I love to play. I love that sex can be playful and role playing is at the very top of the list for me. I love having a partner willing to try anything. But because we have taken a few steps back trying to solidify the foundation of our relationship, intense play has not been very prominent in our sex; especially not exhibitionist play which Brad loves so much.
I remember in my youth loving having sex in places where you could maybe, almost get caught. It’s a thrill unlike any other…. to come so close to it. The thrill of possibly being watched. Reminds me of the first official date with Brad. It was very much like a BDSM Penthouse story.
We were suppose to be meeting for sushi. We decided to go for a walk beforehand and met in the parking lot. I loved the way he looked; so shy and out of place and when he saw me he smiled so brightly.
We walked and talked casually, but there was sexual tension between us. We walked through a secluded riverside park and stopped at a bench. He kissed me and spanked my ass and it didn’t take much more. Soon we we’re hot and heavy and I was moaning and squealing with delight when he heard boats trying to get closer to us.
I blurted out “let’s get a motel” and less than 20 minutes later we we’re having wild sex. We both realized that this was the beginning of something great and even though we we’re breaking one of my cardinal rules (he had a girlfriend at the time), I couldn’t say that it was stopping us at all. Hard to explain to a guy that’s not your usual MO, but fortunately he didn’t care.
Yesterday I asked him to role play emotional sadism for me. I wanted to see if A) it would break me down a bit or at the very least make me cry B) it would bring me closer to him. But here is the crux of BDSM. There has to be some real fear but you don’t want to play with people you can’t trust. I trust him. I know he loves me. I know he adores me.
My body issues have never been an issue to him on any level. He likes my idiocyncracies. He takes advantage of them. He ties my breast and tortures them. He squeezes my tummy. He tells me not to die my hair from grey because he doesn’t want men pursuing me. Not sure if that’s an underhanded insult or not, but still.
So I told him exactly what to say that I thought would cut through to me. At one point I was kind of close to crying, but I didn’t and we both laughed at how idiotic all his complaints and berating me was. How silly it all sounded and how much neither one of us truly believed he meant a word if it.
He seemed to think a stranger delivering those messages would have worked better but I would never let that happen. Sooooo. There is the crux. Maybe I’m better off letting him hurt me until I cry but I have been wanting less and less pain lately. I think I’m moving away from it a bit. But once in a while, when I designate it is nice.
I have been wanting to cry and I want him to be there to pick me up but I’m not sure how to get there. There is one thing he does that makes me teary eyed every time. Something I’ve tried hiding. Everytime he holds me in his arms and recaps the difficulties in my life and then tells me how much he loves me. He tells me how I don’t have to carry it all alone anymore, how he is here for me.
How I can lean on him for anything. That he would do anything in the world for me. That I am safe in his arms and he will protect me forever. Those are things I’ve longed to feel and be told for so very long. Guess I’m more damsel in distress than I’ve cared to admit. I now I’m capable. I know I’m strong. I know I can and want to be as much his rock as he is mine. But I’m still learning things about myself. Guess that’s a good thing.
I can’t believe Christmas is next week. Jeezus. Where did this year go? I made a HUGE mistake yesterday too. I accidentally let my 6 year old help me in the garage forgetting her Barbie Jeep from santa was not covered. Uggghhhhh. After I worked so hard and drove so far to find a decent used one to fix up for her. Now what? She knows it’s not from Santa now. Mom fail! I tried to brush it off but the damage was done. Now I have to go spend more money on a different Santa gift. For fucks sakes. Lol. I can’t have rich people problems. I’m not rich!!! Ay yay yay.
This isn’t even counting that I haven’t even sent out all my Christmas cards or the few small gifts for my neices and nephew or my great aunt and uncle. They aren’t much but it still needs to get mailed. Sometime between my clients today I have to get this done. No pressure! Where are those little cobbler elves when you need them? Can they be trained to do more than shoe work?