Dammit. I feel like we’re just hitting our stride in the bedroom.
We’ve been fucking for over three years, but because we’re in a driving distance relationship, we haven’t had the opportunity to fuck as often as other couples. While some relationships hit the ‘boring sex rut’ around this time, we’re just now getting good at fucking. It was always good (we always had the chemistry), but now it’s mind-blowingly good… all the time.
pinball brain on hiatus
In part, it’s because I’m way less in my head than I’ve ever been. J’s leaving, so I don’t have the time or the energy to overthink things. It’s a slight variation on ‘not giving a fuck’… because it’s now or never.
And while I’m less ‘in my head’ in an overthinky sort of way, I’m not in a great place emotionally. As the clock winds down on our relationship, I’m alternately sad, angry, happy, grateful, pensive, numb, [insert any random emotion here], and as I already (and accidentally) discovered, I’m less inhibited and more likely to orgasm when I’m unhappy or otherwise distracted (or preoccupied by feelings that don’t leave much mental or emotional space for anything else).
do all the things
In part, the sex is mind-blowing because I want to do ALL THE SEX THINGS while I still have the opportunity to do them with J. He’s safe, supportive, eager, and game for almost anything. To his immense credit, he’s an excellent sport — he’s been so good about not making me feel silly, and he’s been more-than-willing to try anything and everything on my ‘to do’ list.
To my credit, he seems to be enjoying things. I’m not good at all the sex things, but I know his body and his mind well enough to twist him into knots when I want to. :)
One of the things I’m still not good at is maintaining any sort of ‘domme demeanor’ when I’m nearing orgasm.
In my head, when I fantasize about a dominant woman (me) riding a submissive man’s face (his), I imagine her (me) saying: “you’d better make me come, slut,” or “lap it up, fucktoy,” or “harder… faster… come on bitch… I’m not getting off (your face) until I get off… twice.”
But despite my want, my will, and significant practice, I can’t seem to be verbally demanding (or commanding) when I’m receiving oral sex.
J deserves a medal for not bursting into laughter a few nights ago.
I was physically demanding (I rode his face so fucking hard), but I was the exact opposite of verbally commanding. I was apologetic — all I could say was “I’m sorry… oh god… I’m sorry… oh… oh god… I’m sorry. Oh… I’m hurting you… fuck… I’m sorry… fuuuuck.”
While I couldn’t help but grind on his face as if my life depended on it, I couldn’t stop myself from worrying about the strain I was putting on his neck (a fluttering tongue doesn’t do it for me — I need lots of pressure). Apparently, I was concerned about hurting him enough to apologize for it, but not enough to back off.
He was fine, of course, but he couldn’t tell me in the moment because his mouth was otherwise engaged. ;)