We were going to do some bondage photos for you, really we were. We were talking about it, making plans. It’s just that I started to feel all horny. I do have some self-restraint. I would have taken that energy to the photo shoot, but then Harold started getting all Toppy. Harold doesn’t Top very much, actually not at all, and I would like him to Top sometimes, so this was a BIG DEAL.
He kept putting his hand on my throat and handling me roughly. He yanked my shirt up and pulled my nipples free of my bra, pinching them painfully. One hand slid into my jeans. His finger tickled my labia before dipping into my cunt and then rubbing my clit with expert flair. It drove me wild how he handled my body with the ease and competence of ownership. It makes me feel loved. I writhed and moaned at his touch. When he pulled my jeans and panties off, all thoughts of rope and cameras fled my mind.
He went down on me and everything was pure lust and sensation. I can’t think of anything better in the world except for what came next. He pulled off his pants, revealing his hard-on. I lifted my legs, resting my feet on his shoulders, and he slid into me. I might have had a vague thought that we would still take photos, but I was pretty swept away. How have we never fucked with my feet on his shoulders and my back arched before? It’s fucking fantastic! I’ve never had my g-spot so thoroughly probed before.
It didn’t take long for an orgasm to blow my mind. I think I came for three minutes. Then we switched to a side-lying position, which also felt amazingly exquisite. From there, I need a bit of a breather. Harold buried his fingers in my cunt. I reached for my vibrator, thinking that we might try to get me to squirt again, but I got distracted. Again. This time, I simply had to put Harold’s cock in my mouth.
He has a beautiful cock. I derive a lot of pleasure out of licking and sucking it. I like tracing the contours with my tongue, sucking the whole thing into my mouth as hard as I can, and finishing with a swirl of my tongue – over and over. He didn’t let me go very long, however, before he was ordering me to fuck him.
I did my best to ride him hard. My eyes roll back in my head when I think of how good it felt. I felt on the verge of coming for so long. Mostly my eyes were closed, following the sensation, but my few glimpses of Harold showed him with his head tipped back, eyes screwed shut, and mouth wide open – silently screaming in ecstasy. I moved faster and faster, chasing my orgasm. Finally, I collapsed on his chest, panting and spasming. I thought that I was going to die. My heart beat fast in my throat and I gasped out endearments. Coming like that certainly convinces me that I will love him forever.
When I had regained my ability to breathe and articulate speech, Harold asked me if I would play with his ass. But of course my dear! I lubed up and slid a finger in. My other hand rubbed his cock. Almost immediately he started to leak – little drops of ejaculate pooled at the head and ran down his cock to form a river across my hand. I added another finger, reveling in the feeling of manipulating his pleasure.
I could stay there forever – rubbing his prostate and alternating between my mouth and my hand on his penis, milking him slowly, knowing that this feels blissful for him. It’s a good lesson for me, because I always worry that he will get bored fingering me. I need to believe that he loves to give me pleasure as much as I do for him. I need to give him a chance to give to me because that is also a pleasure.
We finally stopped due to hunger and exhaustion. I was starting to get a bit limp with oxytocin overload and lack of food. By the time we cleaned up and got lunch, we didn’t have the time or energy to do a bondage shoot. That’s the truth of it, I spent my day engaged in wild, spontaneous, passionate sex instead of getting you your photos. Well, you know what they say about the best laid people…
Other posts you might enjoy:
- Power from within
- Deep dark fantasies
- Seduction
- Dear Mr. Henry
- Queering Power Dynamics with Sinclair Sexsmith
There’s always the one that got away – that one person that you really thought you could make it with, but for one reason or another it didn’t work out. Doesn’t everyone have a story like that? Here’s mine…
Once upon a time, long, long ago, I fell in love with a prince of man. Well, he was barely more than a boy, just as I was barely more than a girl, but in the way of people in their late teens to early 20′s, we were extremely mature. At the time I was engaged to a man who had suddenly decided that girls were icky, but he wanted to marry me anyway and have a family. I would be free to take lovers for my sexual gratification. It sounded dubious. The Fiancé and I both fell for the Prince. I left the Fiancé, desiring romance over a sexless marriage and became roommates with the Prince.
There was a time that I made love with the Prince while the Fiancé watched, making suggestions from the sidelines, but the Prince very politely rejected the Fiancé’s advances. I think each of us wanted something we couldn’t have. It was all very sad and poignant. Still, I had incredible energy with the Prince. When the two of us were in a room together everything focused on us. We were on fire.
I wanted the Prince desperately, but he wouldn’t commit. We could fuck like crazy, but he didn’t love me – not like I loved him. Before long he fell in love with someone else. It was painful to watch him be in love, waiting to hear her voice on the phone, seeing his face light up at the thought of her. I spun into depression. One morning while I was planning my suicide in the shower, I realized that plotting my death had become a habit, one I wanted to shake. I decided to live.
I went and woke up the Prince to ask him to drive me to the hospital so I could commit myself. He pulled me into bed with him, holding me while I cried. He nuzzled into my hair and whispered, “You know, you are really sexy when you’re depressed.” And he proceeded to make love to me. It was very bittersweet (not to mention less than ethical). It was also our last time – 17 years ago.
It was a difficult transition after that. I was focused on turning my life around, starting the work that’s consumed my adult life, both personally and professionally. I moved. I moved on. I’ve found happiness. The Prince married his Princess and they started their life together. They have lived happily ever after.
Fast forward to present day. It was with a little bit of trepidation that I invited the Prince and his wife over for drinks a few nights ago, when Harold and I happened to be in their area. I’ve been on Facebook with both the Prince and his wife, but it’s not the same as sharing space with someone. I imagine that they must have been a bit cautious themselves, but we ended up having a great time.
I know that I felt hurt and confused so many years ago, but I don’t even remember why any more. Having the Prince sit across the room from me, I was reminded of why we had been friends originally. He is still all of the things that I liked when we were young, but he’s developed maturity to temper it, and the depth of experience grants him solidity. After the initial uncertainty, we all relaxed and had a good time. Maybe it’s just that I drank more than usual.
I had a few moments of unreality, where I thought, I have had sex this man who is now a stranger in my life. But then he would make some teasing comment to me and I would be amazed at how well he knew me. I was surprised to realize that the only thing I feel towards him now is a certain fondness. No hard feelings. I like the man he is now. I like his wife. He has chosen a different path than mine and that’s good for both of us.
I’m just not sure what the protocol is for old lovers. Hopefully, if you’ve had sex with someone you want to stay friends, but I’m really only friends with a few lovers from my past. I think we navigated the situation pretty well. I sat next to the Prince in the hot tub, hugging the corner out of politeness, trying not to let our skin touch. Then I thought, fuck it. We have been way more intimate. I once gave him a hand job in a movie theater. And I didn’t worry when the back of my hand came to rest against his arm. I would be way more familiar with a friend I hadn’t had sex with. Once I stopped worrying, it was all good.
I am so thankful to have had this opportunity to reconnect. It feels very healing to realize that there is happiness where there was once pain and anger. I am very fond of the Prince and pleased at his successes. We found a lot of common ground in discussing parenting and sex. I think I need friends like this – people who remember spreading rumors in our circle about me being a pro domme. And as the Prince’s wife reminded me, I was holding a bull whip the first time she met me. I guess that makes an impression.
I don’t know if we will ever be close friends, but I feel like we’ve finally cleared up enough of the past that being friends is possible. It hurt like hell to be young and have my love rejected. I’ve learned so much about myself since then. Once I would have thought that making amends with the Prince would involve his apology, but it turns out that by making amends with myself, an apology isn’t necessary. We’re friends.
Other posts you might enjoy:
The stress has been getting to us. Between working hard all of the time, the children, managing a home and multiple relationships, working through my childhood abuse scars, and money being tight, my relationship with Harold has been very strained lately. Not that it’s been bad, just harder for us to find the powerful connection that we share. So I made an executive decision to get away for a weekend and our spouses helped to make it happen.
I’m so glad that we did! We took a ferry from Seattle to Bainbridge Island and stayed in a little cabin there. I adore the ferry – it feels like magic. Being on a boat automatically shifts the energy and gives the impression of being on a journey. I feel the same way about airplanes and trains. I like to travel; it’s exciting. It also turns me on. I always want to find some way of fucking, but I’ve only managed to have sex on a ferry boat once before, sadly not on this trip.
After the refreshing ferry ride, we walked around in downtown Winslow and Poulsbo. It felt good to spend unstructured time together. We’re always so goal oriented and busy. Here we just wandered and talked. I felt at ease for the first time in a long while. The sun was shining and all was right with the world. Part of having a family and being polyamorous is that I am always thinking about other people’s needs. It’s very nice to have no thoughts beyond the moment.
We did manage to have some sex. Again, spontaneity is amazing – the ability to just be sexual whenever the mood strikes is a gift. In fact, Harold came three times over the weekend! This is significant for me because over the past several month erections have been scarce. I am relieved to know that if we get into a more relaxed state, everything still flows. Our sexual connection is just as hot as it always has been. When we have the time and space, we are as horny as teenagers and ready to jump each other.
We did other things too. We spent a lot of time in the hot tub. We worked. We spent a delightful evening catching up with some old friends of mine. We cooked together. We walked on the beach and picked up shells. We talked easily and openly about all kinds of things. We watched movies and cuddled. It was a good time.
As with most vacations, it didn’t feel like enough time – we had just begun to unwind. Yet I was ready to face the world again. I felt rested and focused. This mini-vacation proved that our love is still strong. What more do I need?
Other posts you might enjoy:
- Love matters
- Relationship problems
- Ocean, here I come!
- Married sex
- Finding healthy boundaries for family
- Happy Birthday Week to me!
I’m just waking up, sitting in bed with coffee in hand, but I haven’t had a sip yet. He comes out of the office and stands at the foot of the bed, talking to me. I’m not really hearing what he’s saying. I’m watching his body language and wishing that he had woken me up with sex this morning. It’s not that I’m feeling sexy, really. I just want him close to me.
I tell him I want him and like a shot, he slips off his shoes and slides into bed with me. We fit together perfectly. I press tight against him and our mouths meet. It’s an explosion of sweetness in my heart. Our lips are soft together. A flurry of little kisses draw us closer. My hand follows the broad expanse of his chest. His tongue parts my lips and I open for him.
It feels incredible to kiss like this. I’m so present in the moment… lips pressed… mouth inviting… tongues exploring… breath shared… this is heaven. His fingers are cool against my skin as he rests his hand against my throat, gripping slightly. My heart races and my cunt spasms. I adore the feel of his hand on my neck. It turns me on, but I’m intent on making out.
I thrust my tongue deep into his mouth. He starts to moan a bit and his fingers follow my spine to the small of my back. He pulls me tight against his side while pressing his lips tighter to mine. His hand happens to be applying pressure to the bruises on my back that I acquired yesterday when we fucked on the floor of the office. I am thinking of that and how hot that spontaneous sex was while we kiss. We’re pretty good together.
I am floating in love and bliss as I nibble on his lips. I don’t think that I am interested in anything very sexual for the moment, but his hand wanders down to my crotch. He teases me, not actually hitting anything that would be just right. At first I wonder why he’s being obtuse, and then I realize that he’s doing it on purpose to get me riled up. All of a sudden I very much want him to bring me to orgasm.
He shifts and slides down my body so his face hovers over my vulva. I spread my legs for him. I want him to kiss these lips. He lowers his face, nuzzling into my furry cunt. My breath catches and my fingers trace the edges of my mouth as I lose myself to the sensations.
His fingers slide into me. Each thrust is exquisite and his tongue is sending heat up into my belly. My body rocks in time with his motions. I can feel myself getting close to orgasm, my cunt sucking at his fingers to try and bring him deeper inside. I want to draw it out, revel in the sensations, but it feels too good. I come hard around his hand, hips bucking and rolling. His hand cups my mound, letting me push out a few final spasms of pleasure against his palm.
We’ve made a mess. His hand is soaked and I’m lying in a big wet spot. I don’t care because I feel fantastic. We kiss again. I love him so much – and not just because he makes me come. I feel a little guilty that our love making is rather one sided this morning, but he reminds me of how I feel when I go down on him. I enjoy it immensely and laugh at the idea of it being one sided. I can see that it would be the same for him.
We kiss some more, then he goes downstairs to make breakfast. I sip my coffee. I gaze out the window, remembering the feel of his lips on mine. I love making out!
Other posts you might enjoy:
I wanted something different for our date this week, someplace to get away to. Harold and I have been going through a spate of arguments lately – largely because I’m working through more big emotional things and I’ve been bitchy. It’s been rocky. So I wanted to relax and reconnect with each other in a space that we haven’t been to. I took him to the hourly hot tub place. I’ve been fantasizing about making love there ever since Joel and I went.
It’s a bit of a drive, about 45 minutes, but that’s okay because it gave us a chance to talk. The first hour of our dates are always spent talking anyway. We need the time to get caught up after being apart for a few days. It helps to sync up our energy – make sure that there isn’t anything lurking in our psyches that needs to be addressed. I require a mental health check in order to open up and be truly intimate with my partner. Wild sex requires trust. Talking helps.
The hot tub place is fairly unassuming when you enter, nice, but kind of comfortable. The service was fantastic and the guy at the desk didn’t blink an eye at our camera gear. We got situated in our room – shower, sauna, tub, narrow bed, stereo system. Perfect for boinking. I could just feel my tension melting.
I rinsed off in the shower, the industrial spray hitting my nipples like needles. I sat at the edge of the tub and dipped my toes in. I sat at the edge and ran my vibrator lightly over my clit, through my labia. After a while I eased into the water and luxuriated in the warmth, feeling free and weightless. Harold let me have my space while I eased into my first orgasm, then he joined me in the tub.
We gravitated toward each other, half floating, able to twine around each other in new ways. There is so much comfort in being held skin-to-skin. I love him so much but things have been difficult for the last bit. I’m angry, but not at him. I know that I have been pushing him away, even while I want him to stay close. I needed that time with him in the hot tub. Time to just be together peacefully.
Peaceful quickly became sexual for us. Despite the challenges of fucking under water, he slid into me. We experienced the exquisite joy of movements being simultaneously slowed and amplified by the water. His thrusts were muted, but the motion caused ripples against my flesh. It created new possibilities as we anchored ourselves with our hands and floated. I could have stayed there forever, but natural lubrication doesn’t hold up under water and the silicone lube was across the room.
We took turns going down on each other. I really like oral sex. I especially liked being in the water with Harold’s cock at eye level as he sat on the edge of the tub. It felt both sexy and relaxing. For me it had an edge of power play as well, I think because he was above me, yet sucking cock makes me feel powerful.
We took a break to rehydrate and have a snack. We sat in the sauna for a while, sweat pouring down our faces and bodies. We went out to the bed. I poured lube in my hands and started on Harold’s cock, lavishing lots of stroking and repetitive motion, really getting into the feel of it. Hand jobs can be so meditative. Then I laid him down and rode him til I came.
I went back for a few last minutes in the hot tub before showering off, all of my limbs feeling loose and my heart bursting with love. The hot tub was continuously filling up and spilling over, like my emotions have been lately. It occurred to me that maybe it was for the same reasons – basic hygiene. Keeping everything flowing makes sure that the system stays clean.
Other posts you might enjoy:
- Banking foreplay
- Accruing interest
- The threat of danger
- Elliott Bay Sauna & Hot Tub Company
- A perfect picnic
Book: Say Please
Editor: Sinclair Sexsmith
Publisher: Cleis Press, April 2012
Retail: $14.95
Sinclair Sexsmith, the editor of the new Say Please anthology of lesbian BDSM erotica, is calling their book release tour the DIRTY QUEER SEX TOUR, and I’m so happy to be participating! I wasn’t sure what to expect from Say Please, but I was delighted by the wide swathe of kink that this literary erotica cut through my imagination. I’m always interested in the myriad ways that gender expresses itself and Say Please is full of variety. The BDSM quotient zoomed through all of my favorites (except CBT, for obvious reasons) and right into areas that pushed my comfort levels. In other words, it was so hot to read that I had to get myself off.
Because it turned me on so much, I showed some of my favorite stories from Say Please to Harold and asked him to share his thoughts and feelings on them. For reference, we are polyamorous – partnered to each other and married to others. Depending on the day, I identify as pansexual, queer, or hard femme. Harold is still looking for the right boy (which is to say, mostly straight, but wistful). It was hard to pick just three stories, but I did. Here are our opinions of a few of the fantastic stories in this book:
First Ride, by Wendi Kali
Evoë:
Some of my favorite kinks – A motorcycle, chain bondage, flogging, hard packing, and strap-on sex! I’m delighted. It’s hot, hot, hot! I love this story because it’s a study in opposites – the hard, experienced butch and the soft, inexperienced femme. I like how all of the subtext of their conversations is evident in the story. It feels very intimate for the reader.
Harold:
This story (and many of the others) reminded me how much of gender is in our heads. This butch is a gentleman indeed, as well as a hot, skillful top. And the sweet, innocent (!) young woman who wants more experience… we play these roles because it all works so well. The echoes that I heard here which I miss in corresponding straight narratives, though, are about the vulnerabilities we all feel, but that sexual conventions too often mask.
Unworthy As I Am, by Elizabeth Thorne
Evoë:
So romantic! Within a few paragraphs the main character is comparing herself to a Shakespearean heroine, which I find very sexy. This story portrays submission and masochism beautifully, and I’m happy to read a story that deals with needle play too. I like the symbolism of the invasive nature of needles in a book about lesbian sex – just another non-standard way to penetrate. And collaring is the BDSM equivalent of the engagement ring. This story is so sweet.
Harold:
This story was the most intensely, viscerally sexy for me, no doubt because I’ve found myself in a similar place of passionate surrender. Is it hard for me as a somewhat het guy to identify entirely with a gay woman? Um, no! And the story unfolded gracefully, with just the right balance of contextual detail. A tour de force!
A Slap in the Face, by Rachel Kramer Bussel
Evoë:
I think this was the most intense story in the anthology, and that’s saying a lot because they are all pretty amazing. Partly it held me riveted because I find slapping somewhat taboo and therefore fascinating, partly I found the character development seductive. Yes, it’s a short story, but I was charmed by the emotional progression. I appreciate the safeword explanation and appreciate that there is not a strap-on used in this story, although it’s implied that there will soon be some strap-on play. It makes me want to follow these two women home!
Harold:
This powerful story put me in a place I often end up reading edgy BDSM erotica: wondering about the origins of the kink. I love and understand the heat, the almost unbearable turn-on that just the right mix of fear and pain can arouse, but I also sense roots winding back to some childhood trauma no child deserves. I salute the healing power of hot and loving kink, but it scares me, still, about what it is to be human.
Want to hear more about Sinclair Sexsmith’s Say Please, Lesbian BDSM Erotica DIRTY QUEER SEX TOUR? Check out these stops on the physical and virtual tour!
April 1 Say Please release party in SF
April 1 Viviane http://www.thesexcarnival.com
April 3 Rachel Kramer Bussel http://lustylady.blogspot.com
April 4 Giselle Renard http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com
April 5 Evoë Thorne http://www.wholesexlife.com
April 6 Liz http://AlphaHarlot.com
April 9 Roma Mafia http://www.romamafia.com
April 10 Official release date! Sinclair http://www.sugarbutch.net
April 11 Dede / deviantdyke http://deviantdyke.blogspot.com/
April 12 Helena Swan http://www.cuntext.com
April 13 Kim Herbel http://www.butchlesque.com
April 13 Say Please release party in NYC
April 14 Lily Lloyd http://theblackleatherbelt.com
April 16 Lyzanne http://sexpositive.tumblr.com/
April 17 Lula Lisbon http://lulalisbon.tumblr.com
April 18 Ali Oh http://www.madeofwords.com
April 19 Jameson http://www.ftmbutchdude.com
April 21 Charlie Ninja http://charlieninja.tumblr.com/
April 22 Say Please release party in Boston
April 22 Meredith Guy http://meridithguy.tumblr.com
April 23 Wendi Kali http://astrangerinthisplace.blogspot.com
April 24 Lolita Wolf http://leatheryenta.com
April 25 Audrey at Babeland http://babeland.com/blog
April 26 Seth B http://smokebellyscorner.wordpress.com
April 27 Danika http://www.lesbrary.com
April 28 DL King http://www.dlkingerotica.com
April 29 Kiki http://kikidelovely.wordpress.com
April 30 Dilo Keith http://dilokeith.wordpress.com/blog-2/
April 30 Xan West http://tgstonebutch.livejournal.com/
May 2 Say Please release party in Seattle
I’m feeling Spring in my body. This morning I went for a 4 mile walk. It was brisk, but I could see signs of returning life all along the trail – lush moss, tiny flower buds emerging, pale green leaves bravely opening to the light rain. It was still fairly early in the morning and the air itself seemed full of promise. That’s Spring – a promise of things to come. Life ready to explode into action. In other words, Spring is all about sex.
I feel Spring physically. For the past week my pussy has been wet all of the time. I’m ready for all of these things that are coming. This morning I felt so good that I took my clothes off and spent some time naked on the trail. It was magical. I still feel fresh and renewed. Almost like there is some secret to the morning that you can only feel with your flesh.
It didn’t end there though. I came home and Joel did his best to warm my chilled ass cheeks. One thing led to another and we ended up fucking in the shower, warm mist swirling around us. A hard man is good to find, but it was the shower head and some intense nipple stimulation that made me come. I feel full of love.
Not everything about Spring is good. All the pollen from the trees having sex is wreaking havoc with Joel’s allergies. Some days he can barely open his eyes. I’ve been having a struggle with depression and anxiety, but getting out this morning is helping me to feel more hope. And that’s what Spring is about for me – the hope of a brighter future, the power of life as manifested through sex, and knowing that everything is getting ready to change.
Happy Spring everyone!
Other posts you might enjoy:
A week ago Harold and I got into a doozy of a fight. We don’t fight often, but when we do, it’s big. We are passionate people. We’ve worked through most of the patterns our arguments have taken, resolved the childhood issues that tangled us up, and repaired the damage our disagreements inflicted on the relationship. It’s sometimes taken us a while, but we value what we have together. This latest altercation, though, it crossed a line.
For the first time, Harold got physical with me. I’ve lost it on him a few times before, but he’s never hurt me non-consensually before. It put me in a bit of a quandary. As a surviver I have a fierce determination to never put myself in a victim role again – although my playing the victim is exactly what set Harold off. As Harold’s partner I am familiar with his emotional state and what brought it on. This is the only pattern we haven’t been able to resolve yet. We end up in the same place with every major fight. I know what he was going through.
Still, I got hurt. It wasn’t okay. He knows it; we’ve talked it all through. I was able to talk to him about how angry I was. He agreed that it can’t happen again. We really got into the heart of this pattern. I think I can avoid his particular trigger (although he is still responsible for his actions). I believe we can dismantle this series of behaviors that we get trapped in. I am now at a pretty good place with regard to this fight.
I don’t think Harold has come to terms with what he did. I’m just realizing that, despite the repair work we’ve done, there is some distance between us. Everything seems okay on the surface, but it comes out in our sex. We’ve had a normal amount of sex – 3 or 4 times since the fight – but he hasn’t orgasmed with me once. That’s never happened before.
Harold is basically a 17 year old in a sixty year old body. His sex drive is fine, but he can’t always get his cock to play along. Erections are more fickle than they used to be. Fatigue, poor nutrition, stress, and emotional upset tend to affect his ability to get hard. He’s told me that if it just doesn’t feel right, he won’t get hard, but he’s always had a hard-on for me.
This past week Harold has gotten erections and the sex has felt fantastic. I haven’t had any troubles orgasming, but Harold…just hasn’t come. Sometimes one or the other of us doesn’t come. It happens, no worries. But 3 or 4 times in a row? I started thinking about all of the conversations we’ve been having about how his body follows his emotions. I think there’s an issue.
Maybe our argument is making it hard for him to open up to me again. Maybe he doesn’t believe that I want him. Maybe he doesn’t trust himself to let go. I don’t know. But I do trust him and I want him. Maybe I’m reading too much into this because I feel insecure. Maybe it is purely physical. I want our sex life to stay as fucking hot as it’s been for the past 4.5 years. I constantly fear losing the connection we have.
Perhaps it’s that fear of loss that motivates us to keep things clean between us. I don’t want to become complacent. That’s what ruins marriages. I have faith that we will resolve these patterns between us and things will be better than they ever have been before. Love matters.
Other posts you might enjoy:
- Libido limbo
- Review: Best Sex Writing 2012
- Catching up
- Relationship problems
- Sex after motherhood
- Dangerous Girlie
I had my whole hand inside of her body. I keep thinking that. Last night I worked my whole hand into her cunt. It was so amazing. Fisting is incredible. I can’t get over how close I feel to her, even now. She’s so beautiful. I’m so lucky. I had my whole hand inside her.
She showed up last night after the children were asleep, bearing lambic and dark chocolate. I told her that I felt unworthy of her affection, having only Folgers and cheap sulfite-free wine to offer such a goddess. She kissed my doubts away. We curled up on the bed, talking and stroking exposed bits of flesh.
I love her eyes. And her wicked smile. She has many different smiles that say a multitude of things, but I especially like the one that lets me know that she has done something very clever and deliciously bad. Usually to my benefit. Then there’s her hands, her fingers lacing in and out of mine while we talk.
We caught up on the last couple of weeks and discussed our other relationships. It’s nice to share with each other about all of the love we have in our lives. We talked about sex. Then I pin her to the bed and ask what she can’t live without in sex. I imagine the things she might detail, perhaps oral sex or orgasms or pain, but I’m surprised when she answers: connection. OMG, I’m in love. Of course connection is why I have sex. I want to know someone through sex. I’m so in love.
We’re still new to each other. We are learning each other’s bodies and preferences. I wanted to go down on her in a major way, but I was nervous. I haven’t actually had a lot of practice at cunnilingus, especially recently. I got all shy and awkward telling her what I wanted, yet warning her that I’m fairly inexperienced. She looked baffled for a moment, as though unsure how to respond before reassuring me that that she wouldn’t judge me too harshly. It made me laugh.
Determined to give it a good go, I worked my way down her body, kissing, sucking, and biting. Her cunt is gorgeous. She has 3 rings through one side of her labia. It’s just perfectly right. I nuzzled around in her pubic hair, taking in her earthy scent. I thought about what I like in oral sex and tried to do the same on her. I took my time and explored. It turned me on. As things heated up, I found myself with my whole face buried in her cunt, licking with wild abandon, following her rhythms. After she came, I kissed her, everything a juicy mess.
Then I wanted to be inside her. The vagina is such a mysterious and amazing place. She is so hot. I slipped a couple of fingers in and worked up to my whole hand with lots of lube and erotic play. I found myself glad that I had trimmed and filed my nails and worried that it hadn’t been enough. Her body writhing and contracting around my hand filled me with intense awe. I was so grateful to her for allowing me in, for sharing herself with me. I wanted to fill her and surround her and melt through her.
I thought that she should go to sleep then, but that wicked grin showed up. My turn. She explored my cunt, letting me know that she thought I was beautiful. What she thinks matters a lot to me because of my abuse history and having given birth 5 times. I am not always comfortable with my body. I was absurdly touched by her gaze and her compliments. Then she did wicked things with her mouth.
I’m not exactly sure what she did. Her mouth latched on to my clit and she rode my bucking pelvis until I came, hard and fast. My new favorite thing is her eyes looking at me while the rest of her face is obscured by my pubic hair. Have I mentioned that I’m in love? Because as soon as I’d come, she rode the waves of that orgasm straight into the next. Then I held my beautiful girl in my arms and she looked very smug. Deservedly so.
There’s a certain satisfaction to snuggling down in bed, with the smell of sex everywhere and a naked woman pressed against me. I felt at peace in the darkness for the first time in a while. This morning we woke early so she could go to work. I allowed myself the luxury of falling back to sleep, smelling her scent on the sheets. I’ve got it bad.
Other posts you might enjoy:
Every few months, I spend about a week totally turned on all of the time. It’s as though the whole world is waiting to make love to me – the ground welcomes my very step, the wind caresses my skin, and I want to fuck everything that moves. My cunt is always wet and my nipples are sensitive. I can’t stop thinking about sex. I engage in mildly wild behaviors, like wearing a short skirt without panties to dinner, hoping he will slide his fingers into me. Or giving blow jobs in cars. Or getting myself off 3 or 4 times a day.
Then every so often I hardly think of sex at all for a while. Really. Sex just doesn’t seem that important. I’m not opposed to sex, I’m simply not turned on. If I am approached for sex I might offer to help out with a hand job or oral sex if I feel like it. I think it’s important to say yes to as much as I can while still honoring myself. It always surprises me how often I end up feeling like having sex.
The rest of the time my libido is normal for me. I think everyone has these cycles. Inevitably though, I find myself in the position of wanting more sex than my partners. I’ve just been going through one of those turned on phases. My life doesn’t allow for fucking whenever I want to. Sex is pretty much scheduled. But I am creative. I find ways to masturbate. We can do a lot of teasing and lovemaking short of actual penetration. It feeds my desire until I think I’m going to explode. Once the children are asleep, we might make love. But what if my partner isn’t interested?
We had sex the first day. The second day he got me off with fingers and mouth. It was just what I wanted, but I felt bad not reciprocating, despite his protestations of just wanting to sleep. The third day I seduced him into sex. I could tell that he was tired, but at least we were connecting. I was getting what I needed and it felt great. Unfortunately, after a while the sex felt kind of aerobic and empty. I had a few orgasms, but he wasn’t coming.
I know logically that it’s totally okay for him to not be able to orgasm. I get it. But I felt sad, like I failed him, like our bond is lessened. Occasionally, one of us orgasms without the other. I don’t mind if I’m the one who doesn’t come during intercourse because I know that I still can orgasm and likely will, usually with his enthusiastic help. But sometimes he’s in a place where he can’t come at all, no matter what we try. It seems like a commentary on my attractiveness and skill as a lover. I have to really process my feelings. I know logically that he wants me and loves me.
Worse is being totally turned on and having my partner not want to do anything at all. I feel rejected and desperate. I worry that I’m a freak. It hurts to want to share myself with someone who is not open to me. I know that I am still loved, but in the moment, I just ache. It’s hard to be vulnerable and get shut down. I’m not skillful with this. I tend to withdraw, look within myself, be alone. I feel like my desire will consume me if it isn’t matched and met. My body needs an outlet for this lust.
Maybe for that reason, we went hiking on the fourth day. I climbed a fucking mountain. I was still turned on, but the physical challenge fulfilled my body’s needs and his company kept my mind busy and my emotions happy. Afterward we drank coffee and listened to music, soothing my sensual soul. I still masturbated, but it was an easier day.
The fifth day I woke up to him making love to me. Our sex didn’t have the urgency of my increased libido, just sweetness. I felt reassured that he wanted me, wanted to fuck me. The doubts had lingered for days, but his cock pounding into me from behind left no room for ambiguity. He loves me. I’m okay. Ironically, I didn’t orgasm during our sex. I was half listening to the children downstairs and wasn’t fully relaxed. It didn’t matter, I got what I needed.
Now my libido has subsided to normal levels. I don’t know why my body goes on a bender every so often. I can only assume that it’s hormonal. While it feels fine and normal to me, I worry about what other people think. I especially want the people I love to still love me. I respect my partners’ right to say no, but I want to utilize other ways of being close, other ways of getting my needs met. I know that soon my libido will shift again and I will be the one saying no. It’s the libido limbo.
You might also be interested in these posts:
