Hello Again S

If I'm honest, I was avoiding him intentionally. I'm drawn to his energy, his magnificent interest in sex, an interest I take the credit for igniting. 

My old flame S has been back in touch. I find him hard to resist, but resist I have - answering his texts with sympathy, but I will never give in to him the way I did before. I simply have too much to lose this time around. I have a relationship I'm not willing to risk losing. 

He's lost his old pictures of me, can't he just have one for old time's sake? No. I wish we had been able to have just one whole night together. Me too, but it's not going to happen now, it just won't. 

I feel excited by it, which is pretty tame considering how insatiable I've been feeling in JB's absence, but very uneasy. I feel like I wouldn't want JB to see these texts, and so that makes me feel that I shouldn't be involved here. That unease is definitely not even polyamorous, so it's certainly not monogamy.....

I care for S deeply, and am so grateful for the time we had together. There was some pretty excellent sex had. But now, now that I've moved on at last from him, I find that he hasn't quite let go of me. Yet.

Arrival Party

I've returned to my home country for the year as I finish studies and sort out visas for the UK.

JB came out a few months ago for a few weeks visit. What heaven it was. My father and I waited for what seemed like an age at the airport, anxiously keeping an eye on the arrivals board, while ducking in and out of convenience stores to keep ourselves occupied with the odd magazine cover scan. 

The passengers finally came...not him...not him...not him. Him. I shit you not when I say it was as though my favourite actor was strolling towards me. It was like greeting a movie star. Body filled with adrenaline and the sheer disbelief that this moment has actually happened. 

He wheeled his suitcase behind him and his now-unneccessary woollen coat flapped as he strode. A warm embrace. A shocked conversation in the car, and suddenly we're alone, together, at last. In the house that is now our home for nine weeks. 

It's late, and we make our way to our new bed. My old bed from my uni days. It's seen some shit, let me tell you. But all of a sudden it's our bed, previous memories overridden by the sheer delight in being back together. We know it's going to be a bit weird. It was always weird before when he would come home from travelling. But we're not prepared for how wonderful it is, how shockingly lovely it is to touch each other, to feel ourselves inside and around each other, for the first time in months. 

I weep as he fills me. I didn't know how much my body missed him.

I Left T

I ended the romantic relationship.

I've been walking on sunshine for the last month with JB, but something is not right anymore. I don't know what it is. I think it's me. I think I miss TK, and I feel like I made a mistake.

I remind myself that I wasn't happy when we were together. I remind myself that the sex wasn't so great anymore, and I avoided it. I remember getting cross with him and the drudge of dragging him up again from his terrible moods.

But I think that was all worth it. I think. I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything. He was a constant, and now he is not. I've made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.

JB is so wonderful. He's kind, he's good looking, the sex is amazing. He's not T, but that's ok, I genuine love JB of his own accord and I'm grateful of his love in return. But fuck if this ain't half hard. I've never broken up with someone I still loved before.

My cousin is a neuroscientist and he said that the brain can take months, or even years to kill off the emotional pathways in our brain. He said it takes time to make new pathways, and develop new associations about who and what is familiar, and what represents love. I hope he's right, and this struggle is just part of that.

Making Love

Things had been difficult with T for a while. Let's be honest, things hadn't been perfect for over a year. I don't know that they're necessarily perfect now, but they're getting better. Everything is getting better.

I hadn't seen him for a few days, and so on Sunday morning he came over. I was still in bed, still kind of ill and feeling lazy. He undressed, and came in with me. I had missed him, much more than I was used to missing him and that manifested in desire. His touch on my body was so welcome, so tender and sweet. I wanted him, and I felt relieved when he wanted me too.

His kisses were warm on my neck, and his skin supple beneath my hands. He made me gasp as he entered me, fucking me slowly, familiarly, in the way that he knew I liked. That is such a relief at times - being so in tune with someone physically, that even when that spark of anticipation (fear) is gone, the sex is so fulfilling because it's a song you both know the harmonies to.

God I love this man.

Coming up Roses

I've been reading over these posts, and despite the deliciousness of all of them, the ones that burn are the ones about S. I don't know what it is, and I certainly don't feel the way I used to about him, but still, I guess he was a catalyst in my life for a hell of a lot of change.

We've settled into a comfortable friendship with benefits now. He has a new girlfriend, but we still see each other. I've made it clear I don't want to get involved in something that's deceptive, but he's assured me that it's sufficiently casual between them that our continued fucking is acceptable. I trust him, and trust that he'll tell me when it's not ok anymore.

A few months ago he came to the new flat to check it out. T was still at work and likely to be so for a while. We made out a little, before he undid my dress and began to caress my breasts. He sat on the sofa and I snuck in between his legs before undoing his trousers and fishing out his beautiful cock.

That's really what it is - beautiful - it's very large, long and thick, but it's pretty and definitely not a violent cock. I put my mouth around it (just!) and began to suck him off. In the early days he told me he was mad about head, and back then I was so nervous about giving it. Really worried about my teeth...but I'm more confident now, and enjoy the process more. It has to be really varied with S as he's so big and it hurts my jaw if he fucks my mouth for too long.

His hands were in my hair, gently pressing me on to him. He's shy about expressing pleasure - I think I frighten him a little - and so I'm always surprised when he comes. He fills my mouth, and it tastes so good. I swallow, and we kiss before laying back on the sofa and chat.

I'm so surprised this time, about how tender he is. I realise how much he likes me, and how different his  liking me feels. It's not a passion for me, in the way that I wanted in the beginning, but it's a gentle affection and slight surprise that he knows me. I lay back in his arms and he stroked my body, my breasts. It's was lovely.

We dressed, and T came home. It was the first time they'd met in over a year, and in that time S and I had fucked. It could have been awful. It wasn't. They laughed and hugged, and S left. I was so pleased that everything seemed to be coming out ok.

The Weekend of You: Saturday

We arrived at J's house, a former worker's cottage of a nearby estate, and he led me through the garden to the back door of the house. We went inside, I de-coated and de-scarved, and perched on a chair whilst J made tea. The taxi ride to the house had been pleasant, but tentative, and I'm sure the taxi driver thought we were both completely nuts, sitting there and grinning like loons and teasing each other.

J has been calling me The White Witch of Narnia, because after speaking about it together, Cambridge had their first frost of the season. In the car he'd handed me a package, which I opened at his table. Turkish Delight.

We chatted, and grinned some more, before we re-coated and re-scarved and after thrusting a particularly unattractive hat on my head, he led me out of the house and we wandered into Cambridge city. He gave me the full tour experience, chatting confidently about writers who had lived in the villages near him, the history of the place and the reason that so many academics still revolved around this historic place.

He took me inside Cambridge, we saw King's College and Trinity. What heaven, and how marvellous to have studied there. There is a studious air there, and J is right, King's Student Bar was the only Student Bar I've ever been to where everyone is sitting around and talking about their subjects. We repaired to the cafe for a hot chocolate, and I think it was there that the first chipping away at the strangeness of my being there happened. I had to speak to T, and J called out to say hello. I liked it, it was new and a bit scary but I liked it. We confronted the nature of our meeting head on. We're both polyamorous. I'm in a 4 year relationship with T. I didn't really want to go to Cambridge to forget about that, but having said that I didn't want it to loom inauspiciously over the whole weekend. It was ok, J seemed to say. This is ok.

We then started to wander somewhat awkwardly holding hands or walking arm-in-arm. The next day I realised he was nervous and wasn't sure how much I wanted to do that, and at the time I felt the same way. He didn't seem to overly want me to hold his hand, but maybe he was just better and seeming cool and calm than I was. So I just touched him when I wanted to. It seemed to work just fine. Outside Trinity College he kissed me, and I felt my knees buckle with the arousal that come from finally being taken the way you crave.

From then on, I was hazy with desire and my only real wish was to go back to his warm cottage and have him inside me. But there was a whole lunch to get through! We shared a bottle of wine and some pasta at a well known Italian Restaurant in the city centre. We talked and talked and talked. And kissed. He told me who he was and then so did I. We talked about polyamory, and that T might go to see J's other lover. J liked that. He liked the synergy, and that we'd all come full circle. We had the kind of conversation that makes you not want to leave the table, as you know that as soon as the spell is broken it wont be the same when you come back. He told me I had the softest lips he'd ever kissed. I told him that I was so turned on I could hardly stand it. He paid, we left, I got his coat whilst he settled and he was delighted that I knew which one it was.

Back at the cottage he tried to unlock the door, but suddenly it was too much and we stood kissing on his stoop and undressing each other. His warm, wet kisses enveloping my face, his hands touching my breasts whilst I unbuttoned his coat. I stole my lips away from him to whisper open the door. We went inside.

The Date With J

Well.

I just had the most wonderful date of the year. I was utterly spoilt, and have been on a high since it ended. J is lovely, all my concerns about him have vanished and I find myself quivering like a schoolgirl waiting to hear from him. I totally need to calm the fuck down, but I'm not sure that I really actually want to just yet!

I was up in London for work, and whilst I finished late I still got to the restaurant too early. So I went for a petite meander, both to have a look around and possibly find a cash point. I wasn't expecting to see him on my travels, but we bumped into each other as he walked to the restaurant from the tube. He laughed and told me I was walking the wrong way. I knew I was, but it wasn't worth the energy explaining.

The restaurant was loud and busy. Possibly a more so than I would have liked, as I struggle to hear what people are saying at the best of times! We chatted, we drank sherry (gross - far too sweet), ate Basque ham and figs before ordering a fish pie to share. It was lovely - smoky, but lovely. We talked and talked and talked. There were some lulls in the conversation but I didn't mind them too much. I think we were just nervous. He also does this thing where he looks of into the distance as he's talking, or about to say  something, and I can't quite tell if he's bored or if he's thinking. It generally turned out to be thinking - I think that must be a little quirk. It could be worse. 

I picked a white wine and it was lovely. We had people that knew about the food and the wine (although the wine guy seemed to just repeat the word 'tannins' and I sort of lost interest). No pudding, and after he paid the bill (what a treat!) we left. We walked through Holborn, and he suddenly realised where we were - outside the supermarket where we'd all mucked about on PolyDay. We chatted about that day and how it had turned so silly. We'd both enjoyed ourselves/ 

We got in a cab, and he took me to Milk & Honey. It is a private members club in Soho. I was excited, with just a teensy bit of fear lurking in the background. The outside wasn't marked. We went in, and a lovely vintage lady greeted us. She rang up to The Red Room, where J had booked. This is when I tumbled into 'where the fuck have you brought me' territory. He had a somewhat crazed look on his face and I don't yet know him well enough to judge whether he was excited or about to offer me as a human sacrifice. The lovely lady said 'he's ready when you are', took my bags and we walked upstairs.

Heaven awaited me. A decadent 1930s style bar, with cocktail cabinets, Art Deco mirrors and dimmed lighting awaited us. He bought champagne. We chatted, it was heaven. He'd brought me somewhere he knew I would like and I was flushed with pleasure. Recently I've been feeling a little hard done by, and I felt I couldn't remember the last time someone went out of their way to do something nice for me. I'm sure they do, but to have J treat me so nicely was a real treasure. 

We chatted and chatted. Our hands touched slightly, then more, then more. Then caresses. Then holding hands, then kisses. Lots of delicious kisses. We talked about seeing each other again, and he walked me to the station and saw me off.

An email and a text the next day had me reeling with delight.