I’ve been asked

The TNG (The Next Generation) group of our local community has asked me to give an educational class on sensual massage. The possibilities about this thrill me. Intristically I know the body, understand it’s zones. I can imagine how my body feels against yours. My softness, every dip and valley. My hands moving against the tired, strained, worn muscles under your skin.

Part of my job as a therapist is making my clients a partner. Sometimes just for 60 minutes, professionally we are partners in health. One in wellness. We are working together to better you.

Outside of work I’ve only been able to share this tantric, soul searing intimacy with one person. She is no longer on this plane of existence. I’ve not had any other partner open to sharing this with me. Though I practice it alone. It’s very different when its done with someone else. Very different when it’s done in front of a room full of people ready to learn what you have to share.

I teeter between opening up tantric lesson and just sticking to sensual massage. It’s just so entangled for me. One being the other, tantric meeting sensual. Being open with your partner. Regardless of all these things I’m very excited. Very very.

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I’ve been asked

A note to the other woman

No really it’s me. Not you.

And why sometimes watching my partner tie you, makes me feel sick.

My fella likes to joke that he is mongaish, (monogamous + ish = sort of. Not everyone can understand a particular relationship language) See most people look at us at think our relationship is brand new. They think, “oh how sweet, all in Luuurve with the newness of one another.” When the truth is far more complicated than that. It’s complicated and intense and we’ve grown in a thousand ways since the first time we met. Our respective histories being wildly different and surprisingly similar.

I’ve been mostly poly for the majority of my life and when I wasn’t poly, well I probably wasn’t being honest either. My understanding of his history is a bit different. With his heart and focus remaining beautifully loyal and dedicated to his one partner. As we’ve grown in our respective kink and self awareness, the both of us have softened our ideals. I’ve healed from some of the emotional trauma of my youth and I think he has learned to trust himself and reevaluate what intimacy means to him. (Many thanks to the teachers and guides who have lead us here.)

Now that I’ve decided to reboard  the monogamy ship, I’m dealing with issues I’ve never experienced before. Things like: jealousy, injured ego, altered self perception, self conciousness about situations I’ve never had issues with before. Because what is happening, every time his hands touch your lovely lovely skin, I immediately start comparing myself to you. Your play to ours. Your moans to mine. The way he watches you orgasm with his rope between yours legs. Your body writhing between his feet. I’m watching you share this intimate thing with my Top.

Sometimes, it carves into me like a chainsaw. Because I begin to wonder, are you better than me? Does your whimper give him the same adreneline rush mine does? Unfortunately no amount of reassurance from any party involved appeases the uncertainty in me. Like I said, it’s not you.

To be clear, my relationship with my Top has very few issues, because after a long struggle of watching one another from different shores we are finally here. Together. It’s also made me a bit selfish, surprisingly.  Where I’ve been too generous in the past, now I seek priority. I want from him what I’ve refused from others. Full attention. Our D/s aside, he is first my partner. Second my Top. 10 times out of 10 the sexual creature in me will see the same attractive features in you that he does. You will pique my interest in an almost identical way. I do not fault you your sexiness. I celebrate it. And two days from now when I again feel desireable, I will return to my original opinion of you. My issues will no longer cloud my appreciation of the masterpiece you are.

I voice this for multiple reasons: 1) after your scene with the Fella I may appear withdrawn. My emotional upheaval needs time to mend in the only way I know how. Self reflection. 2) I know I’m not the only one. With a community such as ours, education and support are paramount. We must learn to care for one another. There will be times you see me stumble when no one else does. A kind smile of understanding over a face of judgement changes a life.

In the mean time while I travel towards enlightenment, please know I love what you share with him. As my Top’s play partner you get a distinct advantage. Care, a friend, understanding, humor, honesty, appreciation and then you get everything that He provides. Which let’s be honest, is pretty freaking awesome.

A note to the other woman

One coin

It’s strange how euphoric I get being around/making plans with/executing said plans with MC. Our relationship has been a saga it seems. When I first moved to this city in 2013 I was hot off the presses. Coming out of an intense and tumultuous relationship that burned like dry ice. MC reached out to me on fetlife  a few months before and we had passed one another in the club saying brief hellos. Once I’d settled in/down enough post move and break up, MC asked me on a date. I guess this is where the true journey begins.

We had arranged to me on what I thought was a weekday following the Saturday we spoke. So our “date” night rolls around and I get no call, no text. I’ve been stood up! I was hurt. Rejected. *cried a little* memory fails me at this point but I can only imagine I reached out. Some what hurt. The first sign of our communication skills gone awry. He thought it was the next week. A slightly humurous patching up of feelings and we move on to our first date.

The date went swimmingly. He is always charming. Always attentive. VERY focused. My flash and distract skills fail over and over with him. He sees through my facade in not wanting to answer questions I’m uncomfortable with. But, the company is lovley. Fast forward a few events and my then healing heart is feeling panicky. I can’t be mongamous. I can’t let someone hold all the cards. I can’t I can’t I cant. So what did I do?

I’ll let you guess. . . .

In retrospect it was the best thing for us, in the moment it was the best thing for me. We parted romantic ways but it seemed I developed a friend who would not quit. Someone dedicated to adoring me from a distance. The next year found me … well, you can glance back. 2014 was about renewal. MC was a wonderful source of affirmation and support. I found myself with a friend. A best friend. (How lucky am I to have the friends I do?)

MC had starting dating someone, their time together was full of growing moments for our hero. His skill developed, he experience multiplied, his confidence grew. At some point over the months my heart recognized it. Because of the love I had received and am still receiving from someone very dear to me, I healed. (Thank you for guiding me. Thank you for loving me) I healed and well. … our communication issues got in the way. Dear MC had a new name.

It wasn’t a very nice name.

Sometimes I’m a snarky twit.

Sometimes I’m a total cunt.

There were moments where we would come together like a tsunami and the shore. Only to pull back suddenly and put our respective hearts back together. All of those things changed at the beginning of this year. It started with a simple text.

“Hey.”

“Just watching TV on the couch and thinking of you.”

To be continued …

One coin

Puppy parade

Yesterday was a near whirlwind of activity. We were there (2 adults) then there was the puppy/children menagerie (6 all together). Each one of the creatures I adore piled into my little SUV and we drove downtown for the puppy parade.

If you are unfamiliar with Mardi Gras I suggest you check it out. Louisiana has a special kind of madness that happens this time every year. In the first two weeks of February there is a parade for just about everything. Our canine friends included.

On the way my hand casually slides over to his, one of a hundred thousand things I’m learning to love, our fingers loop together. Amid the chatter we start discussing what the eldest girls life dreams are. Ambitious. Driven. Wonderful things. Laughing I tell them I’m no where near where I had imagined I’d be. But, it doesn’t make me any less thrilled to be here. Then the big question comes.

Dad, what did you want to be when you grew up?

It’s something he and I have spoken about before, you see since he was a boy he’s known exactly what it is he wants to be. Insofar he represents those things wonderfully. Except for one thing. One aspect of his life that didn’t turn out quit the way he expected. A beautiful desire to never have divorced.

Rather than feel offense, my heart mourns for him. Mourns for their mother. I grieve for the children in my back seat. I start to realize what an odd place I’m in. Being dad’s girlfriend. Being a woman who will set an example for them. A woman vast degrees different from their mother. How important my job is, for whatever length of time, to love these growing people honestly.

Then he asks:

Kids, what’s the most important decision you’ll ever make in your life?

Clearly for some this will be different answers. So the youngest says:

Becoming a mother. I want to be a mom.

While important he disagrees. Then the boy:

Being the best person you can be.

Again, honorable but not the answer he is seeking. My fella, sorting through all of his feelings of past and present. He says:

Choosing the person you will spend the rest of your life with.

Trying to ignore the swelling of my heart I pay attention to the reactions of his offspring. I wonder how they feel about the person he’s chosen right now. I focus suddenly on the warmth of his hand and think of every moment I allowed myself to be second. Every moment I said: no its ok, I’ll be here when you get back. I’m glad I don’t have to do that anymore.

I so thankful I don’t have to be a pretend partner. I don’t have to exit stage left.

Puppy parade

Alarm clocks

I felt him shifting about, wondering if the plans of the day were making him anxious. His packed schedule leaving little time for anything more than a brief cuddle. Often times he bolts out of bed, the force of his thoughts propelling him elsewhere. I’ve learned not to be offended by these abrupt moments. But to simply celebrate the time he shares with me.

The mattress gave way to the pressure of his body. His knee touched me first, I think. I’d made a cocoon of pillows to hold me as I slept, warm and content on my belly. Quickly half were thrown away from my nest. The intimate pull of rope on my left wrist. There was no slow descent through the fog of sleep. It was a speedy shock of alertness that I’m still humming from. As he tugged my wrist up and behind my back his hand grabbed my right one, pulling it towards the center. My shoulders shrieking discontent.

It felt nearly planned, the pillow beneath my pelvis, lifting me up for his fingers. Without any flirting they were thrust into me. Pushing beyond the outer bits of me. Forcing their way inside of me. Inside. How incredible to have someone inside of you, to have someone pull from your sleeping body what it is they want.

The hand unoccupied with torturing me switched from twisting the rope in his hands to yanking my hair. Easily pulling me where I needed to be. I could feel it building, the heat, feel my need for more of this. More of anything, just touch me. My thoughts were being jumbled and a worship chant seemed to begin forming in my mind. Pleasepleasepleasedontstopnotyetplease May I cum?

Later we lay in bed, the rope still around one wrist. My hand resting on his chest. It was one of those moments I feel I’ll always remember. Proof that his affections for me put him right up there. Right there in the top tier, alongside just a few of the men who understand what it means to have me sleep next to them. Less than a handful of people I’ve openly submitted too. Less than three Ive knelt before with a completely open heart. No matter where our journey takes us, this was a perfect moment.

This will be what I remember.

Alarm clocks