My mother left when I was four. I was 11 when we moved from Baltimore to Seattle the first time I can remember my father touching me or saying, “I love you.” I remember because I was surprised. Shocked really.
I grew up a very lonely and isolated person.
All the way through my late teens and early twenties I truly believed I was not a very sexual person, then I met my husband.
Well Crap! I found out what that thing was that had been missing. We both did; he is a Texan from a devout Southern Baptist family and surprise! Guess who is the black sheep? We fumbled through kink, swinging and power exchange without any guidance. We didn’t even know what a safeword was. Sometimes I am truly amazed that we survived those years.
It was a long and rocky road. We hurt each other, we held each other and I learned the secret to my sexuality: trust.
For me to truly ‘engage’ with a partner I need to know there are no hidden pitfalls, no traps, no disingenuous rational for hurting me. That I will not drop off of someone’s dance card simply because ‘New and Shiny’ entered the picture. Otherwise I feel too ‘at risk’ to make myself truly vulnerable.
But when that connection happens I become someone, something, totally different than the woman who can barely control her body, resides in the steel box of a wheelchair and mourns for what she can no longer have.
I become the same primal force that has always been inside of me; I welcome it to overtake me. I embrace it and I am freed from the constraints of my body. I have three lovers who have all told me that when I am truly turned on that I do not even look like the same person. I don’t know how this happens or why, but when all is properly lined up I feel like liquid sex. I want to pour myself over my partner like honey. I feel this compulsion to figuratively consume them and carry them with me on the fierce, powerful tide that sweeps me. Teeth and tongues and cocks and clits. Oh, My!
It all becomes one fluid organism of freedom. My disease has left this to me for now. For this I am grateful, but I know that I cannot trust that it will still be with me tomorrow. Carpe Diem indeed!