Shake it off

I keep thinking about him. Things we did, things we haven't done but could have, things we'll do next time... I think about stuff that isn't sex/BDSM-related too; How I fit so nicely into his arms, being held and feeling safe. His smile, his voice when we're talking about something completely mundane... But to be frank, my thoughts are mostly about sexual/sensual stuff. Touching his skin, hugging him, his scent, kneeling in front of him and burrying my face in his crotch.. The immemse trust we built over so few days. He made me do thing, love things, I didn't think I'd ever dare.

I send him messages occasionally. Not many, I don't want to be too pushy. Just one every couple of days or so. The replies I get, if I get any, are extremely brief. No emotions, just facts. Honestly, I'm glad I even get that much. That's actually an improvement to how he used to be. 

I knew this would happen, though. He always grows extremely distant after our encounters. I think it's a sort of defense mechanism. Our intensity scares him, I think, because I make him feel things. He doesn't handle feelings very well. Regardless of the cause, I'm abandoned again. Left to think about him, and to work through things, on my own. It's always like this, it doesn't surprise me anymore.

I keep thinking about him, though. I imagine scenarios we could try, or I see flashes of things we did. The memories wash over me several times per day, usually uninvited, and I feel this ache for him. Both figuratively in my chest and more literally between my legs. I need to shake it off, though. It'll be months until I see him again. 

That's the nature of our relationship, the nature of a comet. Intense, hot, amazing when he's with me, but gone for long stretches of time. I know it's for the best. I know that's why we've been able to keep this relationship going for so many years. But I still miss him. Irrationally, achingly. And I need to shake it off. 

A few more things

In the interest of completion, I need to add to the previous post:

-I shaved his cock and balls. He's never tried that before. That was interesting. I enjoy smooth skin down there, but it's a "nice to have" not a "must have".

-I licked his ass (rimming), since he'd never tried that either. None of us found that terribly interesting, but at least now we know.

-In the last hour before leaving, we played a tiny bit with rope. I taught him a quick "handcuff-knot", and he greatly enjoyed my reaction when he used it on me. It triggered my sub side a bit, more than either of us really expected. We'll definitely play more with that next time. 

Oh gods, what a weekend

Oh gods, where do I even start. The weekend with Arthur is slowly drawing to a close, and I feel the need to write things down in fear of forgetting all the details. Already, all the different ways we've played and fucked merge into each other in my mind. No longer crisp and clear, just a potpourri of bodies and mouths and dick and pussy. 

He's come inside of me while I was riding him, and he's come in me while I was on my back. Bodies grappling, hot breathing, moving in sync. So intense and sweet, not really knowing where I end and he begin. 

He's come on my face, and my throat, and my boobs. I still have old semen on my neck and chest, I can smell him all over me. I don't know how many condoms we've been through, but I'm glad I bought a new pack earlier this week. The lube bottle is almost empty. 

I've come lying in his arms, cuddled and held down. I've come hard while he was straddling my chest and gripping my throat, just a second before he came too. I've come while he was sitting between my legs, helping me with a huge vibrator, and I screamed and laughed so hard I'm sure the entire hotel floor could hear us. 

He's fingered my mouth, and my pussy, and my ass. I really didn't think I'd like that last one as much as I did, but I was wrong. His fingers hit some spots that felt really, really nice. We weren't able to get his dick in there, but hopefully we can play more with that next time we see each other. He's been making me so horny, I was shaking and almost crying. I've been frustrated and unable to come, then come after all. I've laughed and I've cried. 

And I've sucked his dick. Oh gods, how I've sucked his dick. I've worshiped it. I've cuddled it. I've licked, and teased, and sucked. He's been relaxed and almost asleep. He's been actively fucking my face. He's held me down, lifted me up, forced and grabbed. He's been huge and rock hard, and he's been soft and squishy. I've played with the very tip, and I've gagged on his entire length. He's been standing, sitting, and lying down. The best was when he was sitting in a high back chair, and I was sitting on the floor in front of him. I could lean my head on his thigh, and he could see me smiling. Enjoying myself, enjoying him. I've buried my face in his crotch, to the point where I couldn't breathe, and didn't want to. I've practiced, and managed, to get all of him down my throat. I've wanted to practice more. 

It hasn't all been a dance on roses. He's been tired, struggling to stay present and not push me away like he often does after he's come. He's needed to sleep a lot, trying to get back on his feet after four very tough weeks at work. He's been very close to an anxiety attack, mostly caused by me pushing some buttons and saying nice things to him. (I'm not sure that was such a good idea, but I don't regret it either. It needed to be said.) He's been distant, and I've felt rejected. 

I had a pretty bad drop yesterday because of one such incident, though when I recognized it for what it was, I was able to shake it off pretty quickly. I think seeing me so filled with such anxiety and negative emotions, actually scared him more than me. He hasn't seen me drop before, that typically happens after I leave.

There's a few things we talked about beforehand, that we haven't done. Generally we've played "nicer" than I think we both had planned. There's definitely elements of BDSM in almost everything we do, but it's been more a Top/bottom-dynamic and not so much D/s. That's mostly caused by his mood and mental state. Taking a Dom role is really tiring, mentally demanding. I know this from my own experience. I'm unable to properly dominate when I feel drained myself. D/s is a game for days with extra spoons. Not when there's already a shortage. 

There's still a few hours left before he leaves. I've pleasantly sore in my pussy, my ass, the back of my throat and the inside of my lips. I hope to do even more before it's over, but if nothing more happens that's also fine. In addition to all the sexual stuff, we've also enjoyed ourselves in other ways. We've been out to eat twice, dressing up and making sort of a "date" out of it. We've read books, cuddled, played Pokemon Go, and talked. We've shared memories, talked about feelings and discussed current events. 

I've had a wonderful time with Arthur this weekend. An intense, tiering, physically and emotionally challenging time. I'll be really sad when it's over, but also glad. I miss my kids and my partner at home, and I'm glad to be going back to them. While I do love Arthur, and love spending time with him like this, I know we'd be terrible for each other in a more full time relationship. What we have right now is perfect. Intense and sweet. He's a comet, and the reason we've been able to be lovers for so many years is precisely because he's gone for long stretches of time.

But I do love this. I have so many sweet memories from this weekend, and have gotten so many ideas for things I want to do in the future. I'm nowhere near done with him, that's for certain. I look forward to seeing him again. 

I can fuck!

Last fall, I was diagnosed with lichen sclerosus. It's a chronic skin disease of the vulva. Non-contagious, luckily. But it sucks. Among other things, the skin gets less flexible and more prone to tearing. I especially get tears towards the perineum side of the vaginal opening. 

At its worst, the disease can make the vaginal opening almost close up, the labia minora disappear and the clit hood fuse shut, thus trapping the clit under a layer of skin. This makes the clit a lot less sensitive. On me, my clit is mostly trapped and the labia minora are smaller, but I retain a lot of sensitivity still.  

Many people with this disease stop having sex, have sex very rarely and/or get no pleasure (and a significant amount of pain) from sex. Tearing is painful, and fear of tearing makes it harder to get turned on and properly wet. When you're less turned on, less wet, the odds of getting tears increase. A vicious circle, in other words. 

Arthur and I had sex last night. Carefully, gently, with lube, me controlling both the angle and depth of penetration.. And it was not really pleasant for me. It didn't hurt that much, but I did tear a bit. I was happy I was able to fuck at all, because I've been worried about that... His dick is easily the largest I've handled, so that doesn't make things any easier. But being in pain isn't nice. 

Luckily I was mostly healed by this morning, horny as hell, and wanted to try again. And this time, it worked! I was wetter than last night, I'd orgasmed with a toy first, and I used more lube. After carefully, slowly sinking almost all the way down on his dick, I got back up and applied even more lube to the places where I felt any sign of uncomfort. Then down again. All the way down. And it worked! 

So I CAN fuck. I could get him all the way into me, even experiment with the angle to put more strain in the perineum, and I didn't tear. If he hadn't been half asleep, we could probably have changed positions too. You have no idea how happy this makes me. I can actually have a semi-normal sex life again. I might never be able to have a "quicky" like I used to, I will probably always need more foreplay than before, but I can fuck! 

I started crying afterwards, I was so relieved. This has been weighing on me ever since I got the diagnosis, and I'm so happy to know that I can still have penis-in-vagina sex if I want to.  

On pressure and consent (again)

Back when I was depressed, a long time ago, I had a lover. In this blog, I called him War. The reason that relationship worked for as long as it did, and the reason it was so good for me, was because it gave me a break from my mind. A break from the everyday anxiety, the feeling of guild, of not being good enough, the struggle to function even though my mind was sick with depression. And the reason that relationship worked as a break from my mind, was because it had no strings. No expectations, no obligations, no pressure. We talked about this along the way, and agreed that this was a good thing. The moment he started pressuring me, I broke it off. 

In fact, he did more than pressure. I told him one day that I'd love to cuddle, but I didn't want to have sex. He still tried to make me have sex with him. Three times I told him "no" and reminded him of what I'd said to begin with. Then I got up and walked out the door. 

Several years later, he apologized for his behavior. I'm glad he did. But at the same time, I never felt threatened by him. He would pressure me and try to guilt me, yes. In that whole movie trope way, where a "no" from a girl just means you keep trying to persuade her. It's really not a healthy way to approach someone's limits, and it could potentially lead to someone agreeing to sex when they didn't really want it. That's a really bad thing... But I didn't think about all these implications back then.

Back then, I was just angry that he wouldn't respect my limits. Angry that he'd taken something carefree and expectation-less, and made it all complicated. He broke us. And I walked out.

In hindsight, I'm really proud of walking out. Of not giving in to that pressure. 

Why am I thinking about all that today? Two reasons: I'm spending the weekend in a hotel room with Arthur. That's sort of the same kind of break that I used to get with War (though I saw War several times per month, and Arthur just a couple of times per year). It's a break from obligations, a break from the outside world. I can just be in this bubble and enjoy myself.

The second reason I started thinking about it, is because I just had sex with Arthur while he was half asleep. I'm saying half, because although he had his eyes closed and only made the occasional grunt, he was very much a willing participant. His hands, his body, his dick, all confirmed that he was enjoying himself. 

And still I worried. Because I knew he was mentally and physically tired. And because men can get an erection without wanting to have sex, and men can be pressured into having sex just as much as women can. Figuring out what Arthur really wants is damn tricky in the best of circumstances. Half-asleep and grunting is certainly not "the best of circumstances". I didn't want to accidentally rape him. The fact that I was so horny I had problems controlling myself is, just like back then with War, not a mitigating circumstance. 

Arthur must have picked up on my worry somehow. Once I was done with him, he roused himself enough to tell me in plain speak that he wanted this. That he consented. He even told me I was free to give him blow-jobs and have sex with him any time, even in the middle of the night. That he would always be able to rouse himself enough to say "no", if he didn't want it. That I should trust him to be able to say "no", even when practically asleep. He told me not to worry. 

I love that he could read me that well. Understand me that well. Even drowsy and with his eyes closed. Trust isn't easy for me, and not worrying is impossible. But this weekend is giving me sort of a break. And I needed that. 

Fishing: A poem

Restless.

All this nervous energy. 

Happy, awake, thoughtful, cuddly, 

Like I want to give the entire world a hug. 

Wild swings, from anxious and stressed to excited and elated.

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow he'll be here. 

Tomorrow we'll touch again, hold again, 

That full-body embrace, skin on skin.

Tomorrow I won't have to fish for attention, won't have to grovel to be seen, won't be rejected and ignored. 

Catch, no release.