The Crazy Zone

Newly divorced, I’m in the crazy zone. Only those who've survived a divorce can understand this zone. There really aren’t words for it. One of the symptoms, however, is akin to an addictive rampage. I’ll admit, I am (or used to be) a nice girl. But nowadays, I’m devilishly relentless. Bottom line: I really, really need to get it! My tongue and loins ache for it.

In retrospect, I had very little during the marriage. When I did get it, the anticipation was the best part. The ultimate reality, though, didn't sate me. This explains my current burning need for the warmth and comfort, the excitement and ecstasy. My desires are off the charts. I’ll take it from just about anywhere, anyone, and several times a day or hour even. I don’t stop. I won’t stop. Hell, I can’t stop. It’s crazy.

In retrospect, my ex had a desperately lower level of desire. It really wasn’t until after the honeymoon that I came to realize I was making such a lifelong sacrifice. He had spoiled me a bit while courting, before losing interest entirely. Thus when he declared a divorce that fateful night, the thought of getting it again was the one thought that kept me going.

In the past year since the separation, I have thankfully enjoyed it more than ever, through wonderfully luscious experiences. It’s been incredibly comforting and orgasmic. In between doses, I burn for all of it: the passion, the grinding, the panting, sweating, licking, and slow swallowing – it’s entirely beyond the heavens. God, I love chocolate!