Things have been slightly subdued between Mac and I (apart from when Sarah was blind rotten drunk). Conversations have not come easy and so have been for the most part avoided. I have been grateful for this. I needed some space, just a few days worth. That's not to say we have been avoiding each other, in fact we have been close together, just quietly in a very gentle way.

There was an intensity that existed between Mac and I that has gone and I do mourn its loss though I now understand it had to go. We were playing with extremes, pushing buttons, heightening our sexual response and my emotional response as well. It took a toll. I was exhausted. Mac made a decision to move on.

Strangely enough, even though my responses to Him had become ones of angst and accusations, even though I expressed to Him that it hurt too much, I was the one who fought to keep it going.

I miss it. I miss that every touch felt like a burn on my skin. I miss that my pussy was constantly swollen, my clitoris constantly throbbing with lust. I miss the need to come. I miss the desperation to please Him. I miss the look of lust in His eyes and the absolute need of His cock. I miss that He couldn't stay away from me, that He had to seek me out in the middle of day for release. I miss knowing that when we woke His need for me would rule Him. I miss feeling constantly available, and being constantly used.

Mac refused. I was too wrung out, too far beyond thinking rationally and I had promised Him that when He said it had gone far enough, I would trust Him to be right. It was His decision to make. I had to accept it.

I do feel better and I don't miss the tiredness, I don't miss feeling like I was being torn in two. I don't miss not being able to sleep at night or the hate I was holding inside. Hate for Mac, hate for myself, hate for the things I desired. I am happy not to live that anymore.
 
I do wish though, that I had been stronger. I wish I were able to keep it separate. I wish I could turn off the feelings once the orgasm was over, that it was "just sex", that it all didn't have to mean so much to me. But I can't change who I am. I can't turn off the things I feel and I not going to try to be something I am not. I am what I am and that will have to be enough. I think it is enough.

This morning I stayed in bed while Mac was showering. I felt like being a slug for a while. Mac came back into the bedroom while towelling off His hair. He stood there watching me, confident in His nakedness, knowing that I find His body gorgeous, that He can still make my breath catch just at the sight of Him. I held my arms out to Him and He joined me on the bed, prepared just to hold me for a moment or two before He dressed for work. The whispers turned to kisses and the touches to caresses and suddenly I was arching up to meet Him. His hands were pulling my hair and His lips were marking me as His and when He came it was beautiful and it was filling and it was enough. Knowing that He loves me, knowing that He responds to me, knowing that I still hold onto His pleasure, is enough.

For me.