn’t have been more than thirteen. I had been snooping around my mother’s dresser drawers (as kids so often do) and found her vibrator. It was then that an exploration of the tender flesh between my legs began. Once that special spot was found, it awakened my body to a new plateau of sexual discovery. I started to look forward to these secret times of pleasuring myself and how little by little, the layers of my innocence were slowly being stripped away. You could imagine my disappointment when one day the toy was gone. Either mom got rid of it or changed the hiding place. I then had to use my imagination and cleverly found other things to stimulate me.

A hand never seemed to be enough. I learned early on that dual stimulation was needed to reach maximum pleasure. A combination of manipulating my clit and putting something inside completed the process. Occasionally, when I was extremely turned on one hand could do the trick. Sometimes I’d reach such exhilarating and fulfilling orgasms, but as of late, self-exploration left me quite unsatisfied.

Overall my sexual encounters (as well as my love life) leave a lot to be desired. At twenty-six I’ve only had two steady lovers and neither of them ever truly “did it” for me. The first one carried on for about five years. It was special because I thought I loved him. It was sacred because we were each other’s first. In retrospect, I should have walked away much sooner but the fear of being alone kept me a prisoner in a “going nowhere” relationship. Instead I stayed and tried too hard to mold this extremely passive young boy (who never became more than a fifteen minute fuck). I on the other hand, was very in touch with my sexuality and through the years mastered the art of foreplay. I remember so vividly the first time he went down on me, and how it opened up a whole new dimension to my sexual appetite. It was one thing to have someone other than yourself touch you there, but the tongue, with all its smoothness and wetness, and directness. I get horny now just thinking about it.

I realized later on that when it came to sex, having complete control was a definite turn on. I liked giving direction and telling my lover exactly what to do. However, there were times when I wanted to be controlled, tied down, blindfolded and left utterly helpless. I longed to be punished and spanked. Playing the part of a bad little girl was only one of the many scenarios I fantasized about. And just when I decided to give into my submissive side and teach my lover the role of dominant, the relationship ended and my frustrations began.

The second relationship didn’t happen until three years later. One night stands filled that long period of empty time. I didn’t want anything more at the time. I called them “fucks without feelings.” I fell into the role of seductress and became quite good at it. Role-playing opened up yet another avenue of sexual exploration I’ve yet to fully conquer.

When the second “boy” came along (he was seven years younger than me), you can imagine how hungry I was. He became the food I ravenously devoured. The boy toy I fucked whenever I got the chance, (which fortunately was quite often). He was always hard and ready to go, and a much better lover than the first. But still something was missing. He wasn’t a man. And I needed a man. I needed an experienced lover, one that could teach me a thing or two. Needless to say, that second relationship ended and sex was temporarily dead.

Now, recalling my last two sexual encounters frustrated me even more. The first one just wanted a quickie - and I, just wanting that penetration let him take all of me for a whooping fifteen minutes. I didn’t even come. The second one added a little to the excitement. I was thankfully surprised when he blindfolded me, finally someone with a little creativity. It did the trick in turning me on, but between having one to many drinks and the over-eagerness of my partner, the sexual experience was nothing but a disappointing blur.

So here I am, lying in bed and pondering my options. I can probably pick someone up at a bar, but as of late, I haven’t seen anyone even remotely appealing. Besides, I want the sex to be constant and from my experiences, meeting some stranger rarely leads to anything more than a one nighter (and lousy ones of late). My other option is calling this party line and hook up with someone for phone sex. After all, you don’t need to know what the person looks like, it’s pure fantasy - and that seems to be my specialty lately. Though it wasn’t something I did often, I considered it carefully. It doesn’t take long to figure it out. I reach for the phone.

I set the stage, as I always do, and put on some hypnotically erotic music and light the huge candle located in the center of my room. The flame dances wildly as if in a sexual frenzy. Inhaling the sweet vanilla aroma, I prepare myself for this anonymous encounter. I dial the number and listen to the many men (over ninety) that are currently on line. After some playful messages back and forth, I narrow my selection down to just a couple. Before long, someone bold enough to cut through the chase gives me his phone number. Without hesitation my fingers punch the numbers and before I knew it, I’m fucking myself like crazy. The conversation went something like this.

Him: “Are you naked?”

Me: “Not yet,” I whisper.

Him: “Wanna hear how wet I am?”

Not knowing what he meant by that I say, yes. He puts the phone to his cock and I can hear him jerking himself off. He moans. I thought about how wet, slippery, and ready he must be.

Him: “Are you naked?”

Me: “Almost. I’m not wearing panties.” Would you like me to describe my body for you?”

Him: “Yes.”

Me: “I’ll start with my hair.”

Him: “What color?”

Me: “Black”

Him: “Long?”

Me: “Yes very, down to my waist.”

Him: “Ooohh...

Me: My skin is smooth and very, very hot right now. My breasts are extremely soft and big. I’m a size C.

Him: Ooohh...I like that, just enough to hold in my hand. Do you have big nipples?

Me: “Yes.”

Him: “Are they dark?”

Me: “Yes.” (I lied)

Him: “Can you feel me sucking on them. How would you like me to do that?”

Me: “Well, first I’d like you to suck on them hard, then bite.”

Him: “What else would you like? Where are your hands right now?”

Me: “Touching my breasts. I’m squeezing the nipples imagining your mouth on them. I need to get hotter.”

I really have no interest in the way he looks, (my imagination takes care of that.) I can take it slow and do the whole controlling routine but right now I have one thing on my mind. I want him to talk dirty and get me off.

Me: “How about you tell me what you’d do if your face was between my legs.”

Him: “First I’d start licking the sides of your thighs. You like that?”

Me: “Ooohh yes.”

Him: “My tongue would tease your clit…very slowly at first.

Me: “Oh gosh, that sounds nice. I can almost feel it. More…I want more.”

Him: “I’d spend some time just licking and sucking, moving my tongue faster and faster. Then, just when you’re about to come I’d slow it down and wait until you begged me to fuck you.”

Me: “I wish I could fuck you now.”

Him: “Where is your hand?”

Me: “One is touching my pussy.”

Him: “You like how that feels?”

Me: “Yes, but I want to put something inside me. I have this vibrator.”

Him: “Don’t use it yet, I want you to first rub your clit in big circles. How does that feel?”

Me: “It feels so good. But I need more.”

Him: “Wait, don’t put it in yet! You did didn’t you?”

Me: “Yes. I couldn’t wait.”

Him: “I want you to put it deep inside as far as it can go. Okay?”

Me: “Okay.”

Him: “Okay, now I want you to tighten your muscles and just hold it there. I’m stroking my cock right now.”

Me: “I want you to invade me. I want you to posses my body.”

Him: “Now ride it, ride it like it were my cock. Push it in and out hard... harder...let me hear you fuck it. I want to hear you every time it goes deep inside you.”

He then gave me examples of the sounds he wanted to hear, which I must admit, further excited me. He is definitely (phone wise) different from the other guys I’ve had phone sex with. I’m crazy with desire as I thrust the vibrator deep inside as far as it can go. In and out, faster and faster. It wouldn’t go any deeper. By now I’m panting and for the remainder of our session he coaxes me and tells me what to do. It feels so close to the real thing that for a moment I forget it’s self-inflicted. My moans are close to screams. Remembering my parents in the next room forces me to quiet down. The last thing I need is to be caught in an uncomfortable situation such as this, and wake everyone up.

He is jerking off as well and hearing him grunt and groan brought me so close to coming. I want to come so bad, almost too bad and when I finally do, it lacks the intensity I so desired. I call it a “numb come” (and it’s not the first time) which leaves me devastated and disappointed as my throbbing sex wants more. Too exhausted to explore this any further I fall into a very restful slumber.

* * * * * * * * * *

Now I’m at work, (another sorry routine I’ve fallen into.) A very nice but elderly man in his seventies (you’d never know it) approaches me. In a seductive voice I say, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

He looks at me with a devilish grin and asks, “So how’s your love life?”

I look at him and said, “What love life? It leaves a lot to be desired. I’m still waiting.”

The office manager chimes in and says, “I’ve known her for two years and her love life still isn’t straightened out.”

The old man then says, “You gotta grab the bull by the horn.”

The office manager responds, “But she can’t find the horn.”

I then finally intervene and say, “Nor the bull, only cheap imitations,” and we all laugh at my pitiful expense because it was too true to life. The whole conversation was very apropos to the theme of this story.

My mind reverts back to a couple of weeks ago, when no matter how many times I pleasured myself it just wasn’t enough. Nympho? The thought crossed my mind.

A couple of hours pass and I’m now covering for the receptionist who is out to lunch and spend most of my time writing an erotic short story. I become incredibly turned on; as I so often do, and before long, my hands reach down to touch my pulsating pussy. I start to masturbate right then and there as my imagination plays out a scene I just created. I explode with a pretty good orgasm, but it still isn’t enough.

After filing some papers I come across a company name, Union Erection Corp., and well, you don’t have to guess at what I thought of. It’s going to be some fucking day.