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.

Nov 192013
 

EvoëSometimes I want so much for Harold to take me. I love the safety we’ve created in our relationship around consent and equality, but every once in a while I deeply long for him to take my submission. It consumes me at times. I enjoy Topping him and all of the ways we connect, but it frustrates me to no end to have this particular part of my sexuality go ignored.

Perhaps I can’t expect one person to meet all my needs. It’s just that…we are so good together. He knows me so well. I can’t help having my feelings hurt. It feels like a rejection, or at the very best, that part of me is invisible to him.

We keep talking about my fantasies. It gets harder and harder for me to articulate my emotions and desires. My fear of rejection makes me anticipate it – maybe even create it. I want Harold to Top me so badly it’s like an ache in my throat, a pounding in my chest. The wanting itself feels dangerous. I want him to play with that energy, make the longing sexually charged, give me a container in which to come undone. I am so strong. It takes a strong person to persuade me to let go.

Harold has that kind of strength, but what I want him to do is alien to his nature. I don’t know how to teach him to Top me. I can get him to do Topping type activities: bondage, flogging, needle play, and the like. But what about the energy? How do I show him what I want emotionally?

As a strong empowered woman, I feel some embarrassment around wanting to be dominated. As a survivor of abuse, I feel some shame around wanting to be in a position that sometimes reminds me of being a victim. As an active partner in this relationship, I feel guilty for wanting to change our power balance, even temporarily. It makes everything come out sideways. How can I want something so much and not be able to speak clearly about it? It hurts so much.

When we talk about him being dominant, it turns me on. I have a thrill of excitement and danger similar to being on a roller coaster. I want this sooooo bad. I’ve had this feeling all morning as I think about our date today. This is a delicate balancing act for me. If I don’t keep the energy sexual and positive it turns into something closer to anxiety and squicky discomfort. I’ve been trying to manage the energy myself, but eventually had to check in with Harold.

He doesn’t understand and I don’t have the skill to try to show him. We are so good about everything else. Why does this particular fetish render me senseless? I want him. I want him to take me. I am here trying to keep this possibility open, but I feel crushed. Has he already rejected me? Will he find me in the place where I want to give myself? I’ll know in an hour.

Nov 052013
 

JoelI feel like Joel and I are getting our groove back. We are rediscovering our sexual connection. It’s not like we ever stopped having sex, but many years back it went from a passionate flood to an affectionate stream. We’ve found other ways of staying intimate and expressing our love – lots of hugging and caresses, talking about everything, weekly dates, sharing experiences, and taking care of each other. We know that skin-to-skin contact releases oxytocin (the “love hormone”) even without sex. Last night something happened that made me believe that we can have the passionate flood back.

Joel has some medical problems that have affected his libido and sexual performance. Recently, he’s taken charge of his health with overwhelmingly positive results, including a new sex drive like WHOA! All of a sudden he’s beating off every night with a cock that’s way bigger than it’s been for a decade. Sex feels good again. I’m so happy for him because I know it’s hard to be missing that part of yourself, but I’ve also had a difficult time adjusting.

My own sexuality has undergone a lot of changes since we were first together. It would not feel comfortable for me to try to pick up where we left off. The intensity of Joel’s desire right now tends to feel pressuring rather than flattering. We have been attempting to figure out how we want to be sexually together. I’ve gotten used to our relationship functioning the way it has for the last 10 years, but I want to have every part of Joel.

Last night, during our date, Joel had a brilliant suggestion. He recently read an article in Vice about the Orgasmic Meditation (OM) movement and One Taste. The idea is that two people spend 15 minutes focused on the clitoris. The One Taste website says, “It’s a meditation, equally powerful for both partners – only the object of focus is the clitoris.” They have some rules about what you are supposed to do, but Joel and I did what felt right to us.

It took me some time to relax into 15 minutes of pure clitoral stimulation. I wanted my vibrator so I could just come. I wanted to touch Joel’s cock which responded to his finger on my clit pretty much immediately. I really wanted to get fucked already. When I let go of all of that, I realized that I have never given Joel a guided tour of my clitoris before. He didn’t know that the very tip is super sensitive and likes a light tickle-like touch (maybe even a fingernail). When that got to be too much I showed him the bundle of nerves at the top of the hood that wants firm back-and-forth pressure. For 15 minutes we both connected with my body and that made me feel very open and loving with Joel.

I was right on the edge of orgasm for the whole time, without ever coming. I looked at him kneeling beside me with an expression between a blissful smile and a superior sneer on his face. It was obvious that he was experiencing OM as a Top, which made me laugh. Some things don’t change. I didn’t feel like I needed to bottom, but I appreciated that he was getting those needs met within the context of OM. At first 15 minutes seemed like an eternity, but as I got into meditative space, it was not nearly long enough.

All about the clitorisI was sort of disappointed when the timer went off. Then I realized that we were in a perfect position to play around. Joel’s cock is super sensitive, which is great for experiencing sensations, but I have to be careful not to let him come before I’m ready. We focused on my orgasm first – another teaching moment. Oral sex pushed each of us to the edge before we gave in to desire with some amazing doggy-style fucking. We finished with one more orgasm for me, assisted by some incredible nipple stimulation from Joel.

We are back in the groove! Our sex wasn’t particularly kinky, yet it pushed us in ways I couldn’t have predicted. Amazingly, this simple Orgasmic Meditation technique opened a door for us that I couldn’t even find. This gives us a tool to use if we need help finding our connection. I’m relieved and hopeful, finally seeing that the sexual relationship I’ve wanted is possible. It seems so obvious now that I don’t know why I never guessed: the way into my soul is through the clitoris.

 

Nov 012013
 

Beautiful morningA few days ago Harold (my partner in life, love, and hare-brained scheming) turned 65.  He’s not much for celebrating, but we wanted to do something special. Of course we wanted to make love, but what else? We couldn’t think of just the right thing until the day before. I don’t remember now, how tattoos came up. Initially it was sort of a dare or a jest, then we started talking about tattoos as a form of submission to each other – how cool it would be to channel the energy of pain and excitement into sexual energy.

What if I gave my pain to him while I was being marked by his symbol? What if he actually brought me to orgasm while I was being tattooed? We were intrigued by the possibilities, but neither of us was sure there was a permanent mark we were willing to take on. We had feverish conversations throughout the eve of his birthday. Optimistically I made us an appointment.

The next morning we got together early. I wanted to shower and spend some time connecting, so I started up some Janis Joplin and both of us squeezed into a shower clearly made for one. I adore hot water and slick soapy skin. Things were starting to heat up.

With his cock hard in my hand, I asked Harold what he wanted sexually. Like normal, he temporized, telling me to just go with what I felt was right. I’ve been pushing him more to think about and vocalize the things he desires, so I didn’t let him off the hook.

Going downHe began to talk about me punishing him somehow. I was in an excited sexy place, so it took me a few minutes to realize that the energy had changed between us. It stopped feeling sexy. I immediately centered myself and opened up to Harold. I sat him down on the toilet seat and straddled him, wrapping my arms around him. I could feel some pain from his childhood there – something that I had triggered when we fought  last week. We talked through it until it felt okay for us both. We do this kind of thing a lot and it makes for much better sex.

We walked down to the cabin in the glorious morning sunshine, wearing only shoes and coats. The chill air on my thighs and the thrill of being naked outdoors started to make me wet. There was already a fire going in the cabin. We proceeded to have some of the hottest sex we’ve had in a long time. He went down on me until I came. I strung him up in cuffs and did wicked things to his nipples and balls. I pushed him more than I ever have before and we both reached new heights.

IMG_3613When neither of us could wait another second, I bent over in front of him and let him fuck me from behind, his arms still suspended above his head. This is one of my favorite positions. I bent over the bed, where I had all of my tools spread out. He pounded into me. I rocked forward with each thrust, my breath coming out in harsh gasps, escalating to full throated moans, followed shortly by Harold’s ecstatic bellows.

Evidently my head was bumping my phone in the final throes of Harold’s birthday sex and Siri heard our vocalizations. Her voice surprised us, “I do not understand ‘who, who, who, who.’ I could search the Internet for you.” I laughed hysterically when I figured out what was going on.

From there we drove to to get tattoos, anticipation and anxiety sharing equal space. We knew what we wanted but we weren’t sure where. We talked through the positives and negatives of every possible location. Eventually we went with what felt right for each of us.

Harold and his tattooHarold went first. You have to understand that he’s never wanted a tattoo before. The fact that he celebrated turning 65 by getting his first tattoo is very inspirational to me. I think he enjoyed the process. He got spacey in a charming way, holding my hand. Afterwards, he was proud and blissed out. I love him so much.

This was not my first dance, but I was shocked by how intense the pain was in the tender flesh of my upper stomach. It got better over time, but initially there was no way that I could have sexualized that sensation. I’m just not a masochist. What I did do, over and over, was send the energy to Harold, giving him my pain, taking his mark. He held my hand and touched my face.

After, we were so high on endorphins. I felt amazing. We had so much fun.

We went home to my darling husband, who had prepared an incredible and gorgeous conch and squid ceviche just for Harold. Joel had even managed to find Harold’s favorite alcoholic beverage, Punt è Mes, which is rare in these parts. (Have I mentioned that sometimes it is unbelievably awesome to have two partners who care about each other?) The children had all made birthday cards and gotten him flowers. More glowy happiness!

Heart and delta tattooHarold spent some time talking with his wife and I put the kids to bed. We fell into each other’s arms and the softness of bed. Tired happiness gave way to gentle kisses. deep probing kisses became grinding gyrations. Without any thought we were making love again. Happy birthday Baby and many more…

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.

 

Jul 172013
 

kissA week without sex – too busy, too stressed, too sad to even get myself off in the shower. A serious lack that I feel in my bones, but at the end of the day I am sticky with sweat and bone tired. I am touched-out and depleted after caring for kids, dogs, chickens, gardens, house and home. I love these things, but my cup is empty. As a brilliant woman once said, I need a little a little sugar in my bowl.

The air presses against my skin like damp socks in hiking boots. I chafe against the weather and a sudden change in plans that threatens to prevent me from running away with Harold for a few hours. I need to unwind. I need to be the center of someone’s full attention for longer than a sentence. I long to be stroked and kissed and free of need. Our eyes meet over the head of our loquacious child and I know that he feels it too. We both pray for a release.

And we get it. Our planets align after all. We are quick to be out the door and into the forest. I feel lighter already. The atmosphere is different under the trees. With each step, I make an effort to let go of my stress. I picture myself as a tree shedding leaves, old dried up cares that no longer nourish me. It starts to rain.

I need to experience the rain with my whole body. Off go all of the clothes. We lie side by side, naked, as big warm drops fall. Finally my walls come down and I start to cry. His fingertips trace a pattern on my stomach, but he lets me have my space. I know he is with me. The rain washes everything away.

My mind drifts, blessedly free of the need to perform, while Harold’s hands caress my body. This is what I’ve needed – to be able to let go and have my love hold the space for a few moments. I come back to myself and lay on top of him, my skin hungry for more contact. My back is caressed by the light rain. I look into Harold’s eyes and see the whole world.

It still takes me a while to get to a place where I want to go further, despite a strong desire for intercourse. I’m on my period and I don’t really want him to go down on me, even though sometimes I love the messiness of it. Today is different, but we get me off anyway, with the canopy of green leaves above and his kisses on my breasts and his fingers inside me and the rain coming down.

Harold breaks the tension in my body like the rain broke the oppressive humidity. I come in twinges and spasms before letting the huge waves pass through my body. We both ride that wave as far as it goes.

Finally, I am wanting to give to him. His cock feels good in my mouth. I like the pressure on the roof of my mouth, the friction of movement, my tongue tracing the ridge of the head. This is where I feel closest to the divine. I could do this for hours but I start to ache for a different kind of fullness.

He enters me and I am riveted by his eyes. I often close my eyes in throes of passion, the experience being largely internal, but not now. I need to see him. I feel so raw. I am penetrated, pinned by cock and gaze, and it permeates some place inside me that has been unable to feel loved. I caress his face and he doesn’t look away. It feels almost unbearably honest to fuck this way. There is no place to hide.

It’s getting harder for him to meet my eyes as he get close to coming. His face contorts, eyes squeeze shut. For an instant I feel everything – the pulse of my cunt welcoming his cock and ready to take his jism, the trees and the forest around us, the sky and the rain kissing my skin, and the entire universe out there – and then my awareness collapses back to Harold’s hoarse cries as he thrusts into me. There is only this moment. I want it to go on forever.

We can’t get closer than this (but every time I think that, we find a way to get closer). My heart is wide open. I am so in love. Suddenly we are laughing and reality reinstates itself. We are covered in tears, sweat, menstrual blood, cum, and glorious rain. There are mosquitos. It’s getting dark and cold and we need to go home.

Nov 172012
 

Evoë and HaroldMarried 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 Harold and Evoëlaunch 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.

Nov 092012
 

Blyss and HoltAnyone 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.

Harold and HoltI 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.

Holt, Evoë, and HaroldJealousy 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.

 

Oct 142012
 

Aftercare doesn’t always get the attention it deserves. This week’s Sinful Sunday image is of me after a fairly intense power exchange/bondage/spanking/CBT/anal play scene, followed by fucking. When we were done basking in the glow, I went outside to get some fresh air and eat an apple. Harold snapped this candid shot of me getting the aftercare I needed. I like it because It’s just me. I’m not trying to look glamorous or be anything else. Strangely enough, it turns out that being me looks pretty sexy!

 

relaxing after a scene

 

To see what other people are doing for Sinful Sunday this week, click below!
Sinful Sunday

Jul 312012
 
Pleasure

Photo by David Steinberg

Occasionally I make mistakes. This time I even kind of knew that I was making mistakes. I’m choosing to call it a learning experience, but I am suffering a bit for this knowledge. I feel foolish, but I guess I might as well share what happened just in case I can save someone else from the same mistakes. Like so many interesting stories, it started with anal sex…

A few days ago, Harold and I had a date. We had been without a regular date for several weeks, so we were eager to be as deeply inside each other as possible. We did a lot of talking, catching up and syncing our energies. There was a fair amount of sensual play – snuggling, kissing, caressing, then licking, sucking, and fingering. But we both wanted anal play.

Please keep in mind that this was only our 3rd or 4th time having anal sex where I would be receiving. I tried to figure out how we could fuck each other in the ass at the same time. I had a few ideas, but we couldn’t do what we really wanted. We settled for Harold being penetrated with a toy and then fucking me. Lots of lube and anal play ensued. Then we got to the point where his penis was about to enter my back door.

Anal play

Photo by David Steinberg

We were both very turned on by this time, so I think our judgement was impaired. I did suggest that he wear a condom so we could just strip it off and not worry about clean up, since we were not anywhere near running water. He insisted that he was going to fill my ass with cum. (And here I made my first mistake!) I was so tickled by this idea that I believed him and didn’t insist on the condom.

He slowly entered me and it felt incredible. Before long he was pounding me hard. We fucked for maybe five minutes, and while it was beautiful and pleasurable, neither of us was coming this way. I added clitoral stimulation with a vibrator and came like crazy, but Harold still wasn’t close to an orgasm. So we decided we wanted to switch to penis-in-vagina sex.

I hope you can see where this is going…

Harold pulled out. There was no mess. But I wasn’t going to just let that cock go from my ass to my pussy. Not happening. I needed to clean him off somehow (and remember that we are without indoor plumbing) so I grabbed the first thing I could think of (this would be my second mistake) – some antimicrobial gel. I slathered gel all over Harold’s cock, making sure that it wasn’t irritating his skin and joking about what a bad lube it would make.

Now, I am a very sensitive girl. I can’t use most lubricants. I’ve tried a bunch and then a bunch more. Most lubes are very irritating to my vagina and many of them have a tendency to give me yeast infections. I don’t know what I was thinking when I put that gel on Harold’s penis, other than I desperately wanted to fuck him and I didn’t want to get a bladder or kidney infection by spreading fecal bacteria anywhere near my urethra. Hand sanitizer kills 99.99% of the most common germs that make you sick, right?

I did wait as long as I could for the alcohol to evaporate – perhaps a whole minute before I slid onto his cock. Then we fucked like crazy until we both came. Everything seemed good and wonderful. Until a day or two later.

Pegging

Photo by David Steinberg

I couldn’t figure out why I had such a bad yeast infection. Normally, as soon as I have any sign of an infection, I use boric acid capsules for a few days and all is right with my body. This time, it’s not helping at all. I start trying every trick I know of and a few I’ve never tried before to get my body back in balance. Finally, today it dawns on me – the hand sanitizer killed everything in my cunt, all of the microbial organisms, even the good bacteria that is supposed to be there. And then we filled my vagina with semen and all of the sugars it’s made up of.

Perfect. What was I thinking? Ah, I wasn’t thinking, but I am now. Harold and I have talked it through and we have a plan for the next time we want to have anal sex. We will use a condom and gloves for any anal penetration. And never, will I ever, get antimicrobial gel anywhere near my pussy. Call it learning the hard way.

 

Related posts:

  • Anal play cautionary tale
  • The coffee enema debacle
  • Falling over the edge (play)
  • All about the anal play
  • Foiled by epic fungus