Communication

Feb 142017
 

Ocean waves

The evening wind is a gentle pressure against our bodies as we look out at the waves, the light of the full moon reflecting on the gathering seafoam. His hand squeezes mine. I tip my head to try to encompass the vastness of the sky. I feel myself expand to hold it all – the huge luminous moon, the velvet sky, the endless ocean, and his love. He holds me, kissing my face, tasting my tears. “What is the ocean to you?” he asks.

She is mother. The ocean is infinite unconditional love. She is the goddess, Aphrodite. My sadness and rage can be taken in and transformed in her waves. She is birth and rebirth. She is life.

Intense emotion rises in my core. We stand shoulder to shoulder, balanced between moon and waves. I want to scream into the waves, but it’s too hard to find the right moment to release. The pressure inside builds, but I still can’t let go. I know he feels me struggle, but he just holds the space in love. I breath in the wild ocean air, letting it penetrate and purify me. When I exhale, every shred of pain I am feeling is carried out with my voice and swallowed by the waves…

 _______

We are tangled in the sheets, wet with sweat and desire. I arch my back, pressing my ass against his erection. He holds me against him, one arm pressed against my throat, one hand pinning my hip in place. I writhe and moan because I want him to fuck me more than I can ever remember wanting anything. His voice is soft and firm in my ear, but I can’t process what he says. I am consumed with wanting. Teeth grasp hard at the junction of neck and shoulder. I flinch and cry out, then fall still at his touch…

 _______

I can’t seem to stop talking. My voice has decided that I won’t sit still and be quiet. Freed by the ocean and made vulnerable by his trust, I tell him everything about my life. I want to know everything about his. We make dinner together in the tiny kitchen that makes frequent contact necessary. We sing along with Queen and dirty dance in the kitchen. I kiss him deep as the ocean and pull back a few inches. He shudders at the energy of it, his blue eyes wide…

 _______

Reflections of TylerI can feel the rhythm of the waves in my body, desire running from my cunt to my heart and back again. Looking down at his beautiful face, I want to hold on to this moment forever. I slide his cock inside me a centimeter at a time. I am awash in love. So slowly, I rock back to take in his whole length. I want him slow and soft. His hips lift to meet me and the sensation is almost too much. I lean down to kiss his chest, but the angle is not right. Braced by his hands on my hips, I lean back, feeling the flow and ebb of the ocean building inside me. There is only this – our bodies rocking to meet each other in spasms of ecstasy, our spirits entwined…

 _______

Children run on the sand, chasing the waves then racing back screaming in delight. I am filled with a deep contentment as we walk along the beach in the sunlight. I decide that sandpipers are my new spirit animal. We laugh at how they move. We take photos of random things on the beach. I see a dog in the distance that turns out to be a log. We have to stop to kiss every few feet. I feel so present, anchored in this moment, this place, this human by my side…

 _______

We snuggle down to sleep. My body hums with desire simply knowing he is near. I wrap my arms around him, pressing my breasts against his back. I try to sleep but the scent of his warm skin make me feel drunk. The back of his neck needs kissing. He gasps when I wrap my fingers in his long hair and pull his head back. His surrender leaves my cunt soaking wet. I grind my pelvis against his ass, wishing so hard that I had a cock. We fuck energetically, tension building until we can’t stand it.

We slide the dildo into the harness and he start to give me head. My toes curl and my back arches in pleasure. I can feel him sucking my cock. It’s unbelievably sexy. “How should we do this?” he asks…

 _______

We wash each other’s hair. We rub soap all over each other, sliding around in the steam and spray of the shower, while music surrounds us. He kneels in front of me wrapping his arms around me. I feel loved and honored in his embrace. He stands up and we gaze into each other’s eyes. We kiss and the feel of him on my lips ignites my passion. I plead for him to fuck me but he laughs and tells me to wait. I go down on him instead, floating on a tide of sensation…

 _______

When we fuck, it is rough, like a wrestling match, and yet he is always gentle. We fuck all over the bed, rolling around and laughing when not utterly intent. Fucking is not close enough. I want more of him. I want deeper. I moan face first into the bed, my hands grabbing fistfuls of pillows while he thrusts into me from behind. There is no me any more, only a fierce hot need. “Use your nails!” I order, “Harder!” He complies, nearly drawing blood down the length of my back. The edge of pain pushes me into pure bliss. We both come together…

 _______

We come over and over in a spiral of building trust and learning bodies. We make love until our bodies give out. He stops mid-fuck, “How is your body doing Love?”

“My body is feeling great.” I protest, urging him to continue.

“Yes, but how is your body doing?” Oh. My body should stop.

He leans over me, with his long hair tickling my chest. I gaze up at him, full of love and desire, “Let’s be mermaids…”

 _______

Evoe and Tyler at the oceanBefore we leave, we walk along the sunlit beach one more time. I hover on the verge of orgasm, laughing and shivering with joy as each wave rushes to embrace us and we dance away. We see driftwood that looks like a sailing ship stranded on the shore. Our mood is bittersweet with the knowledge that all things must end, yet we are grateful for beginnings. Birth and rebirth. I walk into the waves to wet my hands. I touch the seawater to my face, my heart, and my cunt. I offer up my prayers to Aphrodite, “Lady, I am your vessel. Thank you for the love I have experienced. Let me be open to your flow. I will be a vehicle for love in the world.”

We walk toward the car and he takes my hand…

Jun 032016
 

My love,

In bed without youI woke up smiling this morning. You must have just left the bed because I snuggled into your warm spot, breathing in your scent. I let my mind slowly come into awareness. My thoughts wandered through my plans for the day and conversations we’ve been having. I remembered the way you went down on me yesterday when I said I was feeling turned on. My fingers began caressing my stomach and thighs – not with intent, just think of you and loving myself.

I stretched to wake up my muscles and bring myself more into my body. I am tender in places I didn’t know I could be tender! Each sore spot reminds me of some delicious time we’ve spent together. My ass aches where you gave me the best spanking ever. Every time I walk up the stairs my thighs protest from all the time I was on top and riding you as hard as I could. My upper arms twinge from hitting your balls with a mallet. Even the brush of the sheets on my nipples is enough to make me shudder in pain and longing. My clitoris feels swollen from so much attention from your mouth, and fingers, and the vibrator. I stretched out my body and realized that I am so happy.

This has been a hard patch that we are going through. I know we often go from dawn to dusk without a moment for ourselves. Things in our lives are changing. Transformation is usually stressful. I want to acknowledge that you are the joy in my life, the thing that keeps me going, my partner, and my friend. I appreciate your presence more than I can express, but I think my body is speaking for me.

Missing youWe have made love 5 times in the past week, beyond the kind of diffuse lovemaking we share most of the time. We connect in so many ways. We are finally living authentically. When we walk around actively loving each other, slipping into intercourse feels easy and natural. Even waking up in the middle of the night so turned on that we fuck sweetly and fall asleep again! I love that we trust each other this much. Our relationship keeps getting deeper.

I want to thank you for staying with me through the pain in my vagina. I’ve sometimes felt like I’ve lost my identity without my sexuality, but I’ve never been without you. It’s been frustrating to have a part of my body so closely tied to pleasure feel so uncomfortable. I haven’t always known how to stay connected sexually. We’ve been creative. The pain hasn’t fully gone away, but I feel like we’re learning to live with it. I could not have traveled this path as gracefully without you to hold my hand.

So, my love, think about me today, as I am thinking of you. I look forward to slow steamy kisses, looking into your eyes while we talk about passionate things, objectifying your gorgeous naked body, and cupping myself around you as we settle in to sleep. If you happen to awaken in the dark and you are filled with desire, well, you know where I sleep…

Love,
Me

Feb 222015
 

Reflected in the windowHappiness is being in the middle of a naked snuggle pile. I could see us reflected in the glass ceiling of the solarium: Harold and Woody both curled around me, our legs entwined, hands still roaming each other’s bodies. We made a beautiful tableau. After more orgasms than I can remember, I was feeling diffuse and abundant love. They were taking advantage of the lull in the action to geek out together over cool higher math.

My body was saturated with sensation. I was hyper aware of every touch, the unique scent of their skin, the warmth of our bodies together, the blues songs that filled the room and became part of the fabric of our existence, the taste of ginger beer spicy on my tongue and in their kisses, and the sunlight blessing us all. I could close my eyes and feel myself sustained by their strength, nourished by their love, safe in their arms. Not only do these men bring me great pleasure, they also make me relax and live in the moment.

Those moments were pretty incredible. I adored having all the extra stimulation. Being able to make out while someone goes down on me or having a cock in each hand is satisfying. It’s surprisingly challenging to give two hand jobs at once, especially since they each prefer a different style and rhythm. They had the audacity to suggest that I was doing it wrong, but I think it was just an excuse to spend time going down on each other.

It was hot to watch them, two mostly straight guys who have come into their own sexual power in their 60’s. They were passionate with each other. They performed fellatio with a hunger, like they’ve spent their whole lives thinking about what they would do if they ever got a chance. It obviously felt good. When receiving, they each groaned with head thrown back and body arched. I felt a momentary twinge of jealousy to be excluded from this ardent display, but watching them was so primal that I felt connected anyway.

The three of us are so full of love for each other. We respect each other and we feel comfortable being vulnerable. Each of us could ask for the things that we specifically enjoy and wanted. It was okay to laugh and cry and discuss Euler’s identity. I’ve been fucking geeks for most of my life and never realized how sexy logarithms could be, but it certainly worked for Harold and Woody.

Reflected in the windowIt’s amazing how many different ways in which three people can combine. It takes a little bit more work than two people, but we are creative. The advantage to making love with older men is that they take their time. We can have sex for hours and it focuses more on my pleasure. The disadvantage of older men is that I have yet to make them both hard enough at the same time for double penetration or other such hijinks, but I think we’ll get there eventually.

It was a lovely afternoon, from eating sushi with our fingers and catching up to a wild tangle of mouths and limbs – from sensual overload to furious fucking ­– from soaking in the hot tub to dinner and a movie with the family – from Euler to Richard Feynman to Gregory Chaitin. Threesomes have a certain caché, but the time we’ve spent together isn’t like that. We aren’t just there to fuck. We are friends. I have incredible sex with each of them separately. Together we create a function of complex variables that has an amazing integral.

Feb 152015
 

All or nothingWe finally reached a point where I lay limp in his arms, my feet tangled in the sheets, our bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat. My tears and snot lubricated the skin between his shoulder and my cheek. Emptied of grief, I finally found myself floating in a place of comfort. It had taken all night to get there, but now, finally, 40 minutes before his alarm would go off, I felt the love and connection I had been struggling all night to find.

I fought him. All of my frustration and helpless rage needed out. I opened my mouth and all of the hateful bitter things trapped inside spilled from my lips. I didn’t want him to take it on, but of course he did, stepping into each of my desperate claims and wearing it around like an ill-fitting garment. Maybe that helped me, seeing how ridiculous he looked in my fears. But he would say, “This isn’t me. What are you talking about?” and his voice would be loaded with hurt as we lay in bed, surrounded by darkness, “You don’t even see me!”

And I would cry harder because I wasn’t talking about him, I was talking about my emotions, telling him about the things I need to work through because they are poisoning me. I wanted him to reassure me, to tell me that it was okay to feel, and to be my ally in finding solutions. I would tell him, “Of course I see you. I know you. You are my heart.” and I would writhe against him in agitation, “Please, I need help!”

I felt like I was drowning. Over and over, I would cry, “I just want you to hear me!” like I was begging for a life preserver. The middle of the night is never the best time to try to have relationship discussions, but we didn’t have other time. Exhausted and hopeless, I wanted to give up.

He got angry. On opposite sides of the bed, like continents separated by an ocean, we lobbed bombs at each other in futile attempt to make peace. I had no defenses, being open to him made me an easy target. Every word he said hurt, but nothing as bad as his final abandonment would, when in cold tones he explained that we were over.

It’s always all or nothing here. We give everything or we walk away alone. I wasn’t ready to lose what we have built. I made the same sacrifice I always make, silently wishing that he would apologize first sometimes.

All or nothingUnder the oppressive weight of my sadness, I needed his touch. I longed to be held, cherished, protected from this anguish. He came round to my side, slid under the heavy covers, and pulled my body on top of his. We would both calm with our bodies this close. I let go. I let go of my problems, my anxiety, the desperate emotions I can’t seem to resolve. I made a decision to believe him when he said that I was building walls against him. I lowered my defenses. I was vulnerable to him.

In his arms, I released my pent up emotions in a torrent. His anger dissolved under the onslaught of my tears and the absolution that what I was feeling is not about now, not his fault. I cried until I was empty, even dumping the vague feeling that I had betrayed myself. All that mattered was somehow finding each other before the night ended.

In those moments of stillness I experienced a strange high. I would feel strongly connected to him, but also euphoric, drifty, and hollow – a bit like a balloon on his string. Emptied of all thought and emotion, I found a pure meditative state where we held each other in peace until the alarm went off.

 

 

 

Sinful Sunday

Feb 082015
 

CuppingJust when I think that the new relationship energy must be over – that maybe we’ve exhausted our passion, or built up too much resentment for intimacy to feel good – sex is suddenly better than ever. The past month has brought a sea change in my relationship with Harold, perhaps born of many hours working through old pain in our relationship, but more likely simply paying more attention to some health issues.

It’s amazing how different our relationship is when my thyroid levels are back in balance and Harold gets enough sleep and takes vitamins. He says that vitamins give him the ability to act on the fact that he wants me all the time. Amazing! I can’t wait to see what happens when we both start exercising on a regular basis.

Our connection has always been sexual, but now we can’t get enough of each other – it’s been five times a week, sometimes twice a day. We are suddenly able to experience each other in ways that we’ve wanted but been unable to quite achieve. Harold topped me for a whole session, sending me into spasms of delight. I put needles through his balls, deeply satisfying his adventurous spirit. We played around with cupping while listening to old vinyl on the record player, bonding through a shared love of the blues. We’ve been seriously kinky and had so much fun!

My new favorite thing is being tied up and spanked while I’m on top of the Magic Wand. I don’t come quickly, but the ride is intense. Also, I’m enjoying being fucked from behind with a butt plug in, so it feels like I’m being fucked in both holes. Coming like that is beyond description. I’ve never felt so close to Harold as in those moments of pure pulsing pleasure.

NeedleWe are more romantic right now too. All of that oxytocin surging through us is making us all mushy. We’ve been doing sweet little things to help each other, getting small presents that would bring joy, and leaving love notes. I feel like he is understanding me in ways that were out of reach before. We are both stretching, trying hard to be big enough for this fire that is our passion.

Not everything is roses. I can see how important it is for us to take care of our bodies and our psyches so we can keep having unbelievable sex. We still have moments nearly every day where we feel some twinge of pain or frustration, but now we have the golden nectar of love and sexual connection buoying our souls. For that balm, I will brave a few thorns.

Oct 012014
 

High stressLast week was super stressful for me. I started college, I lost my dog, my child had surgery, and I did it all while dealing with my normal stressful things, a broken toe that’s still healing, and being sick with a cold that turned into a sinus infection and bronchitis. Needless to say, I did not go on any dates last week. I did manage a few brief erotic encounters and intimacy of the snuggly kind. That totally counts.

But by the start of this week I was feeling totally depleted. Joel held the fort at home and Harold took me down to the cabin. For five hours he held me while I grieved and ranted and searched my soul. It gave me time to release all of the tension that had been building and threatened to explode. Usually, we would spend at least half of the time making love, but this emotional sharing seemed more important. It’s not that we didn’t make out. We are always sexual together on some level, but he just held the space for me process. That’s more intimate than anything else I know.

We went to run errands. More difficult emotions came up. We were in Costco when my anger finally hit surface. We probably made a spectacle, me raging, then us passionately kissing, then more arm waving. It felt good to express anger and still feel loved and supported.

By the time we got off the freeway on our way home, I had broken down into heaving sobs – the deep cathartic kind of crying, releasing more grief than the tears that sometimes escape and run silently down my cheeks. That moment suddenly made everything real. Harold kissed me and I felt him all the way down to my toes.

It funny that we can spend the day together, naked, sharing our thoughts and still not be in sync sexually. But that one moment in the car, when I found my emotional center, we suddenly melted into each other and all we knew was pure desire. My need to fuck him was intense. Harold starting driving again. We weren’t far from home, but when you need someone like that…

I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. I gripped his erection through his jeans, my hands restlessly moving from cock to back of the head to nipples. He captured my hand and kissed the back, sucked at my fingers. Our pull to each other was threatening Harold’s ability to drive. We had to pull over.

Even before the car came to a full stop in the small dark deserted public parking lot, we were passionately making out. His hand was down my shirt, trying to liberate my breasts, or at least my nipples. We scrambled to find a way to make sex work in the car.

We’ve done this a few times before, but always in larger vehicles, not a sedan. And I’d always been wearing a skirt without panties, with shoes that slip off, so it was easy to straddle him. This night I was wearing tights and an orthopedic walking boot. Not exactly streamlined. No matter, we’ve always been resourceful. I quickly calculated positions. The backseat was out because it was loaded with our Costco purchases. There was no room on the driver’s side. I ask Harold if he could moved over to my side.

You have to understand that this was urgent. We were desperate. When I managed to pull down my skirt and tights and not get my boot hung up in Harold’s feet, it was a minor miracle. When I sat down and guided his cock into my cunt, it was a palpable relief. The car creaked and groaned as we rocked back and forth, but after a minute, we both knew it wasn’t quite right. We needed a different angle and our options were limited.

Looking around, I devised a brilliant plan. I crawled over to the driver’s side, clothing and boots still hampering me. That didn’t give me enough room, so I opened up the door. Harold pushed to his knees, trying to get into position behind me. There I was, with my ass in the air and my head out the open door, Harold crouched over and behind me trying to find an angle where he could insert his cock, when I noticed that the car was moving.

It was fairly dark and it was raining. The car moved so slowly at first that I wasn’t sure if I was moving or the car – just that slight disorientation of movement. When I realized that we were indeed moving, we had a mad scramble, a tangle of limbs and clothing and car. Harold found the parking brake and pulled it on. We must have released it in our rush to fuck. Or perhaps never set it in the first place. We only rolled about a foot, and the curb would have caught us, but the absurdity of the situation was immense. We laughed and kissed, the urgency of our ardor broken.

Releasing tensionWe sighed and straighten our clothes, drove back home to the people waiting for us. I thought to myself that there seems to be more than one way to release tension. Maybe an occasional bout of free fall isn’t so bad. I have a lover who will stand by me through my worst stuff. We have so much fun together. Most of all, Harold and I, after seven years together, still have moments where we want each other so bad, SO BAD, that we can’t drive two more miles to be home and fuck. Really, what else do I need?

Aug 212014
 

Going downWe’ve been laying naked on the bed, chatting in that comfortable stream-of-consiousness way that we have together. The windows are open to the warm air and the sounds of nature. My body is alive to his touch. I am drawn to him, but without any sense of urgency. We belong to each other and we have all afternoon together.

He gets up – I think he is in transit, maybe to get a drink of water or check his phone, maybe get something from the sex toy bag – but he gets stuck. He snags between my legs. My knees fall open, his gaze glued to my cunt. Before I really register what is happening, his tongue is lapping lazy circles around my clitoris.

I had been pretty relaxed to begin with, but I close my eyes and drift through waves of pleasure. He’s good at using his mouth and he knows my body. I just give myself over to his care. My mind wanders. I think about the very first time he gave me head. I was lying in exactly this spot, but in my memory it seems different. I feel myself getting wetter as I get more aroused and I remember that first time being the same, although I interpreted it differently.

I open my eyes and look down at him, “Hey Sweetheart?”

He opens his eyes and looks at me, but doesn’t stop licking, “Uhmmmm?”

“When you do that, do you kind of…spit on me?”

His eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t answer.

“I’ve been thinking about the first time we made love and I was pretty sure you spit on me on purpose to have extra lubrication.”

He sort of nods, keeps licking.

I’m feeling a little foolish but continue on, “I thought that it was a good idea to have extra spit. Now I do that when I go down on someone.”

He pauses for a moment, “I drool.” He goes back to teasing my clit.

“What?”

“I drool during oral sex. I can’t keep it all in my mouth.” He lifts his head and I can see that the whole bottom half of his face is wet.

I begin to giggle. So much for my suave oral sex techniques!

Jun 142014
 

LoveSex.

A lot of people I talk to think that polyamory is all about sex. Kinky sex, with lots of people, and orgies every weekend. While I sincerely hope that someone, somewhere is living that dream, sex is not why I practice polyamory. I love to have sex (and I do have sex with multiple partners) but sex isn’t the reason I choose to have multiple partners.

Everyone has their own reasons and methods for being polyamorous, and there is no “right” way to do it.  I do it for three simple reasons: support, change, and love.

Support:   I love the extended emotional, physical, and financial support of having an extended polyamorous family and community.

I envision people in a relationship as vines that twine around each other, offering support for individual growth – sometimes more together, sometimes more apart – but always commingled, always headed in roughly the same direction. Adding more strands strengthens the combined vine and makes it easier to get to where you are going, assuming that everyone has a similar goal.

I practice polyamory because the road of life can be long and hard to go alone. I want the support of many hands. Not everyone in my support system is a lover, but the intimacy of a sexual relationship tends to open me to deeper trust. I am blessed by the love and support of many people, something I do not think I would allow myself if I were in a monogamous relationship.

Some people worry that polyamory with be harmful for children. Practically speaking, all families with children could use more support than one or two parents can offer. Children are my top priority and they are a massive investment of time, energy, and money. Polyamory offers the extended support for childrearing that traditionally has been filled by extended family, small villages, or church communities. I am always vigilant for my children’s welfare and safety. Nothing replaces the stability of parents, but who says you can only have two? My kids have access to all manner of cool people who care about them. 

ChangeChange:  Being able to explore my connections with many different people helps me grow and change, letting me more fully become my whole self.

I have a lust for new experiences. I have never been content to sit still. My goal is always to continue learning and growing. No artificial limits! I conquer my fears one at a time because I want to live life to the fullest. Every poetic turn of phrase, sacred ritual, brilliant piece of art, heart wrenching performance, deep philosophical conversation, and wildly intuitive lover I experience influences my growth as an evolving person.

Not only do I want these catalysts for myself, I want the people I care about to also be expanding and thriving. I like to excite potential. I am intensely curious about the individuals I am drawn to. Peeling away the layers of interests, adventures, and emotion to get to the gooey center is delicious to me, and I can’t help but change the people I get that close to.

When people tell me that they could never be poly because they get too jealous, what I hear is that they are too afraid of change in the relationship. And they are right, it can be extremely difficult to watch your partner move in a direction that is away from you. Harder still to do the work necessary to keep up with their growth, whether to follow them or let them go.

SupportLove:  Genuine love for myself and others fills my life with ineffable sweetness that helps to balance the inevitable pain that comes with being alive.

Some people say that they are poly because it’s ridiculous to expect to get your needs met by one person. I disagree. I can absolutely get my needs met by one person – me. I practice polyamory because I am full of love. The more I love, the more it spills out onto everyone around me. Time, money, and energy are limited, but love is infinite.

I am so curious about people. I want to learn about the individuals I am drawn to, find out what they are passionate about, get down into their core. Sometimes I find a sexual connection and sometimes I don’t. Being poly means that I can let each relationship be just what it is, not just what I would like it to be. I am not trying to persuade myself to be in love where I am not and I am not trying to deny love when it is evident.

I am opening myself up to being inspired, even changed, by these people I love. Sex creates a deeper conduit, so I am careful about who I expose my soul to. Careful, but not fearful. I give my heart easily, knowing that pain will also be my teacher. When I fall in love, I let my curiosity drive.

 

Self loveI like to think that in practice, my form of polyamory has a lot in common with the best of monogamous marriage: I meet someone and fall in love, we find that we share common dreams for the future, and we commit to help support each other in being the best people we can be. The only difference is that I maintain several relationships like that.

The down side is that I am maintaining several marriage-level relationships. That’s a lot of communication. Mostly it’s not a problem, but sometimes I feel my limitations. I’m not always great at communicating. Some days I don’t feel very expansive and it’s hard to offer support, be open to change, or feel the love around me. Days like that I’m lucky that I’m not the only person in this system.

Jun 082014
 

A-okayTwo weeks ago I wrote about starting a difficult conversation with my partner of 14 years, Joel, bringing up things I was unhappy with in our sex life. It was extremely painful for us both when I admitted that I wasn’t getting everything I desired, but it gave us a chance to talk through hurt feelings and realize that we really do want the same things. It’s a relief to let go of old resentments and just enjoy being together.

Our whole relationship has been lifted to a new level. We are spending more time hanging out together, working as partners, making love to each other. He says beautiful things to me all the time, letting me know that he respects me and is attracted to me. I really listen when he tells me about the loneliness he feels spending half the week away from home and the jealousy he feels toward my other partners. We take care of each other. We are dreaming and planning the future together.

We’ve been like this all along, but I feel so much more aligned with Joel right now. He is way more present with me. Maybe the things I wrote before kind of woke him up. Maybe stepping forward to talk about these uncomfortable things made it possible for me to be more present with him. Either way, or both, I believe we are happier together than we have been in years.

Last night Joel came into the bathroom to keep me company while I got ready to go out. I had 20 minutes to be totally ready to walk out the door. As I finished applying mascara, he commented on my cleavage. I’m not even sure how it happened, but I was almost instantly out of my pants and underwear, balanced on the edge of the counter, bracing my feet against Joel’s shoulders as he buried his face in my cunt.

When the sensations got too intense to stand any more direct stimulation, I bent over the sink and asked him to give me a few swats. His hand landed a few well placed spanks, leaving my ass hot and stinging. My face was level with his cock when he unzipped his fly. I gave him a few strokes and looked up at him. I wanted to be fucked. Joel positioned himself behind me while I braced myself against the sink. It took us a moment to get him inside me because I was so wet. Feeling him thrust into me, pulling my hips back to meet him, made my toes curl in ecstasy.

He came, pushing deeper into me and holding back his orgasmic cries. We held position for a few moments, hearts pounding, breathing hard. Then he held me and we laughed. I wiped up and finished getting ready.

I thought about this encounter compared to the one I wrote about 2 weeks ago. In many ways what happened was the same – quick, in the bathroom, cunnilingus, fucking, no orgasm for me – but my experience of it couldn’t be more different. Two weeks ago I felt like I hadn’t fully consented, that I was being used, and that we weren’t connecting. Last night we made love in a way that I felt in control of, was super sexy for me, and brought us closer together. I made a conscious decision not to try bringing myself to orgasm because I wanted to spend my evening in that turned-on state. Call it prolonged foreplay. The time limit actually contributed to my ardor. I love a good quicky.

I am so much happier now than I was a few weeks ago. I wish I would have been brave enough, ready enough, to have these conversations with Joel sooner. I think that resentment kills relationships quicker than anything else. Letting go of the things I resented has let me feel close to him again. Communicating better about what I want has let Joel participate in my life in a way that we both want. I feel more involved in his life as well. Everything simply seems easier. I’m going to keep talking.

May 292014
 

TulipLast week I posted about my desire to deepen and improve my sexual connection with Joel. It sparked many conversations, giving both of us a chance to work through a bunch of stuff. I know that the things I said hurt him. He has always done his best to try to give me what I want, sexually and in all aspects of my life. I wish that I could have spared him that pain, but I am so grateful that we can talk about the things that hurt.

He asked if we could cuddle. We locked the bedroom door and snuggled under the blankets, our faces pressed close. It soothed me to feel his heart beat against the palm of my hand and his breath against my neck. One by one he brought up the things that felt painful and I listened. I reassured him that I think he’s a good person, and that I still choose him. I am bringing up the issue of our sex life because I care deeply and want our life together to be even better. I am advocating for my own pleasure even though I hate the conflict it inspires. I am teaching him how to help make me happier, which I know he wants.

We are lucky. At least we can have this conversation. At least each of us can look at the emotions that come up and see where they come from – see how the things that hurt most we first felt in childhood. We want to comfort each other. I know that if we can open up sex, love will pour over every hurt inside and help us heal.

With Joel spooned behind me and my emotions spread out to see, I began to be aware of him in a sexual way. I pressed my ass against his groin. I asked him to bite my neck. He complied with slow, sharp, sensuous nips. I picked up his hand and placed it on my breast, inviting him to squeeze and caress.  I was feeling that golden liquid desire that I love so much!

My hand found his cock straining against his jeans and I grabbed hold to stroke him. By this time I was kind of writhing around in lust. He slid his hand into my pants. I asked him if I was wet enough to fuck and he moved his fingers around to ascertain that I was indeed. He asked me what I wanted (yay!) and I said I wanted him to fuck me from behind. We had one of those moments where we were frantically trying to remove the necessary clothing.

It felt amazing.

He apologized before coming, because he knew I hadn’t orgasmed yet, but I didn’t care. I made him stay inside me while I ran my vibrator. When I couldn’t get the angle and pressure right, I rolled over to kiss him while focused on my pleasure. He stayed with me to the end.

We haven’t made love like that for a while. I still feel more connected to Joel, more open to him. I know we still have some things to work through, but I feel very hopeful. Maybe the answer is simply that I have to be brave enough to face my fears, speak up for what I want, and help my partner work through his fears too. I want him. I want us to be happy. I think we’re going for it. No flinching.