running cold and hot

My partner and I have been apart for going on two months, and although I felt very warm when he first left, last week I felt like I’d cooled a little since he’s been gone. Masturbating, while very useful to get to know my body better, is just not as fun. Although my weekdays aren’t filled to the brim, they just don’t work as well as weekends, so I’d gotten into a bit of a routine of solo play on Saturdays.

Except that last Saturday I had a dance performance, so I was busy much of the time with preparations. And when I wasn’t actively busy with it, it was still on my mind. On top of that, the performance (in addition to all the mental preparations leading up to it) is physically tiring. My piece was near the beginning of the show, but I stuck it out and watched to the bitter end rather than going home immediately, as my gut had suggested. My sleep debt wasn’t exactly delighted.

At the end of the evening, my sporty friend (who is sort of known in our group for having a dirty mind) was whispering something in another friend’s ear, and I asked about it. Sporty has been dating a guy for a couple of months, her first action in a few years. So she turned to me and whispered in my ear, with a wicked grin, that he… was good in bed. Oh. OK. Is that it? No bondage or forced orgasms or spankings that you’d like to confess? OK. Never mind.

I was still tired on the Sunday, but there was still a dance workshop to go to. It was much more of a low-key day, but even though I had some time I just wasn’t interested. I started to wonder whether I was experiencing something beyond a mood, some longer term cooling ­­— minor still, but something that could require a bit of time and effort to rekindle.

And then last Monday happened. In retrospect, I think my brain had just put a damper on things on the lead-up to and during that busy, somewhat stressful weekend, because things turned on a dime when it was over. I spent most of that Monday in a state of dampness. I looked at some hot stuff in the morning, which isn’t unusual, but I seemed to react more strongly. I ended up being pretty distracted much of the afternoon. In the early evening, I needed to eat and get out the door for my dance class. I also had some baking that I wanted to get done before I left. So I had about an hour and a half to eat, get the cake into and out of the oven, and get myself off:

I edge a few times using the Hitachi, and it’s strong enough that I don’t need to get undressed. I put my leftovers in the microwave to reheat and then set about edging again, with the intention of stopping when I hear the beeps. Well, the music is fairly loud and there’s a bit of other ambient noise and I don’t hear the beeps so I go overtime a bit, but at least I get quite far in just a couple of minutes. Then I eat, then some more edging.

All the while, I have to keep an eye on the cake because the recipe is new and the baking time seems way off. Timer goes, check the cake, not done yet so back in for 5. More edging. Phone rings. It’s a friend of my partner’s. He’s a good guy, but I didn’t know whether to expect him to talk for 30 seconds or 30 minutes — both are equally likely. He has a quick question and then sounds like he’s up for a chat, so I tell him I have to leave the house in about 5 minutes and manage to extricate myself quickly. Timer goes, check the cake, still not done so put it back in for 10.

Time to sort myself out. Grab the Hitachi from the couch, the Pure Wand from the bathroom and head into the bedroom. Fuck! I washed the sheets and the bed is still bare. Put the new sheet on the mattress, pillowcase on the pillow, plug in the Hitachi, strip. Discover that the front crotch seam of my panties (which I noticed was wearing thin) has been blown out, apparently from the ministrations of the Hitachi. Oops.

Hitachi. Wand. Hitachi. Wand. Hitachi and Wand. Oh, ungh, yes! Hitachi (don’t stop at one!). More Hitachi. Timer goes off. Oh, fuck it. Hitachi and Wand. Fuck, yeah! Breathe. Rescue cake (only a wee bit overdone). Get dressed and out the door to dance.

I wasn’t even late.