Insatiable

I think I must be getting damn close to thirty. We all know the rumors that women hit their sexual peaks in their thirties... and I am beginning to think it may not be a rumor. I think I may think about sex more then a teenage boy does. It would be terrible if I didn't enjoy it so much. Have you ever seen that movie The Sweetest Thing, with Cameron Diaz, Christina Applegate and Selma Blair? Its one of my all-time faves. It is a great depiction of the way women can be when they are together with just other women... crude, perverted, explicit and insatiable.

Insatiable. It is a great word for how I feel. When I am with my love, I am constantly lusting after him. Grabbing his ass and flashing him. *grin* I would love to have sex everywhere, anytime of day. When I am not with him, which is way too much right now, I think about having sex. I think about having it with him, but also I can hardly help myself from looking at other men, like my Acting teacher for example, and thinking about how he would look naked, or what kind of sounds he makes when he's getting a blow job. I sit a few seats away from a cute, intelligent guy in my english class. The teacher is SO boring and so when I need some entertainment... what do you think I think about? Now they are only thoughts. I have no intention what so ever of acting on them, but none the less, I like to think about it.

The young guy that I had a crush on earlier this summer... that was part of the attraction for me, just the thought of giving him a hard-on while biting his neck was delicious to me. I will admit, these thoughts can be distracting, and create a bit of sexual tension in me at times, but generally they are like really good chocolate. I like to wear my black stockings with a short dress and watch the eyes of men on my legs. It is a sinful pleasure, especially because I wear a classy dress when I'm doing it. I guess you could call me indulgent, except that I am actually not indulging in anything but thoughts and phermones, except when it comes to my love.

If this is how I feel at 29, what is going to happen to me at 32, or 34... 38? Yikes is all I can say, and I hope Crash (the nickname I will give my love, his stage name actually, when he used to perform) can handle it. If not, I guess I will have to exercise my privilege of having women lovers and take it all out on them *big grin*.