19 Days

I am 19 days away from reuniting with JB. 19 days, by which time it will have been 5 months apart. Five terrible months where, as my aunt recently said, "life lost it's colour".

Being apart is not so much difficult as it is terribly dull. I occasionally feel the desire to go out dancing, but more times than not I can't think that it would be at all interesting without him. I've lazily daydreamed about going out to pick someone up to get the energy in my body dealt with, but more than that I crave a night alone with JB. There's some change that's happened here, I was sure you weren't supposed to find your partner this attractive. This consistently arousing after 18 months. But I do.

I've moved into a new phase of my sexuality. I've spent 5 months alone, so have well and truly used the time to get reacquainted with myself and with what I find arousing. My fantasies now involve bareback sex, impregnation risk and definitely, definitely JB. I have no real explanation for this, other than perhaps I've decided that I want to surrender my body to him, not in a possessive way (that couldn't be further from reality) but in a way that pays homage to the union between partners. In the way that recognises the love that passes between people who want to have children together. I love him, and I want to have children with him. More to the point, I want to practice getting pregnant with him!

It's a weird sensation. I wish he would get here!

Keep it in your fucking pants lady!

JB and I have been apart for reasons beyond our control for six weeks now.

I am dying for some sex and it's making me go a little crazy. Sex dreams non stop and I just want to go out, get drunk and go home with someone. Not for the romantic part, but for the fucking human contact part.

But I won't do that, because that's not the promise I've made. I've got to keep this promise, I just have to.

I'd forgotten how vital it makes me feel to be regularly fucked. I feel as though I'm sleepwalking without it.

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.

Naked as a J-Bird

J and I have spend the last two months falling in love. It's been incredible, and I feel that it really is incredible that I've met him at all. How did it even really happen? How does one actually go from meeting someone for the first time, being a little frightened of them, to loving them? Even after reflection, when I have traced the path back to that day, it seems so unlikely, so reliant on chance that I could weep from the miraculousness.

The visit before last was the one that sealed the deal. Delicious texts, slightly rude (how lovely), let to me saying I totally adore you. I wasn't meaning to say that I loved him, even though by that point I did. But he did what I'm learning is his usual trick of wonderfully seeing right to my core, to my tenderest parts, already knowing what I haven't had the courage to say. Fuck. I totally adore you also. That's got it out in the open xxx Not that it was that well hidden...was his reply. Cue heart pang and melting into the bus seat. I'm like Charles Bingley from Pride and Prejudice - not confident to be fully in love withour proper encouragement - also known as doubting Thomas. I wasn't quite sure if that meant what I thought it did. So I waited until he said it again.

I'm now on the other side of the world, back home with family for Christmas. I miss him. I keep thinking of our last day together before I left. I keep thinking of having his head between my legs and how it was the first time he brought me to climax himself, without any help from me. That's awesome.

That leads me to last night with T, who has come home with me. He was massaging my body, and I knew he wanted sex. The arousal doesn't come so quickly with me anymore. I let him massage me, but told him that it wasn't a definite green light on the sex front (bit awkward at his mother's place) but he was ok with that. He made my body feel good, easing the tension in my shoulders and the pain in my thighs, before brushing his hands against me and massaging my pussy. He did it sweepingly, and I wasn't sure if he meant to do it or not (he totally did - well played T) and then continued to do it, until I was almost weeping with desire, and longing for him to touch my clit. When he did, he brought me to orgasm within about three minutes - my fastest ever!

I wonder whether I'm chilling out more on the orgasm front, and just riding the pleasure plains. Maybe letting go? Maybe somehow finding it easier to fantasise? I'm not sure, but T seemed delighted, and fuck it, so was I!! We finished off with him fucking me from behind and we watched ourselves in an enormous mirror. Hot. I wasn't wearing my glasses so my body was in delightful soft focus (for once), and I what I saw I definitely couldn't criticise! It was joyful.

Again And Again And Again

I've let myself go seriously cray-cray since the lovely date on Tuesday. CANNOT stop thinking about J, or more importantly, I DON'T WANT TO.

It's driving me slightly mad though! I can't concentrate at work, I'm constantly checking my phone, and mooning at every possible moment. It's tough.

I do feel really affectionate towards T, and being with him this week has been heavenly, although we haven't seen each other as much as we'd like. I told him how I was feeling about J, or at least tried to tell him, as I wasn't at my most articulate. He was lovely, and thankful that I brought him into my world, and showed him how I was feeling.

And I'm feeling weirdly cut up. I feel a bit desperate to see J again, and I think that if he's not as interested I'll be really hurt! I'm used to feeling a little more in control over this! He's flying out for work for a week, but then back next weekend. We briefly talked about me coming up to visit him the following weekend, but I'm not sure if he'll remember. I hope so!

This whole polyamory business is tricky! Even when it's going right!

Memories

M has gone again, and I find myself going over the last time we were together over and over in my head.

T has been unkind to me these last few days, and whilst I don't actually think he's cross with me, he's brought me to tears a couple of times and I tired of his mood. My time with M is a happy escape from that, and remembering it gives me solace and bittersweet pleasure. I wonder if T has picked up on that.

The more I think of Wednesday the less I can remember, which completely sucks but is perhaps my brain's way of forcing me not to dwell. Hopefully I shall see M soon!

He's becoming quite dear to me.

Well Hello M

So out of the blue last week I got a text from M - he had his phone turned off for three weeks because of problems with his ex-girlfriend. It’s a completely bullshit excuse but I was glad to hear from him and I didn’t feel like calling him on it, so I let it slide.

He was heading back to town for a night and asked me if I wanted to get together. Luckily I’ve been on holiday this week and so I was able to spend part of Wednesday day with him, and I cleared it with T so I could stay the night at M’s place. I was so happy to be going - really excited to see him again. I was out shopping in the morning with T’s sister (she doesn’t know the, um, status of our relationship) and M rang so I had to do a coy thing and be dying on the inside from happiness but on the outside seem like I was just having a normal conversation.

I got home just after lunch and M got into town at half two. We decided to meet at four, so I had a frantic de-hairing session and a calming bath to get my proverbial shit together. The texts from M got more frequent and I suddenly got the impression that he was fucking excited to see me too. My heart sang, but kind of in that confused way where I am happy for the attention now, but confused as to why it’s so intense now when for the last month I’ve not heard anything? Heard so little that I believed that it was over between us. I hate to think that his proximity to pussy increases the likelihood of getting attention from him. I hate to think that.

He met me out the front of his house, wearing his lovely cuddly grey hoodie. Happiness at seeing the hoodie again, more grey and cuddly than I remembered it.

We went to his room and he put his hand around my neck and pulled me to him, kissing me hard and giving me the love shakes. We lay down on his bed, and he undressed me, kissing me, and he dove between my thighs and started tasting me. I covered my eyes and let him eat me - it’s hard for me to let go and not be scared about someone having their face really rather close to my cunt. It felt good, no actually it felt pretty great, and I felt the fucking cosmic pleasure of having M eating me out. M! He Of The Distant Nature was licking my cunt and putting his fingers inside me. It was great. I took over after a while because my desire to cum was pretty great. I couldn’t get it together though, and after cramp set it I stopped forcing it.

The heavenly thing was feeling the pressure of his body on mine again. To feel how he was different to T, and just to see his lovely face again, and hear his lovely accent. I had missed him, my body had missed him, and it felt joyful to be right there next to him, surrounding him with myself and being with him.

We talked more frankly than we had last time, and it was refreshing. The nature of our relationship lends itself to intensity I guess. I think that’s quite common. We went to a deli and bought antipasti bits and strawberries and ate them while watching The Meaning of Life. I lay between his legs and the love shakes came when his kissed the top of my head. Which he did quite a lot. I took a picture of him and I have looked at it a lot in the last few days. He’s smiling, and I remember seeing the smile come across his face as I lined up the shot. It’s a pose, but a lovely one and that’s the M I think of, when I remember him.

We slept by each other in the night, and I woke him up for a 4am fuck. He kept saying ‘this is the first time we’ve slept together’. I slept terribly - I tend to in unfamiliar beds - but it was kind of ok, because I was conscious of the loveliness of having him right there.

In the morning he wore his usual face but said a couple of times that he didn’t want to go. It was an insight - I suddenly felt that that is the way M is. Not really one for wearing his heart on his sleeve, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a heart. But maybe I am making excuses.

He’s gone again now, and the wrench is awful. I’m not actually sure if I will ever get better at the goodbyes. I don’t know if feeling this ghastly is worth it. I know that it’s not going to last forever and I know he plans to move far far away. The missing him is exquisite.

The end of M

I don’t know if I am being melodramatic (I wouldn’t put it past me) or if my intuitions are bang on, again. 

But I have this sense that M is gone. It’s been almost a month now, and the daily texts dropped to every few days, and then a week went by and I had heard nothing. It was kind of ok, until it wasn’t and I realised I missed him, and that it was ok to miss him. He was a new friend, and I fucking care about him, and it’s ok for me to tell him that. He should know that I care for him, and that I am thinking of him. So after playing the game of not-texting-him-until-he-texts-me, which always ends badly, I rang him. I made a deal with myself that if he didn’t pick up, it was over. 

But he answered. We chatted briefly, and it was nice. It was so nice to hear his voice. 

But intimacy breeds intimacy, and that fucker is addictive. I wanted to hear from him even more. So I texted him the next day when I cut all my hair off. The crash from that one hurt. It’s hurting right now. I don’t know why I feel so shitty about all of it. I feel a fool, because I feel as though he would contact me if he wanted to speak to me. He hasn’t so, that means he doesn’t want to. Or can’t - and it’s that ‘can’t’ which is keeping me dragging along. Maybe something is wrong, and he can’t talk to me about it. Or maybe it’s over, and I am just not seeing it. I’m not angry, just really sad about it. I thought we were going to be friends, and I could really do with some of them. 

I also think that a 32 year old man would have the guts to just tell someone they didn’t want to be with them, or didn’t want to hear from them. The worst bit is that maybe he just thinks it’s not that big a deal. That him not responding is not that big a deal, and that when he comes back it will all go back to the way it was. It might, if I’m honest. I really like him and liked being with him. But what I am finally understanding is that he just doesn’t feel the same way. He thinks this is the way he should behave, and that it’s ok. Which maybe it should be, but it doesn’t make me feel less shitty. 

I had to delete his number and all his texts just so that I couldn’t make even more of a fool of myself and contact him again. God, I haven’t even been a psycho bitch, I’ve just been fucking nice, and I still end up feeling like Glenn Close. Fucking hell. 

So if he contacts me, great, but if not, with great sadness, it appears to be the end of M.

Wednesday

T and I are back on an even keel after what was a slightly rocky week or two. Back to enjoying each other, which is a relief.

We went to the cinema last night and I looked at his face, lit up by the screen. It is so familiar to me, almost more so than my own. It's home, and I've been reminded of that a lot recently. He still makes me laugh, laugh until I choke and there's something to be said for that. Indeed there is.

M is still away, and we're not in touch very much. In a way it's a blessing because I've been able to move through the horrible part of him being away and now the ache that I feel when I think of him is vaguely pleasurable, and recalling past escapades with him makes me weak at the knees and brings a smile to my face. I am fairly sure we'll see each other again when he's back, but am now at the point where it doesn't seem so vital.

I reprimanded myself for missing him, because in one way I should just accept it for what it is now. But I realised that I miss him because I genuinely like him on a friend level too, and just when we were getting to know each other he left. Oh well. Hopefully we can pick up where we left off.

Sunday, 8pm

M has been away for two days now and I’m finding it hard. Not because he’s away, I can deal with away, but because I haven’t heard from him in two days, and I can feel myself turning into psycho-missing-you-bitch-text-me-you-fucker.

I texted him yesterday morning, and when I didn’t hear back I left it to sit for a while. I’ve gone through the full gamut of emotions these last two days and the weirdness has been heightened by the fact that T and I have had a lovely, loving weekend together. T and I feel closer together than ever before, but there has seemed to be this grey part of me, in the back of my mind, waiting for a time when I’m alone to jump on me and make me miss M. It’s been so long since I’ve felt that way.

M and I have been lovers for a week. T and I have been lovers for three and a half years. I love T, I am in love with T but the brand spanking newness of being with M is just that. Brand spankingly new. I don’t need to be forced to admit that M and I barely know each other. We don’t necessarily have that much in common other than the fact that last Friday night we picked each other, and since then spent a week in his bed.

Part of me has enjoyed the sensation of missing him. I’ve felt his absence after getting used to the piss taking all week. The way he just talks and talks and talks and fills up the silences until he doesn’t need to. How he talks about nothing for 45 minutes and just when you start to lose interest he’ll mention something dark and dirty about himself, to make you wake up and realise there is a hell of a lot more going on in there than you ever realised. I enjoyed the absence of him because it made me remember that I like it when he was here. That this whole adventure that T and I decided to go on together wasn’t some big mistake, and that fun times and meaningfulness and kooky sex could happen and my world wouldn’t implode. But I swiftly stopped enjoying the sensation and now my brain is doing that thing where it plans out the worst scenario and convinces me that something incredibly unlikely is going to happen. Like he will suddenly realise that I am full of shit and the things that I told him I could offer him weren’t enough and he didn’t want to be with me anymore and didn’t care enough to tell me (even by cunting text) and he’s just going to ignore me or worse laugh at me for years to come with all his soldier friends.

I know that it’s not real, these absurd worries. Even more I know that he is thinking about me and that he’s probably playing the same game as me - don’t text and keep it cool - so he doesn’t get in too deep either.

He’ll be back in three weeks or so. I guess we’ll wait and see what happens when he gets back!