Dec 262013
 

Wrapped in lightsI’ve discovered that the normal holiday stresses are greatly alleviated by lots of sex. All the orgasms put me in a floaty, happy place full of love and tolerance. Whiny, overexcited little children? Let’s cuddle and tell stories. Partner’s anxiety spilling over? Oodles of hugs and kisses. It’s all good. The best gift I got this year was the space and time to make love as much as I wanted because it made every aspect of my holiday deeply satisfying.

It started Christmas Eve morning when I was sitting in bed working on my computer. Joel leaned over and said, “I want to go down on you for about 45 minutes. You don’t even have to put down your coffee, just lift your laptop.” Well of course I put my computer down. And it certainly wasn’t 45 minutes before I begged him to put his fingers inside me and use the vibrator. As soon as I came, I wanted him to fuck me. I came again when he did. Harold walked through the bedroom a minute later and we talked about how nice it would be for the three of us to go away again.

Harold and I took advantage of the holiday by having a longer date than normal. We’ve been getting 2 or 3 hours (for which I am extremely grateful), but Christmas Eve we were able to get 6 hours – 6 whole hours of debauchery! In the little cabin, on the soft down comforter, in front of the roaring fire, we slowly melted into each other. We made love in that place where our bodies were merely receptive units for sensation, our egos on vacation, our emotions perfectly in sync. We fucked in waves, sweat covering our skin, then stopped to kiss tenderly, or massage each other’s muscles, or engage in oral sex. I milked his prostate to take his jism then fucked him some more.

He gave me the best spanking of my life. He turned me over his knee and placed the vibrator against my clit. As his gentle pats built to stinging swats then firm paddling, I entered a drifty meditative space. I could have done that forever, it felt so good. Harold started proposing marriage to me. I laughed and said that we are already married. He pleaded for me to marry him, saying, “If you don’t say yes, I’ll stop.” In that frame of mind, I couldn’t puzzle out what I was supposed to do so he would keep spanking. (I still haven’t given him an answer on the proposal, but he knows I’m his.)

We rejoined the family just in time for the amazing dinner that Joel had prepared, the excitement of the children, and my grown-up daughter joining us. We had fabulous fun together as a family. We ate, drank, played games, snuggled, and laughed. I often feel exceedingly lucky in the life I have created for myself. This is the first year that I haven’t been a total stress monster about the holidays, trying to make sure every detail is perfect. It’s the first year I felt like it was safe to just be me and not worry about inadvertently offending my metamour with how much I adore our shared husband. It feels great.

Christmas morning, as usual, I was the first person awake. I love stockings, love the Santa mythos. It’s my favorite part of the holidays and really the only reason we celebrate Christmas. By 5:00 am my son was awake and quivering with excitement. We managed to put him off for an hour and a half so everyone else could wake up a bit, but I love him for being 12 and still believing in the magic. That sense of wonder and excitement is something I nurture and cherish in my children.

I totally believe in Santa. That guy brought me a good webcam so I can make naughty videos, and a bunch of sexy new panties, and a TENS unit so I can treat my sore muscles (and/or zap his balls until he comes). I can’t decide if he thought I was naughty or nice.

After Santa presents it was time to exchange family presents, but I needed to run home (just around the corner) and take care of the animals. I asked Harold to come with and keep me company. We took care of the chickens and the dogs. We wondered what things we should grab and take back with us. Then suddenly, I was totally turned on and we fucked quickly and efficiently, bringing me a couple of much appreciated orgasms.

Passionate kissLater, after the presents were all opened and before more family showed up, there was a natural lull. The children played with their new things or watched a movie. I tried to get the youngest to nap, but instead ended up between both of my guys, the little one off to play quietly with her brothers. I think I must be a naughty girl. My partners both fucked me, one after the other so I was loaded with come. There was something about that sweaty, giggly, cozy, semi-secretive sex that makes me so happy. It makes me feel like I belong to both of them, without either of them having any issues with the other, and without competition. I love them both and they love me. And they even love each other!

I spent the afternoon working on the kids’ gingerbread house and taking the older children to fire rifles in the woods. We played more games and ate dinner. I so rarely have unstructured time. It feels incredible to just do what I feel like doing. Not surprisingly, what I want to do is show the people that I care about how much I love them. What a gift to make love when I feel like it! What a joy to spend time with my family just having fun! I am full of gratitude for the best Christmas I’ve ever had.

Nov 082013
 

PolyamoryMy polyamory has taken the form of a multi-parent family for the past six years. We’ve made it through some rough stuff as a unit, but the other night we had a serious medical emergency that made me realize how good we are together. In the day-to-day it’s easy for me to see our challenges as a poly family, but it took a crisis to make it clear that the sacrifices we make to be together have a clear pay-off.

Polyamory can look lots of different ways, as every relationship is different. Our family consists of two legally married couples: me and Joel, and Harold and Melanie. Harold and I also consider ourselves married. Our ceremony was performed by Melanie and Joel, and witnessed by around 70 of our friends and relatives. The four of us came together as a family when we decided to have a child together. Over time, we have come to all parent the five children I gave birth to. The oldest is now launched in out in the world, largely thanks to Melanie’s support of her.

A few nights ago something happened that made me scared of losing everything.  The night started well. Harold and I fell asleep talking about how he is starting to show his age physically. I am fascinated to see the body I know better than my own begin to transform. I want to reassure him that I desire spending time with him in his body, no matter what kind of condition that body is in. We were also discussing estate planning and our fears that the other one will die first. I fell asleep with my head on his chest. We were feeling blessed in our intimacy.

Four hours later, Harold got up and went into the bathroom, suddenly feeling intensely dizzy and nauseous. I knew immediately that something was not right. A few minutes later he was lying on the floor, unable to move, sweating so profusely that a puddle formed in his belly button. His breathing was so labored that each rapid exhale ended in a moan. I called 911 and tried to get Melanie. Although I was unable to get her (her phone’s ringer was off), it still felt reassuring knowing that she was right around the corner.

I mobilized the older children to help guide the first-responders upstairs. Thankfully, I managed to keep any of the children from seeing Harold when he was so ill. No need to worry them more. It wasn’t until I had two ambulances full of paramedics in the house that I realized how ill suited we are for this sort of thing. With the crystal clarity of crisis management I saw how long it’s been since I cleaned the master bathroom and how Christopher Lowell lied and you really need more than 18 inches of walking space. Also, with two long flights of stairs, a gurney is not an option.

All this came to me in a place of total calm. I answered questions. I put my hand on Harold’s feet (the only part of him I could reach) to reassure him that I was there. He was still responding to questions, but he felt far away. I ran logistics in my head. I tried to call Melanie again. I asked questions about his status. I ignored my fear. I reassured the children and explained what was happening.

The medics moved Harold down to the bottom stairs, carrying him on a piece of canvas with handles. I’m not sure how. I watched them pass by me, Harold’s head and arm bouncing over the side. He was pale and didn’t know I was there. A sliver of fear made its icy way through my calm.

I left the children in capable hands of my teen, stopping to snuggle the little one for a moment. She slept through many men tromping through the room with all kinds of equipment. For a split second I wondered if she would ever see her daddy again. Forcing those thoughts away, I went down to the ambulance. Harold had passed the heart evaluation, which was a huge relief. A paramedic joked with me, skillfully relieving a bit of my tension. I went into the ambulance to let Harold know that I would go get Melanie and we would meet them at the hospital. He showed no signs of hearing me.

Once in the car, I called Joel. He was out of town, two hours away. I knew that he would drive to my side in a heartbeat, but right then all I needed was his strength and understanding. I shed a few tears in the safety of the dark, feeling his voice like a hug. He loves Harold too.

I went and woke up Melanie. It felt very surreal to have to explain to her. Harold and I have done many adventurous sexual things where I was afraid I would have to call 911 (and Melanie) and explain what happened: the coffee enema, the needle through his balls, ejaculating blood, and possible drowning by golden shower – to name a few. This was like my worst nightmares coming true, but I hadn’t even done anything this time! I didn’t express this to Melanie, but her presence was very reassuring. I had an ally, someone who had as much to lose as I did.

The whole drive to the emergency room, in the dark stormy rain, I felt exceptionally close to Harold. I talked out loud to him, telling him that we would be there soon, that he wasn’t alone, that he needed to stay on this plane. I could feel him as though he was in the car with me. I was both glad for his presence and alarmed that he wasn’t more with his body. I worried that he might die before I got there. Then I got lost on the way to the hospital.

Again, Melanie was very sweet and helped me get my bearings. As it was, we arrived just after Harold did. We swept into the reception area, empty except for a woman behind the desk. We announced our desire to see Harold. The woman brightened, “Is one of you his wife?” Melanie and I both paused and looked at each other. We’ve never rehearsed this situation. “I’m his wife and Evoë is another family member,” Melanie said smoothly. This meant that Melanie got to sign all of the paperwork and hand over the insurance card. I have one in my wallet too. We had to wait while they got Harold settled into a room. I was ready to kick down doors to get to him.

After a couple of minutes (that felt more like an eternity), they led us to his side. We naturally flanked him, petting him and speaking to him. It was hard to see him with his skin ashen, covered with tubes and wires. He opened his eyes a little and saw us both there. “I am so lucky,” he murmured. I bent down to his ear so he could hear me, “You are lucky. I know that it isn’t comfortable in your body right now, but you need to come back. Your body needs you. We need you.”

His system was in shock. They treated him for possible inner ear disturbances, dehydration, and hypothermia. At first the nurse seemed concerned, but after a while he started breathing better and his body temperature rose. Melanie and I comforted each other and talked to Harold about each step the medical staff wanted to take. The doctor was great. Actually, everyone we saw treated us with respect, even after Melanie explained that we were both Harold’s partners. We each had important information to contribute about Harold’s medical history.

At some point Melanie quietly apologized for calling me Harold’s partner because she didn’t thnk they would understand him having two wives. Partner is my preferred relationship designation because I’m not wild about being anyone’s wife, but I was deeply touched at her thoughtfulness. I know that she considers my connection to Harold to be as intimate and as valid as her own. This is such a gift to me. In that moment of crisis, her recognition made me feel seen and supported. I know that she will never try to shut me out of Harold’s life, even when she has a right to legally.

Harold bounced back remarkably swiftly. He went from unable to move to getting up to walk to the bathroom in about 90 minutes. I left to get our children off to school, leaning on Joel some more over the phone as I drove home. Harold and Melanie were home 45 minutes after I was. We still don’t really know what happened. He suspects it was some sort of poisoning. He says it’s the worst he’s ever felt in his life. He spent the day sleeping mostly and woke up this morning like always and went to work.

I am so thankful. I’m grateful that this is likely an anomaly. Now that the emergency is over, life has lost that keen edge and the surreal quality, my fears are bubbling up. I’m processing like crazy. What has distilled for me, is how much I value our family system. While I am incredibly good at handling a crisis, I don’t have to do it by myself any more. These bonds that we’ve formed, our shared values and commitments, how much we care about each other, how we’ve chosen to share our lives – this is real.

With the standard monogamous family, it tends to be more clear what will happen if someone is seriously ill or dies. For us, it’s not so obvious. Melanie and I have worked together to support a relationship where we share a husband and children, but would we take care of each other without those ties? I feel like we’ve somehow transformed from a chain of couples to a fierce cluster. We’ve got each other’s backs. These are people I trust down to the ground.

How we live seems normal for us. We’ve chosen a relationship model that is often very challenging. We invest a lot of time in communication with each other. Even so, at times each of us feels that our needs are not being met. We have our ups and downs, but we have thoughtfully and deliberately formed our lives together. We are polyamorous on purpose. We are an intentional family.

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…

Sep 142013
 

making loveI’m waiting to see if the new relationship energy (NRE) will fade for Harold and me. We’ve been together for six years and I still get hot when he walks into the room. We continue to stay open to each other emotionally. We still send each other mushy emails, IM’s, and texts throughout the day. We talk for hours, gazing longingly into each other’s eyes. We are increasingly more in love every day.

Most romantic and sexual relationships start with a surge of NRE. It’s that intoxicating rush that happens when you establish that you really like each other – the excitement and happiness that makes it possible to sleep for less than 4 hours a night and still function at work the next morning. It’s the happy space where you see all of the potential of a person. NRE can be exhilarating and is likely the mechanism of falling in love. (The best article I’ve ever seen about the chemical processes of NRE is in National Geographic, if you want to read more.)

going downThere are benefits to NRE. I am stronger and more willing to take risks or to push past my comfort zones because I am in love, both because I feel I have unwavering support and because my body is flooded with hormones that make stretching as a person feel good. We make love constantly, leaving me feeling relaxed, focused, and full of love for everyone around me. Every day I choose to be with Harold because I want him, not out of obligation or shared commitments. We simply desire each other body, mind, and spirit.

Rather than love making me blind to Harold’s faults, I find that his inner self unfolds at my touch. I can see all of the places where his energy sticks or snarls. Sometimes we collide, but often I see that his stuck places have nothing to do with me. I can hold him with love and shine my light for him to see as well. I know him well. It’s amazing to drop all presentation and know that I am loved for who I truly am, not who he wants me to be.

KissOne of the biggest challenges for us is being in a poly family. We both have partners whom we love very much. We don’t want our exuberance to hurt anyone’s feelings, but we don’t want to feel like we have to keep our feelings secret either. We’re walking a fine line. Our partners have been fairly tolerant of our passionate relationship because they both like to see us happy. I feel like the love we generate between us spills out, benefiting everyone.

Our sex has certainly flourished under the influence of NRE. We’ve gotten more efficient at giving each other pleasure over time, but never has making love gotten stale or routine. We constantly explore new territory, examining every dark crevice of our perverted brains. He makes me shameless. Literally. There isn’t anything I would hesitate to ask him for. I am never ashamed of my desires and never flinch at his. I want every bit of him.

We make love in every way, from rough and kinky to slow and sweet. We make out in public, intense lingering kisses. We make love while we cook dinner together. We don’t even touch, but that energy between us builds with erotic tension. He goes down on me under the covers, sweaty and wet with my juices while I writhe and try to stay silent. We drive each other wild until we can’t stand it and absolutely must fuck in the back of the car, or bent over a stool in the bathroom, or at the side of a hiking path. We role play and explore power dynamics. We’re animal together. Our sex life is everything I have ever wanted and more that I never dreamed.

making love slowlyEarly on in our relationship, I had a vision while we were making love. I saw a lotus blossom slowly start to unfold, revealing a core of golden light. This is me, and this is our love. I don’t know anything about tantra, but I think that the truth that Harold and I have discovered together is probably the same truth that mystics and lovers have known forever: it isn’t about the orgasm (although coming is powerful), it’s about letting go of the ego and opening to your partner in order to experience ecstatic unity.

New relationship energy is expansive. It expands the universe around the relationship. It seems to me that at some point people usually stop expanding and settle down. They let the relationship define their boundaries. It’s comfortable. It feels secure, but often the passion dies. Maybe it depends on what you want in a relationship. If you want marriage and children, you would likely stop when you got that. I’m older than that I guess. I want amazing sex and someone who sees me as a whole person, someone to dream with and explore the world with.

BlissI don’t want to ever stop expanding. I’ll take the ever-changing surprises of honesty, empowerment, and lust over the lure of stasis. I find my happiness being in the present. I don’t think this is NRE. I think this is the energy of our love together. We are always opening to love like a lotus to light.

 

 

 

 

Sinful Sunday

May 112013
 

To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” -Oscar Wilde

Self loveWith Mother’s Day coming up, my family has been asking what they can do to celebrate me. Honestly, I feel honored, loved, and cared for pretty much every day. I know that I hold a special place in my family. I’m not one to turn down breakfast in bed or some hand drawn cards, but what I really need is some quality time by myself.

My children are my top priority. After that, I take time each week to have a date with each of my partners. Everyone works together to take care of the house and I have my own work. I do have some time for myself built into the system, but it often gets filled up with doctor’s appointments, shopping, cleaning, or meetings. Sadly, when I get time to myself in the evening, I usually fall asleep.

I do masturbate regularly. It means a lot to me to be able to give pleasure to myself at any time. I’ve realized though, that I am not giving myself the kind of attention that I would give to a partner. Quick and easy orgasms in the shower or at bedtime have immense value, but what if I were to actually make love to myself with deliberate intention?

So, for all of the moms out there – actually, EVERYONE – I offer a suggestion: schedule a date with yourself. Nourishing your own sacred sexuality is a gift that stays with you forever and not only benefits you, but everyone you love.

Here are some tips to get you started:

  1. Find time and space to be alone. It’s important to give yourself several hours. If you can’t manage to be alone at home, or if being at home is too distracting, consider other creative solutions – renting a hot tub room, finding a totally private spot in nature, getting a hotel room for the night, or borrowing a friend’s home. Make sure that your children are in capable hands and that someone else will be responsible for anything that comes up.
  2. Set the stage. Creating a special mood can enhance your experience. Putting clean sheets on the bed or lighting some candles sets this experience aside as something special. Play music that feels sexy to you. Get anything you might need (like drinking water, vibrator, or massage oil) readily available. Go naked, or wear something that feels sexy.
  3. Relax. If you are anything like me, this might take a while. Turn off your phone. Step away from the computer. Do something that will help you let go of the daily stresses, whether that’s taking a walk, having a glass of wine, or sinking into a bubble bath. Focus on deep, even breaths, releasing tension with each exhale. Think about the things that make you happy.
  4. Fantasize. Start letting out those private thoughts that get you turned on. Is there a movie star who makes you swoon? Some sex act too kinky to admit to your partner, but it gets your juices going? Bring it out! For this date with yourself, anything is possible.
  5. Experience sensation. Wake up your skin. Start at your toes and work your way up, barely brushing over your erogenous zones. I like to keep my underwear on for this stage because the indirect stimulation to my genitals drives me wild. Use fingernails, feathers, massage oil, a wartenberg wheel, or whatever feel good and exciting to you. Pay attention to your whole body.
  6. Build the energy. Slowly pay more attention to the areas that increase your arousal, like nipples, pubic area, and asshole – circling away and returning over and over. Listen to your body and your emotions. You want to prolong your pleasure as long as you can stand it.
  7. Go for orgasm. This is a perfect time to introduce lube, a vibrator, a dildo, or whatever gets you off. You still want to draw out your pleasure, but now you can give yourself permission to focus on those areas that will lead to orgasm. Hold love for yourself in your heart and let it infuse your whole being. If you can stand the tension, bring yourself right to the edge of orgasm and back away again. When everything feels right, let the orgasm spill over.
  8. Release. Just let go. You can send any residual stress out of your body on each wave of pleasure. If it feels good, try to prolong your orgasm or pause for a moment and start over at building to a new release.
  9. Take care of yourself. You can give yourself aftercare. Give yourself plenty of time to bask in the good feelings. Let love for yourself seep into your skin. This is when I feel closest to the divine. You could go back to gentle sensations or drift into a few minutes of lucid dreaming. Drink water or eat a snack if you need to feel more grounded. Or jump up and run around naked. Whatever it is that makes you feel in love with yourself, do it now.

I don’t always orgasm when I make love to myself and that’s okay. When I’m by myself, I don’t have the stress of a partner who really wants to make me come. My only objectives are to love myself and experience pleasure. It’s a perfect time to explore the things that turn me on and develop a stronger understanding of my body.

As a mom, it’s sometimes hard to feel like I own myself, my time, my body. I don’t often get a chance to make love to myself, but when I do, I feel better all over. I challenge you all, but especially the moms on this Mother’s Day, to give yourself this gift!

Dec 272012
 

IMG_7017I’m alone in the house for the first time in days. I didn’t plan this miraculous occurrence, but I am taking advantage of it by lounging in the bathtub, musing about what it means to be part of a polyamorous household over the holidays. I was remembering this post I wrote two years ago – so much is the same and yet so different.

Our family seems to have grown larger, our connections stronger, and our love deeper. There is also the maturity that happens with two years of experience plus processing. I see it in everyone, from the children to the adults. Like any poly family, we are complicated.

I might need a diagram to explain our family. I’ve discovered that it’s useful to carry a pen and scrap paper for these occasions. At the very center of our family is me, my husband Joel, my other husband Harold, and his wife Melanie.  For the holidays this year we had our 4 year old daughter, boys of 9 and 11, two young adult daughters, an adult son and his wife (Ned and Maggie), my girlfriend Blyss, and Melanie’s boyfriend. We pulled off stockings and secret magical Santa stuff for all 13 people.

poly flow chart

Polyamory makes for a lot of people, not to mention a lot of interconnections. Blyss and Melanie’s boyfriend have been known to roll around together from time to time, and he had his girlfriend over sometimes during our celebrations. I am pondering the idea that being in a relationship with someone does not necessarily make them part of your family. But everyone wants to be close to the people they care about at the holidays. I am imagining what it will be like when our children bring home multiple partners. Joyful chaos I think. It’s a good thing that I excel at logistics.

The bulk of our family currently consists of people in their 20′s. It’s the first time in my life where I am one of the older generation. I’m finding the sensation odd. There is a generation of adults significantly younger than me. I love sharing their enthusiasm for life. I’m not sure I’m ready to take my place at the grown-up table yet.

Santa was good to me this year, as always. My stocking was filled with sexy thong panties, a new Mystic Wand (because one is not enough!), a beautiful bracelet, good hiking socks, and a chest binder. It’s Christmas for the gender confused! Harold got the new Aneros Helix Syn prostate stimulator. We tried it out on Christmas Day and I’m going to have to write a full review. (It seems pretty impressive, but we must test it further, right?) I feel so supported by our family that Harold and I had a chance to slip away for a little bit.

Harold during the holidaysWe are doing fun things all week – sledding, movies, hiking through the mountains to the hot springs, building a gingerbread tableau, feasting, baking, maybe ice skating, roasting marshmallows and telling stories, or more playing in the snow. Whatever people want to do. And nobody has to do anything that they don’t want to do. It’s amazing.

I think the holidays tend to be stressful for everyone because it brings up childhood memories and expectations. It’s exponentially more difficult the more people you toss together. We certainly don’t have things all worked out, but every year together gets better. We did a lot of communication about what is important to everyone, including the children. This year I didn’t experience the same tension I normally feel. I have a very warm intimacy flowing through me, spilling out around me. I love my family so much. Poly is good.

Dec 192012
 

IMG_6989Polyamory, sharing my life with many partners, has brought me a lot of joy. I worked hard to help create a complex and supportive family with my partners and it has paid off. Not only am I happy, but I get to see my partners’ happiness with other people. When it all works, we are sparking creativity and growth in each other all of the time. It’s beautiful. Fantastic. Amazing. I just have one gripe.

Darling, don’t kiss me when you’ve just been going down on someone else. It’s not about logic. I know, it doesn’t really make sense. Yes, I might have licked them at some point before, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve chosen to put my face in their genitals at this time. It’s different if we’re all in bed together, but if I haven’t shared in the pleasure, I don’t want to reheat the left-overs.

It’s not that I dislike genitals. Bodies are lovely and fun to explore! I enjoy bodily fluids in the right context, I just have this one little boundary. Ironically, I don’t mind kissing you after you’ve been worshipping my cunt. I like tasting myself on your lips. It’s not good if you still smell like pussy the next day though. What I’m saying is that I have a time limit, after which, I am squicked out by you kissing me while your face is covered in juices.

To be fair, it’s not just jism that makes me flinch when I see you mouth coming at me. I’m going to be a bit distracted by milk or jam or anything else clinging to your lip. I want to make out with you, not your breakfast. Or whoever you ate before breakfast.

I love you. Kissing you feels warm and wonderful, but not if I’m wondering where your face has been as you move in for a deep smootch. I know that there is not always time or opportunity to bathe between giving head and greeting me, but if you want that toe-curling, earthshaking experience, you gotta be clean. I don’t mind an intimate hug until you can wash your face. I’ll wait.

Really, Darling, don’t kiss me until you get a chance to wash up.

 

Nov 082012
 

To the Rapey Asshole in Pullman,

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

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

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

Beware,
a rage filled momma

 

To the Pullman Police,

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

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

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

Fuck you,
a rage filled momma

 

To the Pullman Regional Hospital,

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

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

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

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

Litigiously yours,
a rage filled momma

 

To the WWU counselor,

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

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

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

Up yours,
a rage filled momma

 

My dear sweet darling daughter,

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

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

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

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

You are my hero beautiful brilliant girl.

All the love in the universe,
your momma

Aug 282012
 

My BlyssI love my life. I am so happy to be non-monogamous. My life is so full of love and amazing people. No, it’s not always like this. Sometimes I feel jealous or frustrated. At times it’s difficult to get my needs met because resources like time and money are scarce. But right now I am floating in a nice happy poly ocean of love.

My girlfriend has joined our family enclave. She has her own space, but she’s hanging out in the house a bunch. This is so good for me. I can’t even say – I’m ecstatic to have all of my people gathered together. Evidently this is what I do. I create family. And Blyss is fitting right in to our crazy family life.

She has her own adventures. She goes off and does her own thing for periods of time. I am totally happy to have her follow her pleasure, but when she is gone my heart reaches for her like my hand reaches for chocolate, only to discover that the secret stash is depleted. Then she comes back and things are all rainbows and sparkles again. She has a way of making me feel good about myself.

This last time she returned chock full of New Relationship Energy (NRE). It’s adorable. She found herself a beautiful boi and is twitter-pated. Sadly, he lives 15 hours away – but he may come visit us in a few months. I hear about him a lot. I don’t mind. It’s very sweet. They are at the sharing naughty photos stage of their relationship so I get sexted a bit. In fact, I got naked pics while I was chatting with the other soccer mommies! All the joy flows all over everything.

Blyss is asking my advice about Topping. It’s forcing me to realize that I AM actually a Top. Without a thought, I can dish out suggestions for Domination. It’s even let us have a discussion about what power dynamics might look like between the two of us. I’m looking forward to making it a reality. I’m also enjoying Blyss’s fantasies about her new boi – that we might “double date” when he visits so I can teach her some CBT technique. I think it sounds hot!

My BlyssI think with two husbands, it really helps to have some feminine influence in my life. She’s not afraid to apply a loving 2×4 when I need it. Blyss even helped me sort out an argument with Harold this week. Harold’s wife, Melanie is often helpful in these ways, but we have a different dynamic, more of a partnership. And that is working very well right now too.

Three romantic relationships that are fairly serious, plus a metamour who is a co-parent,plus four children at home is a lot of people’s needs to keep in mind. So far, we’re doing it. I have almost as much sex as I could want. The oxytocin high is getting me through my days. Occasionally I struggle with a hard bit, but mostly I wonder how anyone gets by in a monogamous relationship. I am so lucky in love. I love my life.

Aug 062012
 

The Beautiful KindI believe the most effective and radical act you can do to change the world is to be open and honest about your whole self. It’s hard to do to. It’s scary. It could be life threatening or cause you to lose everything you hold dear. And yet, I think many of us reach points in our lives where it becomes more painful to repress the truth about ourselves than to face our fears.

I recently had an opportunity to exchange emails with Kendra Holliday of www.thebeautifulkind.com. She is an amazing woman who has been blogging about her life for six years and has faced many challenges, but ultimately has been able to create the life she wants for herself and her family. Kendra is someone I admire because she is just such a radical activist. She is incredibly brave and she is educating people everywhere she goes.

Because I wanted to know how Kendra manages to be so open, I asked: You are the only person (besides myself) that I have seen blog honestly about their sex life while still being real about being a parent, AND you use your real name (I assume) and photos of yourself. What kind of consequences have you experienced since you “came out” and what have you gotten out of it? Is it more satisfying to be open?

I wonder where you are located? [Editorial note: near Seattle.] That makes a difference. I’m in the Bible Belt, St Louis MO, right in the middle of the U.S. It’s a conservative area, but not as bad as many think.

I do use my real name and pics of myself when blogging about parenting and my sexuality. I feel it’s important to demonstrate that people (particularly mothers!) are complex beings. It’s not healthy to deny or compartmentalize ourselves so much. It’s healthier to be fully integrated. Trouble is, that is very difficult to achieve in our society. People fear losing jobs, kids, families if people were to find out who they really are!

When I came out as a sex-positive mom in Oct 2010, I faced some serious persecution. Before I came out, I lost my job for having a sex blog. After I came out, I was ostracized, judged, and my ex-husband sued me for full custody of my daughter. I almost lost her and my house. I went into debt. It was very scary.

BUT I did not back down, I didn’t cave, I stood my ground. I walked through the fire and got out on the other side. And it was SO much better on the other side! It got better.

Now, I enjoy the respect of the community. The media contacts me for my opinion on issues that are near and dear to me. My relationships are stronger than ever. People who said terrible things about me and turned on me returned, sheepish and apologizing. I have a good job where my activism is a non-issue. I was able to keep my house. Best of all, my ex-husband dropped the suit against me right before it went to trial. He realized he could not prove I was an unfit mother. I’m a single mom working full-time and am raising an amazing, creative, knowing daughter. She is wiser than most adults I know!

Kendra HollidayI think everyone should explore their role in society on their own terms. Obviously a pre-school teacher couldn’t do what I did. At least not right now. But I’ve seen more and more people successfully claiming their sexual rights, and it’s extremely heartening. I’m proud to be an example. I hope my story inspires, and I’m very excited for my 12 year old daughter’s future – I think we’ll see a lot of progress by the time she’s 18!

Thank you for fighting the fight as well!
Kendra

Please show Kendra and The Beautiful Kind your love and support. Also www.sexstl.comwww.twitter.com/TBK365, & www.facebook.com/thebeautifulkind!