When I walk into the room or look up from my busyness, and M pats the front of his chair as he sits, calling me to him…….my whole being feels alive.
My M is pretty amazing. He has been my lover, my biggest supporter, and my constant for over 20 years. His response to this lifestyle was more than I could ever have hoped for. He is my natural leader, I am so very proud.
But, it would be a lie to say that all of this has come naturally, for either of us. I’m not even sure that is possible, except in fiction. Our lives are not a fictional story. We fuck up. We stumble. I try to offer insight into both the highs and lows of our relationship. I really try to not just write our highlight reel. I’m not here to glorify the positives or be overly dramatic about the lows. I just journal.
Yet, there are times when there is something that is too difficult or personal to share. One such issue is our aftercare ritual – we have had some difficulty with this over time. I shared the most difficult situation in I Know but I didn’t share the entire story. I have had some thinking to do and so has M. We’ve had to talk, a lot. And practice.
Over time, as our play has gotten much more intense, the need for more intense aftercare has increased. This has been an ongoing area of strife for us. I know I’ve had problems communicating to him exactly what I need. I found myself wishing he’d just ‘get it’ and come to my rescue all on his own, on my time, which is ALWAYS faster than his. He has paid attention to my needs, I know this. He just processes slower than I do. He puts things into practice a bit at a time and this is one area where, when things are very intense, needs must be met. He admittedly has fallen short in providing at times.
Just before vacation, we had another stumble. I felt he was lacking and he did not. I felt rejected and betrayed and he felt like I wasn’t noticing what he did do, that I only saw what was missing. We agreed to do some thinking on vacation and he asked me to write out for him what I need, with examples of both behavior and words. To devise a checklist, so to say. I did.
I’ve been nervous about talking about it. I’ve had anxiety about having any play sessions. I hold him in such high regard, it’s difficult to think of him as not being able to meet a need. It is beyond difficult to admit I had doubt. That I had fear. But, I did.
Yesterday, we talked at length about it all. I wondered why he hadn’t yet wanted to read what he asked me to write for him. He told met that, if I could just have faith in him, he is certain he can get it right, he won’t let me down. He wants to get it right on his own, to feel that sense of accomplishment, but also to make me proud.
Until yesterday, I hadn’t had the courage to tell him the core of my anxiety, for many reasons. It felt silly on the one hand, but it also hurt beyond words. I told him I wanted to tell him the real reason I was so worried, but I could only say it once – I never wanted to have to discuss it again. I never wanted to think what I was thinking and draw any parallels with what we do. He stopped me…he said he knew. He told me he’d figured out that when we do very intense things, especially, if he isn’t there for me, to provide safe, warm closure, I could potentially feel like I did that night in college. That betrayal and hurt and abandonment that came after, when there was no one. I did feel that once, that night M wouldn’t hold me and he knows that, but it was our fault, not just his. It’s a risk, we both knew. He assures me it won’t happen ever again.
Do you know why I love this man so much? He figured it out, all on his own. In his own time, yes, but he knows me. All of me, even the dark places. And, he is right here.
I have faith in him, just as he believes in me. I am right here, too.
M and I have been talking a little about body image lately. About our eating and exercise habits and how to improve a little in those areas. He read my post about the skin not long ago and while we were on vacation, he asked if I’d have the skin removal surgery if the opportunity arose. I told him I could never be so selfish with our money. He told me it isn’t my choice – that I could choose as far as the surgery goes, but if he designated the money for it, I’m not allowed to argue. Huh.
I don’t know what the future holds, but either way, I’m trying to do a better job of embracing my body. M tells me I’m beautiful all the time. Sometimes, he enjoys watching us in the mirror as we have sex, like in the bathroom bent over the sink, so I can also see myself and how beautiful he says I look.
In our room, the mirror on our largest dresser is rather high. The only way to see into it is to be elevated on our bed. Occasionally, as he did last night, he will have me be on top to see myself. Except, last night, he positioned us to face the mirror and he was very specific in his directions. I had to keep my eyes open the entire time. If I glanced down at him (that grin, oh god) he told me to keep looking at myself. He said the most amazing things to me about the way I looked. I got to watch his hands roam my body as he spoke. I found myself smiling, several times, and not out of embarrassment, at all. It was so loving, and so freaking hot. He told me, he wishes I’d see myself as he sees me, all the time. In those moments, I really do. I certainly believe him. I know, without a doubt, he thinks I’m beautiful.
You know what? I’m not sure I care so much about what anyone else thinks.
We just got home from vacation. We had sex on vacation and it was sneaky and naughty and fun, but not quite the same as at home. To say we’ve had some desire building would be an understatement.
Last night, I sat at M’s feet and rested my head in his lap. I hugged and caressed him and I could feel him getting aroused, his breathing quickening as he was stroking my hair. I sat up, looked him in the eyes and…..
Me: Are you horny?
M: I am ALWAYS in control of my body.
Me: Even when I’m aroused, I am in control of myself.
M: No, I am in control of your body.
Then, he leaned me back, exposing me from my robe and proved just that. And, again upstairs.
I did not need him to prove it, I knew without a doubt it’s true. When I said I was in control, I meant that I am able to allow my body to respond to him, like never before. I can follow his directions and commands. Not that I never have trouble letting go, because I do at times. But, he knows how to get me focused, in the moment, with him.
Eleven years. We’ve been going to that beautiful place to camp and vacation for eleven years. M and I first went there when our oldest daughter had just turned two. We slept in a tent on the water. We were happy enough, hanging out with family and friends.
For ten years, I welcomed the idea of sleeping with a child between us or in separate beds when we upgraded to campers. M and I got along and worked together to accomplish many things, but we often had separate agendas. It sort of felt like a vacation from some of the pressures of our relationship.
How horrible is that? There was no sexual tension, never any sex at all. He could do his own thing and I could do mine, to an extent. We could coexist without all that pressure. It often felt like there was something missing.
Last year, things really began to change. I was more patient and caring. I was much more cognizant of how my behavior affected M and the girls. My goal was to be there, live in the moment, and see him happy. To feel him relax. To make his life a little easier. To enjoy my family. It felt wonderful.
This year, our eyes roamed the campsites to find the other and when they locked, there was always a smile (or inappropriate gesture). Sometimes those looks told the other something, no words needed. There were touches and hand holding and hugs and kisses. There was one making sure the other was nearby, included, sought out. There was one of us seated next to the other, nestled in, the heat of the fire and millions of stars. There was still me submitting and serving, him leading. There were guiding and loving words, sometimes even reminders. There was a mutual appreciation of the beauty of that place. We slept in the same bed. There was even sex.
For the first time in eleven years, we were so happy, we couldn’t contain it.
Now, we’re heading home. No matter where we are, I hope it’s never able to be contained again.
Me: I’m going to lose 15 more pounds for you. I’m going to get to 100.
M: I don’t want you to lose it for me. I want you to lose it for you. I want to see your face look like it did when you saw that picture of yourself in that dress, all the time. That was awesome. I told you that you’re beautiful.
Me: It’s very hard to see that in the mirror. How about I just let you be my mirror?
M: Fine with me. I’ll be your everything.
Me: You already are.
Last night, M had plans for a spanky/floggy session, one which I was very much anticipating. One which was moved to last night due to a sleepover at our house the night before.
Just when #2 was finally asleep, #1 called and wanted to come home from her sleepover. By the time she got home and asleep, it was very late, so our plans were put on hold again. We still had fun, just not that kind of fun.
I was told that I will be rewarded tonight if I don’t pout at all about having to wait. I’m told I get to have some choices.
Yes, I pout sometimes.
But, not today.
I know what’s been bothering me. I didn’t want to admit it, it seems silly on it’s face. It does.
I’m anxious. We leave for a weeklong camping trip on Saturday morning. We will be on the water in the mountains at the most beautiful place we camp, for a week. I should be excited, I know this. I love it there. But, this year, I will miss M. This year, it feels different.
Last year, I felt a pang of what I’m feeling now. I had begun to embrace myself by then and M and I were experiencing so many positive affects, we were so much closer. But, this year, we are in a different realm. We are closer than we’ve ever been. We’ll be camping with many other families, with many activities and cooking and children…..and I fear we won’t have much time together, to connect. We will be sleeping in our camper each night with our children, so sexual activities will be hard to come by.
What seems silly to me, is that I’m actually anxious about the lack of sexual activity. Even at home, when we’ve had a busy day and children take up our time, we meet at the end of the day, finding time for sitting at his feet, conversation, cuddling, closeness……and most days some sort of connecting, sexual activity.
Is sex the only way to express love or Dominance or submission? Of course not. But, it sure is reassuring, isn’t it? It feels like concentrated love, an expression of Dominance and submission and love in it’s most raw form. I’m addicted to it, to him, his touch.
It feels like an eternity.
Last night before sleep, M and I were talking again. Just a brief conversation, but it meant so much to me. I thanked him again for knowing me so well. For being here, for being everything to me.
He said he doesn’t always know exactly what I need, but he often knows when I need something. He appreciates our communication, both verbal and non.
Then, he told me his day had been a little stressful, and that spanking and orgasm in the kitchen was just what HE had needed too. He told me he felt better after too. He enjoyed the delivery.
He has told me many times before how much he enjoys the pleasure and connection, me needing him. But, I don’t think I ever tire of hearing it.
OOF. Is it hot in here? And I still have this evening to look forward to……