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!

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.

Here's The Thing

JB asked me to marry him on a Friday night, after we'd been to the pub with some friends. I'd made a lemon cake to take with us the next day to a theatre show in a forest with his mother and sister.

As we ate the cake together, JB said "oh my god this cake is amazing. Will you marry me?" I assumed it was in jest until he said "actually, yeah. Will you marry me?" my only possible response being a mouth-full-of-cake "are you serious?".

Evidently he was. I accepted. I'm a polyamorous person who has just committed to a monogamous marriage. Holy fucking shit. JB and I have only been together a year. But it feels so right. He seems like the kind of partner I could spend the rest of my life with. FUCK! How did this even become a thing?

I am so happy to be marrying him. I don't know what will happen. I don't know how I will apply polyamory to my future life. I just don't know. But I have this belief that poly was never really about the sex or the romance. It was about the love, and I feel that I can get that love through platonic friendships. We'll see, obviously, but I am prepared to take that risk. Let's see how we go!

Here we are now

So...long time no see!

It's been a crazy old time, but now, I have to say I'm in one of the best and scariest times of my life. 

I ended things with T. In August last year, I said goodbye to my lover and friends of five years. Hardest thing I have ever done. He was at his sister's house, and as I walked away I saw him standing alone in the kitchen looking at the ceiling. It was dreadful, and I try not to think about it too often because that guilt and pain of saying it is still there, under the surface. Three weeks later we had a picnic for our five year anniversary, and I sobbed in front of him. 

The reason for all of this was that I had fallen hard for JB, and we had spent five months trying to work out whether being together was what we actually wanted. It was a tough decision. He had so many barriers, and had reconciled himself to a single life. He didn't want to be polyamorous, which was a big deal for me, as it meant that I would have to say goodbye to T. I wasn't sure if that was what I wanted at all. To be truthful I couldn't really imagine a life without T in it. 

But I wasn't happy with T, it's true. Our sex life was all over the place and I found it hard to get over the resentment I had developed over the last years. So I made the choice to end things with Thomas and go into a monogamous relationship with JB. Huge fucking change.

I am still with JB now, it's been almost a year. I know I made the right decision and I feel like this is sustainable. In hindsight it would have been good for me to have a break in between relationships, to get my head straight and take care of myself. But JB and I had already been seeing each other at the point that T and I split up, so it made sort of sense to just go on the way we were going. 

I am so happy now. There will be more adventures to come I dare say, so expect more!

S

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.

Bye Bye Blackbird

J is gone. It is done and over with.

He returned from a working trip and when we spoke it came out that he doesn't think about any sort of future with me. I'm tired of being with people who don't want to be with me. Or who make no effort or room in their life for me to be. I won't be the one who always bends. I am resolute.

The night that I ended it I sobbed like a child. I've been more ok about it than I really expected, but waves of grief was over me a few times today, and I feel myself on the edge again.

This morning, as T and I were making gentle Saturday morning in the sun love, I was near to climax when I realised I was supposed to be with Cambridge with J, and I almost wept right then and there. Not fair for T, I know, but I don't consciously seek these thoughts out, they just hit me.

I am so sad.

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.

Paris, France

J took me to Paris last weekend. I had been looking forward to it for months. All over Christmas, almost all I could think about was going to Paris with J. It just seemed like the most romantic thing in the universe.

We left on the Friday of my first week back at work. From about 12pm that day I'd begun to feel terrible nervous and excited, almost nauseous, which is pretty unusual for me. On the train to London I felt so fucking anxious I could hardly stand it. Couldn't read. Couldn't do anything except sit there and fucking pine away, waiting to see him.

He had sent this text:

"You get 3 spanks for every minute late you are after 1730. I want to kiss you. Xxx"

When the train pulled in I felt shaky with desire. I called him, and he answered "Nine minutes late. That's 27 spankings." Once I'd heard his voice I felt ok, and as I wandered through the train station to meet him I felt positively serene. Then all of a sudden there he was. Real as fuck. It was all I could do to stand there in his embrace, and not fall to the ground and weep with relief.

As we travelled through England and then into the North of France, we talked, chatted about life, about his friend who had died, about my Christmas trip. We made it into Paris quite late, then couldn't get a taxi and took a fraught Metro journey to our hotel. He seemed distracted, but it was ok.

The view from the Hotel

We made it to the room, and we kissed. He took my clothes off, I took his off. He ate me for a long time, but for some reason did that thing that T used to do, which is not listen to me saying "don't stop" and he kept on changing his pace. Fingering me too hard, and too deep. I'm being spoilt now, but it was so GD annoying that I kept being distracted. When I finally came it wasn't great, and I barely felt it.

He hadn't fucked anyone in six weeks, so he fucked the absolute shit out of me. He came quickly, had tried to slow down, then suddenly stopped and looked so intensely into my face before shooting himself into me with an anguished cry.

The scene of the crime

The next day he taped my arms together and fucked me from behind as he pushed my face into the bed. The me flipped me over and pressed his glorious weight into me from on top. My arms hurt but I loved it. I loved it when he came in me. I wanted it to be for real.

Saturday night changed everything though. He'd been a little distant in the afternoon, and as I generally let him set the tone I let myself get totally thrown and began to doubt myself. It was really my fault then for the rest of the weekend, as I couldn't feel happy unless I thought that he was. So I wasn't very talkative, felt shy.

We spoke about his work over dinner and when I made a foolish mistake over something quite key he'd been explaining he gave me an exasperated look and a sigh. I almost burst into tears. I felt mortified, humiliated, stupid and playing out of my league. He asked if he'd upset me but it was all I could do to shake my head and deny how easily wounded I was.

Sunday was fun. We walked around the Musee D'Orsay before a walk through the Tuileries and a crepe on a Ferris wheel. Another exhibition had too long a line and he was disappointed. We then went to Champs Elysees and wandered through some shops. He likes to buy me things. We went into a store, and he bought me some delicious boots. I adore them:



We then went to an early supper at Terminus Nord. I had onion soup and lobster. He had soupe de poisson and steak. He was quiet, I was sad and frightened. He seemed cross and I didn't know why. I don't even know if he was actually cross or just distracted.

We went to catch the train and the snow had thrown the system into mayhem and there were hundreds of people queueing for the trains. We made it onto the last two seats of the earlier train (which nevertheless running 300 minutes late) but did spend a couple of hours waiting. He was so anxious that he kept marching off, trying to find a better place for us to sit. Always trying to be more efficient. Not telling me what is going off. Walking off when I was halfway through I sentence. I know he didn't hear me. He should have been listening. I want him to be the kind of lover that is listening.

I had a cry, and told him he'd upset me. He was totally shocked and oblivious and I thought I saw a flicker of him being sad that I was upset. I don't know if that's the case though.

On the ride back we chatted, sometimes it was intimate, some times it wasn't. We spoke about life, and about sex, and he said to me:

"if you follow me into the toilets I will come in your mouth"

So I did. I've NEVER done that before, but he fucked me from behind in the Eurostar toilets, and before coming he spun me around, sat me down, took off the condom and pressed his lovely cock into my mouth. He came with a sigh into my mouth for the first time, and it tasted wonderful. He was shocked that I'd done it, and frankly so was I.

We tried to find our way back home. He booked a hotel, I thought I was invited, but I wasn't. He got me off the train a stop early and left me to make my own way home. I was devastated. He had the fucking audacity to tell me he missed me and wished I was at the hotel with him. I sobbed the way home.

I need to stop letting him treat me like a fool.

The Weekend of You: Evening

We made it inside. J pushed me up against a wall, the one with no pictures on. Kissed me hard. Kept kissing me while I fumbled with his belt buckle, then his shirt. He began to unbutton my dress, but I pushed him away, and pulled the flimsy blue fabric over my head. He smiled, surprised at my lingerie, and pushed me into the lounge.

I lay back on his voluptuous sofa and J peeled off my tight jeans. More surprised smiling and my plan of impressing him through matching black lace lingerie seemed to have worked. He took it off, and threw it carelessly on the floor. J nudged my thighs apart and as I sat up briefly in mock protest he exclaimed at the soft roundness of my belly. He ran his hand over it pinchingly, and told me that he thought it was incredibly sexy. We kissed more, urgently, and my protests turned to encouranging sighs and moans. He pressed himself at my entrace and I snaked my moistened hand between him to make myself wet and ease the first heavenly thrust. He pushed inside my warmth, I felt my brow knit and the first sigh escape my lips.

You like it rough, don't you. I am now on the floor, on hands and knees, showing myself to him. He was quick to enter again, thrusting deeply into me. I arch my back and I hear him groan before he runs his hands down my back, tracing me from widened hips to slender waist, up, up my back and neck before taking hold, fingers clasped through locks of hair. Deeper and harder now, yes. Rocking my hips back to meet him I feel myself surrounding him deliciously, no room to spare. I'm pushed roughly up against the sofa, and his force surprises me. I'm hit with the realisation that he is a lot bigger than me, and could hurt me if he wanted to. He doesn't, not really, no more than I want him to. He's the first lover to discover this side of me for himself. I didn't even need to tell him. His thrusts are hard and fast now, slamming my face into the cushions. I like it, I think he comes, but can't quite tell, and soon he stops. He leads me upstairs to his white room with the colourful covers.

I find out later that when he comes, he slams himself into me and growls into my ear. A loud, unapologetic growl that is satisfying to my ears. I get to know that growl much better over the evening.

We lay in bed next to each other, slightly shocked at how much we're enjoying ourselves. Satisfaction breeds intimacy and our conversation become frank, candid. My hands can't keep away from his beautiful whiskered face. He looks back and I see the shy, delighted, naughty, interested boy in him, creeping out excitedly. Oh I do like him.

The next few hours are spent chatting, fucking, giggling. He leaves the room and I sneak his shirt on, a vast tunic on me. It doesn't smell of him. He seems to have no scent, but rather I can taste him when he kisses me. It's familiar. He likes me in his shirt and takes great pleasure in peeling it off my soft warm body several times over the course of the evening.

We try to watch a film, but in reality sit on each other, chatting and drinking champagne. I play him some music, and he plays me his favourite Beethoven symphony. I'm wrapped up in him, and gently drift off, hoping he wont notice. He does, and takes me softly back to his white room with the colourful covers and puts me to bed. He joins me soon after, and as we lay side by side I press myself into his warmth, and his arms snakes around me before holding me at the roundness of my belly.

1am. I'm awake, having not quite shaken off the stresses of the working week. My eyes hurt, sticking together from unremoved (but by this point certainly smudged) makeup. I creep out of bed, remove it and brush my teeth. Laying back next to him, I wonder distractedly if he will smell my face cream, whether he'll like it. He mutters I must pour you some more champagne in his sleep, and I giggle. He's dreaming about me, I like to believe. Sleep reluctantly comes again.

4:30am. The bed is empty next to me. My haziness thinks he's working, but I can't make out which room next to me he is in. I don't like being without him, and feel bereft. Tossing over whether to leave him alone or to join him, a few minutes later I rise, reaching for the door handle and seeing him at his computer. He smiles to see me, and apologises - he's still on Pacific time after a working trip away. He tenderly cuddles me, warming me and sweetly laughing at my blinkingness in the light. He makes tea, and joins me back in bed.We talk til sunrise.

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.

Towards You

I'm now home after one of the most incredible weekends of my life. I don't know that I can explain what happened, but I feel different to the person that I was before, and yet exactly the same.

The train trip up to Cambridge was nothing spectacular, I found myself willing the time away. I made it to King's Cross earlier than anticipated and it gave me time for a quick snap of platform 4 and 3/4 before jumping on the train. A quick call to J to say I made the earlier train brought nerves wooshing into my stomach. To hear his voice again reminded me that he was still very much a stranger, and the last two weeks of crazy pining had been all on my own, and the intimacy I'd imagined was going to have to be created between us all over again. His voice you see, was so incredibly his, that I couldn't quite believe that after all the time I'd thought about seeing him, in 45 minutes I was really going to.

The train to Cambridge was worse. I tried to read, I tried to pay attention to the countryside and failed at both. I ended up just sitting there getting excited for about 25 minutes. For the last twenty, a particularly charming 2 year old played peekaboo with me - I don't think he realised he was actually helping me out more that I was him. We arrived, then the slow interminable walk from the platform to the entrance. Should I carry my bag on my shoulder or in my hand? I don't want him to think it's heavy, and that I've packed to many things, so it should be hand. But it is heavy. Ok so shoulder to the doors, and then you can suffer it in your hand from there. I arrived at the doors, and couldn't see him. Chill. Get your ticket out, and get through the gates. There he is. Don't panic. 

We said hello, then hugged and I leaned in for a kiss. I got it, but it was definitely a little awkward. I'd imagined that it might be, but I had steeled myself to do it regardless as I wanted to be unambiguous as to my feelings. I'd come to Cambridge to be J's lover, something that terrified and thrilled me. He took me to a taxi and we drove to his cottage. The weekend of J had begun!

Glory Day

A much yearned for email from J today. SO utterly reassuring, and without trying to jinx it, I think he might be right beside me, in the feelings department. I don't know, how could I know?

But this was in the email "I would gladly read you some writing - i might be a bit shy at first - if you hand me a glass of wine one evening next weekend then you can have whatever you want." and it's made me go a little crazy, fantasising about sweet and terrible things that we might do to each other when we see each other next.

He has this incredible and intense way of writing, so much so that if I didn't trust him so much, I'd think he was trying to impress me. I daresay he is, but nevertheless I sense honesty in his words.

I keep replaying our lovely warm kisses over and over in my mind. I also remember the way he leaned in and kissed my neck - how did he KNOW? How did he know that it sends me wild? I could have turned into a puddle of lust right there if I hadn't had him to hold on to. Here's hoping for some repeat moves when I see him next. 

Christ, I can't stop! The thought of his lovely tall body and hands running up me. I can't wait to become lovers. I just want his hands all over me and want to feel what he's like inside me. Whether he's as lovely and as kind, and as intuitive to what I like as he is now.

Who knows? It's all terribly exciting!

They Come Back, They Always Come Back

Time. Time time time. It passes, doesn't it? After six 30% lovely, 70% fraught months together, M and I have parted ways. It was for the best, although that doesn't mean I didn't the odd weeping session or two. I did like him an  awful lot, but I guess I always knew it wasn't going to work. Ever.

S and I have slept together again. Last time was better, but still not great. He lost his hard on, and while that doesn't bother me really (not my fault!) I know it's because we shouldn't really be fucking. T has expressed a bit of angst over it - S and I work together so that's not wholly unexpected - and then I dealt him a bit of a shit card, because I mentioned we'd fucked and T wasn't expecting that. To be perfectly clear, I thought that I had let T know. I'd never expressly said it, but that's because I was trying to be gentle and I thought it was implied. I'd asked for a day when the flat would be free....but lesson learnt. I'm not out to fuck people if it's going to hurt T.

I've learnt the pattern with S though. It used to get me down as I missed him, but now I see the absence is from distraction, or indeed life. I'm more settled now, happier and more solid with T, so I barely notice the time. I've watched S a couple of times over the last few weeks and noted that I had missed our chats, and mentally noting that he looked really hot lately. I'd also noticed that the short-sleeves-and-tie-combo has gone out the window, something I like to think I played a part in. After we fucked last time, I jokingly mentioned that only Real Estate Agents can pull that look off, and I think the poor darling took my words to heart. I'm not really sorry - it's for his benefit after all! (sarcasm font please!)

I literally thought of S this morning, brushing my teeth getting ready for work, and that it had been a while since we connected. Immediately following that thought was a revolutionary thought for me - the title of this post - he always comes back.

M2

On Friday night I really had the most blissful time. I met up with a friend, M2, who I’m sort of getting quite close to. I’d felt quite attracted to his lovely quiet beardy amazingness for a while, and then embarrassingly told him how I felt whilst unknowingly forcing him to sit in direct eye-line of a pair of my dirty knickers. That’s how cool I am.

Anyway, we had moved on from that, and he had actually said that he felt the same way, but he has a new girlfriend and it couldn’t go anywhere. That was fine, I mean, I know my relationship is open, but I’ve got to respect that others’ aren’t. With great power comes great responsibility etc. So on Friday we went out for a drink after work. Phew. 

I met him at his offices and we walked about 15 minutes to this completely out-of-the-way-only-locals-go-here-who-the-fuck-are-you-guys pub and talked about our childhoods, and our families and just generally caught up. It was bliss. He’s very good at listening, and also really good at holding back his own opinions. He will form a judgement, and wont tell you when you are most likely to be affected by it and then three weeks later, once you’ve come through it all, he’ll tell you his honest opinion. He just wants you to get there on your own. It’s sort of frustrating/refreshing. I appreciate it most of the time. 

We then headed back to the High Street to meet up with a friend of mine from work. M2 and I had gotten to that lovely 2-pints-in stage of intimacy and I didn’t really want to meet my friend, J. I looked at him and thought ‘I really want to kiss you’. But I didn’t do it (or say it, which is perhaps more remarkable). It was fine though, and we had a quiet drink with J and then 2 very loud drinks before J went home. M2 and I carried on and got a curry (delish) before heading back to his place to partake of it’s deliciousness. 

We ate on his sofa, quite drunk by this point, and then sat chatting. I don’t really remember what we talked about for the most part. He then pulled a cushion onto my lap and put his head there, and we talked about his story. I started to run my hands through his hair. He then asked mine, and I don’t really remember what I said, except for the time my Dad woke me up at about 6am one morning when I was 18, saying that my Mum has asked him to leave and he was going away for a while and didn’t know when he would be back. I told M2 how I hugged my Dad and then he left. M2 said how sad that was and I agreed. It felt so sad. He then took my hand and kissed it. 

I kept running my hand through his hair and he would take my hand and kiss it from time to time. I stroked his face and he kissed my hand again. I felt this enormous tenderness for him, and it felt so intimate just to be sitting there, with him falling asleep on my lap. He eventually fell deep into sleep and I dozed for an hour or two before extricating myself, briefly tidying up and then kissing him on the cheek and leaving. 

I don’t know how much of it he remembers, I hope as much as I do. But I don’t really need it to go any further than it did. It was just the unexpected tenderness I got back, you know? For the first time, I wasn’t even hoping for it and it came my way, from someone I truly respect and have gotten to know the old fashioned way. 

I really think he will be a great friend of mine. 

Good Friday

So Friday didn’t really go quite as I’d planned. I think the upshot is that I’ve kind of totally misjudged S, and yesterday that became apparent.

He’s actually just someone that is coping with a break-up that has left him a bit shattered. He is non-responsive sometimes, and will avoid confrontation at all costs, but his confidence is at an all time low. Poor sod.

He came over, and we chatted for a little while, before he pulled me over towards him and kissed me. We have really different kissing styles, and to be honest I felt his was pretty tongue-centric. It was ok, just took some getting used to. We got naked, and started fooling around, when he slipped a finger straight in my arse - that was a complete fucking shock! It was ok I guess, but just surprising as I’ve never known anyone that has gone in straight for the kill like that. I had mentioned that I liked it, but I guess I hadn’t really articulated that it didn’t feel that good just on it’s own, more as an addition to regular fucking. Oh well.

I sucked him off for a while - he really has the most tremendous cock I have ever seen. It’s fucking huge and whilst not scary looking, ever so slightly intimidating because of the sheer girth. Far out. Then he went inside me, and it was really really tight. It was hard to feel anything really, because it wasn’t moving around very (due to size!) and then he came after about 30 seconds. I rode him for a bit more and then wanted to change positions, where it then became apparent that he was going to need a bit of a breather.

We fooled around a bit more, and then he suddenly stopped and said ‘I’ve just lost all my confidence - I am really sorry’. I tried to soothe him and brought him into my arms and he started to cry. I felt such compassion for him, it was awful to see him feel so bad. I don’t know whether what we’re doing is good for us, or whether it’s actually hurting him. I’d like to think that physical pleasure would give him succour, and that the friendship would become stronger, so he could then rely on somebody else a bit more, but I don’t know if he can do that. All of a sudden I know that I can, and I know that my emotional state is actually not the problem anymore.

Poor darling, I do just want him to be ok.

S again

So S and I have reconnected. It’s weird but I feel like I can handle it better now, with the buffer of M between us. S seems less vital to me now, and I feel as though I can handle the base pull towards him a little better. I may well be fooling myself, but at the moment that’s what I am feeling and it seems to be working.

S is coming over and this afternoon we’re going to be lovers. I am so crapping myself. I can’t really believe it’s happening and feel frightened that the months of yearning for him will cumulate in nothing very special. I don’t even know. But it seems like it’s going to happy and I am rolling with it. I wasn’t sure it was going to happen until about an hour ago, and shamefully, I took my frustration at the uncertainty of it out on T. I shouldn’t have, and I have apologised for my behaviour, but in the name of openness and honest communication, I should probably tell T why I was acting that way.

I don’t know how this afternoon is going to go, to be honest, it could be great, and everything I hoped and dreamed, or it could be incredibly awkward! So I’ve broken my no-booze rule and am currently enjoying a beer, just to take the edge off. I think it’s working. I wasn’t this nervous with M - in fact I felt positively serene when I went to meet him! I think it’s because of the history between S and I, and the build up. Because for a while, I genuinely felt as though my world would fall down around me if I even looked at him once more. It’s funny that there are people who, through no fault of their own, play a role in your life as The One For Whom I Would Lose Everything.

I really hope I am past that feeling now. Things with T are good, and they type of good that’s just going to get better, and really with the way things went with N, the last thing I need is to feel overly emotional again. I just want some peace. So perhaps introducing new lovers into the scene isn’t the wisest thing in the world. We will see. I don’t know if I am using this new phase of my life to mask another, potentially more secret pain (so secret that even I am not sure what it is) or if I am actually just okay with the whole thing. I think that I am, but if I am not, then I have to trust that I have the skills to get through the hurt and confusion. That’s what this whole journey is about.