Oct 282015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aug 082015

A cloudy summer afternoon in the tree house…

Naked in the tree house

…feeling the air on my skin…


…talking about serious things while the leaves drift down…

Foot play

…he begins to stir under my foot…

From behind

“What does it look like from up there?”


…the sweetest release…


…relaxed, smug, and connected to the universe…

Blood offering

…a single drop of blood left in thanks.”



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

Sinful Sunday
Jul 282015
Photo credit: David Steinberg

Photo credit: David Steinberg

In the stillness of early morning, I watch him sleep. It might be the first time in all the years we’ve been together that I am up before him. I contemplate getting up to make coffee, but I know he will wake up as soon as I do. I want him to sleep. He looks so peaceful and I overflow with love drinking in the details of him. He looks both strong and vulnerable. My eyes go where I want to touch him – tracing the muscles of his arms, shoulders, and back. His soft lips are slightly parted. I am filled with longing remembering kissing him last night.

Yesterday was fun. We made love all day long, my orgasms getting more intense each time. He never came, although I gave him exquisite sensations. I enjoy instant gratification but there is something to be said for drawing pleasure out for as long as possible. Watching him sleep, bits and pieces of the day before drift through my mind: snuggling in bed, the warm steady weight of his body on mine, relaxing in the hot tub, his teeth teasing my nipple, showering together, long slow lingering kisses, shocking him by licking his asshole, painting each others’ nails, tormenting him with my feet and a lot of lube, watching the sun set in brilliant color along the beach, the just-right scent of his skin, feeding each other deliciously squishy bits of mango, and what have been hours of him going down on me. All capped off by seeing a shooting star just as he told how wonderful he thinks I am.

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Now, I can’t help myself. I have to touch him. I kiss and caress my way down his chest and belly. By the time I make it to his cock, he is groaning and mostly hard. Filled with need and desire, I am not in any mood to be slow or gentle. Gripping the base firmly, I take the entire length of him into my mouth. He communicates the intensity of his experience with his hands against my back, pressing and scratching.

I am so immersed in the moment – warm tangle of blankets and limbs, his scent and taste, the texture of his hair and skin, the hard and soft of his cock on my lips and tongue – that it takes me a bit to realize that he is begging for me to share my cunt with him. I oblige, shifting my body to straddle his face.

What had been warm desire becomes fiery passion. I am not sure whether to focus on his impending orgasm or mine. I love the rhythmic pounding of his cock against the roof of my mouth, the tightness of my lips around him, the twist of my tongue at the tip, and the quick plunge down again. But his clever tongue is doing something to my clit that I can’t ignore. I am gasping and moaning so hard I start to forget to suck.

Photo credit: David Steinberg

Photo credit: David Steinberg

I climb off of him, face down, ass up, and tell him to fuck me. He pushes my knees further apart and slowly slides into me. His hands curl around my hips, pulling me to him as he thrusts. I feel completely possessed. I’m not sure where he ends and I begin, but I am grateful that we fit together so nicely. He is pounding into me hard and fast. I am rocking back to meet him with all the force I can muster. This is the most turned on I can ever remember feeling. The sensations are fierce, the quest for fulfillment urgent, yet the pleasure feels infinite.

I like this position because it feels amazing, but I rarely come. He slows down again and I ask for the vibrator. Without pulling out, he leans over the side of the bed to grab it for me. When I turn it on and put it against my clit, we both jump. For a minute we both just let ourselves be overwhelmed. Then he starts to slowly pull out and in again. I know the vibrations are translating to his cock as well. It feels so good it’s like pain. I think I can’t stand it, but I make myself keep going…

Mar 292015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feb 222015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feb 152015

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




Sinful Sunday

Feb 082015

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jan 312015

Going downI wake up to him going down on me. My body responds before I am really awake – legs wrapping around him, back arched, hands making fists against the sheets. In the tent under the blankets the scent of his skin surrounds me. The darkness is soft and warm. I focus on the feel of his tongue passing over my clit. When did I get so wet?

I need this man like water in the desert. I’ve been so horny lately, so stressed. In the very early morning he comes to me like a river. He flows over my body. His tongue says, “Be hot for me Baby. Go ahead and burn. I will ease your fever.”

I let go. Sleepily, blissfully, I melt into him. The whole huge complexity of the world narrows to one point. Love. I can forget about everything else for a while. My burdens will wait. I exhale and release all my tension. I’m floating, but his body anchors me. This is the safest I have felt in days.

Heat builds under his mouth. I realize that I am making loud moaning noises and I try to be quieter, but it doesn’t matter. I am pressing myself against him as hard as possible. He pins my wrist to the bed with one hand and captures my soul. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, but this small decisive action tells me that he owns me. I give him everything of me. It’s all his.

Making loveHe is still licking my clit with quick intense motions that make me twitch. Now his other hand roams up to my nipples. He gently pinches and my sounds get louder. I want everything all at once. I want to be right here forever. I want to come. “Harder,” I tell him.

He tweaks my nipples in earnest and my body stiffens as pleasure lances through me. Oh my god. I am gasping with each small jolt of pain. I am overwhelmed with love and flooded with lust for this man. I want more!

I love the weight of him on top of me. It feels secure, like a seatbelt. His is my shield against despair. I writhe under him, swollen with desire, blazing with need. He kisses me deeply and it is like diving into a lake on a summer’s day. His face is moist with my juices. I thrust my impatient tongue between his lips. His mouth is firm on mine. I invite him in.

I feel like a volcano heading for eruption, all lava and pressure. The feel of him inside me, pressing against my g-spot is nearly enough to make me explode. He hands me the vibrator.

That moment just before orgasm is the best – the slow build to powerful peak, poised at the edge of incredible intensity, striving both to slow the inevitable and speed the climax. I find it compelling and excruciating all at once. I think I live there.

He fills me. I am rocked by his motions. Suddenly, like seeing a waterfall approaching, I know I’m going to come. I get swept over the edge, and I am tightening around him in powerful waves. A flood of emotion Connectedovercomes me and then evaporates. I am awash in love. Sweaty, steamy love.

We snuggle in stillness for a few moments. Maybe this is the best part. I feel grounded, connected in a way that has been elusive lately. There are no words here, no need to talk, just us. In the early morning, in the warm quiet dark, we lie in each others arms and we whisper, “Let’s try that again in a few hours.”

Nov 222014

Sexually shyThis morning I had the disturbing realization that I tend to explore new sexual relationships from the safety of a threesome. It makes sense in a polyamorous world. I don’t have enough time to spend alone with each of my lovers so why not economize? Or something. I also get very nervous about being in sexual situations alone with someone I don’t know very well, so a threesome lets me get to know someone gradually. You can learn a lot about someone by watching them interact with others. So I’ve been setting up playdates with multiple partners.

Actually, making love with multiple partners at once is the best thing ever. It never seems like there are enough hands, mouths, genitals to do all of the things with just two people. How awesome is it to have hands everywhere? I love the feeling of being overwhelmed by sensation. Having more people in bed means being more creative. It often means communicating more, but I feel more confident, less on the spot to perform.

Tied up

Photo by Shawna

I just didn’t know that I had a habit of arranging threesomes for my first naked times with partners. It’s not something that I’ve been conscious of doing, but I can see the pattern. 

Although Woody and I had made out and done some heavy petting, the first time I was naked with him was with Harold. That worked beautifully. Wood still calls Harold his boyfriend and they are very affectionate with each other. (Come to think of it, that’s also beneficial in a poly relationship – my partners liking each other!)

DW tied me up in his living room while Shawna took photos, but after that DW and I played alone. Still, I made love to Shawna with DW in an intensly mind-blowing way. That was an incredible experience because I was able to do things that I enjoy and get tips from DW and Shawna about what the other person might like – kind of native guides.

My first time with Abby was also with Woody. They are very sweet together. I feel so much tenderness toward them both and watching them together just melted my heart. But Abby is wicked! I Controlwanted to try her Magic Wand because I have limited experience. Abby operated the add-on controller while I held the Magic Wand. That was absolutely incredible. I like having my pleasure in her hands. The three of us were remarkably at ease with each other, naturally exploring bodies and what is possible to do together.

While it wasn’t a playdate, Harold and I went to a hot spring with Woody and Hobbit. There was a certain amount of sex play that happened during our time there. Something about hot naked people turns me on. At one point, Hobbit put her fingers inside me, each guy focused on a nipple, and I used my vibrator to a super orgasm. I love floating in desire – literally and figuratively.

Hot springsMaybe I shouldn’t worry too much about this trend. It seems to be working for me. Each of these trysts came about fairly organically. I do have some (probably legitimate) fears about being physically vulnerable when first exploring sexual relationships. Having been raped, I want to be as safe as possible, but my reasoning is not totally about that. I just like group sex. I like having the people I care about love each other. While I don’t ever want threesomes (or more!) to take the place of the intimacy possible between two people, I have to admit that I feel pretty lucky.

Oct 292014

Going downFor Harold

(On the occasion of his 66th birthday)

My dear,
My tweed demon, just one six short of dangerous,
My God, horned and horny in the woods,
The best friend I’ve ever had,
My co-conspirator, my muse,
My love…

So in loveHappy birthday.
I know you didn’t want a present,
I need to tell you what a gift you’ve been to me.

I am surprised to see that you are becoming an old man
(because I always see the you
you are inside)
I like the changes I see.
I would like you most any way.

I trust you.

You turn me on like crazy.
When you walk into a room,
Or give me that smile that’s just for me,
my cunt spasms.
PartnersI have to catch my breath.
Our eyes meet and I know you feel it too.
It’s the little things like that.

You give yourself to me over and over,
Deeper every time.
Like letting me use my knife to cut
your father’s shirt from your back
as we stood under the full moon.
Like handing me a mallet and spreading your legs.
Like letting the camera
document our love.
Like trusting me enough to ask for what you want
and trusting me enough to let me take charge.
Like being the girl to my boy.

Naked in natureI hope I am as generous in spirit as you.
You love me as I am,
honor every path I’ve taken,
and hold me to my own high standards.
It is a rare gift to hold both weakness and strength
in love.
In your eyes my hurts make me whole,
not broken.
You are a revelation.
I am reborn in your arms.

I do not have a gift to celebrate your entrance to this life.
Only words,
and a love that encompasses the universe.
You are my heart,
My dance partner, my dreamer, my daddy,
Male BeautyMy boy in the tall grass,
My first and last thought…

Happy birthday, Harold.
Have the best year of your life!
You seem to be picking up speed
and there are only 1097 days until the most epic oral sex party ever…