The feeling of being horny

Tonight I was planning a photo shoot and thinking, (in a purely academic way, mind you!) about being naked and alone in front of a camera and one of the smartest men I know. Always a pleasant thought, believe me. When I got to the part about cutting the crotch out of a pair of panty hose and slipping in a dildo, I was seized with the strong desire to go find a dildo or better yet a man, and do exactly that. But its 2 a.m. here on the outskirts of Mayberry, and a dildo seems like a lonelier prospect than I want to deal with just now. Besides, I promised myself I would write something.

Trouble is, the more I try to NOT think about being horny, the more I can't think about anything else. Arousal is such a delicious feeling. It's so hard to describe. It starts with a sexual image or thought in my mind, and then the blood rushes into my nipples and labia. It tingles a bit, like when the blood comes back into your arm when it has been asleep. It makes me want to squirm around in my chair and rub my thighs against each other. The more I wiggle and squirm, which happens even more if I try not to, the stronger the feeling grows. I get super-sensitive, so that every time I move, my panties create a little surge of pleasure by rubbing against my lips. I have this overwhelming feeling of I want something in there. I HAVE GOT TO PUT SOMETHING INSIDE ME NOW! It's hard not to touch myself, so I reach down and stroke gently between my legs. There is a feeling of pleasant fullness in my crotch and breasts, as if they are water balloons which have been filled with warm water. The slightest touch of my fingers makes me gasp and suck in my breath. My breathing is ragged now, and I want to rub myself harder. More like, I must rub harder and faster. My thighs, stomach, and butt cheeks start to tense and clench; I can feel the hard knob of my clit through my panties. This feels good, in a way that is so hard to explain. This is the part I really wanted to describe, but I can't. I can't even think of a good metaphor to explain it. Sometimes there is a pleasant-painful quality to it, like when you probe a half-heeled bruise, and sometimes there is a sense of urgency, as if I must rush forward to climax as fast as possible. Mostly, its so good that I want to make it last, like when you get to that perfect point of being perfectly buzzed and you want so much to maintain that, but you know it is only going to last so long before you lose it all toghether or plunge headlong into full-out drunkenness. My choices are clear: hold out too long, or dive off the cliff into a headlong climax. What would you do?

I'll tell you next time how it went. ;-)