Spirituality

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…

Oct 122016
 

It’s the kind of autumn day that feels sweet and sad. The sun suddenly breaks through the clouds, setting a million droplets of rain sparkling. Bright leaves crunch under my feet and the scent of wood smoke is in the air. In another few moments the sky will darken and the wind will make the cedar boughs sway. This season reminds me that all things continue to change. I must let go of the old so that I may create anew. While I might still lust for the hot long days of summer, the only way to find them again is by moving forward.leaves

The legal divorce is final. It’s what I wanted, but seeing the official papers made me cry. I remember when our lives together held so much potential. It’s humbling to realize that he’s doing so much better without me. I don’t think he’s sees how well he’s doing yet because this change is painful, but I am proud of him. As we make our way through this healing process, both alone and together, I see that we are finding a way to share our lives and our family that is more authentic.

As the trees shake off their clothes and prepare to dream through the winter, so too am I stripping down to the barest essence of myself and exploring the infinite possibilities. The deeper I go, the more I find my heat, my passion. I feel grounded and alive.

To balance my grief, I am also happier now than I have ever been in my life. It feels wrong to be so happy when other people are not. It’s hard to disentangle, difficult to stop taking care of everyone, but I’m working on boundaries. I working on letting relationships be what they actually are.

I don’t have words for my relationship with Harold. We are primal forces. When he opens his arms to me, it is like falling into warm ocean waves. When we kiss, it’s like the universe opens up and I witness the birth of stars. His touch makes me shiver with excitement like a spring breeze tickling the back of my neck. We talk for hours because the exchange of ideas is like lightning. We cry because the rain isn’t enough to hold the emotions of the world. The fertile energy of our sex creates a new life for us and for our family.

The sex has been so good lately.

I’ve always had such a beautiful connection with Harold. Our sexual repertoire is vast: sweet, kinky, silly, easy, cuddly, hot, lingering, loud, passionate, intense, playful. What amazes me is that we keep expanding into new territory. Harold has been Topping me in a delicious way lately. Like a toe curling, orgasms rolling, psyche bending kind of way.  Increased trust between us means that our walls are down and we are more spontaneous. We are generally people who have sex 2-3 times a week, but lately it’s often more like 2-3 times a day. I am profoundly grateful for this connective time and the healing it brings.

sheepskin-and-leavesI need to be healed. It’s terrifying to be so close to another human. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable to being hurt. Every single time I face my fears, and we talk through another layer of emotions. I shed more of the tropes that once kept me safe, like the trees that line the road. To hold onto them at this point would jeopardize my survival. We need to be healed. We keep leaning in until all that’s left is the truth of our souls.

I may be turning my energy inward now as the autumn leaves tell me it’s time to hoard resources, but I am also blessed by new possibility in my life. I look forward to a long, dark, cozy winter. We will see what blossoms in the spring.

Oct 282015
 

bark dryAt first I thought I had a yeast infection, a common enough occurrence for me. I treated with more probiotics and some boric acid capsules. When that didn’t work I begged my provider for Fluconazole. I was getting ready to go away for the weekend and the burning discomfort was getting worse. I decided that maybe I had a urinary tract infection. We debated seeking emergency medical care, but in the end, I just drank about a gallon of straight cranberry juice with some herbal remedy type stuff added to it all weekend and tried to get through it.

When we got home it was so bad I couldn’t sleep. We went to the emergency room at 2:00 a.m. because I needed to do something as soon as possible. I decided that as unlikely as it seemed, I must have a sexually transmitted infection, perhaps chlamydia or gonorrhea. For the first time in my life, I hoped and prayed that I had an STI, so I could take antibiotics and feel better in a couple of days.

They did indeed give me antibiotics, although it takes two days for the test results to come back. I was negative for yeast, UTI, or anything else they could get a rapid response on, but they want to make sure to cover their bases on those STI’s. I was given very strong antibiotics, which my chart clearly stated I was allergic to. Also, these gave me a yeast infection. Two days later my test results came back: all negative.

My awesome nurse practitioner talked to me about menopause and vaginal dryness. She prescribed an estrogen cream and told me to use tiny amounts. It burned like fire on my vulva for hours. I investigated and discovered that the cream contains propylene glycol, something my body hates vigorously. I had the cream reformulated at a compounding pharmacy, without the offending ingredient, but it was still irritating. We did blood work and found out that I’m not yet going through menopause.

I am not always good at describing or localizing a sensation. What I’ve been feeling continuously for the past two months (and intermittently before then) is usually a kind of burning feeling, just below my urethra, kind of partly on my vulva and partly inside. Sometimes there is more of a stabby sensation or needles, occasionally something like an itch or irritation. The awareness of discomfort never really goes away.

I wish it was some other part of my body, even a frequently used finger. A different body part wouldn’t carry all this difficult emotional baggage. A finger that hurt all the time wouldn’t be an uncomfortable and hateful reminder of childhood secrets. This pain is not severe, but I feel sick with it, immobilized, powerless. I am desperate to make it stop. I’ve spent too many years reclaiming my sexuality to lose it all so easily. I feel furious and then helpless all over again.

bits of fluffI went to see my therapist. We spiraled in and out many times, tying together the pieces of me then and now, making it easier for me to bear the current pain without the echoes of childhood trauma. In the moments when I felt like I might go mad she smiled and patted the back of my hand. In a stroke of brilliance, she referred me to a naturopathic doctor who is also a sex therapist.

The naturopath has been a great help. She’s given me hope, which is what I really need. And a name for my affliction, vulvodynia, which I suppose makes me feel less alone. Our first appointment consisted largely of her laying out all of the possible treatment options. She promises that I won’t be in pain forever. So far, we haven’t found the right solution. The only thing that seems to give any relief is ice. I suspect that the answer may lie in treating some GI issues I have and/or some pelvic floor physical therapy.

The doctor mentioned a need for spiritual healing in addition to everything else, a soul retrieval. No, it’s not science, but there is so much more to healing than science. So I’ve just come back from three nights at the hot springs. In the best Victorian way, I’ve been to take the waters and find healing. It hasn’t been what I hoped. In fact, I feel more dismantled than miraculously cured, but I have learned something very important: it’s okay for me to be exactly where I am.

flowIt’s okay to read aloud about King Arthur instead of having kinky sex. It’s okay to cry most of the way home. It’s okay for me to hurt and feel sad and be angry and even to want to quit. The important thing for me to know right now is that I am loved for me, not the role I play. Unlike my childhood experience, I now have amazing resources that can use to fight my problems. I am rich in love. It’s seems strange to say when I feel like I am going crazy, but I am full of gratitude for the people in my life.

Aug 082015
 

A cloudy summer afternoon in the tree house…

Naked in the tree house

…feeling the air on my skin…

Leaf

…talking about serious things while the leaves drift down…

Foot play

…he begins to stir under my foot…

From behind

“What does it look like from up there?”

Intensity

…the sweetest release…

Satisfaction

…relaxed, smug, and connected to the universe…

Blood offering

…a single drop of blood left in thanks.”

 

 

See what other people have been doing for this Sinful Sunday!

Sinful Sunday
Mar 292015
 

“There’s a park coming up on the left, just before the bridge. Let’s go check it out.” Just in time, he sees the turn I mean and swings the car around. We bump down the gravel drive toward the water. The parking lot is empty except for a park ranger’s truck. I groan inwardly. I guess we aren’t going to fuck in the car.

In the dirtWe get out and casually walk down the beach, arm in arm. There are maybe a dozen small boats at anchor along this stretch, but I don’t see anyone on board. My feet shift and slide on the rocks. The air smells of sea and rain. We’ve just missed a spring downpour. As we continue down the shore, around a bend to a place where trees grow out over the water, the sounds of traffic on the bridge fade into the background.

Now out of sight of the parking lot, we stop and kiss. A warm tingly feeling starts at the soles of my feet and rises up, filling my body with golden desire. We pull each other closer. I am deeply rooted in the moment, no longer aware of the cold or our surroundings. Love fills me until I feel that my chest can no longer contain the heat of my desire. I open to him, send my energy to flow into him with my breath. He gasps with the pleasure of it and I know that he feels me.

Cool treeFor a moment I transcend my body, this beach, everything. My consciousness soars and I am a part of all things. He brings me back with his passionate hands roaming my body. I pull away to see his eyes. I want to make love with him. Immediately.

“Let’s go check out that cool tree!” I say, imagining how awesome it would be to have sex on the broad trunk that slopes out 10 feet over the beach. The tree is amazing, but I suddenly feel too exposed. I scan the area for just the right place. There, up the hill a bit.

We climb an impromptu creek bed, rain water running back to the Sound. The fresh scent of the soil squishing under our feet turns me on even more. Part of me feels primal. Part of me is giggling over being transgressive.

We reach the spot I’d picked. We have a great view of the Hood Canal Bridge in it’s entirety, but no one will spot us. Anyone on the boats could see us, but probably won’t. Ditto for park goers. It has just the right balance of public and private to get my juices flowing.

Going down by the SoundWe aren’t sure what to do next. We kiss and feel each other up with growing intensity. I straddle a mossy log and lay back, letting him undo my pants and pull them down to below my knees. He presses his face between my thighs while I contort and hang on with all I’m worth. The colloquial saying about something being as easy as falling off a log runs through my head, but it feels fantastic.

I really want to fuck! I convince him to stop and let me suck his cock. We usually take more time than this, but I am excited. I want him to fuck me from behind. We try it one way while straddling the log, pants pulled down. Then the other, hoping that the angle would be better. Finally I order him to lie on the forest floor and I squat over him.

I easily return to that sensation of being both extremely present and one with everything. I open myself to the world all around us, yet we are alone together in a bubble of our love. Every time I slide up and down the length of his cock, waves of pleasure ripple through my body. The sensations build. I feel my orgasm approaching and I move faster. His face contorts and I can tell he is also near. I draw the moment out, savoring that blissful anticipation, before giving myself over.

Almost thereHis cries ring out over the water as he finds release. I laugh until the muscles in my cunt push him out. I love him so much. I love him like this, on his back in the moss and ferns, by the water, his pants down around his knees. I feel happy and alive. We have so much fun together.

We dust off the dirt and leaves. We find a safer way down the hill to the rocky beach. We kiss and hold hands and look for interesting rocks. Back at the car we notice that the ranger’s truck is gone. We gaze into each other’s eyes, reliving that moment in the woods. We didn’t even get caught this time.

Feb 212015
 

The secret to life I hold the secret to life. I am a sensualist waiting for the whisper of my lover’s lips along my sensitive hollows. I am a maenad dancing under the full moon, firelight bathing my naked wine-drenched body. I am a bon vivant indulging my palate in lush culinary delights. I am a bodhisattva, seeking passionate wisdom through emotional magnitude, from profound compassion to empowering rage. I am an intellectual filling my mind with an endless stream of knowledge. I am a dynamo working incredibly hard at the task at hand. The secret to life.

The secret to life as I know it, is to fill your being with experience, to live to the fullest. Living is a practice. Every day is a fresh canvas, allowing us to explore ourselves, others, the world around us with all of the depth and intensity we can muster. Each new dawn presents us with unlimited possibilities, each dusk brings a velvet looking glass in which we can reflect upon our dreams and adventures. The sweetness of life should be savored. The sorrows of life should flow through you like a river, carving the channels of your soul deeper, sweeping away the sediment and showing you where to go next.

Find your joy. Change is constant, so do the things that make your life worth living, right now. Use all the colors in your crayon box. The world is painted in every imaginable hue. Saturate yourself. Mix shades. Strip down. Throw out the box.

The secret to lifeBelieve in something bigger than yourself. I don’t care if you give glory to God or understand the universe, as long as it frees you to feel your fully powerful self. The secret of life is to take up all of your space. You are a uniquely quirky individual. Be as big as you can be. Anything else is a waste of your time.

Be present in the moment. Now deserves all of your attention. Work through the pain of the past so you can move through the present unhindered. Make reasonable plans for the future, but focus on the tasks at hand. Play hard. Pet the cat. Prepare fabulous food.

The secret of life is not to try to avoid anxiety, but to thrive while being alive to every fear that casts a shadow on our souls. The secret to life is that mistakes are necessary. That’s how we grow, how we know what doesn’t work. Each of us is striving to be our most perfect selves but we are, none of us, perfect. Not on this plane of existence. We are all grasping, groping, exploring, learning, yearning to understand. You are good enough just as you are. All humans are. The secret to life is forgiveness.

Love as much as possible. Start with yourself, but open your heart to your beloved. You will get hurt, but not because you are undeserving of love. If you love yourself first, you will know whether to unflinchingly forgive or whether to walk away and try again. When you love be blatantly blissful until it no longer causes a stir. Let yourself be changed by love. In this way, you honor your connection to all the people on the planet

The secret to lifeDo what you can to help others because giving heals us. Smile at a stranger, hug your kids, leave nature better than you found it. Listen, recycle, donate. Laugh aloud. Make time. Pay it forward. Showing compassion lets your light shine on someone else’s darkness and haven’t you felt despair before? You make a difference simply by being.

Plainly, the secret to life is to experience, to grow, to feel as much as you can with what you have. But this is merely my truth. All of this insight I can impart to you, and you still won’t know the secret to life unless you seek answers within yourself. I am a poet lost in the silence of my own words ­– a key without a lock, a bee without a hive, a priest without a prayer. Your own secret to life is yours to unravel.

Dec 232014
 

For the seventh night of Chanukah I got to try suspension bondage for the first time! I guess DW had a personal challenge to complete a different suspension for each night of Chanukah. I love bondage, but this was my first try at suspension. Guess what, it’s fabulous!

Bondage makes me giddy. I grin a lot and get goofy. Being tied up tends to relax me. I was a little nervous about being suspended, but DW is so competent and solid. I knew I was in good hands. I liked the feeling of flying, and of having different parts of my body supported. There was a bit of a feeling of being on display or made pretty that was totally hot. Also, there’s just something about being restrained that makes me feel safe and cared for.

I was surprised to find that suspension bondage brought up some of my body issues. Like, that deep down I’ve always thought that I was way to heavy to be suspend. In fact, when I look at the pictures, the first thing I think is that I look fat, not how cool the rope work is. I am usually way more comfortable in my body than that! I was also interested to discover that I am fairly motion sensitive. Thankfully, DW didn’t want me to hurl on his pretty white carpet, so he didn’t spin me round.

Suspension bondage is really freeing. I can see it being a part of many of my fantasies – being on display, having many people’s hands on me while being helpless to move. Even the idea of being fucked while suspended because of the motion and different pressure points. I’m sure it would have it’s challenges, but the idea turns me on!

Suspension bondage

Bondage reflection

In his hands

Yay! Suspended!

 

Thank you DW for an awesome experience! Next time I’ll make sure to allow more time to explore the possibilities…

Jan 232014
 

Lusting at GoldmyerThis is a lust song,
A poem about how I always want you,
How when we hike hand in hand
I am mentally undressing you.

I like how we talk while we walk,
Watching your mouth form the words
As they spin through my thoughts
Forming images in my head of us in bed.

This is a lust song,
A poem about the magic of your presence,
Our headlamps making the ice a glittering landscape,
And the steam of your breath on my lips.

Lusting at GoldmyerDon’t you know that I adore your naked form?
When I lie beside you in the hot springs,
Gazing through the branches to the stars
You are more brilliant by far.

This is a lust song,
A poem about longing that is seldom satiated for long.
Huddled away from the winter cold, your hands are bold,
They leave me gasping and greedy.

Lusting at GoldmyerYour eyes connect me to your soul,
I am hungry, I thirst for you,
I need to take you in your truest form,
It’s more than flesh that keeps me warm.

This is a lust song,
A poem about both weakness and strength.
You are the melody I can’t get out of my mind,
You are three hours spent sweating in a cold tent.

Remember how we could fly down the hill,
Heedless of the gathering dark?
That is a lust song,
A poem about conviction. And friction.

Dec 232013
 

Evoë on datingI never thought I’d see the day, but I actually met a man I’m interested in dating on OKCupid. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to date. I’ve never really done it before — what I’m used to is letting friendships evolve over time into sexual and/or romantic relationships. As a result, I’m finding my current interest rather excruciating. Getting to know each other is fascinating, and playing with our mutual attraction is exciting, but we haven’t earned each other’s trust yet. I’m tearing myself up inside over this guy with whom I’ve spent exactly 90 minutes in person.

I’m really taken with him – he’s intelligent, very physically fit, good looking with a gorgeous smile, spiritual without being religious, a good communicator, and deeply respectful. I was impressed when I asked him for more photos and he didn’t send me a cock shot. Perhaps my favorite thing is that he’s very sexual without seeming desperate or sticky. He wants a chance to explore his sexuality and this appeals to me on many levels. I get so much pleasure out of helping people open up and showing them new things.

But not having established trust is getting to me. I don’t know how to find a good balance. My desire wants to just go for it, make a sexual connection, and use it to build trust later. The rest of me is freaking out a bit. I’ve been through date rape, and I certainly don’t want to put myself in that position again.

I sense that he’s not being totally forthcoming with me. I can’t find him in a Google search, which may mean that he’s being private online or it may mean that he isn’t who he says he is. He told me that he wouldn’t want me to blog about him because he likes his secrecy. I’m violating that request right now because it’s essential to me to be able to talk about my feelings and my process. I’m thinking about being alone with him, vulnerable and intimate, without really knowing who he is. How do I know he can be held accountable? What is a reasonable amount of faith before you have a solid foundation of trust?

He tells me he’s married, been married for over 20 years. They’ve just recently opened their marriage. This could be a very good thing for me, since I am so busy with my family that I have very little time and energy to give to another relationship. But here is my warning bell: he and his wife evidently have a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. He doesn’t want to meet my other partners and he won’t be telling his wife about us. He seemed confused by me trying to explain that I tell my husbands everything. Actually, I am unlikely to share his private confessions, but I would certainly be telling them about my emotional experience and the overall shape of the relationship. I don’t want to have to keep one part of my life separate from the others, and I doubt I’m even capable of it. I am profoundly suspicious of anything that must be kept secret. How, for example, do I know that I’m not causing harm to his wife?

There is also the body hair issue. After it became clear that we are attracted to each other, he asked me if I shave below the neck. While I’ve shaved in the past (body, head, everything at one time or another), I am currently really enjoying my body in a natural state. I love my hairy armpits. I trim my pubic hair, but I won’t be getting a Brazilian any time soon. I think I look ridiculous with a bald pussy and I hate going down on someone all stubbly. I don’t find shaved genitals attractive in general, but I do respect people’s right to do things they like with their body.

For him, however, this seems to be a deal breaker – he says he can’t get turned on if his partner has body hair below the neck. In his favor, he has wanted to know why it seems important to me not to shave. He is respectfully waiting to see what I want to do. Do I want to modify my body to make him happy? Don’t I want him to like me the way I am?

I suspect he may want clandestine sex. An affair. I understand the allure of something forbidden, a kind of exciting shame-fueled sexual adventure. I understand the attraction to the fetish-like taboo of secretive sex, but this is so not me. He says that he’s interested in my passion for normalizing sex, so I’m curious to see if he’s willing to step out of his comfort zones to meet me. But how far should I go to meet him? Where is the right balance between pleasing a prospective lover and holding your own boundaries?

I’ve been enjoying our interactions – mostly texting or sexting. I’m having fun! Sadly, this week is super busy. I had to cancel the second meeting we had scheduled because I am so overwhelmed with holidays, work, and child wrangling. Since I broke that appointment, I haven’t heard from him. Maybe he’s giving me space in this crazy chaotic time. Maybe he’s given up on me. Maybe, like me, he’s trying to figure out how to trust.

I’m not sure how to do this dating thing. I’ve had sex with strangers in the heat of the moment, but never this negotiation of preferences and boundaries, dreaming of steamy relationship potential while trying to navigate all the risk factors. Figuring out public transportation in a foreign country has caused me less stress than this. And yet… I want him. I want him to meet my challenge.

Oct 012013
 

Wrapped in a sheetHave you wondered what it would feel like to make love for hours on end? Could you take sex to such a sacred level that everything you do together is about sustained attraction and pleasure? Could you open your heart and let your partner flow through you?

We had 40 hours alone together in an alpine chalet. We made love for every minute of it, so happy to share company, so enraptured by each other’s pleasure, that everything we did was infused with love. Every time we are together we create a bond that goes deeper.

We made love for 40 hours, holed up in a tiny rundown a-frame. I said “made love”, not fucked, although we did lots of fucking. No, I mean we created love between us. We slept wrapped in each other’s arms, breathing in the scent of our sweat on each other’s skin. We slept in blissful golden safety.

When we woke in the morning, our desire peaked. The river rushed by our window and we simply merged – his mouth driving me wild, fingers inside me, my orgasm stretching out, taking his proud erection in my mouth.  We paused as he entered me. Is this what we wanted? We had all day…

Almost thereBut I’m all for taking pleasure in the moment. We never know what will come. No regrets, fuck now and hope fore more later. We fucked and the sweetness built between us. He filled me with his jism.

For 40 hours we made love with every action. We nibbled on finger foods, drank orange juice and coffee. I feel loved when I am fed. He shows love by providing for me. Food is such a sensual joy when we take time to enjoy it.

I meditated on the bed, feeling his presence strong beside me. I spiraled deep inside myself, seeing everything laid out before me. Anchored by his love, I healed parts of me that had been broken. Stretched out beside his warm body, I experienced a clarity that is often elusive. When I opened my eyes to his smile, I knew he could feel it too.

We cuddled in the hot tub, rain pouring down, but the mountains gorgeous around us. I couldn’t keep my fingers from his skin. I watched his lips when he talked, needing to kiss them.

We surrounded ourselves in music, filling the small space with rhythms and lyrics that conjured up our past, times before we were together and since our lives have slowly grown together. Sometimes the music felt like it was my whole being and sometimes it was the backdrop of our conversation. We danced.

Harold made upI laid him out in front of the gas fireplace. Naked in a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, I sat on his hips and made up his face. Touching a lover’s face is one of the most intimate things I can imagine and I loved making him my art. I was conscious of my cunt moist against his semi-erect cock, but I was intent on applying eyeliner. He never looks effeminate in make-up, it’s more that his fey nature shines through.

Talking seamlessly moved into oral sex and back. I hovered on the edge of orgasm. We fucked in spurts, laced with making out and kinky bits. I spanked him with a hairbrush, but it was my soft caresses that made him cry. We made love before and after eating, in and out of the hot tub, all over the cabin. Always, we stopped short of coming, letting our energy build.

We tumbled into bed, a bit sore, yet still full of need. A storm raged outside and the power went out, plunging us into total darkness. I felt afraid and slept holding his hand, a flashlight clutched in the other. There was a kind of isolation in that darkness, like being wrapped in a cocoon, but in some way we were still making love. It was just the two of us, far away from the rest of the world.

In the morning, he pampered me – an array of breakfast delights, my vibrator, and kisses all over. I finally found release with the help of his hands and it was incredibly sweet. I took over and spent some time focused on his body. It’s such a gift to have him give himself to me like that.

End of the weekendWe talked more in the hot tub. He broke through some wall I didn’t know was there. One moment we were drying off and the next I was crouched on the floor sobbing. He wrapped his whole body around me and held me while grief thundered out of me. I dripped snot into his hair.

We cleaned up and left. It wasn’t nearly enough, it’s never enough, but we so desperately need these times to connect with each other. We had 40 hours together in a run-down a-frame and we made every second count. What I know is that every second always counts. I want to make love every moment because I don’t know how much time we’ll have together in this world, but the love we make is real and will stay with me forever.