What was that???
Highland Park came over around 8. He was sick. I knew that. I didn’t care. I wanted to see him. Selfish little me.
We sat on my couch drinking mint tea, eating pomegranate seeds, talking about…HIS WIFE, for 3 HOURS!!!
I almost lost my mind.
I was so turned off by the whole thing.
I felt like an idiot and questioned everything. I wanted him to stop talking and just to go home to his wife. I didn’t wish to play marriage counselor anymore. This was not the kind of role-playing I had in mind.
I played the part well, though. He had no idea I was seething with resentment.
He talked on and on about the sex they had or didn’t have, and I saw his anxiety. His sadness. His confusion with her. She is avoidant. She holds him at arms length. He wants connection. Just like me.
But what made him happy, was how their new open-marriage was bringing them closer than ever.
I died a little inside.
I get it. I thought.
I got it.
This is just sex. That is all it is or ever will be.
But it’s really good sex, was the next thought.
Do I give that up just because he will never be mine?
What does it even mean to be mine? Do I even believe in that possessive bullshit anymore?
I might not.
I might be a convert. For reals.
I don’t think I care if someone fucks someone else. I just need to be the emotional number, one babe.
And THAT I never had with my Husband. I was never number one. I was always number two, behind his ex, and it drove me insane.
And just when I thought Highland Park was finally finished rambling on he touched me.
That was all.
He lightly touched my leg with a slight smile on his lips and suggested that we could merely lay down next to each other if we wanted to. That it would be a travesty not to, at the very least, even if he didn’t feel up to the task of full on fucking.
I yanked him into the bedroom faster than you could say “do me now.”
I didn’t give a fuck if I got deathly ill from it.
I wanted his lips on mine.
It was the most singular thing I cared about at the moment.
The clothes were off.
And he said I could do with him what I would.
And I did.
I straddled him.
I told him to talk dirty to me like he did to his wife.
And he did.
I came on top of him!
From just sex- no vibrator or hands or nothing!
That hasn’t happened in a long
It lasted for almost 3 minutes
Feels so safe and erotic
Man, the way he looks at me
He looks at his wife the same way
I have to remember that
My legs cramped, and I maneuvered around beside him
I asked him to touch himself for me
To let me watch
I gave him some lube
I love watching men jerk themselves off
It’s incredibly sexy to me
Watching a man’s hand manipulate
I learn so much about them
Ways they want to be touched
How to mix it up
What to pay attention to
How much ball play is required
I took notes
I touched myself too
I came again
Two times in one night!
NEVER happened to me
I think I strained my hand muscles
He never came, he had a fever, he was on fire
And he couldn’t come
He gave up; it was time to move on. It was one in the morning. Ridiculously late.
He got up to leave and seemed woozy and out of it. I felt awful suddenly. Like it was all my fault, somehow. That I had forced him to stay this late and to PLEASURE ME!! DAMMIT!
After he left and closed the gate, I tried desperately to sleep but found it extremely challenging
I felt sick inside
I felt shame
I felt sad and selfish.
This open-marriage polyamory stuff is hard.