Finally

Part 43: Closure

I sat in my office for the rest of the evening- simply looking at myself in the reflection of my black laptop screen.

Did I really confess my disappointment?

Did I really leave him in such a cold manner?

As a woman, I am accustomed to disappoint and self care when it comes to sex.

We are all well versed in the fake it til you can make it by yourself while the man sleeps happily without care.

We say nothing.

We don't let the dismal reality of poor penetration and lustful greed inhabit our minds forever.

We forget and move on.

We take care of the situation alone.

And on the rare occurrence we did in fact become satisfied by the physical routine with our male cohort- we write it off as a one in a million chance of luck and gratitude.

But one doesn't feel disappointed when they are being personally handled- with no outside person gaining their own pleasure.

It's a solo treatment.

And if done right- shows the woman just how much she is cared and appreciated by the man. Because he is solely focusing on her and her needs being met.

So this whole thing with Max tonight has truly opened up a new category of sexual disappointment and frustration.

Which I should have handled with more class and dignity than I had.

I should have been un-phased by the lack of my own orgasm.

I should have treated it as any other sexual act.

Feign enjoyment until he's gone and then fix the problem myself.

But I just couldn't.

He came and I slapped him for it.

And then verbally slapped him for it when I failed to sympathize and hide my selfish anger and frustration.

It would be one thing if he didn't seem to care or if he came out of his own personal spiteful interest.

Hell, he maybe would have kept going if I didn't stop him to bring attention to his excitement.

But I did stop him.

I stopped him from pleasuring me because at the end of it all- I wanted to feel him.

I wanted to be torn open and overpowered by him.

Like our first night all those months ago. Where he took control of my own disappointment and brought me to a world of sexual bliss that I have never been before.

I wanted him inside me- pushing me passed all breaking points until I could only weakly plead for him.

But it didn't happen that way.

And like a child, I pouted.

I'm still pouting for God's Sake.

Glancing at my reflection, I catch how hideous it is.

Between the selfishness and disgusting behavior- and my over all appearance- let alone the physical scars that litter my body.

I am unattractive and hideous.

So who was it he was thinking of when he expelled himself? His eyes were closed and he seemed lost in pleasurable thought.

Surely, it wasn't myself.

Or he would have stopped what he was doing and just fucked me.

But he didn't.

He didn't want to be inside.