Sex diary

Hi, dear diary. First, a little background.

I'm a sex blogger. Over the past six months I've been on a few dozen Tinder dates and had a very wild sex life, and just the other day I realised that I still love my ex. The good news is that the feeling is mutual. The bad news is that he moved to another city.

Because of all of the above, my libido (there's enough of it for a small village) and I are now in a monogamous long-distance relationship. Which means I'm stewing 24/7 in agonising horny vibes and counting the days until I see my love.

Today is my love's last day on his business trip here. I woke up and I stupidly, desperately want sex and tenderness. Working is unbearable: I'm mentally counting the hours until he gets back and we can cuddle. I decided to distract myself by going to get a bouquet with my neighbour.

I won't write anything else today. I want to catch every moment before we're apart again.

He left, and I invited my little sister for a sleepover. Is this a manoeuvre to stop thinking about sex? You bet!

It didn't work.

I want you

Every day at 00:05 we answer one question from a couples' planner. Today it was about our most memorable shared erotic experience. My love answered that it was the day I washed his feet and gave him a foot massage. He's not much of a talker, so if it weren't for the planner, I'd never have known he even liked it. And here: wow!

Lately my self-esteem has levelled out and my sense of self-love has come back. So now and then I catch myself thinking about how beautiful I am. Right now is exactly one of those moments when I want to admire myself in every reflective surface.

I took a shower and, riding the feeling of my own beauty, ran off to take nudes. It's one of my top favourite things to do, even if they're just for me. Because a) that really is me, and how did God manage to put so much beauty into one person, and b) how lucky everyone I've ever fucked is.

Today my friend and I are going to a spa, because why? That's right: to distract me from thoughts of sex and horny vibes.

Cruising between the jacuzzi, the pool and the hammam is more tiring than a whole day at the gym. So now I'm in that situation where you're lying next to the drawer of vibrators and can't reach it.

A little over a day left until sex (oops, until I see my love, of course), so I'm howling a little and planning scenarios for every day. I threw pretty lingerie, toys, lubes, massage candles and wax-play candles into my suitcase. I'm terribly starved of thoughtful, engaged and great sex. I've had lots of Tinder dates in recent months, but 98% of the time the sex was completely forgettable. And that was partly because of me, too. Simply because I didn't feel like getting used to someone and figuring them out.

I feel like I'm 15 again. So in love and inspired. I want to go home, call my love and go to sleep. But tonight it's a bar with my neighbours. And it turns out there's a café next to the building where you can watch the gym and people's sweaty bodies. It's a bit strange (working out with a view of people eating is something a bit masochistic). But beautiful.

Almost all of my neighbours have husbands and those long, long monogamous relationships. But I found what seems like an older version of myself: a divorced neighbour. We talk about our Tinder adventures and small dicks (and how that's fine if the guy is engaged in the process). She tells me about her experience of having sex in the back seat of a taxi.

All day: a mental countdown to the train.

What do you want?

I'd love some pasta

Or duck, haha

Or dick....

The only thing that lowers my libido is little pangs of jealousy. We were apart for six months; I had partners (lots of them) and he had a partner. And now there are little artefacts lying all over the flat.

Here's a liquid vibrator, I laugh to myself. We used to love using one like it together, then we broke up, and he bought the same one for someone else? And here's micellar water and cotton pads. It's like a minefield. God bless therapy, saying things with words through your mouth and all that. It'll pass soon, but sometimes it feels like a cold shower.

Speaking of one more reason why we got back together: he's the sponsor of the best sex of my life (I found out I'm his, too).

We're going to a restaurant for dinner. I spent half the day lounging in the bath, because at home I only have a damn shower, so at least somewhere I can let loose. The side effect of a bath: afterwards you want to dress up. So I put on makeup and my favourite lingerie. Mood: turned myself on. There's hope for sex before the restaurant, but we're both terribly hungry.

I need to ask my love whether it annoys him to get random offers of sex at random times. We were sitting waiting for our pasta, and I texted him an offer of sex. Annoying or not, he accepted the offer.

So:

I want: wax play with the blue candle, a plug with rimming, rough sex and spanking

I can do for you: a massage with the massage candle, a blowjob with your eyes blindfolded

I feel terribly awkward saying that I want to come again, because he has to go to work tomorrow (already today), while I can get myself going sometime around lunch. But let's be honest: you have to grab any sex you can get. In 6 days I'll go home again and start howling.

He left for work and gave me a kiss. The bad news: I have to work too. The good news: today we're planning to take a bath together. I don't know how that'll go, because I have a big butt and my love is two metres tall.

I'm rereading my little diary and wondering what to call my love. By his name? He approved, but somehow it looks strange, and the word "partner" isn't the right vibe. For now I've settled on "my love", but I feel like opening a dictionary of epithets.

How do you even survive until evening sex? Or rather, how do you sit down to work without sliding into dreaming up scenarios?