I’m No Saint

As a child I once considered sainthood as a possible career path. After a while however I noticed a serious problem with this plan. Sainthood for girls seemed generally to require two main attributes, martyrdom and virginity. Being martyred, while not highly attractive, didn’t seem too much like a deal breaker. Virginity on the other hand was clearly going to prove more challenging.

To be fair, I technically retained my virginity past the national average but even before then, it was clear that celibacy in any real and meaningful sense was not going to be an option.
It was also clear that it didn’t have to be. There was sufficient male interest to keep me satisfied even if some of it was a little unconventional and unsaintly.

I’ve never been good at going without sexual attention for more than a few days. I start by getting extremely grumpy, but if I (and those close to me) survive that for a couple of weeks then my libido simply fades away to nothing.
As I get older I worry more about that stage. I worry that desire won’t return or that it will grow weaker. I’ve come to realise that my sexuality is an important part of my identity and losing that frightens me. In some ways it’s worse because I actually know what it’s like, having lost my libido while on the pill.

Recently, for a host of good reasons, I have gone without for a few days. I worry initially that I am finding it too easy. Then reassuringly my desire leads to frustration and a keen need for sexual pleasure.

Then finally frustration becomes opportunity. I am lost in my lover’s arms. Lost in the pleasure he sends thrilling through me. Seeking for and finding pleasure until I cum, shivering and shaking with its intensity.
I’m certainly no saint.