I’m getting away to the ocean for a couple of nights. Harold and I are going to stay in a nice little cabin. I need this time so much. I’m at maximum stress and I think the next stop for this runaway train is an ulcer or cardiac arrest or some such. I want to carry on a conversation and not have it be interrupted every other sentence. I could even stand to discuss adult topics – like politics and religion! I need to soothe my soul, so that means the ocean.
In typical, overachiever fashion, I am packing for every eventuality. I want to be prepared for whatever comes. Really, it’s an anxiety reaction – if I worry about it now, I won’t worry about it later. And instead of thinking about relaxing, I’m thinking about work and how much work I can get done while I’m gone. Problem is, my job involves sex. And I want to have sex. (You can see how things go around in my head as I pack.)
I have my clothes ready. I packed the lingerie first. We might want to shoot some lingerie pics, right? I have my jogging clothes because I will go running, right? And my swim suit because it’s the beach. It might be nice out for once. I also have regular clothes, but the reality is that I will probably be naked for most of the weekend. I even packed some makeup, including some new purple stuff that I haven’t had a chance to play with yet.
I want to make sure we have enough food, or at least the important things like sulfite-free wine, Perrier, and Via coffee packets. Fresh fruits and veggies, chocolate, and tofu also top my list.
I have my cameras and gear, including tripods. We could decide to make sexy movies. I have my briefcase with my sketchpad and pencils and pens. I have my laptop, phone, and charging cables. There might be wifi. Then I could post real time erotic updates!
And of course we have the sex toys. I have my normal compliment plus the enema bag, the new njoy Pfun Wand, and the Wahl plug-in vibrator. I’m anticipating a fair amount of anal play over the weekend. And orgasms. That would certainly help the relaxation process, but I’ve noticed that it’s harder to be in the mood when I’m all wound up.
So the main thing will be just spending time by the ocean, not thinking. I’m going to dig my toes in the sand, let the wind tangle my hair, feel the salt sting my skin. I’m going to let my mind drift with the tides until the waves bring me back to myself. Once I can be in my body without emotional pain and anxiety overwhelming me, then I will consider having sex. To recap: first be calm in the body, then wild rumpus around the cabin. I think I’ve got it. I may not need any props at all.