Sexual Mirrors, Sensualist Lovers

I have been holding out on you.  I know, I know, for shame on me.  I wrote this over a week ago, but somehow couldn’t bring myself to post it.  Something about my level of excitement over the experience seemed too much.  It’s like I didn’t want to jinx it by being immersed in the joy of it as deeply as I was…or am.  I’m still resisting posting this.  There is hesitation, some trepidation…like standing on the edge of a very high cliff and looking over.  Here goes nothing.

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Where to begin.  I’m so lax in writing this week, and so much has transpired in such a short amount of time, so before this gets any further away from me, I wanted to share.

I’d like to say, and for the most part it would be true, that I usually know right away whether I want to pursue being lovers with someone.  There’s the instantaneous physical reaction that is communicated between bodies.  You see someone, exchange a glance or some casual conversation, and it’s just something innately there.  It doesn’t surprise you, or beguile you, it just simply exists.  Sometimes it’s one sided, but if you’re lucky, it’s deliciously reciprocal.

And then sometimes I meet someone, and there’s not an instant acknowledgment of desire.  It’s like my body isn’t aware of that undercurrent at all.  It doesn’t say “yes”, it doesn’t say “no”, it says “I’m not sure…I want to know more before I am sure”.  You would think in those cases that whatever desire is there would then be naturally less powerful than one that is immediately known.

This is so not the case, and although by now knowing this I shouldn’t be surprised, I am in awe.

I was ready for good lovers, middle of the road, “wow, that was fun, let’s do it again” lovers, but I was not ready for this.  I was not ready for a sexual connection with someone that was so deliriously intense that it borders on intoxicating.  It’s passion with intensity that is, to me, mildly frightening.  It both implores me towards it, and makes me want to dial it back so I can feel more in control.  And the best part, the part that I always find myself musing on when I think about it, is how completely unexpected it was.  Even writing about it I find myself wanting to edit and erase.

I have been blessed during my 30-something years here on earth to have some amazingly skillful lovers.  There is a small handful of men that I can heartily thank for helping me to discover things about my body that perhaps I would have never thought to explore on my own until they came into my life.  Yet, amidst that handful, I have had only one other lover with whom I shared this same intense ungovernable ardor, and perhaps that is why I am also finding this new connection to be unraveling threads of anxiety for me at it’s force.  It’s just so incredibly rare.

Sensualists, true sensualists, are not lovers that are easily found.  You may have never found one yourself, but there will be no denying it when you do.200551307-008

Sex with a sensualist is all about the journey, and less about the destination.  There is no route, no map, no end point in sight.  You’re out exploring a sea of sensation and desire that is endless, and only seems to unfold even more before you the more and more you explore it.  This is the rabbit hole you’ve been waiting for, Alice.

I am a very orally fixated lover.  My mouth needs to be engaged.  Kissing, licking, biting, sucking; all of these things increase my pleasure immensely, and are, the very root of my sexuality.  To find someone for whom this is also true, to be almost mirrors sexually, is just beyond compare.  And not only to mirror each other in that, but also in intensity of passionate expression of that sexuality, that is undeniably raw and unrelenting.  A love of touch, a love of skin, a love of sensation and play, and a lack of inhibitions…such an exponentially delightful gift.

kissingSo, this lover and I, spent over 10 hours fucking each other dizzy.  There were hours that passed like minutes, and minutes that shared like hours.  I have rug burn on my elbows, and I have no idea how they got there.  My living room floor, the sofa, and the massage table became our great playground.  At times this was problematic because, let me tell you, sometimes carpet can be quite slippery in the right position.  It can also be quite unforgiving on delicate skin.

10 hours takes a lot of stamina, but really when you are as orally fixated as we are, you need that long because the first 3 hours is spent just kissing.

His body, it’s this incredible instrument of flesh.  I just can’t get enough of it.  There’s not an inch of it that I can keep my mouth from wanting, or needing to be tasting.  He loves touch, and in his love of touch, is skillfully curled the innate knowledge of not only “how” to accept touch so open and willingly, but to communicate through his own fingers and hands, that same lustful art of sensation.

And he makes the most amazing sounds, or as he called them, “appreciations” of my touch, which I think may have made him feel self-conscious of at first, but I told him I was really paying him the deepest compliment.  How I love vocal lovers!  So many people stifle their exclimations of pleasure.  This has never been something I understood, as vocally expressing passion is so inherent for me.  There’s a spot on his body that I love so much, and I can’t decide what makes me love it more; the way it feels to me when I run my fingertips or tongue over it, or the way he throws his head back and moans when i do.

There is a deep pleasure even in the simplicity of the feel of his skin against mine, his body pressed tightly into me.  When there are layers of clothing between us, I want to lift them up and peel them away just to feel his skin touch mine as we kiss.  So soft and electric.

It’s rare to find someone who’s energy can match my own…who rises to meet me, and pushes back against me, and then climbs higher.  It’s solid and comforting, as much as it is so powerfully intoxicating and raw.

It’s the kind of connection I crave, and yet fear allowing myself to revel in the delight of because it might swallow me whole, but I so, so, very much want to be consumed by this.

 

 

 

 

 

Friday Afternoon Delights

I have been delightfully whorish today, and I just have to say, it feels so good to be so expressively sexual again.

I must be making up for lost time.

Two different men.  One afternoon.

Hot damn, I really love life.

This is basically what the first hour of the second one looked like.  Until we would up on the kitchen table.

kissing

When It Rains, It Pours

I’m not even sure where to begin, but suffice it to say things have gotten way interesting as of late.  So much so, that I hadn’t even realized it has been nearly three weeks since I posted.

First, where last we left off I was being heavily tempted into Scarlet Letterdom by my sexy running friend.  In addition, and of less interest, but much less inner cricket complication, I was being pursued fairly persistently by two other men: one who is significantly older than me, and the other who is now several states away. I really didn’t feel so inclined to even write about them, but I suppose it’s worth mentioning because, honestly, I am convinced that the Universe is having a good laugh at my expense.

pouringrainIn all initial retrospection, I find that I really have zero desire or interest in the first man, also a runner.  While in my 20’s and even into my early 30’s I always dated men who were 5 years plus my senior, I found that as I moved into my mid (and now late) 30’s that this proclivity changed.  I’m not sure if men my age finally caught up to me, or I finally became less dismissive of them, but in any case, I really don’t want to date someone who is significantly older than me anymore.  And by “significantly older” I mean he has almost 20 years on me!  All of that aside, I have absolutely no sexual attraction to him.  Our kids used to go to school together, so what I initially thought was just pleasant conversation between friends, inadvertently turned into flirtatious maneuverings on his part.  He’s asked me out several times now, and I have found polite ways to turn him down.  However, he keeps pursuing, and I’m just always so bad at the “Sorry, but I’m not interested” rebuff.  I figure I’ll just keep saying  no until he gets the drift.  I hope this eventually clicks for him.

And then there is the second guy who I have actually been friends with for awhile, albeit casually.  He lived here when I first met him, but recently moved several states away for a new job.  I’ve always been on the fence about him.  I’m not sure what it is really that keeps me indecisive.  I usually am pretty all or nothing in this respect.

He’s super intelligent, witty, not to hard on the eyes at all, but…he’s much shorter than me.  I like my men tall.  I admit it, I do.  They have to be at least my height (5’8″ barefoot), otherwise it just feels awkward to me.  I suppose that is the real clincher for me.  Of course, one of my very hottest romances was with a man who was 3 inches shorter than me, so how can I really rule it out?

He was mildly dropping occasional hints of interest when he was living here, but never made a move, and since I was always unsure about my own interest in him, I didn’t either.  Now that he’s moved away though, he’s become far more direct with his flirtations.  I’m still iffy on him, and it would be worth checking out if he lived here still.  Sorry dude, you’re 3 states away now, so an instant checkmark off on my list.

So, although there have been others players in the game, isn’t it always the way that the one I have the most interest in is the one I should steer clear away from.  What is it I said about not wanting those kind of complications?  Well, I’ve decided to listen to the head on my shoulders, instead of my cute pink little one, and avoid the drama and story juggling that comes with attached men in very closed relationships.  Oh, I’ll continue to flirt with him for sure, and I definitely plan to keep up the sexting, that’s far too delicious to stop doing.  I just can’t take it any further.  Sometimes you have to “check yourself before you wreck yourself”, am I right?

Now that I have you all up to date on the “behind the scenes” from the past several weeks, we can get down to the real juicy stuff.

You know that old adage “Ask and ye shall receive”?  Well, let’s just say I am getting what I asked for, and then some!

 

 

 

 

Polyamorous Conversations With Monogamous People

My relationship styles have changed consistently over the years, always ebbing and flowing with what I needed, or thought I needed, at the time.  I’ve been monogamous, poly, and even a somewhat interesting combination of the two which I think Facebook has termed something like “It’s complicated”, and right they were.

There are very unique qualities to these types of relationships, where if you haven’t lived as each at some point or another, you really can’t take a step back far enough to be able to say just what those are.  A recent conversation with my sexy running friend really brought this into focus for me last week. We were texting one night, and as most of our conversations go, who knows what it even was really about.  Texts are like highlights of mental processes kept brief for efficiency.  It’s like reading the Cliff’s Notes of a real conversation.  Somehow in the midst of this texting, the subject of this girl who had been none to shy with her advances towards him came up.  Seeing as he didn’t seem to be rebuffing, I asked him if he had designs on fucking her. If I’m going to be fucking someone, I like to know who else will be playing in the pool, and I made that known.

The conversation that followed my query was a very clear example of the uniquenesses between monogamous and polyamorous people.

polyI admit that I can be a judgmental person.  Fuck, we all are.  I think it’s dishonest to not admit that on some level, everyone is, no matter how much they plead otherwise.  This girl is a stripper.  Having known an acquaintance friend who was a stripper, and hearing stories from her and her friends first hand, I know strippers sling ass like diners sling pancakes on a Sunday morning.  That’s cause enough to make me reconsider even jumping in the pool if I know she’ll possibly be sharing too.  For that reason, I asked him to let me know if he did, and I added, that I would offer the same courtesy as well if I have sex with someone else in addition to him.

His response? “lol I don’t mind.  I have no claim on you, and we haven’t done anything yet really”

My response? “It’s not about claim, it’s about health.  Hello? STDs?  You’re already claimed lol”,  to which he replied, “I assume you will be as smart and as safe as possible.  But yeah, if you get an STD, tell me”

Say what? “If” I?  I don’t want to be in that position.

I was really bothered by that, and the more I thought it over, I realized why.  I was trying to have a very normal, run of the mill, polyamorous conversation with a monogamous person, and there in lay my problem. In a polyamorous relationship, when adding lovers to the mix, it’s done with full disclosure to pre-existing partners.  Since I am inches away from dropping my panties, I figured I would ask beforehand.  Polyamory, when done well and right, is about honesty and choice, and how those two meet.  communicate

Now, I am all for multiple partners, but I like to know who the players are.  Too may people in the pool make me uncomfortable, and yes, that is where my choice comes in.  I have ceased being lovers with people in the past when I felt they were sleeping with too many people at the same time, or felt the partners they chose were out of my comfort zone for the same reason. I like being healthy, and would like to stay that way, thank you.  This was, to me, a very basic conversation to have when multiple partners are involved. 

I realize now that this is incredibly hypocritical of me considering I am ready to take a man to bed who is doing so behind the back of the current lover he has.  It’s more than kind of foolish of me to expect honesty from someone who is being dishonest to his own girlfriend.  She isn’t getting the same curtsey, so why should I dare to expect the same?  Perhaps these are questions and quandaries that are unique to a polyamorous mindset.

What I found very interesting too was this idea of “claim”, and how in my wanting to know, or my desire to inform, about additional sexual partners, must be about some sense of ownership.  How does open disclosure equal claim?  It’s not necessarily a uniquely monogamous thought I suppose, seeing as in some poly situations there is the potential for veto power from existing partners, so what then? Why claim? And then it dawned on me, that sometimes monogamy can be confused with control, and in that control, ownership of the individual you share the relationship with.  They are yours and no one elses sexually.  It’s not meant to be, because it’s based on a mutual choice to be  exclusive, but humans by nature are territorial creatures, and sometimes that animal comes out even in the best relationships.

When I was married back when I was 22, my husband insisted that no one else could see me naked.  He went with me to a clothing optional campground, and although everyone else was going in the hot tub and pool naked, he told me I had to wear my bathing suit.  Why? Because I was his.  He didn’t want anyone else but himself to see his wife naked. I’m not sure why this seemed so dangerous to him.  I believe he felt that it was an invitation for others to want me, and the clothing was akin to a lock and a key on something he had captured.  To me nudity is very comfortable, very freeing, and I just don’t see what there was about it that was so disturbing to him for me to be naked in the company of others who were too.  I honestly at the time had no designs on straying, but I can tell you without a doubt that this was the first nail in the coffin of our relationship. I am not a thing to be owned.

I am not something to be controlled or tamed.  I certainly would not wish to inflict this sort of ownership on anyone else either.  This is where all relationships find doom, no matter how many partners are involved.

So monogamous people, please don’t feel I am saying you’re all a bunch of control freaks.  I know this is not the case.  You can have freedom even with commitments.  I know this and have lived this.  And polyamorous people, don’t think I’m saying that somehow you are loftier than monogs because of your honesty and candid disclosure, because I have firsthand experience that is not the case as well.

Thank you every day conversations for brining to light the differences between how people from different relationship styles communicate.

Monogamous? Poly? Please Take This Poll

Decisions, Decisions, Or Otherwise Known As Adventures In Relationships

Back in the summer of 2004 I went out to California for a workshop on love, sexuality, and intimacy.  There were multiple levels of this workshop series, and the 3rd level just happened to be out on the west coast that July.  Now, this post is going to be tricky because when you take these workshops you promise not to divulge what happens during them or who was in attendance, so as not to color a possible participant’s experience, but there is just no way to write this without breaking that promise, so here goes nothing.  I will try my best to be vague where I can be.

At the time when I made the decision to travel to California to do level 3, I had just started dating someone casually about a month prior.  We met while I was re-taking level 1 earlier that April.  Re-taking levels is not as powerful an experience as it is the first time you take a workshop, mostly because you know what’s coming and can plan your choices around that knowledge.  In short, you can manipulate your experience to suit your desires or needs.  Meeting Peter in that workshop influenced a lot of my choices.

When I met BackPeter I was in an open relationship with someone else.  I wasn’t in love with that person, and truth be told, he was a real dick.  He was, however, convenient, and was my rebound relationship.  These two things I know in hindsight, but was not fully aware of at the time.

Peter was in an open-marriage, and oddly enough, his wife was dating one of my FWB’s.  This was how I came to be introduced to him.

Confused yet?  Welcome to the wide world of sports…open relationship style.

On the evening of my first date with Peter, he confided to me how much he hated being in an open marriage, and that as much as he loved his wife, he really didn’t want to be sharing her with other people.  It was because of this that he had decided to divorce her.  He felt he was only being poly as a drastic measure to keep his marriage, but that it was very much not what he wanted.  He wanted monogamy.  Whoa.

It’s important to know this backstory just so that what I am about to share resonates on the level of WTF? that it should.

So fast forward to July.  By this time I had stopped dating jerk boyfriend and was only seeing Peter.  We were still not what I considered to be monogamous, or at least we had put no such declarations on our dating one another.  Especially seeing as he was still married, and even if he was no longer having sex with his wife,  I wasn’t putting all my eggs in his basket.  However, things between us were in that wonderfully sweet NRE stage (new relationship energy).  You know, the stage where you’re totally enamored with each other, love even the annoying things one another does, and are shagging like rabbits every chance you get?  Yep, that was us.

I had planned to go to California on my own.  Those plans were made long before this thing with Peter became a “thing”.   My flights were booked, and I was set for adventure.  Peter had been trying to convince me to do some other workshop he had done, and off the cuff I had said “Why don’t you come to California and do level 3 with me?”, never expecting that he actually would.  And then he called me at work a few days later to say he was going.  My response was “Going where?” Ha!  That was how much I didn’t expect it, and yet, now I was excited that he would be joining me.  Even more so because I had planned it so that I was playing tourist in northern California for a few days once the workshop was over, so now I had a travel companion.  After all, in the very short time we had been seeing one another we had managed to do the first 2 levels of this workshop series together.  I guess it seemed to just click into place.

polyNow, in keeping with the title of “love, intimacy, and sexuality”, the workshops can get rather intense as they progress through the levels.  The evening before we were to head up to the workshop, we had been forewarned by someone we had met that had done it previously that when they say “If you came with a partner, you might want to check in with them and see if you want to do this next exercise together”, that it was in our best interest to ALWAYS do those exercises together.  It was because of this advice that we started having a discussion about our relationship boundaries, and from this talk, we decided two things:  1) we would always do those exercises together as suggested, and 2) we would be monogamous  with one another while there.

For me, I remember thinking that it made no sense to possibly ruin a potentially wonderful relationship by having a fling with someone who lived 3,000+ miles away from me.  For Peter, I am guessing he based his decision on his feelings over non-monogamy with his wife.

I almost immediately regretted this decision.

The workshop began on a Friday night, and would conclude on Sunday morning.  Here we were, nestled in this beautiful northern Californian mountain range just north of the Napa Valley, surrounded by lush forrest, in a tiny town that most people have never heard of, secluded far from our daily lives.  The workshop was held at a clothing optional retreat center.  It was very easy to feel almost removed from what you knew your life to be while there.

We weren’t too far into the beginning of the workshop when it became obvious that a short, Australian, blonde girl similar in age to me (29) had taken a real interest in Peter (42).  It went above interest to almost a level of competitiveness, as if she felt she was looking to “steal my man”, which I found a tad odd for the kind of workshop we were in, but she exuded that energy nonetheless.  Peter, well, he was totally loving the attention, and wasn’t at all shy in returning flirtations with her of his own.  Dare I say, he was very encouraging.

As for me, I saw what I wanted the moment we arrived and were in line to check in.  He was everything that catches my eye: tall, confident, broad shouldered, with dark wavy hair and almost icy hazel eyes, and I immediately needed to know him.  This is where I regretted my previous decision of monogamy because, oh my god, I wanted to climb that man like a tree.  Of course, I am also practical, so I reminded myself that a fling with someone who lived on the other side of the country from me wasn’t as important to me as the possibility of what I had going with Peter, and also, I had no idea if this bronze statuesque man was even available for that sort of thing.

As it got later into the first evening of the workshop, Peter and I did our own thing, sitting together when we were all in a large group, but off on our own for various exercises.  We had yet to encounter those “check in with your partner” ones yet.  Nothing was uncomfortable.  Nothing except this girl’s relentless pursuit of Peter while she eyed me.  Who knows, maybe she was looking for a foursome?  She did come paired with some skinny, somewhat effeminate gay boyfriend, who I just assumed with my “Gaydar” was more “friend” than lover.   Perhaps he was bi, but he sure seemed to love her competitiveness with me.  Peter seemed to be soaking it up.  It was this kind of energy that just made things feel weird.

I kept a safe, across the room, distance from the man I had eyes for.  If he came towards me, I went the other way.  At some point, somehow, it was revealed that he was indeed, poly.  Obstacle one, removed, only made me want him more.  To this day I still cannot remember his name, and I wish i did.

The workshop concluded for the night at around 11pm, and Pete and I decided to go up the hill to the more private pools for a swim.  I remember walking about the hill, along the paved road, under this blanket of navy blue velvet sky, gazing up at the hundreds of silver stars that decorated it, and having this deep discussion about what was going on with this girl and him.  All the while I never said anything about my desire for Mr. Tall Dark and Delicious.

Peter talked his way through all the thoughts that he was having about this Aussie lass, and her obvious pursuit of him, and how he wouldn’t mind returning those advances more fully and having a dalliance with her, but how he felt it would mean pulling away from me, and he didn’t want that.  He was there with me, and this all was momentary anyway.  I breached a sigh of relief in some ways to hear we were on the same page as far as that went.

I remember mentioning my same thoughts over  the guy I’d been eyeing.  He seemed quite opposed to that.

What I found most interesting, somewhat hurtful, and in some ways, most hypocritical, was that for someone that seemed to be so staunchly non-monogamous, he seemed to be very easily swayed.  I mean, honestly, don’t chastise your wife for wanting to be poly and insist that you don’t, when you’re really way keener on the idea than you let on.  And I guess you could say I was hypocritical for having the same feelings and desires, but the difference for me is that I was not the one who proposed the rules for our workshop participation, but I did agree to them.  I was also, how shall I say, much more subtle with my admiring of others.

So, now we have really come to the question I have been pondering lately, why do we choose the things we choose?

Fast forward to Saturday morning’s workshop exercise…still not one of “those” exercises, but still to this day ranks as one of the sensuous experiences I have ever had.

The men were lead out into another room, and all of us women stayed in the main room.  We had no idea what is being said to the men while they were away, we were just laying there on the floor waiting for them to return.  There was some soft, New Agey type music playing and I’m sure the workshop facilitator is saying something of importance, but I don’t remember it.  When the men were let back into the room, they were told to pick a female partner and kneel down beside her.  I am having some mild ambivalence about who will pick me, only because you never knew with the nature of these things just what would be happening, but then he knelt down beside me.

I’d done my best to avoid him when I could, but there was nothing I could do now.  He had chosen me.  Mr. Tall, Dark, and Delicious was kneeling next to me looking into my eyes, and I could not escape, and I didm’t want to either.  Oh, it should also be noted that we were both naked.  (Almost everyone was naked, or in some half-dressed sort of state.  At the beginning of each day they offer you the choice to be naked, and every day I chose this option, as did most people)  I was so thrilled he had chosen me, and never once did I wonder who Peter chose.  I was fairly certain I knew anyway.  In this moment I was completely captivated by this man.

The instructions came that the men were to take the small bottle of nail polish they held, and to begin painting our nails.  He had chosen this pearlescent pink-white color, which I thought oddly matched me perfectly.  No words ever passed between us.  The whole room was instructed to remain silent.

He held each of my long, slender, fingers tenderly in his hand, and one by one, painted each nail slowly.  Each long, languid, stroke became like a well-placed caress painted across my skin, and he held my gaze to make certain I knew that was his intention.  His eyes would travel the length of my body, and then return with hunger.  A hunger he found reflected back from mine.  It wasn’t a ravenous hunger, no restrained beast was  being reined in.  His eyes, his touch, his hands, all said he would take his time with me.  His ravaging of my body would be a slow, sensual feasting.

He repeated the same gestures with my left hand.  The entire experience then, and when I recall it now, all seemed to be almost dreamlike.  It seemed to both go on forever, and yet, pass by far too quickly.  It was like being lost in another world, and not necessarily wanting to return.

And just like that, the exercise was over.  Voices returned to break the silence, and the dreamlike bubble I was existing in with this man, dissolved.  Shortly after this, we broke for lunch.  We all made plates indoors from a buffet at the back of the room, and then took them to sit outside on the deck where sunlight filtered through the trees and blue skies hung above.  Peter and I ended up sharing a round patio table with several other people, one of whom was my sensual nail painter.  It was a quiet lunch, even though I remember we all enjoyed talking together.  I remember admiring my nails and thanking him for doing such an impressive job, and I remember wanting to say more, but instead being lost in that quiet, wordless gaze that happens between two people when they’re not sure just what or how to say it.

Even to this day, I’m not sure I ever really shared with Peter just how deep and sensuous that experience with that man had been for me, or how I had really wished it had been more.  We both kept our agreements to one another during the rest of the workshop,, with some minor bending which we both agreed to.  He told Aussie girl to cool her jets, and she did.  I kept myself in check with my own interest.

As for the “check in with your partner” exercises, there were two, and I was exceptionally thankful that we heeded the advice of that previous attendee.  One of them, and by far the most intense, involved stimulating your partner to orgasm via her g-spot.  That could have gone SO badly had I been paired with someone else.  In fact, unless it had been my nail painting friend, I know I would’ve opted out, because I don’t like being touched by people I am unattracted to, let alone let their fingers have a play date in my vagina. Whoever that guy was that gave us that advice, I am eternally thankful to you, my friend!  I was also thankful that fate had it so Peter ended up in California with me for that workshop.  That was not something, nor was the 2nd exercise of similar risk that followed, I had been been prepared to be open to experiencing with a roomful of strangers present.

All of that aside, it doesn’t even really begin to speak to how either of us would have felt emotionally had we not listened to that advice, and instead chose different partners.  What if I ended up with a partner that I didn’t want to do the exercise with, and what if he ended up strumming Aussie girl to her edge while I sat on the sideline?  What if he chose not to do the exercise for some reason, and I ended up with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Delicious making me thrust and squirt all over his fingers?  I’m fairly certain when I say this that neither of us would’ve been the least bit okay with experiencing that emotional torpedo.

So, obviously, some boundaries are in place for good reason.  We choose some agreements in relationships that make sense, and others that leave us questioning.  Years later I find myself wondering why we even bothered choosing to be monogamous at that point in the first place.  It was obvious that each of us had desires that lead elsewhere, but that we quelled.  And while I suppose at any time we could have decided otherwise, we still chose to not follow them.

In weighing out all the possibilities and the consequences, real or perceived, I think we all make the best choices we can in the moment we have to make them.  The question remains, why do we?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No Matter What, The Woman Is The Slut

I admit it.  My virtue is running thin…transparent even.  I want to do things that I know are wrong, but at this point, I’m one thigh caress shy of earning my own scarlet letter.

Can one earn a scarlet letter even if they’re not the one who’s doing the cheating?  Is it kind of like guilt by association?

Are you all sitting there reading this wondering just what I’m getting at?  Ok, let me explain.

You might remember my racy sexting adventures with my running friend that I wrote about several months ago in a post aptly titled “Adventures in Sexting and Why I Love The Art of the Flirt“, and if not, you should go read it now.  you will love it, this I can assure you.  Now, my flirty friend has a girlfriend.  I know she exists, and while we’re only acquaintances, I can assess that she seems like a good human.  I would never want to cause her any undue hurt.  Despite this, I want to straddle her man and ride him dizzy, and this want is real and growing.

However, I also have a conscience that tells me acting on this thought is wrong.  My inner cricket has spent a lot of time shaking his finger at me lately when these thoughts cross my mind.  I think he’s due for a raise or something because he sure seems to be taking his job as guardian of my morality pretty damn seriously.  Trust me, I’m not attempting to justify what I may or may not do in the future.  I will do as I do, and the only one that has control of my choices is me.  Here I am venting my inner “angel” and  “devil” debate to you all.  I’m sure I’m not the only one who wrestles with this inner dichotomy.  Right?  Anyone?  Hello?

In this situation (and many like it) if something were to happen and down the line, our transgressions outted, I lose.  I’ll be the slut, the bad guy, the one responsible for it all, no matter whether or not his part was equal to mine.  That’s how it is, it’s the way it always has been.  I’d be the Eve that made him take a bite of my apple, single-handedly destroying his virtue with single bound.  The woman has always been the one to blame for it all since the beginning of time, and the man gets forgiven because “that’s just what men do”.  Never mind that he would be equally responsible, or the master of his own choices.  It’s this double-standard that I dislike the most.  Once again, no matter what, the woman is the slut.

I risk losing more, even though I’m not the one who has monogamous commitments to another person.  In that area I am scott free.  I’m just not sure I’m willing to risk the possibility of being alienated by mutual friends, and being shamed with an invisible, though ever-present red letter “A” on my chest.  Is the possibility of a seriously good romp worth it?eveapple

It would probably be most truthful to say that if it wasn’t for this risk, I’d have fucked him already.  I still say it’s a wonder I have held out this long.  My resistance is becoming less and less persistent.  My excuses to avoid it are progressively becoming weaker and more lame.  I want his mouth on mine and his cock buried deep inside me (I’m not picky on the orrifice, why choose just one?).  The desire to have that is beginning to rise higher than my moral ceiling reaches.

I skirted last night with a near miss.  I blame drinking without eating for the slight slip in my judgement, and now today I’m doing that think where I keep saying “I can’t believe you did that” under my breath to myself over and over again, and clutching my head in my hands in embarrassment.  Suddenly I feel like I’m back in college.  Still, my virtue remains intact, but the question is, for how much longer?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feel Yourself To Feel Better

This afternoon I was just finishing up a letter to someone that had been very triggering and difficult to write  It flooded all sorts of agitation around inside my body.  My face was tight with the uncomfortableness that arose from talking about things I would rather soon forget.  It wasn’t to anyone I even really know, or who knows me, which I suppose is what made it so easy to just flush all that buried emotion out of my system.

As I had stepped away from my computer, my cell pinged at me from across the room.

“Sitting here with my cock in hand looking at your pictures” the message from FRF read.  I smiled at the thought, but then banished my phone back to my nightstand without responding.

“That is the last place I can go right now”, I muttered to myself.

I was in another headspace from what I had just finished writing, and sexy was the least of things I was feeling.  I was so tense and agitated.  But then I thought to myself that maybe this sexy little escape was just what I needed after all.  I mean, seriously, what better way to get rid of bad tension than with an orgasm?

I went back in my mind to all the flirty text messages we had been sending to each other earlier in the day…about how I had been in class that morning and could barely concentrate because I kept daydreaming about his face buried between my thighs and his fingers deep inside my exploring…about how much I wanted to wrap my mouth around his cock…how he couldn’t wait to know what it was like for me to cum squirting all over him…and about the towels we’d need to keep from drowning.

My bad mood instantly vanished, and was instantly replaced with wetness between my legs.

“Let me send you something new”, I replied.  There had been 7 minutes that had passed since his message had first appeared.

I yanked off my jeans, discarded them in a pile on my bedroom floor, and climbed into my awaiting bedsheets.

I knew that my timing was off with his now, but who cared really because I knew the moment my fingers brushed up against my clit that I was going to come quickly.  Foreplay, even just in the form of sexy text messages, only adds to the power behind a great orgasm.

I rubbed my tingling clit in slow circles thinking about how he was stroking himself while thinking of me.  The other day I told him I felt like silk, and I did.  I was so warm and slick, so soft to the touch.  I could get lost in the feel of myself beneath my fingertips.  I watched my screen for another message and hoped our edges would cross one another.  Impatient with want, I  scrolled back into messages from weeks ago to find one of the photos of the head of his rigid cock glistening with pre-cum.  Thoughts of what he would feel like against my lips and tongue…what he would taste like as wrapped my mouth around his cock, rushed in.  They were quickly followed by what I wrote him next.

“Wish I was there to straddle your lap and slowly lower my cunt down onto you, and ride you slowly while exploring your mouth with mine”Blog

The flush of rising orgasm was spreading like a slow fire throughout every inch of my skin.

Sliding my fingers inside myself, I imagined they were his.  Deep inside I could feel this firm bump that I had not remembered being so pronounced before…my god my g-spot was even erect!  You know, I didn’t know g-spots could change size and shape with arousal, but here I was in the middle of the throws of lust, stroking away, and in complete awe of my new discovery.  It was round and ripe with my desire.

I pressed my fingertips even more firmly into it, drawing more circles, and my eyes opened wide with the wetness that grew.  Somehow I had brought myself to the edge of squirting all over myself with just a few small strokes.  What I really wanted was to be squirting all over his face, seeing his cheeks dripping with me, and sucking myself from his kiss.

My gaze was fixed on that photo of him, as I rubbed fingered, and stroked myself into a shaking crescendo of orgasmic bliss.  Afterwards, with moist fingers still resting against my clit, I lay there and just let those after shock tremors wash over me, being still.

And just like that, we were both up and going out into our respective worlds in a matter of minutes.

Sometimes I think I must be a saint for keeping my resolve all this time, and resisting the urge to just put the two of us together to allow us to combust.  Imaginations are a far safer playground though.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wolves and Women

Wolves are monogamous creatures. I never knew this. I don’t know about you, but I kind of just expected that a creature that howls at the moon and races through the woods under the cover of a moonlit night to hunt it’s prey, would be anything but.

This news also strikes a cord of irony with me because an ex-long term partner used to identify heavily with wolves, and mostly because he figured they were unbridled creatures who answered to no one, and romped as they saw fit while the female wolves stayed home to watch the kids.  He figured the wolf was the poster animal for polyamory.  Hah, jokes on you, wolfie.

No, the gray wolf is one of only a handful of animals that pair-bond monogamously for life.  You can read all about it right under the heading of Reproduction and Development in this handy dandy wiki.

I was 22 when I first heard the term “polyamory”.  Up until then I figured there were three types of people: monogamous, cheaters, and swingers.  Since then I have had a couple dozen or so (this might even be a slight understatement) of friends who identified as poly.  I, myself, have even identified as poly during different points of my life.  Usually this varied with each relationship I entered into.

Now, a lot of poly people will try to say that it’s completely different than swinging.  Not really having known anyone that identified as a “swinger”, I have to say that from all of the many polyamorous folk I have known over the years, no matter how much they proudly say it’s different than swinging because of the emotional component, it is still looks pretty much like swinging. This is what most people call “sleeping around” in their twenties: you kind of have relationships with varying degrees of commitment, they may or may not last for very long, but then eventually you find “the one”, and settle down and get married.  Some people just keep doing both at the same time.  Trust me, it’s never as much fun as it sounds, or as you think it’s going to be.  Also, a lot of people have a hard time understanding that the freedoms they expect in relationship are a two-way street. In other words, if it’s good for you, it’s good for me.  Everyone plays by the same rules.

I keep thinking to myself that I have learned unequivocably that I am a monogamous creature.  I’m not good at sharing unless I really am not emotionally invested in the person.  I get jealous.  Men want to point fingers at us women and make it like we’re the only ones who act jealous, but let me tell you from firsthand experience: men get VERY jealous.  They are not immune to jealousy like they would like us to think. howlwolf

I cannot tell you how many times I have been in a relationship with someone where we considered ourselves poly, and it was all fun and games if they were pursuing or being pursued by someone else, but the minute I was, suddenly the rules would change.  Usually this meant they would find something wrong with the competing male and would either deal with this by making disparaging comments about them hoping I would lose interest, or flat out beg me not to pursue the person/relationship. It was never a reason with any solid grounds.

It was those times when I would have to remind them what was good for them was good for me.  In fact, my ex-FWB even got jealous when I would go out with other male friends or potential partners, and all the while he would completely deny it!  One time he called me at 11:30 at night to “see how I was doing”, when I had just told him only 4 hours earlier that I was going out with a male friend for drinks.  When I didn’t answer, he called me again promptly at 9am the next morning.  And when I called him on his ruse in the form of a phone call that was really meant to see if I was home (and alone) yet or not, he flat out denied it.

I get jealous. I know this about myself. I’m not going to lie or pretend I don’t.  It doesn’t make me any less evolved as a person.  It’s a human emotion.  Own it, I do.

Still, in monogamous relationships where I have been generally happy, my mind has been known to wander, and I don’t just mean sexual fantasies.  When I was dating Guitar Man for example, I really, really wanted to have sex with this guy who was in the HAI workshop we took part in on our trip to California, but I didn’t because I knew it was a momentary thing with no possibility for more, and the real possibility would be that it might ruin what we were working to build.  Honestly, I still regret that I didn’t.  He painted my nails for me…long story…but it was one of the sexiest experiences of my life. *sigh*  Also, I’m pretty sure I hugged him while naked, but I hugged a lot of naked people that weekend, so it’s hard to be certain.

While in that same relationship with Guitar Man I also used to find all sorts of casual ways to see my ex-FWB Norris.  At the time I was even going to school and had designed a project around him, so I had guaranteed myself time to spend with him.  It was all very innocent because nothing ever happened, and I’m not sure I wanted it to because I have a pretty strong moral constitution, but still I needed to see him.  In my head, the intentions weren’t as innocent as I wanted to pretend they were either.  On the last day of the work we were doing for my project together (and just coming off the heels of Guitar Man treating me like complete shit)  I straddled Norris’s erection that was bulging through his pants and kissed him until my mind told me to stop.  I never told Guitar Man what had happened, let alone that I had been routinely seeing my friend.

And then there was my last relationship that I don’t speak much about.  I have done very well, without much effort, to delete all memories of it from my head.  It was someone I really truly loved, but still, there was FWB all the time in my head.  And then, just a week before a very pivotal moment in that relationship, I ended up having lunch with Norris and then kissing him in his car, parked in a school parking lot in the corner, while it poured rain around us.  It would have gone a lot further if he didn’t have people from his office calling looking for him to come handle things they couldn’t on their own.  I guess I should be thankful because that probably would have been a heavy transgression on my heart.

However, the disclaimer for the above is that Guitar Man had a roving eye as well for an Australian girl at that same workshop, and the man I was last serious with was polyamorous, but only one-sided, meaning anytime I wanted a new lover he always found something wrong with them.

So, I don’t know. Maybe I am really 90% monogamous.

One of my friends told me he thought I had issues with commitment based on the types of people I chose for relationships, but I don’t think I do.  I really think I have just not met the right person. Or, maybe if I met someone who I felt was fully committed to me, then I could be 100% fully committed to them. I’m actually a very loyal person when I feel I’m getting that loyalty in return.  The question remains though, is anyone really 100% commited to one love?  Does that even exist?

I’m seriously jaded.

And sometimes, I am just a ravenous, desirous wolf who wants to howl.

Peek-A-Boo, I See You

The internet is a bizarre place. You think it’s totally anonymous if you want it to be but it never really is.  Do you know there are sites that can tell you who is searching for you by name in Google and such?

I just found out that my ex-FWB Norris is apparently is doing just that.

It’s not like he doesn’t know where I am.  I live in the same place, as does he, and we know where each other works.  Finding each other isn’t something that would be difficult in any sense of the word.  Although, when I told him I was disconnecting from him for my own mental and emotional well-being, I deleted and blocked him from everything: email, messenger, Facebook, anything I had as a means of easy contact.

This was less about him, and more about me.  Neither one of us is the crazy stalker type.  I knew when I said that was it that he wasn’t going to follow me.  It was like I was quitting him like a drug, and I needed to go “cold turkey”.  I needed no way I could backslide into that “relationship” again. That “relationship” being the 17 year long game of emotional roller coastering with him. It can be summed up very easily by Katy Perry’s song “Hot and Cold”  It has been since September of 2012 that we’ve spoken.

Still, there Norris is, looking for me.  I think it’s more “checking up on” me, really.

I admit to being guilty of the same thing with him.  I want to know he’s ok, that he’s happy, that his kids are doing well, and that maybe he finally found someone that he didn’t have to run away from.  Apparently I am not the only one who’s wondering from a distance.  I suppose that’s what loving someone will do to you.

I know that he sent me clients at work, and I know one of them was there purposefully to find out whether I was single or not.  Let’s just say, if you are going to send someone to “spy” for you, make sure they are a little more subtle.    I can piece together P90X, Jeet Kun Do, and “your boyfriend must love you for this” pretty easily thanks.  Also, it’s not so much what spy client asked me, but more what he didn’t ask me that was the deal clincher.

Admittedly again, I’ve wanted to write Norris lately.  It’s not the first time I had the urge, but I’m rallying against it, and reminding myself that my choice to disengage was best no matter how much I may miss him.

In honor of that feeling, here is the song that Norris said always made him think of me.