Yesterday's orgasm count: three. Two of them self-inflicted.
Paul came over tonight, but we agreed on no sex this time round. It was kind of nice to just have his company. He filled my hug quota for the day, which is always a good thing. Though when he left this morning, I found myself somewhat horny. Looks like my new vibe is in for a thrashing.
A thing I notice when I have sex with anyone other than my beloved, by the way: I am so damn grateful that I generally don't yell out the name of the person I'm with. It was never a thing I did, and my beloved is an exception. Luckily, I don't get names mixed up with him, but that's because he stands out from the crowd, so to speak. I mean, last time I shagged Paul, I caught myself thinking Gabe's name. It's so damn easy to get names confused. I have on occasion caught myself cycling through three, four, even five names in my mind before getting to the appropriate one. Oops.
Like I said, it's a good thing I don't generally yell out names. It's a recipe for disaster.
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