Today I'm thinking about a girl I dated off and on for a couple of years. I'll call her Melissa. We didn't really have a lot in common, and our personalities were extremely different in a lot of ways, so although it was serious a few times we kept drifting apart and then back together again months later. We'd always remain good friends when we broke up -- we'd just agree that it wasn't working as a serious partnership and we'd both be better off single, or dating someone else. Sometimes we'd even tell each other about the new people we were dating later on. But we kept drifting back to each other.
The one thing that kept us coming together (pun certainly intended) was that we were very, very good in bed. And out of bed. And everywhere. So we'd break up, and then weeks or months later I'd be over at Melissa's place after dinner and a movie, and we'd start snuggling, and kissing and fondling, and soon she'd ask me if I wanted to stay the night, and just like that we'd be screwing like rabbits again.
Eventually, we both realized it wasn't really a good idea to keep this up, that we really would be better off single or dating someone else. No-strings-attached sex would be great, but the two of us had too much history with each other to make pure sex with no real emotional attachment a possibility. So we broke it off for the last time, and agreed to see each other a lot less in an attempt to get some distance. Eventually, she met a great guy who could give her the emotional intimacy and the love she craved, and they were married a year or so later. I was and am delighted for both of them; she definitely deserved more than I was able to give her.
But today I'm thinking about her. Not sure why. There's a curious tapestry of thoughts going on here -- a bit of melancholy because I remember how we tried several times to make it work, only to fail each time. That's mixed in with memories of pure lust, recollections of the fantastic sex we had. She was the first woman I'd been with who showed a real, healthy interest in sex. She enthusiastically tried anything I suggested and would frequently come up with innovations of her own -- new positions, new toys, new locations. And our drives were both very high. From day one until the last day I saw her, both of us could rarely keep our hands (or lips, or other body parts) off each other.
I remember one time in particular when I was visiting her and we'd planned to go out for the evening, to play some mini-golf, eat dinner and generally goof around. It was around 3 in the afternoon and we were sitting on her couch. I began running my hands idly along the back of her shoulders. She sighed softly, shivered deliciously, and said, "Ohhh, that feels good." I should have recognized the danger signals -- once we got started we could almost never stop ourselves -- but I kept rubbing. Pretty soon our clothes were on the floor and she was riding my cock in reverse cowgirl, my hands on her tits, the couch getting slippery with our sweat. Hours later we were still fucking, still hadn't left the apartment, we hadn't eaten dinner and it was dark outside. We'd fucked standing up, against a bookcase. I'd bent her over the countertop in the kitchen and fucked her till she screamed. We'd screwed in the shower, all wet and slippery with soap and other fluids. She'd taken me by the cock as we were drying off and dragged me to the bed, then pushed me down and begun sucking me hard again, then continued blowing me until I spurted into her mouth. We'd segued into 69 position after that and I ate her until I'd recovered enough to get hard again, then pulled her around for some doggy-style action with spanking and filthy talk. It was almost 2 AM before we recovered ourselves enough to eat anything, and neither of us got dressed until I left the next morning.
I guess that's why I'm thinking about her today. I want that kind of drive and fire again. I want to be so full of desire that it flames along my nerves like the thrumming of a violin string. I want to be wanted. I want to play and experiment and enjoy, to have sex be the wonderland I've known it can be. I've had several talks with my current partner about our lack of a real sex life, and she's promised to work on it with me, but there hasn't been a lot of movement. It's hellishly frustrating for me, especially since I know (through my own experiences with Melissa if nothing else, and through reading your journals) that plenty of you women do love and appreciate sex and have high drives as well. So I work on helping my partner rediscover her drive, and when it's not enough, I visit your journals and fantasize about some of you, or I just scribble some thoughts here in an effort at catharsis. Some days it works, and some days it doesn't.
And there's nothing wrong with memories. Melissa's happily married now, and like I said, I'm delighted for her and her hubby -- but I still have fond memories of the times we spent making each other happy. I wish you well, Melissa.