What to say... about another weekend.
It was a a typical Friday. An indulgence in fast food followed by a rapid surrender to sleep. I tried to suggest we change it up... go to a movie... but apparently a 7:25 showing was "too late". It kind of is disheartening to realize that a 7:25 movie is too late. A sinking feeling of life not passing by, but already missed tended to make the Wendy's fries turn to mush in my mouth. But I know that I am not allowed expectations... and I do know that we wake up early and Master works hard all day and a want for a movie on a work day is not likely to be met.
Upside... better news... the Saturday morning it was bright and clear and beautiful. That is one of the magical things about living here in the Pacific Northwest... the staggering beauty when the sun finally peeks out from behind the clouds. You can't help but notice it, appreciate it. Master and I took an extra long walk, meandering through the neighborhoods, looking at houses and the sparkles of the raindrops that still hung from every branch and strand of grass. It is a jewel encrusted world. We walked further and further... crossing streets and neighborhoods not seen since last summers cycle rides. At one point Master seemed to realize that he the walk had gotten longer than he had planned and he abruptly turned us around. Mr. Predictable dragging us back to more familiar paths, the usual agenda... next item... shower sex. And I have to admit the thought of it did not excite me at all. It just made me tired. And not quite tongue in cheek, veiling a long hidden bit dissatisfaction, I muttered under my breath. "We can just go for an extra long walk instead of sex."
The walk halted and he swung me around and stared into my face. "What?"
Not wanting to admit the truth that lately sex has become a bit of a chore... too predictable... too hard to become aroused... the orgasms too much work for the results... I don't mind being used. In fact I kinda like the dynamic of being used as a masturbatory device. Him taking with no expectations that I am supposed to have an orgasm. It is that elusive arousal and stubborn orgasm that I am becoming increasingly avoidant of pursuing. It is too much to admit, too much to talk about. I refuse to meet his eyes and paste on a fake smile and mumble, "Just being silly."
But he wasn't buying it, not one bit. "Walking is not a substitute for sex. Walking makes sex better."
My eyes meet his briefly, pained and just a little resentful and slide away.
His hand is in my hair, tipping my face back and he is looking at me. "Doesn't it?"
Wordlessly I shake my head, a tiny silent negative that makes the pull of his grip sting and hurt. "Not really."
He lets go of me and looks at me. I look around at the amazing sparkling world and admit, "Don't feel like having sex."
He laughs and gives me a hug and laughs again. "Pretty girl, it is okay to have some days you don't feel like having sex."
I shoot him another pained look. "More like some weeks." Even this is a bit of a lie... it has been longer than that.
He takes my hand and we keep walking. He asks me about it. I talk about how the predictability that works for him, works against me. That I need some level of novelty and unpredictability. Then he asks me about what else I think would help... and I talk about wanting more control... not so much as more pain as him being directive. And then talked about how in nearly every story I write I end up in the bathroom with the Dom, Master, Abductor, Alien having some level of control over the bathroom use. That lately all my fantasies involve bondage, sensory deprivation, teasing and denial and anal... lots and lots of anal. Guys lined up around the room waiting their turn kind of lots of anal. I talk about how writing erotica, reading erotica and watching porn help trigger my libido. I don't talk about how suppressing my libido for a week at a time, waiting for my 20 minutes of shower sex on Saturday morning does not help... that banked fires tend to go out.
So when we got home, he turned on the computer and got some porn running... but as usual, he is the only one allowed to select the clip... but he is a little more receptive to my statements about what is working for me and what left me unimpressed. The bondage stuff was interesting, the mechanical fucking machines intriguing... but in the end I asked for more sex and less mechanics... naked bodies doing it... I realized I like the sound of the women... but the guys... not so much... so picky... sexual responsiveness so tricky. My hand is between my legs, rubbing teasing, trying to catch it and hold it, keep it there and not lose it.
It irritates me that it is such a complicated deal. I just want an automatic on switch.
But it does work... I do feel the tension and arousal and I naturally move in closer to him. We watch for a while longer. Then he gets up and I start to follow... and he snarls at me. "What are you doing?"
I stutter and hesitate. Confused... "Aren't we getting into the shower?" Master speak for... "Time to have sex please????" The fires within rapidly flickering and threatening to go out.
He points me back to the porn. "I am going to take a poop." Pop... the fire just imploded. How fucking romantic... what wonderful fucking timing. I turn on the porn... watch naked men with improbably large and hard penises anally fucking this girl who keeps staring at the camera as if she is trying to convince us this is real... trying and failing. I watch and touch myself. And the porn works... I sit there, teasing myself, edging closer and closer to the orgasm and stopping myself over and over. Then improbably, I pull my hand away and to my chagrin... I do not stop... the orgasm is small and infuriating. And I am still very aroused. Perhaps more so afterward. I keep touching myself now... trying to get back to where I was before... close but I can tell that ship has sailed. Since menopause... orgasms come singly.
He calls me to the shower. You know... tooth brushing is not foreplay. And neither is spanking. But it does seem to work for him. He can see I am tense, even angry... and he questions me again. I mutter that his timing was not the best. He raises a brow and shrugs. And then strangely... announces we are NOT going to have sex. That we are just going to shower. I admit that I orgasmed while he was pooping.. that I had been touching myself and taking myself up to the edge and stopping and then it sort of just happened. He did not seem to mind. He made some kind of comment about finding that an interesting piece of information.
But he lied about the no sex.. he soon had me bent over and was fucking my ass in much the same way the guys on the porn had been doing before. I wondered if my expression was anything like the girl's. Probably not. Master makes very sparing use of lubricant and it has been months since we have wandered down (up?) this particular path. And every time I managed to get used to a particular angle, depth or tempo... he switched it up. I think my face was pretty squinched up and the squawks were mostly those of outrage rather than appreciation.
It is strange how the concept of anal is so exciting and the reality is so fucking painful. And it is even more strange that as soon as he is done... I want it again. As we were drying off I said that he had lied. He laughed and said, "Yes, yes I did." Then he made some comment about denial.
I was even more aroused and begged to be allowed to go down and visit my new friend. (Master speak for the shiny new Hitachi). Master came down and held me and kissed me and with the mechanical assist I was able to orgasm a second time which is sort a big deal.
Or Maybe Next Time...
18 minutes ago