Before, I didn’t like having sex in the morning. We had a policy–only after breakfast.
Why did I dislike having sex first thing? I found it disorienting. Sex was a big deal–I wanted to be ready.
Nowadays I like when sex can be a big deal, taking hours for the whole process, but it could be nice also to just have sex for a few minutes, not a complete thing with at least two orgasms and lotsa cuddle.
I could suck his dick for a few minutes, or he could love my breasts for a while, without orgasms. Or the cuddle could be brief. I like how it can be less extensive.
I like waking him up, snuggliness, and then his erection wants attention, and we do that, or my breasts were lonely, and he half-awake sucks at my nipples and arouses me. Even if it’s just that, feels good, to be alive with him, present to what we want.
The less I sleep, the more sex I want, and the easier it is for me to make art. I lose my inhibitions. Feels good, but I can also get irritable and moodier. So there’s a tradeoff. I like being different ways at different times.
This morning when I woke him up, I was rubbing his back, hugging him to me, kissing his head, telling him how good he is. He cuddled on me, waking up.
I grabbed at him rhythmically. “Does that feel good?” I asked. “Does it hurt your neck?” My energy was more forceful than usual.
“It feels good,” he said. “It makes me horny.”
“Do you want your dick sucked?” I asked.
He did. I reached down, and the head of his dick was peeking out of his chonies. It was really hard, and the place where the head meets the shaft was very defined. I touched it gently with my fingertips and felt surprised.
Then I blew him, and he fucked me. I felt emotional and very close to him. So lucky to live with such vibrant love. I’m glad I changed into someone who can have sex any time of day.
I often tell him, “I want to live with you,” which is funny because we’ve been living together for more than eight years.
I’ve heard people want the things we don’t have, but I badly want what I have.