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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.

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Domestic Bliss

domestic bliss handsOne of the things a non-nesting partner often doesn’t have access to is all the little domestic things.  And one of the things I love about dating people who aren’t strictly hierarchical, and someone who is my partner, is that I get some of that.  One of the reasons I’m always saying Quinky Girl is a such a great metamour is that she includes me and we can plan together and work together.  There’s a lot of reasons, but this is one. Continue Reading »

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Any Questions?

Today it became legal in the US everywhere for same sex couples to marry.  Seriously.  Happy.

And so very fucking tired.  It’s been a crazy week.

Tonight I get to have fun with my friend, PhD, who is visiting.  We’re talking about doing a podcast.  Got any Questions?

Also.. just to put it somewhere.  FUCK I miss Traveler.  Monday we got about 2 hours before bed, Wednesday about an hour, and Saturday we’ll get a date at another burning man event where we likely won’t see much of each other before we undoubtedly fall into bed too exhausted to breathe (for the second week in a row) .  God dammit we are too busy.  I miss him so fucking much.  I feel like I’m on a starvation diet.

His work was crazy this week and during dinner before our group event Wednesday, which we’d booked because we miss each other so fucking much we wanted just a damn hour with each other, he had a conference call he was on from 2 minutes after we met up until 1 minute.. exactly 1 minute, before we rushed into our class!  I get to see him 3 days this week and not a damn one is gonna have any real time with him.  One of my patients, err… well.. one of the patients at my clinic that I cared deeply about, stabbed himself to death this week.  We saw him the day before and he was having some voices, but was doing okay and has been stable for a long long time.  Out of nowhere he is just dead and we are all reeling and it’s been absolutely crazy around here trying to scramble and figure out what went wrong and what to do now. I’m telling you.  Mental health difficulties are a mother fucker.

I am really okay and coping well, and I’ve been LOVING time with PhD.  But fuckity I miss my man.  I didn’t really talk about it because we had just a little time before bed on Wednesday.  It is a comfort that Traveler has been missing me like crazy too but we all have to do what we have to do.  We get a bonus of some time in a couple of weeks and we are holding out for that.  I think it’s gonna kinda suck until then and likely afterward too.

Just keep kicking.

Just keep kicking.

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One Legged Man- Ass Kicking

colors are loaded into a palm of a hand for Holi

colors are loaded into a palm of a hand for Holi

Holy fuck-balls people.  I overbooked myself.  My loves are overbooked.  My calendar looks like a sidewalk after an Indian Holi celebration (where they throw all the colors).  Traveler and I haven’t had a regular weekend date in a month.  And I’m not even getting the short end of the stick!  He and Quinky Girl are in a similar boat for the most part.

But seriously.  We haven’t had anything like dinner, an evening, and breakfast in a month.  We spent some time together on Sunday and it was the first day we’ve had in a long long time where we were just together, and even that we spent it working.  It was so fucking nice just to sit on a couch with him.

We’re seeing each other, sometimes 3 days a week.  But it’s including a lot of parties, Burning Man events, yard work, potlucks, group things and all-together-get-togethers.  If we didn’t all eat breakfast together sometimes neither Quinky or I would eat a breakfast with him each week.  Often we are cramming a bagel in our mouths as we hit the road.  It’s crazy.   Continue Reading »

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I Should Write

My sweet and beautiful metamour.  Skip this one.  Thank you! ;)

Ugh.  I can’t write.

I start and stop.

I should write about a guy I began seeing, but I think I see the writing on the wall.  I was so excited.  We just aren’t seeming to get it together.  I told him today between travels and stressful jobs and crazy schedules, maybe there just isn’t room for connection.  I like him though, so I told him I’d like to see him again.

I’m finding it harder to keep the faith with dating sometimes.

Continue Reading »

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The Telephone Game

On the poly boards there is a small discussion of terms going on.  A person asks about the difference between poly and open, and says poly seems to be when a person is dating more than one person and the people are all involved with each other romantically.  I totally disagree with this and most posters seem to be trying to clear up the misunderstanding.  Polyamory is about multiple loves, not a person’s loves all being together too. Eh. Misunderstandings happen.  telephone cans

I’m thinking about a different part of this poly mingling the article didn’t talk about (and get wrong in my opinion).  I’m thinking about the ways poly partners sometimes mingle in ways that scare me.

I don’t like it when my partners partners talk to them about me.  It happens.  Of course it happens.  A person who loves someone talks about them.  I’m in their lives.  I come up.  Especially in my situation where the man I love and am in a romantic and sexual relationship with, and his wife, who I have a unique and loving relationship with. It’s called a polyaffective relationship.  It’s not sexual, but it’s deep and loving.

In our close knit life there is a lot of really great communication and a little bit of a trial here and there.  One of the things I don’t like is the game of telephone that occurs.  I’m not really sure it’s super fixable either though I think we improve all the time. I think it is just what happens when people are friends or family or sharing a partner.

telephone game 3Example: Recently Traveler told Quinky that I didn’t wanna do another burner event and that I wasn’t going to be going to Critical Massive, a camping event.  This is false.  I had told Traveler, who said he really didn’t want to go to Critical because HE was overwhelmed with burning man stuff, that I felt his pain and I likely wouldn’t go either because we are all jam packed this summer with events and expenses with going to Burning Man, so I would not be disappointed not to go and that it would be okay.

But I had a great time last year and I’d like to go again.  It’s fun.  Both Traveler and I changed our minds on Saturday after we worked on a project for Critical.  We discussed maybe wanting to go to Critical afterall, but just for the weekend and we said we’d talk and think more about it.  Critical is fun and it’d be cool to see this project bear fruit there.  It’s like a dress rehearsal for Burning Man.  Then he tells Quinky that he wants to go and evidently says something about how I don’t want to go.  Then Quinky and I talk and I’m wondering why he said he wanted to talk more about it when he told her was was going and why he’s telling Quinky I don’t wanna go. It’s a silly tangle and it’s easy to see how this happens.  This is an innocent thing. We tell this one this and then think for an hour and tell that one this other thing because we changed our mind.  Then we tell person B something person A said and either we didn’t tell B the way A meant it or B didn’t exactly get what I was saying, or some other such hilarity.  Then the two talk and realize they got different stories.  It happens.  

If you factor in that I hear what I hear regardless of what Traveler says, and Quinky hears what Quinky hears regardless of what Traveler says and then Quinky Girl and I have a conversation where we also use the imperfect communication technique of words… and… there you go.  Sigh.  Talking is just a really imprecise way to express ideas and messages get distorted.  This sort of thing can be funny or frustrating or annoying or resemble a Three’s Company episode, replete with cute misunderstandings and hilarity.

But what about when it’s less innocent?

telephone game 2

A while back a love had a partner that was my friend and that I later learned pretty much talked shit about me and lied on a regular basis. I caught her trying to “report” to him a few times or telling him things to manipulate situations or tarnish my reputation but I’d had no idea how severe the problem had been until much later. She’d never been my friend apparently.  She’d never loved me.

My husband and our girlfriend made fun of me on a lot of occasions, including the day after I broke up with a boyfriend and was heartbroken.  They’d made jokes at my expense, laughing about my sadness, pitying “poor Traveler” because he was my only boyfriend now.  It turned out my husband and this person had laughed at me a lot.  I can’t tell you what it was like to learn that.  They said they loved me.  I loved them.  And It was painful that I was a thing they joked about.

A woman I shared a man with told him, after a difficult conversation where I trusted her and we BOTH talked about insecurities and worked things out, that she was annoyed by my insecurity, making her sound superior to me, and like my vulnerability was beneath her.  I didn’t tell him about her insecurities, but she told him mine and how they annoyed her.  What a way to try to show she is superior to me.  Talk about kicking a girl while she is down!

A girl I knew would talk about the other woman her boyfriend was dating with these little jabs, pretending to be nice and taking little shots.  The other woman went by Susanne but was evidently named Susan at birth. So the girl I knew was jealous of Suzanne and would ask questions about her, pretend to show interest by saying things like “Oh, does Susan like Chinese food.. ” (eye roll).. “I mean Suzanne“.  She made it clear she thought her boyfriend’s other girl was a little trifling.  Chip. Chip. Chip.

And around and around.

Close-up of a tangled telephone cord

Close-up of a tangled telephone cord

Sometimes women, even in poly relationships. will carp at each other to gain favor, feel superior to or get one-up on another girl.  It’s a competitive thing.  It’s a way of not dealing with our own shit and of trying to take the other girl down a peg rather than elevate ourselves when we feel insecure.  Some women need to be top bitch and they’ll sound like honey while they blood-let their “friend”.

And fair or not fair, my partners or friends or lovers or family, or really anyone I care about talking about me to people I care about makes me feel unsafe.

My husband left me shortly after that for the woman we both loved who he’d derided me with, and then ended up dating a woman we knew behind my back for 6 months.  The woman who assassinated my character to Traveler and I had a parting of ways. It hurt to lose the people I’ve lost, but it hurt more to feel like I’d been a fool to think these people loved me.

It is utterly true that this world and its people will hurt all of us, and it’s good to remember that we aren’t always super aware when we’re doing it.

I think it’s a good idea to talk about people like they might hear you.  I’m not saying I’m perfect at that, by a LONG shot.  I’m working on that all the time.  I’m just saying it’s a good goal.  When I talk to Traveler about another person he’s dating or who he loves I talk about the best of them.  I think it’s a good idea to watch myself carefully, to make sure I’m supportive.  It’s my place to support Traveler’s relationships, not to control them or judge them or interject my view into them constantly.  What matters is that our partner’s relationships work for THEM.  When I talked to my stepdaughters about their awful mother I was careful to say the few nice things I could about her.

I’m NOT saying that we can’t tell our partners what we see when we see things they might not.  Hormones and brain chemistry are off in the first rush of love and lust and we’d do our partners a great disservice not to interject reason if it seems called for.  The fact that we don’t see things accurately as we fall in love his scientifically documented.  But… But… we can’t tell our partners what we see all the time.  We can’t tell them again and again.  If we’ve said our peace and they’re choosing to do what they are choosing to do.. well.. it IS their choice.

We all choose for ourselves and the mistakes we make are part of living.  Those “mistakes” are the lessons we need to learn and the things that make us grow.

So.. Part One of the Telephone Game:

I have to be sure I’m not part of the problem.  I have to talk carefully and tread lightly with the loves of my love.  I have to try to communicate as clearly as I can and be cognizant that misunderstandings happen.

And Part Two.  I Have To Trust People I Love When We’re Playing the Telephone Game.

The people I love and that love me are going to have to talk about me sometimes.  I hope they won’t gossip about me.  I hope they won’t laugh at me and make fun of me and slowly drain their respect for me by making me an object of derision. I hope my loves aren’t with women who would view me as any kind of competition and allow themselves to consciously or subconsciously take nicks off of me.  I hope they won’t make themselves feel better by trying to knock me down a peg.  I hope they won’t manipulate and stir shit and I hope they won’t behave like others behaved.

There are people in the world like those that hurt me and it’s natural that I am afraid.  It makes sense when I hear things out of context or have little slights that I worry and some part of me wonders if it is all happening again.  But there are people in the world too that are capable of acting with care.  As contrary as it feels, I’m just going to have to trust them.

I DON’T know that this will work out.  Nobody does.  But I feel like the people I love love me.  I feel like they are worth the shot.  I chose them and invested in them and love them because they feel like a good risk.  We might all hurt each other and we might not.

But I can’t keep boxing shadows.  I can’t give this a death with a thousand cuts.  Every time I cut my quick with the desire to never be taken by surprise again I create the damage I worry about.  It’s a distance.  It’s a tarnish and a bruise.  It’s so fucking hard to love someone who just won’t let you love them.

There will be people who will be worthy of my love.  I will work harder to be worthy of their love too.

Watch the hearts you hold.  When you find good people give them your heart wholly.  It’s a goal.

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Trust Me

a man whispers to Tori Amos in her music video

a man whispers to Tori Amos in her music video

There is so much bubbling around in my head, a storm of adventure and love and longing and power and I can’t share.  I not this person of intrigue and I don’t always enjoy the holding, but I hold it.  I don’t want to be the person on the inside.  I never wanted to be alone in here.  How could I know what I’d be handed or how that would change my view.

Oh be careful, so careful what you wish for.  I don’t want to know and I can’t say.  I’m excited, yes, of course.  I can’t pretend I don’t dream of this constantly.  I want to read everyone’s mind.  I often joke about wanting to crack people like a walnut.  I wish for it endlessly.  I wish for it more with some than others.

But it doesn’t always make the world a less lonely place to be let in.  Sometimes it makes the world echo more.   The pressure of silence weighs heavy.  I don’t always know what it all means and I can’t untangle it so easily, bouncing off the walls of my skull, coiling.  It feels wondrously and terrifyingly inclusive.

It’s sick to feel joy at what it means to know, to be on the inside.

And it’s sick that it eats the lining of my stomach.

It’s twisting in my hands and tearing my palms, a dubious gift.

But I can take it.

It’s okay.

I am so fucking honored by trust.

I am so blessed by love.   Continue Reading »

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