Make up sex

I kissed her cautiously, we had been fighting. Her mouth opened to mine and I felt my heart flutter as I leaned in and rolled half on top of her. Wanting to merge my body into hers, my hips moved of their own volition.

Looking up at her, her back arched. Her spread, wet lips across my face, taking a moment just to feel her, touch her. The sensation of her body, sound of her moans, her hand in my hair making my clit engorge, my cunt ache. She tugs my hair to get my attention, “look at me baby.” Holding her gaze as I knew she was coming, keeping her in my mouth, I feel something wash over my chest, something only tangentially related to lust. Closeness, intimacy, oxytocin. 

On top of her, her fingers inside me, she pushes me back, sitting up. With one hand I touch her face, looking into her eyes, with the other I fuck her back . Throw my head back, I can’t stay focused when she… oh yes, does that. So deep inside me, exploding continuously. 

Whatever works

Lying in bed, lights on, some clothes on, just enjoying each other.

Blake: “How do you see me, like a teenage boy?” (which, I suppose she might resemble except for her eyelashes out to mars and curves that her clothes often cover).

I laugh, “no, well I see you naked, so I think of you as pretty feminine,” and I eye her up and down with a smile.

“Really? ‘Cause I just think of myself as a genderless ball of love.”

Love, all kinds

Guys, I’m worried. Friends are important to everyone right? The older I get, the more I love my friends. It took me some hard, lonely times to figure that shit out. 

#1 – when my first boyfriend broke up with me: I had pretty much ignored a bunch of my friends and I thought I was going to be living with this dude by senior year (I was a college freshman at the time). After 3 months – a whole bunch of shit went down. And who picked up my sad little puddle ass off the floor? My friends.

#2 – I was abroad for a semester and for some reason didn’t make any friends in my program: I was totally love deprived. I’m a very physical person, and I need hugs and cuddles. The only reprieve I had that semester was visiting friends who were also abroad. (Yeah, I know poor privileged college girl, traveling around Europe, but dude – I was lonely).

#3 – the year after I graduated college I lived alone. I thought it would be awesome – I lived alone for 3 out of 4 years in college (in the dorms… not the same). It sucked. I didn’t make close friends, I gained a bunch of weight (and avoided mirrors), and got into grad school (well that kind of rocked).  But again, I was lonely.

It’s important to be happy ALONE and SINGLE and without being IN LOVE. For me. For most people, I think? To be happy, whole people. The friends I made in college will be lifelong friends. And I’m content with the thought (most of the time) that I could be single forever as long as my friends love me. (and I raise a child with one of them, perhaps).

Don’t get me wrong, I love sex. I love being in relationships. But I’ve been screwed and I’ve learned that love (being in love) is transient. Or, it has been thus far in my experience. I know love can be forever, and maybe I’m just scared it ain’t. So I built up defenses, and armies, and cavalries so that if I do end up “alone,” I won’t actually be alone. I’ll have relationships and love and support from people who I feel this way about:

I may not have sex with said people, but I’ll have sex with other people. It’s that unconditional love that I want to build up around me. And I’m ok if that is from my friends, not from a long-term lover. Even though that’d be really, really nice.

So what the fuck am I worried about, you might be wondering?  Well… I’m worried about Blake. She’s awesome. And hot. And crazy smart. And makes me laugh. And seems to like me a lot. And I like her a lot. But she doesn’t seem to have friends like I have friends. She doesn’t have other people from whom she gets emotional support like I do. That worries me, homofaces. I think getting emotional support and advice and love and happiness from a multitude of people is important. I don’t think it’s possible for one person to satisfy our every need.  That’s why you have the friend who goes out for Ethiopian and talks about religion. And the friend who watches artsy films with you and discusses over homemade lattes. And the lover who holds you when you’ve had a stressful day. And the friend who tells you her woes and helps you reflect on your own. All these kinds of people enrich us, make us whole, complete us.

I want Blake to have all that. I want to keep fostering all of that in my own life. And I know I can’t be all that for one person. 

But it's soft!

Blake and I were discussing the kind of foot traffic that comes into the sex shop we now frequent. (by frequent I mean that we’ve bought enough new-to-both-of-us toys in the past two weeks that I had to get a toy bin).  I mentioned that some idiots come in and swing around the packers squeeling, “What do you do with this, IT'S SOFT!?”

Blake: “Yeah, how would you explain what a packer is [to the uneducated, mainstream, straight people who come into sex shops]?”

Me: “It’s a prosthetic penis, like a prosthetic leg”

Blake: “Yeah, like [they] need a prosthetic brain”

Power Play

Perusing the Sugarbutch Chronicles  I came across this post. I thought the first part was pretty hot. I shared it with Blake without much thought.  She absolutely did not like this part:

“fucking me without caring how it was for me. I was thinking about tears streaming down my cheeks, and you not stopping, just … taking me, until you get what you want, and you come.”

            Whoops. I hadn’t really given the passage too much thought.  We just bought new sex toys. New for both of us. Baby dykes’ first flogger, first strap on, first restraints, first we-vibe. I’m a little older than she, so I’ve explored more sexual ideas and fantasies simply because I’ve had more time. It didn’t occur to me that it might not be immediately obvious to her that it’s not actually about “using” anyone, it’s completely consensual, and both parties know that – but sometimes pretending it’s a little not can be super fucking hot. For me, anyway.

            I’m just starting to explore power play with Blake. Before now, it’s only been in fantasy. I suppose showing her that post was a way to test the waters, to see what she thought.  I certainly don’t need to try that out, and that’s not what I was suggesting. I just wanted to explore new ideas with her and discuss. And the truth is, I’m so, extremely, ridiculously happy that she could never have sex with me without thinking about my pleasure.  I don’t need to pretend anything else. 

Spotted

Waiting for a train.

“I’m going to take a leap here… have either of you heard of BigLezWeekendFest?” the 60-something woman sitting across from us asked.  I didn’t hear her right away so I looked at Blake, who apparently hadn’t hear either, then said “sorry, what?”

“BigLezWeekendFest, have you heard of it?”

“Oh yeah, I have.”

“Not BigLezClub, BigLezWeekendFest.”

“Yeah, I know. I had friends who’ve gone. One of them was raving about it.”

“Oh that’s nice, thank her for me. I organize it and it takes a lot of work. We’re always looking for volunteers,” she said more like a question. BigLezWeekendFest is not something I’m interested in. At all.

Blake whispered to me after the conversation was over, “do I look that gay?”

“Yes, yes you do.”

Dreams

The white paint on the double doors was peeling; the living room with the scratched wooden floor was bare. Through the doors stood a tall, lanky woman in Victorian maid’s clothes – or was it a tshirt and jeans? I knew who she was; she was her ex-lover.  And then she was there, as beautiful as ever, telling me softly that she had to go back to the tall, lanky woman. I understood, and felt her leave.  Standing in the empty living room, looking at the half open door with the peeling paint, I felt my heart sink into my feet, “why did I let her go?” I thought.

Then I woke up, and without opening my eyes, I felt her there next to me.  I pulled her to me, naked and warm, as I let the dream fade.  That feeling of loss clung tightly to my chest as I convinced myself it was just a dream, only a manifestation of my fears.

But I’m not afraid, it seems so easy.  I thought we were blissfully somewhere between infatuation and something more, keeping each other warm between the sheets.  Perfect timing for my subconscious to jump in and remind me how fragile human relationships can be. I am assuming too much. Sarcasm always on, unsure of my feelings, or the extent of hers. Looking for the flaws, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Normal, healthy, slow – what’s that?  Where’s the intensity, the uncertainty, the fear?  Oh, it’s right there behind my eyes just before I wake up.