The thrill of the chase

The thrill of the chase is only a thrill when it’s a little reciprocal. This comes up over and over again.

Men send out messages on dating sites by the dozen and get few replies, usually. You wonder if “they” will call. Does she want to hang out again? Is it too soon to ask him if he’d like to spend the night? You’re in love with them and hope they don’t just like you a bunch.

I joined a swinger club and it has a facebook group.  In the group a woman commented today that she doesn’t know if this is the experience of other single women, but she is tired of being “picked last”, and she doesn’t appreciate being someone’s booty call when some other date or the wife cancelled. She explained that she wants to sleep with people that want to sleep with her and it feels crummy to be choice number 4. Continue reading

Comfort

I’ve been tired, so tired my love.  My mind is weary.  I felt like I’d drown in this and needed those few hours to dig in the dirt with you and to make my body ache.  I needed to quiet my mind and rest in the labor.  I needed our breath, and the sounds of us working, and the little smiles and dirty kisses and the sun that was there even if it was cloudy.  I needed to rest, but my mind won’t ease now.  There is too much to do and to think about and I’m thinking deadlines deadlines deadlines.  So I needed to just work with you.  I needed the comfort and ease of the way we work together.

I’ve felt a little distant from you love.  I’ve felt far away and too deep in my head with all of this work.  I’ve needed to linger and spend time looking at each other, but it’s time we don’t have.  Thank you for your little touches while we worked side by side later on the couch.  I needed those little smiles.  I needed those pets.  Soon love.  Soon.

Thank you for fantasizing with me a little afterward, for giving my mind something to chew on that wasn’t academic.  Thank you for knowing how to please me so well, for your warm skin and your soft kisses.  Oh, when you call be beautiful or pull me to you.  Oh when you trace my curves.  Oh god I was so tired but I could not stop touching you and being touched by you.  I love you I love you I love you on my breath and in my heart and my head.  I fell asleep sated and tired and ready for blissful sleep, such comfort.

snuggle

image from alligator-sunglasses.com

And thank you for not being able to get out of bed. Dozing in and out of sleep with you curled to me…. heaven.  Why can’t I ever stop touching you? Craving your touch?  So many little kisses.  Everywhere.  Your taste.  Your smile.  Your scent.  On my lips and in my breath and in my heart.  I love you I love you I love you.  The warm comfort of you lingers.

I’m so tired, love.  But we’re almost there.  You’re such a comfort.

A Million Years Ago

shrek far far away

From Shrek- The Far Far Away Sign

A million years ago….

  1. I kissed you in the vacant lot and ran home breathless.
  2. I broke your heart because I wasn’t ready.
  3. I thought this was what relationships were and I didn’t know this was rare and special.  We danced all night.  We made love and when I called it that I didn’t giggle.  We said shit like “soulmates” and “forever” and I didn’t doubt for a second they were real.  Nobody had ever loved like we loved.  We sang songs to each other.  We took baths together and sat there until we were pruny.  You fucked her.  And you lied.  I felt worse about the lie because it meant we weren’t what I thought we were.  I walked away hurt and insecure.  I spent a decade feeling the image of you in an Indian blanket in our cold apartment, silent, as I dropped the key into your lap.
  4. I got her note. She was gone.  She needed to be with him.  She had a family back home. Wouldn’t I please understand?
  5. I fucked him at some party, the entire time wondering if the pool table took quarters… “mmmmhmm.. yes.. oh baby”.. does that pool table take quarters?  What is the mechanism to drop the balls if it doesn’t take quarters?
  6. I wondered if she’d ever love me back.
  7. I wanted to break it off but his dad had just died.  So I cheated. A lot. I felt more and more sick and when I broke up with him I thought I was doing him a favor.
  8. I couldn’t sleep with him because it would have been too real.
  9. She played with me next to my bed and I thought she liked me, but we never talked again.
  10. I liked him and he liked her and she liked someone else.
  11. He was a lot worse than I thought.  He was a lot worse.  He left a scar on my back from the event that changed my life.  He committed suicide years later, after hurting a lot more girls, and eventually going to prison.  He got out and killed himself.  I felt relieved that he wouldn’t hurt more girls and ashamed I’d been silent and hurt those girls.
  12. I waited a long time to touch him because I wanted to do things differently and when I finally touched him it just didn’t work and we couldn’t make it work so I broke his heart.
  13. He was my friend.  He was deeply honest and really flawed and fucked like a demon.  We talked about EVERYTHING with utter and complete honesty that wasn’t brutal because we bore no brutality.  It was the most comfortable I’d ever been with my body in his pure love of it.  You’re supposed to learn to love your body but I loved mine because he did.  We kept the lines really straight and loved each other for years, around and in between all the others, coming home.  We’ll never be lovers again, but I still consider him a friend.
  14. He left me for groupies and I met the women he’d cheated on me with when her boyfriend was cheating with me and I didn’t know it.  She and I were great friends for years.
  15. I loved him for his letters and got swept up in them and the things he created in them.  It was too late when I’d realized my mistake and I spent a long time trying to stick to my mistake.  When I could no longer be faithful and couldn’t be unfaithful, I left.  I like seeing his happy pics on Facebook.
  16. I never thought it would happen again, but it did.  I met him at Starbucks.  We shared a humor and a passion and loved each other through a million challenges and rewards.  We wrote love poems and songs and gave each other gifts of 100 kisses on post-its and notes hidden in lunches and suitcases and pockets.  For years I knew great love and great passion.  He was my best friend and I was his.  And we grew and grew and grew.  I wish I made him dinner more.  I’ve only learned that these past few years and I wish I’d learned it with him.  Some of the greatest and the worst days of my life were spent with him, and the love we had carried us through them.  With the end I wondered if I’d imagined it, but my box of letters tells me I didn’t. The passion never died until finally, that last year it did.  He told me she was too much and there was nothing left.  He wrote a poem based on a speaker we’d heard together when we were first dating, and redid it at times over the years to delight me. He used it again with the next women, which did not delight me. I don’t understand what happened really.  I make up theories and live with them and discard them because I’ll never know why.  I’m trying to accept that but it sits uneasily without ever having had my closure.  I read the things he said, to me, and later to others, the lies. He was intentionally cruel and admitted it.  And I’ll never understand.  That is not the man I loved. He replaced me and then replaced her.  He lied a lot to them too, and I’ll never understand it.  This is not the man I loved.  He is not the person I loved for so long and so well.
  17. In the midst of all of that I fell for him.  He seemed sweet and honest and clear, a relief in troubled times.  I loved his dazzling mind and the force of his love.  I fell hard and had a hard time letting go when the mask fell.  But I did.
  18. I fell for him so slowly and so well, my love sneaking in on quiet cat feet.  It took a long long time to know him and I’ll always be learning.  His kisses stayed dizzying, and his arms became home.  I love our adventures and our quiet nights and that we can get lost in each other doing absolutely nothing.  And then he told her he’d leave me if she asked him to.  I’m still not totally sure why it changed either, but suddenly all the things we were talking about for our future were different.  All of the little plans we were playing with were off the table.  He didn’t want what he said he wanted anymore.  Or he wanted it differently.  I wondered if I got this love wrong, if it wasn’t what it seemed.  I didn’t get it wrong.  It’s just complicated to live with all of our commitments and honor and complexities of life and history and it’s hard to navigate for women with a past.  There are a lot of moving parts.  It’s beautiful and hard sometimes, but he’s worth it.  Eventually it came that he would not trade me for the wishes of anyone on Earth, and I know it in my marrow.  He’s part of the family I’m making.  I sometimes miss the surety of when I was a girl, or think maybe other ways might be easier.  But then reality reminds me that relationships are always complicated.  Grown up love is complex and beautiful and long-awaited and deep… if you’re lucky.

I’m lucky.

shrek and fiona in love

Shrek and Fiona ride off into the sunset. From the movie Shrek and found at http://basementrejects.com/

 

A Tizzy

My beautiful metamour, please skip this one.  Thank you!

sex 1

I am in a tizzy.  Maybe it’s the sweltering heat.  Maybe it’s all the naughty adventure talk.  Maybe it’s imagining what I’d like to order Yarn Hooker to do.  Maybe it’s reliving recent fun adventures or not having had a taste of the man I just started dating recently.  Maybe it is what is happening between Traveler and I.  Maybe it is our plans together or the plans I’m pursuing alone.  I don’t know.  It’s delicious.

I feel like I am in heat.  I cross my legs at work to feel them press against my pussy.  When I am walking and my rings rub I find the lick delicious.  I am on fire.  We’ve been exhausted and had little time together for weeks until this last weekend and still it is hotter.  This rabbit hole!

I’m planning an adventure…two actually.  One adventure Traveler and I are undertaking together.  One I am undertaking myself.  I have a long held fantasy and I am going for it.  I have to admit I worried about it, worried about hurting this thing with Traveler and I.  It keeps going deeper.  It keeps getting hotter and I have more here than any woman has a right to… right here.  Last night while he worked his magic I felt high with desire.  He played me like a viola.  I was panting.  I could not get my panties off fast enough to let his fingers inside. I could not stop the stream of sex and desire pouring out of my mouth.  I whispered.  I sang.  I breathed “I want you”.

We had spent the night sharing kinky desires and making plans.  We shared fantasies about Yarn Hooker and talk about the fantasy I’m pursuing.  I’d been scared to talk about it too much… scared to trust him saying that he wanted me to pursue it.  I’m so used to men saying they love my sluttiness and turning cold.

I remember my ex husband fucking me from behind in the hotel in Maui, knowing everyone standing right outside the door was listening and could hear, could see our outline, fucking me so hard we were both screaming with passion and then asking if he could cum in my mouth, telling me he wanted to fuck my face and loving it, he cried out while I swallowed every drop, he eagerly talked for days about how amazing it was to finally date a woman who he could be his every passion with.  And I remember the way his voice was cold shortly after our wedding when one night I asked him to cum on my face.  How quickly it all turns.

But it isn’t here.  If anything Traveler is wanting me MORE.  He doesn’t share this kink.  He doesn’t want to go there with me, but he wants me to go there and loves me for being authentically myself.  I think he might love me more for the sincerity here.  More and more and more I feel his want and his need and I’m comforted.  He sees ME.  He knows ME.  And he LOVES ME.

He doesn’t want me because I’m fulfilling a kinky desire for the slutty girl.  (Although I sure do like a slut lover).  He doesn’t want me just today because I am the porn image and he’ll reject me when he loves me, for being too much.  He wants me because he wants me, I think very much like I want him.  He wants to hold me and kiss me and love me and fuck me and be with me.  I can’t tell you what that does to me!

Last night I told him on my way home that I needed him naked.  He laughed and said I’d just had him.  We had fucked so quietly, after a long hot day, exhausted, but needing, trying to avoid the houseguest hearing and I’d come so hard trying not to make a sound that we could hear the splashing.  I’d controlled my breath and my ragged sounds and it had only made it more intense.  When he’d held his breath and bucked beneath me while he came thrashing with the pressure he’d held in, I felt him cum and I’d come again once more, soaking us both and making an audible rhythmic splash.   But I needed him again.

I needed him because I always need him.  I can’t imagine not needing him.  But I needed him too because I have been on a tizzy of desire.  I am overflowing.

We fucked hard last night after hours of teasing talk, urgent and with abandon, saying slutty slutty things, and I’d lost it when he said what he wanted me to do, and even then – right after we finished I could not stop coming and I’d played with my pussy when we’d stopped fucking, coming again all over him. It was amazing to look into each other’s faces then, unable to break a spell.

And wouldn’t you know it.  I’m still in a tizzy.

Again.

Again.

What it is to be loved and wanted and heard.. and still.. loved and wanted.

Ageless

Alyson Hannigan.. yum.

Alyson Hannigan.. yum.

God, help me.  I am just as bad as every lecherous guy I dated when I was a young woman.  I’m just as bad as my father.  I’m just as bad as every Camaro-driving balding middle-aged man with every young and beautiful waitress.  I am the idiot who feels special because a young woman thinks I still got it.

I was 18 years old when she was born. I can feel how red my face is right now, but I don’t care.  There’s something about her I like, even past the fact that she’s foxy.

She’s sexy.  She has a pretty fair resemblance to Alyson Hannigan from Buffy.  She has those sleepy sexy eyes and that cutely quirky smile and the red hair too. She’s got a lovely hourglass figure and soft alabaster skin.  She likes technical manuals and nerdy things and she’s interested in learning more about polyamory and in playing with couples and exploring.  She likes being teased.  She likes trying things like fancy Mezcal.  She has a naughty smile.  She thought we were cute too.  She knows how old we are.  She likes it.  She doesn’t have a lot of experience and she’d like more.  She likes my ideas…I do have rather fun ideas.
alyson hannigan 2I’d rather love to help her explore.

Oh God.  I’d love to help her explore.

Please please please universe?

So I have to admit I’d want this girl even if it were just physical.  But there is something kinda great there, a certain humor and an intellectual curiosity that I find highly appealing.  Most every person who ever tried to justify robbing the cradle has said it, but it’s true.  She’s kinda timeless.

It’s odd but I relate to that.  I was always that old soul, that 11 year old with the 15 year old friends.  I spent my young adulthood generally with people of all sorts of ages.  I’ve had friends from 14-74.  This girl does too.  When she talks about her friend who is 63 and from Sri Lanka I totally see a bit of myself in that.

But yeah.. kinda red-faced.

She’s 23.

Alyson Hannigan 3

Simmer

You have me on a boil.  You have my mind racing with deep dark luscious thoughts.  I want to taste your skin with my lips barely brushing you and giving you goose flesh.  I want your salt on my tongue.  I want your hair slipping in my grasp and your name on my breath.  I want to know the color of the flecks in your eyes and trace your jaw with my kisses.  I want your warmth and your scent.  I want your breath.  I want to taste all of you, every inch.

I want your every dip and valley and saddle at my fingertips and on my tongue.  I want to make you laugh with small delight and purr with my heat.  I want you to take in your breath sharply.  I want your muscles to coil to me.  I want you to relax into me, warm to my touch.  I want your thoughts to turn to a hum.  I want you to think in simple small words… yes.. oh.. please.. mmm.. yes.

I want to sync.  I want to roll with you and writhe.  I want you to have to use your arms and your cheek and your leg to slide over my skin because your hands aren’t enough.  And when you are melting, easing into my embrace, I want to sink my teeth into your flesh.  I want you to wonder if the heat you feel is your broken skin.

          I want your heart to speed.  

I want to pull your head back and I want to pause so you can feel the things I want to do to you there.  And I want you to turn over to me and to crave my will.  I want you to want to please me.  I want to make me want to make it hurt just enough to make your blood sing.  I want you to feel your body’s response and I want to make you flush and squirm and swell.  I want you to growl.  I want you to course.  I want you to hear and agree with what I don’t actually say.

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.