My Whole Sex Life

I like to cook. Food is a fascinating artistic medium as well as a sensuous pleasure. I enjoy experimenting with taste, texture, and color. Baking is science and I want to experiment with all of the possibilities. Our family has a variety of dietary limitations so I am constantly challenged to find interesting solutions to traditional recipes. Thankfully, since I spend a lot of time in the kitchen, cooking with a partner gets me hot. All of the smelling and tasting and kissing goes right to my cunt. On more than one occasion we have ended up naked on the kitchen floor, rolling around covered in olive oil.

Yesterday I wanted to get a head start on my holiday preparations while the children were still at school by baking pumpkin pies. I also asked Blyss to help me with some sexy photos. Why not combine the two since the kitchen is loaded with erotic potential? This fun and hotness ensued…

The immersion blender is so phallic and full of vibration. It’s giving me ideas!

Just a taste. I like to lick.

This coconut milk is so creamy. I just want…

The creamy milk covers my tongue and drips down my chest, warm and sweet.

It feels so sensuous to have the coconut milk run down my chin and between my breasts. I want more.

Coconut milk covers my breast and nipple, lusciously  dripping on my belly.

I need to try out the sensation on my back. My cunt starts opening with the erotic flow of sweet liquid pouring over my ass. I haven’t had this much fun in a while.

A silken sheen covers my body as I slide in the pooled milk. I long to be fucked.

I’m beyond turned on, in that place where I need release so bad. What can I do?

I’m embarrassed to be this intimate with a kitchen tool, but this wire whisk has a handle just perfect for fucking.

I clutch the whisk, driving it deeper toward my g-spot. I can’t believe how good it feels.

I am finally sated, covered head to toe in coconut milk and blissfully happy. And I have just enough time to mop the floor and take a shower before the children get home!

(Photos by Blyss Enns)

Married sex gets a bad rap. It’s common knowledge that the ecstatic new relationship energy fades over time, unresolved resentments build up, excitement over sharing new sexual fantasies fades. Married people eventually lead dull boring sex lives, right? No, it doesn’t have to be that way. Long term committed couples can have sex that is progressively more intimate and more exciting.

The catch is that it takes some work. It means owning your emotional baggage and being willing to help your partner through their stuff too. It becomes necessary to completely resolve every disagreement to the point of loving him or her to bits rather than shoving your feelings into the dark recesses of the collective basement of the relationship. At least that’s how it is for Harold and me.

We’ve been having sex with each other for over five years and it just keeps getting better. We fight a fair amount, but it’s mostly productive – meaning that we are able to reach a mutual resolution without any lingering resentments. We are also under a huge amount of stress, and yet our connection to each other continues to grow stronger. I can always tell the health of our relationship by the kind of sex that we have together.

Our last date is a good example. I had a crappy morning, but was in a decent place, but Harold was not. He was deeply sad, barely functional. I did my best to hold and comfort him. We talked a lot. Slowly we began to make love from that deep place Harold was in. We did our standard things, the sexual practices that we know we like and will be effective, without taking any risks or pushing any boundaries. Comfort sex. We know each other better than we know ourselves in these ways and while not exciting, it is nice and good to come together and get off. I am very thankful for this kind of sex, but I want a relationship where we sometimes go further.

Afterward, I think we both felt somewhat better and closer to each other. It gave me a chance to meditate and work through some deep issues that have been plaguing me. Harold was happy to hold the space for me and his presence gave me the safety I needed. My work immediately lightened the mood for us both. We were able to return to the family feeling renewed and more empowered.

We got to spend time with the children and our other partners, making dinner and relaxing, before settling into bed with a movie. Our favorite movies are foreign sex films and this was no exception. We found Chroniques sexuelles d’une famille d’aujourd’hui (Sexual Chronicles of a French Family) on Netflix. I think it’s maybe the best movie about sex I’ve ever seen. It shows how three generations of the same family handle their sexuality. The relationships are realistic and the characters are very sympathetic. The sex is explicit without showing much in the way of genitals, but it doesn’t pull any punches, this is very real. We thought that it was interesting, sweet, sexy, and inspiring.

We were so inspired, we started to make love again. We don’t often have sex more than once a day, but we were full of lust. Sexy movies can do that. I could feel the warmth flow from my cunt, up my chest, and spread. When I kissed Harold I felt like golden light was passing between us through our open mouths. My skin was alive to his touch. We were completely attuned to the energy we grew between us. Suddenly we were easily meeting sexual needs that we have spent months discussing but haven’t yet implemented in our sex life. It was fucking HOT.

This amazingness is made possible by the nature of our relationship. Because we have kept clear of resentments and had ongoing conversations about the things we want, we could just use the energy of a great sexy movie to launch into mind-blowing sex. It takes some practice to be able to follow the energy of the moment to fulfilling each other’s desires. I like to control every situation, but learning how to live in the moment has been incredibly rewarding.

Maybe someday we will lose this feeling of excitement, this thrill when we look at each other, this rush of lust when we are in each other’s arms. Maybe we will get to a point where we have only efficient, comforting sex with each other, but I doubt it. We value the sex and connection that we have together too much to screw it up. For us, this is what it means to be profoundly in love.

Eroticism is that emotion laden pause right after an intense kiss. You know, that moment when you pull back a few inches and savor the sexual tension stretching between you, lust coursing through every line of your bodies, energy humming in the air. It’s my very favorite moment. I adore experiencing it myself and it’s the hottest thing I can imagine watching.

I love watching two men kiss, seeing them be vulnerable with each other. It’s so sexy and intimate. This photo makes me so happy because it’s two guys I care about just parting after a deep kiss. (I’ll be in my bunk)

Anyone who thinks that being polyamorous means not feeling jealousy, is sadly mistaken. I don’t often feel jealous, but it does come up – and often not in the ways that I expect. I want my partners to be happy and fulfilled. I get off on them getting off even when it isn’t with me and even if they are doing things that I wouldn’t be into. But I do occasionally get jealous.

Harold and I did get a chance to play with Blyss and Holt. It was fantastic. I got to see a side of Blyss that I haven’t seen before, her very excellent Toppy side, as she took fantastic care of a totally adorable Holt. I got to admire how beautiful Holt is and run my fingers over his gorgeous skin. We got to explore CBT technique. I love teaching moments. Harold helped me come while I had a person on each nipple. Totally ecstatic. We spent hours in a casual sexual environment.

I felt very good about the whole thing – close to everyone, sexy, comfortable, happy. It wasn’t until I looked at the photos that I felt jealous. No, thinking back, I believe I felt jealous just after, but it manifested as a bout of extreme insecurity about being parted from Harold. See, Harold, to his dismay, is not very attracted to men. He would like to be more physically attracted to men. He’s had a bit of a crush on Holt since Blyss showed us pictures. I don’t mind that at all. I think it’s sweet.

I want Harold to explore every bit of his sexuality. Fuck every mountain, leave no stone unfucked, and all that. We’re good for each other like that. I’ve done my best to help Harold explore gender in the context of our sex play. I’m a very good man to his woman. It works. I was honored to help hold the space for him to explore with Holt. I know that the safety of having me there, the grounding of our relationship, made it possible for Harold to be comfortable making love with Holt.

At the time, I was so caught up in the energy that all I felt was the glory of the moment. Later I looked at the pictures. The lens didn’t capture how sweet it was for me to watch Harold. Nearly every shot has Harold looking at Holt with longing. No, that’s not true. That’s the jealousy talking.

My jealousy is two-fold. First, I am jealous because I don’t have a cock and balls and I never will. Harold wants something sexually that I can not provide. Realistically, I don’t expect to be everything for him, but emotionally I feel sad that there are places I cannot meet him. Second, I feel jealous because what I see in the photos is Harold pursuing Holt. Again, logically I know that Harold pursued me, but my lizard brain says that I had to stalk him.

Jealousy often comes up around something that I perceive as a lack, either a lack I can’t meet for my partner that someone else can, or an emotional lack in myself that I believe can’t be met. Paying attention to these feelings can be really helpful in working out areas that might otherwise become grounds for resentment in the relationship.

Talking to Harold about my jealousy is incredibly helpful. He doesn’t judge me for my emotions, but helps me see them for what they are. He’s very responsive which makes me feel loved and supported. It’s important too, because I’m realizing how I felt after the fact, to know that my feelings of jealousy don’t have anything to do with Blyss or Holt, or even Harold. These feelings are natural and normal. Even for poly folk.

To the Rapey Asshole in Pullman,

I just got off the phone with my daughter. You know, the girl you drugged in a bar last month hoping you could get some action because you are such a pathetic loser that you can’t get laid otherwise. She didn’t tell me until just now because she knew I would be furious and there’s nothing we can do about it. She doesn’t even remember you, just experienced your handiwork. She was sick for a week from that drug. You’re lucky that she didn’t die, because I would have hunted you down.

She doesn’t remember anything from that night. I can only imagine what she’s going through. Is it hell not knowing what actually happened, or is it a blessing to not know? She thinks that probably you didn’t rape her. I’m a bit more cynical. I fear the worst. I’ve seen your type, but I know my girl. I bet she fought like a wildcat. I hope you’re still suffering.

I may not be able to get my hands on you, but I believe in karma.

Beware,
a rage filled momma

To the Pullman Police,

When you found my daughter passed out in a ditch, did you put handcuffs on her right away? Or did you wait until she was weeping uncontrollably? Did you stop to think for just a second that her slurred speech could be from being drugged without her consent or do you assume that all college girls are drunken sluts? Did you not find it strange that witnesses reported her being with a man who ran away?

How could you possibly think that my daughter was anything other than a victim in this situation? Was she such a threat that you had to put her in custody? I want to jump up and down in frustration and rage that you would not handle my child with compassion and consideration for her well-being. That girl is my precious daughter. Every girl is someone’s precious daughter.

Is this a common situation in your town? Do you get a lot of girls passed out in ditches? Is it so common that you are inured to the sight? Maybe that’s because your town has a problem with date rape drugs. I bet every girl at that college has a story about it by the time they graduate. Yes, that is your problem. Clean it the fuck up. Now.

Fuck you,
a rage filled momma

To the Pullman Regional Hospital,

I am saddened by your lack of professionalism. Without your bill I would still be ignorant of this challenge my daughter has had to face, so I am glad for that. But why couldn’t you have done your fucking job when the cops brought my daughter to you?

I understand that she appeared inebriated, but then why not treat her for alcohol poisoning? Didn’t you notice the bruises and scratches all over my sweet girl? I wish someone had thought to call me. I would have been in my car and on the phone telling you all what to do. Where were you with the drug testing and the goddamned rape kit? Not that I would wish that on my girl, but WTF? Do your job.

I am thankful for the nurse on duty, who talked to my daughter days later and helped her to put together what happened when not knowing was killing her. She didn’t remember anything and you helped her piece together a bit of a story. That is a kindness.

Again though, how many college girls do you treat in this situation? Don’t you see this as a problem? Please treat this epidemic like you would any other.

Litigiously yours,
a rage filled momma

To the WWU counselor,

How dare you. How dare you slut shame and victim blame my help-seeking child! No, she is not suffering from alcohol withdrawals. She is experiencing panic attacks. No, her experience was not alcohol poisoning, she just told you that she got date rape drugged. Do you get what that means? No, you don’t.

It means that someone tried to rape my daughter. Maybe they did, we don’t know. What kind of misogynistic asshole neglects to acknowledge that? Isn’t that possibly why she needed an emergency appointment to see you? Were you the best the college could offer at that given moment? Cuz buddy, you suck.

It makes me so mad that my daughter would reach out for help at this difficult time and you would just assume that she drank too much. You don’t know my girl, you cynical fuckhead. Get over yourself and try to actually help the people you pretend to serve. College girls get raped. Help them.

Up yours,
a rage filled momma

My dear sweet darling daughter,

I love you so much. None of my rage is directed at you. You are my star. You are my first child and I am so proud of you. You are so responsible and such a good adult. You always make good choices, but even if you didn’t I would love you to the moon and back.

I’m so sorry that this bad thing happened to you. It drives me crazy that I can’t go back in time and change it. I want to always keep you safe and happy… but I can’t. I’m very impressed with how you have handled all of this. I wish you had told me sooner, but I get why you didn’t. It’s okay. You knew that I would react like this and you didn’t want the weight of that too. It’s okay sweet girl. I love you. Your whole family loves you so much!

I love that you have already thought of everything that I can come up with to do, including getting tested for STD’s at two months out. I hope that you are not too worried while you wait. I admire how well you have taken care of yourself. I’m relieved that you feel angry too.

I think that you are perfectly wonderful. It’s okay that your grades have slipped some. You are doing fine. We’ve got your back. It hurts me to think of this burdening you. I ache when I think of every girl who has to suffer this date rape drug bullshit. I want to thank you for every woman who has ever been slipped a date rape drug. Thank you for standing up and speaking out.

You are my hero beautiful brilliant girl.

All the love in the universe,
your momma

I’ve been playing out little videos in my mind for weeks, imagining what might happen when my girlfriend, Blyss, has her boi, Holt, come to visit from out of town. I’ve never met him before, but I hear about him all the time. Blyss even shows me sexy pictures of him. We’ve said hi to each other over Skype. I think I’ll like him. I certainly am enjoying the fantasies of Harold and I having sex with them – maybe even Joel too.

I know the new boi likes cock-and-ball torture as much as Harold, so I’m drooling over the idea of having a cock in each hand and two sets of balls to squeeze. I’m visualizing the positions I will put them in, where I will place myself and Blyss. There is a heck of a lot you can do with four people who are all willing to be intimate together! It’s like a very grown up version of playing with dolls. I hope I get a chance to teach Blyss what I know about CBT. I hope I get to make the bois fuck each other in the ass. I want to dress them up in lingerie. I want to Top them all!

I have amused myself with these thoughts while I have driven the children around or while I did the laundry. It’s these kinds of happy thoughts that make life worth living. It doesn’t matter that it might never happen. That’s not the point of a fantasy. My fantasies prime my sexual pump, get me going. I think that there is power in imagining what you would like to have happen in a sexual context, but you have to be careful to stay flexible.

The map is not the territory. What I mean to say is, a fantasy is a good representation of sex potential, but actually being there having the experience is very different. There are things that will happen that you can’t anticipate. Chiefly, if you are having sex with other people, they will also have their own boundaries and expectations. I also find that sex works much better if I have a set of fantasy ideas, rather than a set script. That allows me to follow the energy of what feels right in the moment. My fantasies are mostly a good jumping off place to talk about what I might want t have happen.

I don’t even know if we will have an opportunity to get naked together. I hope so, but I know how things go sometimes. It’s important to me to develop something of a relationship with someone before I jump into fucking. Holt may be my girlfriend’s boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean that we will necessarily hit it off. Either way, I have some great wanking material happening in my head. And that may be the best use of a fantasy.