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Playground

August 10th is a hard day for me.  I wrote a very long very rambling blog about this anniversary last year. It was the day my ex-husband and I got married, and the day my father died (different years).  My father died on my 10 year wedding anniversary.  And a year later my ex-husband and I opened our marriage a couple of days after our anniversary.  And a year after that we were separated.  And a year after that we were divorced.  And this year, well.. it’s been a while.

It took a long long long time, but I finally accepted I’ll never really understand what happened with my ex-husband and me.  And it’s been a couple of years longer than that with the loss of my father and I accepted I’ll never fully understand that either.  Thinking about both of them isn’t the white hot poker of pain it once was.  I suppose my active mourning is over and I’ve moved on.  But some associations are so huge they’ll never be erased, and so.. August 10th.

For some reason this week I was thinking of the little things I miss about my ex-husband.  I’ll just say that I’ve been nostalgic and not bore you with a list.  I had this vivid memory though, a time I’d nearly forgotten.

playgroundHe and I took a walk in our neighborhood.  We were just wandering around at night like I like to do.  I still do this sometimes, get driven out of my house in the dark to wander.  I’ve done it my whole life.  We were walking in salt lake Hawaii, a million years ago, some time in 2000.  We walked into a park and played on the swings and the slide and the jungle gym.  We crawled up into this kid’s play thing with the bridge and the rope net and laid on our backs looking at the sky and talking.  It was late and we were just talking and talking and talking.  We knew it was something like 2am, and we were both in the military and knew we had to get to work at 530am or so, but we just weren’t ready to stop talking or to head home.  I had this moment where I knew laying there with him that I’d love him forever.  He was talking about something with his job and telling me his reaction to things and it was about how he wanted to do good and how someone kept getting in the way of this task, and how small it made him feel, to struggle like that at work with someone.  He wasn’t thinking about what he was saying to me. He was just so unguarded.  He talked about his fear in the situation and I remember seeing him then as he must have been as a boy.  I saw right down into his marrow.  I loved every drop of goodness in him and I teared up with love for him, thanking the stars it was dark so I wouldn’t break the spell.

We ended up kissing and talking and petting each other until just before dawn.  And we made love on that jungle gym with wild abandon.  We forgot where we were and paid no attention to anything but each other, fucking long and hard and fast and slow, completely naked on a playground in a big empty park.  We kissed and kissed, sharing breath with each other, looked into each other, got lost in each other.  I could not breathe but I could not stop kissing him and I could not stop moving with him.  When we both came he was still hard for a long time, and I rode him again, slowly, with our eyes locked together.  He couldn’t come again that fast and I didn’t care about an orgasm for myself either.  We just wanted to keep the spell.  We stopped after a bit because it was getting light.  We dressed in the chill damp morning light, giggling at ourselves staying up all night talking and fucking in a park.  I didn’t shower for work that day.  I wanted to smell like him.  God that was a long time ago.  It was a whole other universe ago.  After the divorce I dug up the letter he wrote me that morning.  I had forgotten all about it.

In the letter he’d talked about the night we’d just had, and told me that he knew on the jungle gym, when we were talking and before the sexy stuff, that he would love me forever.  It was about the time I’d known that about him too.

And it’s true.  I think I’ll love him until the day I die, and not being with him and not having contact with him and being divorced from him doesn’t change that a whit.  I think we were right.  I know I’ll love him forever.  And I hope his new life makes him happy, and I hope he is surrounded by love and life and happiness.  I hope he lives a long long time and is always well loved.

There is a selfish part of me that hopes that someday he will remember me with fondness too.

But even if he doesn’t, I have to thank him from afar for all that we were.  I’ve said this a lot.  All relationships were meant to be.  They just weren’t all meant to be forever.  Maybe things ended because they needed to.  Maybe it was just our time.  As much as it hurt and as hard as it was, I think we are both okay.  I think maybe we are even both happy.  I probably would have stayed with him forever if I could have and I don’t honestly know that that would have been the right thing for us.  Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

I’ll just love him.

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I just called to say…

I just talked on the phone.  I talked on the freaking telephone to a man I just started dating.  We talked for no reason at all really, just touching base.  How cool is that?

an old style telephone gleams with it's rotary dial and it's big comfy handset.

an old style telephone gleams with it’s rotary dial and it’s big comfy handset.

Nobody talks on the phone anymore here in Seattle.  I swear.  I’ve been dating for YEARS now and this is the first dude I’ve ever dated who texts for like a second and then says, “can we talk on the telephone?”  And he works in a tech type industry (of course).

What a luxury to unwind with my crummy fast food and a nice light conversation with a sexy man.

We need to bring back the phone.  I forgot the simple pleasure of talking to a boy you like on the telephone and having nothing to say really, but loving the sound of his voice, and feeling special because he wanted to talk to you on the phone.

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Alright already

One of the things I have tried to do here is being unflinchingly honest.  I try to tell the truth, maybe ESPECIALLY, about the things that I feel might make me look bad.  I accidentally found this to be a part of my niche in writing a blog.  So here goes.

I’m lonely once in a while.  It’s hard to be here sometimes and I don’t like it.  The price of loving someone who loves someone else is that they need to spend time with them.  Traveler and Quinky Girl need nights together.  Duh.  Generally this is awesome. I like some alone time in my week.  I can count on one hand the times Traveler and I have spent more than 3 nights a week together, and I can tell you each one was bliss.

But this is a thing us single poly’s can have that our married and cohabitating partners don’t.  I didn’t understand this when I was married and I don’t think a lot of partnered poly’s do.  Not really.

Continue Reading »

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I won at Bawdy Storytelling!

Traveler and I went to Bawdy Storytelling in Seattle for the 1 year anniversary event. It. Fucking. Rocked.

I met some really fun sexy people, laughed my head off, got a little disgusted, cheered, titillated to crazy good sexy tunes by Garlic Man and CHIKN (https://facebook.com/GarlicManandChikn). It’s the 3rd or 4th time I’ve been and I have loved it to pieces each and every time.

Dixie de la Tour started it about 9 years ago in San Fransisco, and brought it here to Seattle. Thank you, Dixie! I got to meet her tonight before the event and have to admit I was a little star struck. She’s a force of nature.

And get this… I won a HUGE prize!!!

I won a gift bag chock full of the ever fantastic Lelo toys, AND a night at Inn Thrall, Seattle’s only kinky B&B! I screamed and danced I’d wanted it so badly. My trusty Lelo vibrator finally stopped charging a few months ago and I bought a new vibrator that I like okay, but I’ve missed my Lelo. It’s powerful and sleek and well designed and QUIET. What? I like to stealthurbate. Don’t judge me.

So… An evening of kinky fun with Traveler? Yes please. A Lelo pleasure object? Yes please! A Lelo sensual suede whip. Yes. Lelo silky restraints. A Lelo insignia vibe. Gulp. Yes. Lube! Lubricant! Oh dear God Halleluiah!!

There are a lot of exclamation points.
This deserves them.
Squee.

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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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