Sex, I want it. And I can’t have it. Which makes me want it even more. I see it in movies, on TV and read about it in books. It seems like everyone is having it. Everyone but me, of course. I think about my husband (who will hopefully remain my husband). I think about our sex and my body springs to life but no relief is available.
I remember his movements, his sounds, the feel of his touch and his body against mine. My real life becomes my fantasy and I long for the past. I do not simply want sex. I want sex with him. I want the sex I remember and, yes, the sex about which I all-too-often took a passive attitude in the past.
The past? Has it really been that long. Only a few short weeks. Yet, it feels like forever. It feels like a lifetime ago even though I know, logically, it has not been. But it has been too long and every day my desire grows. It is though I have never yearned for him as I do now or perhaps it is simply how I yearn for him because I have certainly wanted (but not been able to have) sex with him before. Before, sex was always an option in the future (albeit, not always the near future) but that is not the case now.
Regardless of how things turn out, I imagine he will be the object of my fantasies as long as I fantasize and as long as I cannot have him, I will certainly have to to survive.
