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!

 

 

 

 

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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.

Saudade

20131212-162541.jpg

 

Saudade c. 2013

 

I feel it still

a silent thread so loud inside my skin

and I’m still unraveling with you

after all this time

 

A compass in the dark

I feel you out there like my north

even when I have cast you out, away,

drown your voice in the noise of life’s traffic

 

18 years of lovers, and you

yet still i yearn

for love spoken

that should have never been

and to walk in a world without your gravity

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Year Without Sex In My City

It’s been a long and quiet year for me as far as writing here goes, which has probably lead you all to believe that I was just another “pop and fizzle” blogger who was once passionate about writing, and writing about passion, only to have my effervescence go flat with either waning disinterest, or the laziness of allowing life to swallow my passion up and take my attentions elsewhere.

Well, neither of those could be further for the truth for me, and since the entire premise behind my blog here is unbridled truth, I’m breaking my silence.

One of the reasons I started this blog was help others feel less alone in their desires, to be a voice of sexual positivity, and a to be a champion of owning one’s sexuality and being proud of it.  And while there are many stigmas associated with being a woman who unapologetically and enthusiastically celebrates her love of sex, there are just as many stigmas around not having sex.

Ironically, in the first year of my decision to blog about my erotic life which has always been so vibrant, my recent erotic life has been anything but.

Ladies and gentlemen, it has been one year and  3 1/2 months since I have had sex, and to me, that’s embarrassing to admit.  This is the longest amount of time in all of my sexually-active life that I have gone without having sex with a partner, and let me tell you, I am like a powder keg of sexual tension ready to ignite.  The next man I fuck had better have a mighty healthy heart because I’m going to hit his shores like Hurricane Katrina, and there will be no Red Cross in sight.  Explosions

Now it started out as an intentional thing.  I needed to avoid intimate relationships of any level just so I could focus on me because unfortunately, I have a past of losing myself in people, and putting myself last.  That was also not an intentional modus operandi, but it was something I eventually became aware of about myself through much introspection.  Well, introspection, and pattern recognition.  I kind of touched on my inner questioning about that in a post from earlier this year aptly called Musings of a Gun Shy Heart.  I needed time alone to work on me, which sounds so much like canned psycho-babble, but is really the most honest way to say it.  I needed to put me first without distractions that might throw me back into a way of being that was not working for me.

Well, that was all well and good.  Expectedly, and in some ways unexpectedly, my libido went from high, to low, and then completely did a disappearing act on me to the point where I was really getting concerned about myself.  I have a very strong libido, and although it ebbs and flows like everyone else’s, it’s never been nonexistent.   Honestly, that was pretty scary.  I should be in my sexual prime!  I started to begin to have more questions than I originally started with.  I thought maybe that my self-imposed drought had brought on a biological one.

There were a couple of times that I thought to write about that, but how can I be a sex blogger who isn’t having sex, let alone one who has the libido of a blueberry muffin?  As much as there is a judgement around being a whore by society if you’re a woman having lots of sex, there is as heavy a judgement about you if you aren’t having any; you must be unattractive, unwanted, discarded, or frigid.  I am by far none of those things, and even if the choice to not be intimate sexually (or otherwise) was my own, it didn’t make me unafraid of those judgements being cast upon me from people who don’t know my inner story.  It’s funny, in some ways I feared those judgements more than being thought of as a slut for having my sexuality being such a large part of my identity.

NOSEXAfter about a full year without having sex I told myself it was now ok to be open to meeting someone.  That was the end of July.  Now that I’m totally open to meeting someone though, I still have these anxieties plaguing my psyche around my “picker” being broken.  One, I need to make sure to put me first (my schooling, my goals, my homelike, my running, i.e. things that are good for me), and 2) I need to be real about what I am looking for.  By “be real” I mean really know and be honest with myself about what it is I am looking for in the short term and long term, be clear about what I expect from both of those types of choices, and not compromise on things I know I shouldn’t compromise on.

Luckily for me, that hide and seek libido was only temporary.  And not only did my sexual appetite reappear with a vengence, but I’ve also discovered, through some frank discussions and fun flirtations, that my more kinky desires were not totally extinguished either as I had once thought they had been!  Who doesn’t like surprises like that?  (Read Coffee, Sleeping Beauty, and BD/SM to get the backstory)  

That all being said, as much as I am just dying for some really great sex with intimacy (real connection is an essential component of great sex) you who have been reading this blog know, it takes more than someone who just looks hot to get my panties wet.  Case in point, Towel Boy.  (Hmm, did I blog about him?  If not, you can look forward to that story coming…ahem…soon.)  I love men with strong sexual prowess that matches my own, but I also need something to intellectually spark my desire, otherwise everything else is lost on me.  On occasion this can get me into trouble, trouble which I will lovingly nickname the “Don Draper” effect; an intelligent, sexually confident man, who is really completely emotionally unavailable.  That being said, I’m cautious.  I’m doing my best to not allow my hormones to get me into trouble. 

So there you have it, my blogging hiatus fully explained.  If you too are out there not having sex as much as you would like, either by choice or by happenstance, you’re not alone, and it doesn’t make you anything less than who you are: human.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Relationship In Music – Short Stuff

My relationship with Short Stuff set to music

 

In the very beginning…we had sex to this

And we danced in his living room to this song

When we shared a D/s relationship, this song was how I felt about him

And long after that relationship of ours died, and then a new way of relating emerged, he sent me this song telling me it was how he felt for me

But then the darkness of illumination set in…the hidden became revealed, and light became dark.

And this became my reality with him and his addiction

When I left him, he had the audacity to send me this song

And I sent him this as I continued walking away for good.  Divorced January  2012

The Bad In Each Other

I was just writing a fun blog post on penis size, when I started listening to this Feist song, and it was instantly derailed.  My heart can be so fickle.

Thoughts of my ex-FWB have been on my mind a lot lately, so much so that I have been dreaming as of late dreams that star him in various roles.  That all started when I had recently been thinking of him more due to things going on in my personal life that I had been wishing I could have gone to him for advice or feedback on.  I have to then remind myself why I needed to walk away from that friendship altogether, why it is healthier for me, even if at times a piece of me pangs for that friendship.  Sometimes I can still feel the ghosts of us then walking around where I stand now.  I remember my therapist telling me “I think it’s so unfair how he is with you, how he yo-yos”.  The one simple sentence was the catalyst for me really acknowledging in my own heart how right she was, how unfairly he built my heart up, and tore me down.

If you love someone, confess you are and have always been in love with them, but have no intention of ever allowing that to happen, why bother telling the person in the first place?  Why tell me?  I didn’t need to know.  I had acquiesced to my wondering.  I had accepted not knowing.  You were so cruel to confess your feelings to me.  So selfish and self-serving.  Why didn’t you just leave me alone?  I hate you for doing that to me when you had no intention of loving me.

Oddly enough, I found this song earlier this week, and it stuck with me.  These words, this stanza here, perfectly speaks to the heart of what it felt like in my heart

“Fill me up then pour me out
Therein lies the doubt.
We had the same feelings
At opposite times.”


 

“When a good man and a good woman
Can’t find the good in each other
Then a good man and a good woman
Will bring out the worst in the other
The bad in each other”

Musings Of A Gun Shy Heart

In follow-up to my latest post “Reminders of An August Afternoon“, I sat down tonight to watch Take This Waltz, and was left with the following questions chasing each other around in my mind:  In no particular order…

Do I choose people who I know will leave me?

Do I choose people I know I will eventually leave?

Is every relationship, no matter how filled with fireworks and rainbows in the beginning, doomed to fall into the familiar slumber of boredom, leaving us/me/them to feel like something is missing?brokenheart

Is having multiple lovers really the answer to this, or the cause of more of these feelings of something missing?

What kind of relationships will my daughter have as she begins to grow up and out into the world?

What does lasting love look like?

Have I set a bad example for my daughter in that I have yet to find someone with whom I can find and sustain a loving partnership with?

Things I know about what I want for myself

I really don’t want to share or be shared

I don’t want to be with someone controlling

I don’t want a relationship without passion

I need intimacy and emotional connection

I enjoy sex often

The more I love someone, the more sexual I want to be with them

Physical affection is important to me

Intelligence turns me on and its important to me  (it’s always the first or second thing I say when I am asked to tell someone why/how I find someone attractive)

I like someone who can walk in both worlds; someone who likes the finer things in life, but also is down to earth

I want a man who is a man, and not a boy living in the body of a 40-year-old.  I do not want to be a grown man’s mother.

Honesty and integrity are valued highly by me, and I need them from anyone who would be a potential long-term partner.  I give it and expect to receive it.

My health is very important to me.  I want someone who values their physical health and their emotional one

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.  If you think it’s good for you, and only you, and expect something different for me, you are sadly mistaken.

Does any of this even exist?

Reminders of An August Afternoon: Love, Marriage, Infidelity and Justification

This amazing blogger friend of mine, Fern, posted this that really touched me, first in a way that hit a tender spot and was uncomfortable to read, and second in a way that I then remembered how closely I could relate to.

This movie, Take This Waltz, well, the clip here sums my, and many others, experiences up in a few short beautifully composed moments of film.  I recently saw this on the instant download list on my cable channel for new movies, and I passed it by when I read the synopsis because it just wasn’t a place I wanted to go emotionally.  I was so done with polyamory, and those men in my life for whom I was not their only lover.  I just was done with this storyline because I had lived it, and more than once.

I was forgetting when I was the person who wanted more, who wanted someone else.  I can justify my own desires and actions away with the various things that were going on in my life at that time, how I’d been and was being treated by the person I was married to at that time, or that somehow “it’s so not the same”, but it would all be a lie.  An excuse.

It was exactly the same.

I was married to a man for just over a year, separated just under the wire short of 12 months.  There’s a lot of back story there, but that doesn’t matter as much as this one story in particular.

In the summer of 2011, one August morning, I was yahoo messaging with my friend Norris (you all might know him from my posts here as ex-FWB).  He told me how his son had said how it would be cool to get to hang with me and my daughter again sometime.  I didn’t take this at face value, as Norris was fond of asking excuses about seeing me.  If he wanted to see me, he would make a reason for it, it was never because he simply wanted to.  I know this because he had confessed it to me before.  So, I read into this, and knowing how the kids hadn’t seen one another since they were like 9 or 10 years old, this just reeked of total fabricated excuse.  Hr just wanted to see me, and I wanted to see him.

I was nervous about this because of the feelings it excited in me.  I wanted to squash down the desire to see him, the happiness that he was reaching out to me, and the eager anticipation with which I looked forward to it as it eventually grew closer once I finally agreed to an afternoon together.  I wanted to make excuses to get out of it at first because of the awkwardness that I knew would be there.  My husband would be there.  They had never met one another.

It was a late August afternoon, and we were going to spend it at the pool that is in my community.  It was not very hot, but we were going to eek out the very last bit of summer that was left, and enjoy that last pool day even if the water was super cold.  This would be fun for the kids, and good for us, with lots of personal space.

They were late and my husband who was very fond of naps (and pretty much a slow-moving, low-energy dude), decided to leave the pool and go back to our house for one.  The Norris and his son arrived after much delay.  It was late afternoon and the pool was mostly in the shade now, and fairly quiet, with only a few scattered people still resting on lawn chairs in what remained of the sun.

My daughter was in the water and beckoned the son in.  This left the two of us, Norris and I, to sit at a poolside table underneath the shade of the umbrella to talk alone.  I had gotten out of the pool only minutes before they walked in, and I was shaking.  I thought this was due to the fact that the water was now fairly frigid, and although the air was warm, there was a breeze that was constant, and the air across my goose-bumpled skin was causing me to shiver.   Then moment came when I realized that this should have passed by now, as although I was bikini clad, I was wrapped up in a large towel and should have been warmed.  I then not only became nervous at being in the same space together again after so long, but anxious at the realization that my trembling was now more nerves than chill.    Norris sat across from me, a safe distance between us.

We talked.  Nothing said was pointed or floated on any sexy innuendo, but there it was; desire.  Not the kind of desire, at least for me, that would have me holding myself back from wanting more right then, in that moment, restrained merely by circumstance, but more so desire that was the kind that is omnipresent between two people who are like souls.

That desire, that uncomfortable remembering of our past, was sitting there like a third wheel between my towel-clad shivering body, and his over-sized polo shirt and wrinkled chinos.  I notice these details because this is unlike him, Norris was always well dressed, and wrinkled clothing that was too big for him was never to be seen on him, ever.  I worry that I look fat in my bikini as I allow myself to unfurl the towel now that my shivering has dissipated.  I relax my body into the back of he chair, cross my legs, and keep worrying he thinks I look fat.

After not too long, my husband walks through the pool gate, and begins his slow walk towards us.  Norris asks if this is him, and I confirm it.  And then the awkward grows.

I introduce them for the first time, hands are shaked, and pleasantries exchanged.  My husband says something like, “So, Portia tells me you’ve known one another for a long time”, and the conversation continues.  I remember not feeling sure how to act. As much as I was angry at my husband for many things then, I was still very much in love with him.  And as much as I was married and in love, I was more deeply in love with Norris.

(I almost erased “more deeply”, but that would have been a big lie, and since I am not one for lying, I left it)

I didn’t want to not be myself with my husband, didn’t want to hold back my usual affections, but I also didn’t want to be overly affectionate in front of Norris towards him either.  It’s a strange feeling when you’re trying to balance the emotions of two people, well ok, three.  One, I didn’t want my husband to think I was acting strange. Two, I didn’t want Norris to feel…I don’t know what…hurt?  Uncomfortable?  I suppose whatever the feelings he had when we had lunch one day, many years before this, when remarked at the pictures of my then ex-boyfriend and I in Hawaii still framed and on the wall in the dining room with us, after I had tried to remind myself to take them down because I knew Norris would notice.

I felt like I was walking on a high wire above the ring, trying desperately to find the balance that would keep this whole event pleasant and sociable.

It was around 5 o’clock by this time and I decided that perhaps we should all go back to he house so I could start on dinner.  I had invited them to stay for burgers and such a last BBQ ha-rah of the fading summer.  The kids climb out of the pool, and we all meander back to the house.

The real mind blower came when I was in the kitchen making the salad, and Norris and Husband and both kids, were both out in the back yard at the picnic table just jabbering away together famously.  My husband was getting more time to talk to the person I wanted to be talking to and spending time with.

The night was fun.  Dinner was great, conversations flowed effortlessly, dessert was had and martial arts movies introduced.  At one point Norris was sitting on the sofa and I sat down next to him, nt close, but close enough, and he shot off that thing like he was shot froma cannon!  He offered my husband the seat.  It was a large sofa, and there was more than enough room for all of us on it comfortably.

Goodbyes were made around 8:30 ish.

But after….

After the door closed, my daughter whisked me upstairs and told me “You made the wrong choice.  That was the guy you should have married!”, and this just messed with me because that was the guy I wanted to marry, but he never asked.

The husband, well, later that night he asked me if Norris and I had ever slept together, and I blushed like a school girl embarrassed by the surprise questioning, and said “Yes, but that was a long time ago”.  He told me he could tell the minute he walked inside the pool gate and saw us.  He said he could tell just from the way we were sitting, how we were with one another.  I was unsure how he could tell that from two people not even sitting beside one another, with a whole table separating them for safety.   I don’t know what he saw.  Maybe he made that up, maybe he really saw something I was unaware of.   He said two people can’t be sitting together like we were when you’ve never been intimate with each other before.  I don’t know.  I didn’t see what he saw.  I only felt what I was feeling.  I’m not sure what the tell-tale sign was.  I wouldn’t have thought, looking at us, that we were anything more than friends.

The next two weeks were pure emotional upheaval.  I was getting my period and blamed my irrational thoughts on that emotional unraveling that sometimes comes with that time of the month.  I told myself to take a deep breath and relax, but all I could think about was Norris.  He was all I thought about, all I wanted to think about.

My husband, who I knew really didn’t love me (and that’s not a made up feeling to help me excuse my own, it just was…he was pining for his ex-wife…for the life he screwed up), was just not paying attention because it was evident that something was stirring madly inside me.  I played the song that Norris had once told me made him think of me, over and over and over again on YouTube.  I sang it in the shower, while cooking dinner.  I was preoccupied.  I was running around the track at he Y fueled by a desperate fire inside me that would not let me go, that incessantly tossed my heart about, a fragile paper heart, floating on the heat of something that was once in a way, could’ve been, but never could be now.

And he had turned me away anyway a year earlier.  Norris told me he loved me, always had loved me but could never bring himself to tell me, and then after he finally told me, told me all the reasons why we could never be.  What was I thinking?

I was going mad.

I needed to be alone to talk myself off this emotional ledge.

I was guilty of the very thing I hated my husband for.  I made every excuse to justify how what I was feeling, thinking, wanting, yearning for was somehow different from what I hated my husband for feeling towards his ex-wife, and although yes, there are circumstances and back story here that you would probably agree that I was MORE than justified too in my thoughts, but even in the light of all that murky dark, we would both be wrong because it was all in secret, all kept neatly hidden.

I was now no different.

When I did have the chance to act though, one year earlier (and only a month before my wedding date), when he called me one night and wanted to whisk me away for a quickie, I said no.  I didn’t want to either, I wanted to say hell yes, yes yes, but I didn’t.  At least I have that integrity of my heart.

We are not as perfect as we would like to imagine.  Our lives are not all cut and dry, clean and neat, like we would like to pretend.  Our real emotions our deepest thoughts and most secret yearnings are no different, or any less unscathed than those of our neighbors.  We can judge.  We can sit back and say what someone has is better, or more perfect, but it never is.

I knew my husband and his previous wife long before he became my one-year husband.  On the outside looking in, I thought what they shared was perfect, and how that was the kind of love I wanted.  I was never more wrong in al my life. 13 years after meeting them I knew it was the FARTHEST thing from what I ever wanted in a relationship.

I’m ready to watch that movie now.   I also don’t want to go there again.

So you know, my divorce had nothing to do with the events of this August afternoon, or any day after involving Norris, or my feelings for him.  That story can come another day.

I don’t miss my ex-husband for a minute, but I miss Norris every day.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles: Otherwise Known As The Stranger Places I have Had Sex

I was reading some new blogs today, happened upon a post of this very nature, and was inspired to write my own to share.  You know, I really like reading other people’s posts for that very reason.  I love reading something that ignites that spark of inner time traveling, where I go back and revisit and relive the people and places I have known, and the various facets of who I  have been at those various times in my life.  It’s also an exercise of the mind to stretch myself to remember some of the things I have, or might have wished, I’d forgotten.

This list only includes partner sex, and does not include masturbation.  Some of these were only oral exchanges, and some were the full “home run” sexual experience.  I’ve masturbated in some pretty interesting places too, but not in enough that it warrants inclusion, or even its own separate list.  So, without further or due…my list thus far.

The infamous lifeguard tower

  • my mother’s bed
  • a hot tub
  • several swimming pools…one in which we were not the only people in!  (California, and St. John in the Virgin Islands)
  • the lifeguard shack on Trunk Bay in St. John
  • the front porch of my house
  • a NYC taxi
  • a movie theater bathroom…I think it was the women’s room
  • the video editing suite in college
  • in the shower…many of them, actually
  • in the bathroom…with my ass in the sink
  • in the hallway of an apartment building in NYC
  • on a pool deck chair
  • in a friend’s bed, and said friend was not the person I was having sex with.  They walked in on us, and his girlfriend was pretty mad…”The sheets are halfway off the bed!”
  • in a tent (several)
  • in the dirt next to a roaring campfire
  • in a van (several)
  • in a car
  • on top of a rock formation next to the side of a lake
  • tried to in a plane, but then we decided it was too cramped in that tiny bathroom to really enjoy ourselves
  • on the couch in my FWB’s boss’s office
  • on an office desk

The infamous campfire spot

You know, in making this list I have realized that I really haven’t been all that adventurous in terms of where I have had sex.  I had better get to work on changing that!   After all, there is still my deeply coveted glass elevator fantasy to fulfill someday.  I will make that happen.  I’d also like to have sex on a rooftop in NYC.  I’ve made out on one, but it’s not the same.  I love being surrounded by the nighttime lights and city sounds, yet being somewhat secluded in a shadowed world of our own.

Also, I have this feeling that I am forgetting places too, so I will update if I remember times which I have forgotten.

Where are some of the more adventurous places that you have had sex?

One of the pools…those pool stairs came in handy!