Work is hard. Can I quit? Kidding of course, but this has been a rough fucking week. The guys have switched gears now that I’m feeling a bit better adjusted, and letting me do the lion’s share of the quantitative analysis. In fairness though, that is not inequitable. I am just tired because of it. I don’t really feel any better than I did last week, but at least now it’s because of legitimate fatigue instead of loneliness and misery.
None of that is to say that I don’t still miss you. I’ve just gotten a better handle on my sex drive and loneliness. I’ve found some things to do with myself that actually capture my attention beyond masturbating, but that isn’t to say that I’m not still spending a lot of time masturbating… a lot.
After some serious fucking around and a lot of learning about networking and hardware, I think I have the wi-fi working a bit better than I was before. Well enough that I’ve been able to download some books, but I’m not yet the savior who brought streaming television (and porn) to our obscure little island. Instead there’s just been lots of reading, which is probably good for me. Been reading more romance novels than I’ve ever read in my life. Exactly of the type you’re thinking of, yeah. Romance in name only. I am accordingly embarrassed, but not ashamed.
That’s not all I’m reading, but it’s nice and mindless when I need something to get me to stop thinking and something to help direct things when I start feeling something. I just miss you.
Focusing on the work does help. Part of me wishes that nothing helped. I feel weird without you, and I almost feel bad about adapting to it. Or sad, maybe. We’re learning some fascinating things, though. You’ll see the report soon, but I’ll just say that we’re pretty surprised by the speed some things are happening.
We can see tremendous effects already, even if it’s only at the microscopic level. Cosmetics aside though, that’s the level on which this problem is going to be solved. I know you can’t do anything to affect it right now, but you might want to hang back on those tests, Vi. The report is coming though, I promise.
Back to my despearate need for orgasms for a minute. No segue. I don’t even care. The sex I constantly imagine us having is great. The things I imagine you doing to me. The toys I brought are comparatively poor company, but they do the mechanical part of the job alright at least. It may lack the human touch, but a couple of horsepower can make up some of the difference. Thanks for that one, Vi. I would never have gotten it for myself. It’s so loud that there’s no way my my colleagues don’t hear it from the next tent over (to say nothing of me), though.
On a related note, the sex that the boys are having looks pretty great too. Yeah… I’ve been watching. I don’t know if they don’t know, or if they know but don’t care. I hope it’s the latter. I catch them looking at me all the time, but I speculate that might be more because they haven’t seen all that many naked girls in their time, especially given how long they’ve been together. Even just having me around in their living space must be really weird for them. Still, sometimes I think they’re looking at me in a slightly sexual light, and I find it gratifying, however obvious it is that it’s just a self-agrandizing fantasy.
Gay though they may be (well, are), I do have ideas. Some are actual fantasies, some are just thoughts, while others are concepts to explore later. I want them to want me watching them, even if they don’t touch me. Even if they don’t acknowledge me, for that matter – though I certainly wouldn’t object if they did.
Their cocks are incredible. Really extraordinary to look at. One is pretty average in size – maybe even on the small size of average – but it’s just really pretty. I don’t even know what it is about it. It just turns me on. Like it would be the perfect size and shape to get pounded in the ass with for a while. A long while than one might normally be up for, I mean. The other is a big, hard shaft that I would be hard put to fit in my pussy.
Watching them go after each other is a lot of fun. They do it with such intensity. I might even go so far as to use the word “fervor” to describe it. It reminds me of the way you lick my pussy, Azalea. The unrelenting aggression you force your tongue inside me is very much like the way these guys gag on each other. It takes quite a bit to make them actually gag, though.
When I see them sneak off I follow them for a minute or two after. I’ve taken to carrying a toy or two in my field bag. Once I actually went out to work with the butt plug Willow gave me firmly in place. It definitely made the whole experience different. I feel so dirty, foolish, young and urgent when I’m watching them go at it with my hand down unbuttoned khaki shorts.
Rubbing my clit while I clamp down on a toy in my ass is an amazing thing already, but hiding in the brush and watching a pair of really beautiful men please each other while I do it, was a new level of stimulation. I came so hard that I stupid not bringing extra shorts on top of the extra panties. I had to stand awkwardly behind a bush and wait for them to get back and then tell them that I was heading back to camp early for a relatively b.s. excuse. I was up pretty late working that night and up early the next morning. Whatever, though. I’ll take a full change of clothes next time, just in case.
Don’t worry. I know that this is really weird. I promise I at least have the social awareness for that. I know that it’s intrusive at best and definitely a bad idea. Loneliness has just turned me into something of an unbridled pervert, I guess. Am I being as gross as I feel, or is this more normal than I think it is? “Common” might be the word I’m looking for, if not “normal”.
This is such a strange, lonely, desperate situation. Most days here I don’t even know who I am. Constantly now my mind treads water, half drowning in romantic notions and erotic images as I long for you. I hurt without you, but I know it’s worth it. Just look at what we’ve accomplished so far.
…It makes me really sad to admit this, but a part of me is more than a little disingenous when I tell you that. Anyway, I love you. I miss you. I need you.
