About a third of the way through having sex with my spouse yesterday, I started crying. It was such intense, beautiful sex–I didn’t want to derail it with down emotions. Crying during sex is becoming a thing, lately. I know why–it’s partly the validation need I was talking about last post. As things change in
This blurry picture was a phone accident. I saw it among my photos and laughed, then put it through a couple filters to warm and brighten. I like my spouse’s pubic hair, that dark glimpse of joy. What a pretty bush. I like the fairy lights on the side, cheerful. And I love the suggestion
I was loving someone recently who held me skillfully but sent mixed messages and did not want to do intimacy. I learned a lot. I’m sorry there’s no journey we can take together. In any kind of relationship, I need responsible, consistent, gentle, and creative love. I need to see the other person clearly and
Hello, I was thinking about ways of sexual expression without a partner. The topic came to mind because I want more solo sex and sensuality in my life. Please consider this previous post about a sex dream I had, where the neglected naked girlfriend was me. Also I was talking to a new acquaintance about
Hello, I’ve been thinking about how I really felt when my brother said I love you. There was how I thought I should feel, how other people thought I should feel, how I wished I felt, and buried underneath years of abuse and pain, how I actually felt. Takes a long time to find that
I learned a new word: Agrexophilia. It means getting off on other people knowing your sexual activities. I came upon this word while reading a list of kinks. I’d never heard it before. The definition I read mentioned agrexophilia examples of bragging about conquests, playing a homemade sex video online, and having sex in public places.
I’ve been reading a lot of ads on Lex, the queer app for dating, friends, and events. Maybe I’m overdoing it and they’re getting in my head too much. The terse, flirty cleverness is tiresome. I’d rather be real. For me, real means direct and vulnerable. But for most people, dating isn’t about real. It’s
“What can I do so you you’ll like me forever?” I asked my spouse. We were lying in bed, naked and cuddling post-lunch. “Let me suck on your titty,” he said. “Oh, ok,” I said. “So you’ll suck on my titty and think about it? What I can do so you’ll always like me?” “Yeah,”
“Tell me you want your dick sucked,” I told my spouse. We were in bed, naked and close, and his dick was in my hand. “I want my dick sucked,” he said. “Tell me you want your dick sucked,” I repeated. “I want my dick sucked,” he repeated, with a little more emotion. Feels good
“Your back is so beautiful,” I said. It was 5:30 am, and I’d been up for a few hours already. I came back to bed to wake up my spouse. I’d taken off my shirt, and I cuddled close to him. I was cold, and he was so warm, snuggled in bed. “Pretty, pretty pumpkin,”