Inspired by NYMag, of course.
Name: Lady In Red (okay, not really)
Age: 33. For an itty bitty little while more.
Neighborhood: LES
Occupation: Don’t feel like saying.
Who's your favorite New Yorker, living or dead, real or fictional?
It’s a tie between James Baldwin and Joan Didion.
What's the best meal you've eaten in New York?
Sushi at Nobu.
In one sentence, what do you actually do all day in your job?
I try to stay sane and I don’t always succeed.
Would you live here on a $35,000 salary?
Yes. But I hope I won’t have to.
What's the last thing you saw on Broadway?
Race.
Do you give money to panhandlers?
More often than not, I don’t.
What's your drink?
I drink water the most and like whisky the best. No ice in either.
How often do you prepare your own meals?
About every other day I make lunch or dinner. Consideringing the weight gain of my man's I guess I should do it more often.
What's your favorite medication?
Yoga. Plus allergy meds during the pollen season.
What's hanging above your sofa?
Bookshelves.
How much is too much to spend on a haircut?
I get mine so cheap I am embarrassed to answer.
When's bedtime?
Some time after midnight. But I often go to bed more than once during an evening.
Which do you prefer, the old Times Square or the new Times Square?
I avoided the old one, I avoid the new one. But if I had to choose, I’d go for a porn movie house rather than the M&M store.
What do you think of Donald Trump?
I don’t.
What do you hate most about living in New York?
Rents & rats.
Who is your mortal enemy?
Stagnation is death.
When's the last time you drove a car?
Can’t remember, that’s how long ago it is. I am the worst driver. Too whimsical.
How has the Wall Street crash affected you?
Indirectly, the way it’s affected the whole city.
Times, Post, or Daily News?
Times. But Page Six is a guilty pleasure I regularly give in to.
Where do you go to be alone?
The bathroom.
What makes someone a New Yorker?
Lots of stuff. I made a "ten signs" list earlier today, when commenting at NYMag. Come to think of it, you should be able to check at least half of them:
*You can immediately tell who else are and aren't, most often, before they've said a word.
*You have a minimum of five favorite restaurants within a five minute walk from your home.
*Most of the places you used to go to as a kid no longer exist.
*You walk fast and you talk fast.
*You've got a strong opinion on which neighborhoods count and which doesn't. (And you don't willingly live in Midtown.)
*You don't need a map below Houston nor in the Village.
*Whenever someone pronounces Houston wrong, you give them false directions.
*Silence scares you, sirens don't.
*You always get a cab when you need it.
*You don't need to be born here, but you can't see yourself dying anywhere else.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Kegel Priestess/Kegel Ninja
My fellow commenters on NYMag are nicknaming me the Kegel Priestess/the Kegel Ninja, because I never let an opportunity pass to recommend kegels. And why should I? Ladies and gentlemen, particularly ladies, this is what doing your kegel exercises do for you:
**First and foremost, it gives you a more flexible vagina. You can squeeze it tighter for a longer amount of time, feeling close, warm, tight and young for your lover, as well as opening up to a further degree, giving a looser and more relaxed feel to it (a good thing if your lover is on the bigger side and/or if you want to try fisting, and/or if you’re among those who feel pain during intercourse). In short, vaginal rejuvenation plus a more varied repertoire as a lover, for free and without the risks of going to a surgeon!
**A stronger libido, because you’ll become wet and ready quicker and easier than you’re used to. You’ll enjoy the in-and-out-movements more than you did before. (This feels great for your man too. Makes him feel like a wonderful lover, whether he is or not.)
**Stronger and more frequent orgasms, especially multiple orgasms, and I think, without being able to prove it scientifically, also an easier access to squirting orgasms. (See parenthesis above.)
**Easier and faster births, the experts say (by average, the pressure phase is an hour shorter for a woman whose muscles are trained, plus the risks for cuts/bruises/having to be stitched after are smaller) AND quicker recovery after birth.
**Greater bladder control.
HOW: There are three speed intervals you should be able to master. The quick one. The long-lasting one. And the one in between.
**For the quick speed: Tighten and relax the muscles in as quick a movement as you are physically able to. As if blinking with an eye. Repeat as many times as you want, or until you feel as if you want to/need to pee.
**Medium speed: Tighten the muscles. Keep the grip while counting to ten. Release and count to ten before repeating. Repeat at least 10-50 times (depending on how well-trained your muscles are. As your muscle strength increases, you increase the time interval to counting to 25. And then to 40. And then to 60/a minute.)
**Slow speed: Tighten the muscles for as long as you can take it. Then loosen up to relax. Do not repeat until later, say, the day after.
In either case, after every squeeze you should loosen up and relax for as long a time as you’ve kept your muscles together. If you’re not used to doing kegels, there’s no harm in relaxing for a bit longer than you’ve been tightening up, either.
Don’t know which muscles to squeeze? I call them, naturally, the kegel muscles. Some say the love muscles. The medical name is the pelvic floor. They’re located all the way around your vulva/vagina/anus and uterus. Those closest to the vag will be the first where you notice the exercises. If you want to control if you’re doing it right, you can to one out of two: Stop the flow by squeezing the muscles tight when peeing. Or stick a finger in and try to grip and release the grip around it (when NOT peeing). Naturally, I prefer the latter, but the former is the way most often recommended by gynecologists.
AN EVEN BETTER HOW: When you’re sure you’re in control, you can practice these same squeezes when fucking. Your man will feel the difference to your grip, varying between tight and soft, strong and mellow. I call it my “hug and squeeze maneuver”, or sometimes, my “hug and squeeze and milk maneuver”. I usually do it when on top (= the man can effortlessly lay back and enjoy it) and several of my lovers have told me the sensation is no less than sensational…
WHEN: Whenever. No one will notice you’re exercising these muscles. Unless, of course, you do it while having a male visitor inside. He won’t fail to notice, and he will celebrate you forever.
WHY: See above. What’s not to love? Kegels really are the answer to everything.
PS: Men can work out their pelvic muscles, too. It will give them greater control over their erections and ejaculations, allowing them to come sooner or later as they please. Also, that bladder control thing.
**First and foremost, it gives you a more flexible vagina. You can squeeze it tighter for a longer amount of time, feeling close, warm, tight and young for your lover, as well as opening up to a further degree, giving a looser and more relaxed feel to it (a good thing if your lover is on the bigger side and/or if you want to try fisting, and/or if you’re among those who feel pain during intercourse). In short, vaginal rejuvenation plus a more varied repertoire as a lover, for free and without the risks of going to a surgeon!
**A stronger libido, because you’ll become wet and ready quicker and easier than you’re used to. You’ll enjoy the in-and-out-movements more than you did before. (This feels great for your man too. Makes him feel like a wonderful lover, whether he is or not.)
**Stronger and more frequent orgasms, especially multiple orgasms, and I think, without being able to prove it scientifically, also an easier access to squirting orgasms. (See parenthesis above.)
**Easier and faster births, the experts say (by average, the pressure phase is an hour shorter for a woman whose muscles are trained, plus the risks for cuts/bruises/having to be stitched after are smaller) AND quicker recovery after birth.
**Greater bladder control.
HOW: There are three speed intervals you should be able to master. The quick one. The long-lasting one. And the one in between.
**For the quick speed: Tighten and relax the muscles in as quick a movement as you are physically able to. As if blinking with an eye. Repeat as many times as you want, or until you feel as if you want to/need to pee.
**Medium speed: Tighten the muscles. Keep the grip while counting to ten. Release and count to ten before repeating. Repeat at least 10-50 times (depending on how well-trained your muscles are. As your muscle strength increases, you increase the time interval to counting to 25. And then to 40. And then to 60/a minute.)
**Slow speed: Tighten the muscles for as long as you can take it. Then loosen up to relax. Do not repeat until later, say, the day after.
In either case, after every squeeze you should loosen up and relax for as long a time as you’ve kept your muscles together. If you’re not used to doing kegels, there’s no harm in relaxing for a bit longer than you’ve been tightening up, either.
Don’t know which muscles to squeeze? I call them, naturally, the kegel muscles. Some say the love muscles. The medical name is the pelvic floor. They’re located all the way around your vulva/vagina/anus and uterus. Those closest to the vag will be the first where you notice the exercises. If you want to control if you’re doing it right, you can to one out of two: Stop the flow by squeezing the muscles tight when peeing. Or stick a finger in and try to grip and release the grip around it (when NOT peeing). Naturally, I prefer the latter, but the former is the way most often recommended by gynecologists.
AN EVEN BETTER HOW: When you’re sure you’re in control, you can practice these same squeezes when fucking. Your man will feel the difference to your grip, varying between tight and soft, strong and mellow. I call it my “hug and squeeze maneuver”, or sometimes, my “hug and squeeze and milk maneuver”. I usually do it when on top (= the man can effortlessly lay back and enjoy it) and several of my lovers have told me the sensation is no less than sensational…
WHEN: Whenever. No one will notice you’re exercising these muscles. Unless, of course, you do it while having a male visitor inside. He won’t fail to notice, and he will celebrate you forever.
WHY: See above. What’s not to love? Kegels really are the answer to everything.
PS: Men can work out their pelvic muscles, too. It will give them greater control over their erections and ejaculations, allowing them to come sooner or later as they please. Also, that bladder control thing.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Right here beside me... Still missing it.
He's lying right next to me. I still haven't gotten any in almost a week. Five days. He's sick. I'm desperate. And I am reminded of two things: Being in a relationship is a good thing, for the access. And being in a relationship sucks. For having to stick with it.
You can't get it all, can you?
You can't get it all, can you?
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Small cock, big problem
I know I have been dissing Jamie Bufalino before. I am certain I will again. I have no idea how this man landed the title “sex expert” or the gig in Time Out.
Gay Dan Savage (of the Village Voice) knows multiple times more about female sexuality than Bufalino the Buffalo. That says something, I guess.
From this week’s column:
Q: I’m a hetero woman, and in the past few years I have played with a lot of men, but never had a relationship that extended outside the bedroom. I recently met a drop-dead handsome man with a fantastic body—just looking at him sets my loins on fire. He is great with his mouth and hands, and is a considerate boyfriend outside the bedroom. However, he has the smallest penis I have ever encountered. His erection is barely enough to penetrate me, and then once he’s inside, it’s all over in a couple of minutes. Some women like oral or being fingered; I just love a lengthy pounding with a rock-hard cock…and I’m not getting it. But despite his inability to deliver, I get horny just thinking about him. He gets my juices flowing in a way that no other man has. Should I break up with him now before I get too emotionally involved? I don’t want to give up the boyfriend experience as well as the unbridled lust he stirs in me. Will I eventually lose interest in him because of the less-than-stellar sex? We’re both in our late thirties.
A: I always love it when a sentence like “He gets my juices flowing in a way that no other man has” is immediately followed by “Should I break up with him?” Why in the name of all that’s holy would you preemptively end a solid relationship (not perfect, but solid) just because there’s the possibility (not a guarantee) of feeling a little more intense emotional pain somewhere down the road? Furthermore, why isn’t your question, “What can I do to recalibrate my thinking so that I’m not so focused on his puny dick , while being overly dismissive of how well-meaning he is?” (It really barely penetrates? I have to admit it’s hard for me to even get a mental picture of such a travesty.) Answer: practice, practice, practice. Presumably you’ve had more than your share of rock-hard cock-poundings during your life, and they’ve still left you single and searching. Instead of doing and feeling the same things over and over again (and getting the same result), why don’t you just let this thing play out? Don’t forget: You’re actually into being with him. At least wait until he drives you up the fucking wall before you trash what seems to be a pretty good thing. (End of quote.)
My (Lady In Red's) advice to the same woman:
First of all, don’t ever write to a less-than-stellar sex columnist again.
Second, do your kegels. As many of them as you possibly can. And when he’s inside of you, get on top and do the same thing. You’ll both feel more. Any position where you can squeeze your legs tight will also help you. Tried reverse cowgirl with your legs in a crossed position? Tried doggy with your legs crossed?
Third: Buy a vibrator. A big one. If you think your boyfriend is willing to play with it with you, introduce it to him. Have him fuck you with it. And if he is as small as you say, the vibe and the man will fit inside of you at the same time, increasing your pleasure, and probably his, too.
If you don’t think he’ll be up for it, if you think it’ll make him insecure, play with it when you’re alone. It’s not the same, I know, but at least you’ll get the feeling of being filled up without having to cheat. Don’t dump the guy because of his short-comings, not as long as he makes you feel the way he does. In that, JB is right: Let the relationship run its course.
But do, by all means, try to make up for it with hands and mouth and toys. It’ll make your sex life more satisfactory, and that, my friend, makes your life with this guy more satisfactory.
Also: Do you think there’s a chance he’ll be up for threesomes? With other men, I mean? Or if he’ll be willing to open up your relationship, emotionally monogamous, sexually open? If he is, you’ll get the sex you want without having to give up on the emotions.
As for talking to him about this: He knows he is small. (That’s why he is so great with his hands and mouth.) Mocking it will make him feel insecure. Talking to him about how to compensate for it, in a matter-of-fact-manner, shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. “I wonder if you’ve ever tried having sex with a vibrator”, “I wonder what you think about this or that position”, “I’d like to try ---- to feel you better” – these sentences shouldn’t take his confidence away.
PS: You all may think I mock JB too easily. But listen to this line: “Presumably you’ve had more than your share of rock-hard cock-poundings during your life, and they’ve still left you single and searching”.
What the F has her experience got to do with anything????? She mentions it to show that she doesn't fall in love that easily, and that sex (intercourse) is important to her. But JB interprets it as if she has already had “more than her share” of good fucking, and doesn’t deserve to get any more of it? Go fuck yourself, JB, because YOU don’t deserve to get any from any other person for a long, long time.
A woman taking responsibility for her own pleasure does indeed deserve the pleasure she wants. A woman whose priorities include a good fuck will not be truly happy without a good fuck. As a socalled sex expert, your responsibility should be coming up with suggestions on how to get it. NOT to come up with half-chewed hints that women liking it are sluts and selfish bitches.
Gay Dan Savage (of the Village Voice) knows multiple times more about female sexuality than Bufalino the Buffalo. That says something, I guess.
From this week’s column:
Q: I’m a hetero woman, and in the past few years I have played with a lot of men, but never had a relationship that extended outside the bedroom. I recently met a drop-dead handsome man with a fantastic body—just looking at him sets my loins on fire. He is great with his mouth and hands, and is a considerate boyfriend outside the bedroom. However, he has the smallest penis I have ever encountered. His erection is barely enough to penetrate me, and then once he’s inside, it’s all over in a couple of minutes. Some women like oral or being fingered; I just love a lengthy pounding with a rock-hard cock…and I’m not getting it. But despite his inability to deliver, I get horny just thinking about him. He gets my juices flowing in a way that no other man has. Should I break up with him now before I get too emotionally involved? I don’t want to give up the boyfriend experience as well as the unbridled lust he stirs in me. Will I eventually lose interest in him because of the less-than-stellar sex? We’re both in our late thirties.
A: I always love it when a sentence like “He gets my juices flowing in a way that no other man has” is immediately followed by “Should I break up with him?” Why in the name of all that’s holy would you preemptively end a solid relationship (not perfect, but solid) just because there’s the possibility (not a guarantee) of feeling a little more intense emotional pain somewhere down the road? Furthermore, why isn’t your question, “What can I do to recalibrate my thinking so that I’m not so focused on his puny dick , while being overly dismissive of how well-meaning he is?” (It really barely penetrates? I have to admit it’s hard for me to even get a mental picture of such a travesty.) Answer: practice, practice, practice. Presumably you’ve had more than your share of rock-hard cock-poundings during your life, and they’ve still left you single and searching. Instead of doing and feeling the same things over and over again (and getting the same result), why don’t you just let this thing play out? Don’t forget: You’re actually into being with him. At least wait until he drives you up the fucking wall before you trash what seems to be a pretty good thing. (End of quote.)
My (Lady In Red's) advice to the same woman:
First of all, don’t ever write to a less-than-stellar sex columnist again.
Second, do your kegels. As many of them as you possibly can. And when he’s inside of you, get on top and do the same thing. You’ll both feel more. Any position where you can squeeze your legs tight will also help you. Tried reverse cowgirl with your legs in a crossed position? Tried doggy with your legs crossed?
Third: Buy a vibrator. A big one. If you think your boyfriend is willing to play with it with you, introduce it to him. Have him fuck you with it. And if he is as small as you say, the vibe and the man will fit inside of you at the same time, increasing your pleasure, and probably his, too.
If you don’t think he’ll be up for it, if you think it’ll make him insecure, play with it when you’re alone. It’s not the same, I know, but at least you’ll get the feeling of being filled up without having to cheat. Don’t dump the guy because of his short-comings, not as long as he makes you feel the way he does. In that, JB is right: Let the relationship run its course.
But do, by all means, try to make up for it with hands and mouth and toys. It’ll make your sex life more satisfactory, and that, my friend, makes your life with this guy more satisfactory.
Also: Do you think there’s a chance he’ll be up for threesomes? With other men, I mean? Or if he’ll be willing to open up your relationship, emotionally monogamous, sexually open? If he is, you’ll get the sex you want without having to give up on the emotions.
As for talking to him about this: He knows he is small. (That’s why he is so great with his hands and mouth.) Mocking it will make him feel insecure. Talking to him about how to compensate for it, in a matter-of-fact-manner, shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. “I wonder if you’ve ever tried having sex with a vibrator”, “I wonder what you think about this or that position”, “I’d like to try ---- to feel you better” – these sentences shouldn’t take his confidence away.
PS: You all may think I mock JB too easily. But listen to this line: “Presumably you’ve had more than your share of rock-hard cock-poundings during your life, and they’ve still left you single and searching”.
What the F has her experience got to do with anything????? She mentions it to show that she doesn't fall in love that easily, and that sex (intercourse) is important to her. But JB interprets it as if she has already had “more than her share” of good fucking, and doesn’t deserve to get any more of it? Go fuck yourself, JB, because YOU don’t deserve to get any from any other person for a long, long time.
A woman taking responsibility for her own pleasure does indeed deserve the pleasure she wants. A woman whose priorities include a good fuck will not be truly happy without a good fuck. As a socalled sex expert, your responsibility should be coming up with suggestions on how to get it. NOT to come up with half-chewed hints that women liking it are sluts and selfish bitches.
Monday, February 1, 2010
No sex, please, they’re English
Normally, I oppose stereotypes with all my might. But sometimes, people seem eager to confirm the most parodic of them. Like now, when some British and French scientists discuss whether the G-spot exists. Presumably male scientists, I should say.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/jan/28/g-spot-france-sex-gynaecology
Hard as it is, I am going to let the Brit-French jokes lie for now. And the scientist jokes too. I find it a bit harder not to point out that The Guardian – a newspaper I normally consider to be brilliant – finds it appropriate to label this with the term “gynecology” (if you ask me, among the least sexy ten letters in the English dictionary, or eleven, as it’s apparently spelled in the Queen’s Country – with that A in it, it sounds even more medievally medical). But that wasn’t really what I was going to say either.
What I was going to say was this: How ON EARTH is it even possible to have this discussion? I understand how it’s possible to discuss whether God exists. Or Fate. Or love at first sight. Or Santa Claus, presuming you’re five years old. These are all abstracts. But how it’s possible to discuss whether the G-spot EXISTS, presuming you’re NOT five years old, I can’t for the life of me get a grasp on. How it’s NOT possible to find it?
I have often wondered, whenever overhearing this kind of discussion. There’s no doubt about where it is. I have never needed any kind of searching to find it. It’s just there. Exactly where it’s supposed to be. Working exactly the way it’s supposed to do. (And there’s another extra-sensitive spot in there too, more or less directly opposed to it, just a little further in. The latter, I think, is where squirting starts. Can’t really guarantee I am right about this – the liquid may come from even further within – but I think my theory is correct.) I don’t even need to be aroused to find it, though, of course, it’s more distinct when I am.
I may be a lucky woman. Men have told me I am. And certain Red-is-not-supposed-to-see-this-glance-exchanges between girlfriends tell me the same. But the girlfriends in question are mostly women whose self-images are not totally how they should be. These are women who’ve also told me, from time to time, that they feel uncomfortable naked. Who admit they’ve got troubles letting go and to be in the moment, when they have sex. I’ve always believed their troubles to be psychologically founded, and I have never for a second in my life imagined it to be physical. At least not in the have-or-have-not way of physical. (I admit that I have, from time to time, imagined it’s about the physics of their men.) But I mean, like one of the Guardian commenters say, if anyone had said that only some 60 % of women were in possession of other organs, like a liver or a heart or a set of lungs, they would have been ridiculed big time. It’s there. Just how it is. But still, apparently, there’s no “scientific” research concluding??? This baffles me. What does it say about science? And what does it say about everything we do not need science for? If a woman orgasms in the woods without a scientist to see, did the trees really move?
The abovementioned article, BTW, is not the only thing written in The Guardian about this. They’ve had a couple of more texts on the same subject. Among them, the following is actually quite sad, with this quote, unfortunately, coming from a woman: “I haven't a clue whether the G-spot exists, nor do I much care.”
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/jan/05/g-spot-women-study
Really? REALLY? I mean: REALLY?
Can anyone even imagine a discussion on whether male ejaculation is real or a myth? Or whether it matters if it is?
I didn’t think so.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/jan/28/g-spot-france-sex-gynaecology
Hard as it is, I am going to let the Brit-French jokes lie for now. And the scientist jokes too. I find it a bit harder not to point out that The Guardian – a newspaper I normally consider to be brilliant – finds it appropriate to label this with the term “gynecology” (if you ask me, among the least sexy ten letters in the English dictionary, or eleven, as it’s apparently spelled in the Queen’s Country – with that A in it, it sounds even more medievally medical). But that wasn’t really what I was going to say either.
What I was going to say was this: How ON EARTH is it even possible to have this discussion? I understand how it’s possible to discuss whether God exists. Or Fate. Or love at first sight. Or Santa Claus, presuming you’re five years old. These are all abstracts. But how it’s possible to discuss whether the G-spot EXISTS, presuming you’re NOT five years old, I can’t for the life of me get a grasp on. How it’s NOT possible to find it?
I have often wondered, whenever overhearing this kind of discussion. There’s no doubt about where it is. I have never needed any kind of searching to find it. It’s just there. Exactly where it’s supposed to be. Working exactly the way it’s supposed to do. (And there’s another extra-sensitive spot in there too, more or less directly opposed to it, just a little further in. The latter, I think, is where squirting starts. Can’t really guarantee I am right about this – the liquid may come from even further within – but I think my theory is correct.) I don’t even need to be aroused to find it, though, of course, it’s more distinct when I am.
I may be a lucky woman. Men have told me I am. And certain Red-is-not-supposed-to-see-this-glance-exchanges between girlfriends tell me the same. But the girlfriends in question are mostly women whose self-images are not totally how they should be. These are women who’ve also told me, from time to time, that they feel uncomfortable naked. Who admit they’ve got troubles letting go and to be in the moment, when they have sex. I’ve always believed their troubles to be psychologically founded, and I have never for a second in my life imagined it to be physical. At least not in the have-or-have-not way of physical. (I admit that I have, from time to time, imagined it’s about the physics of their men.) But I mean, like one of the Guardian commenters say, if anyone had said that only some 60 % of women were in possession of other organs, like a liver or a heart or a set of lungs, they would have been ridiculed big time. It’s there. Just how it is. But still, apparently, there’s no “scientific” research concluding??? This baffles me. What does it say about science? And what does it say about everything we do not need science for? If a woman orgasms in the woods without a scientist to see, did the trees really move?
The abovementioned article, BTW, is not the only thing written in The Guardian about this. They’ve had a couple of more texts on the same subject. Among them, the following is actually quite sad, with this quote, unfortunately, coming from a woman: “I haven't a clue whether the G-spot exists, nor do I much care.”
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/jan/05/g-spot-women-study
Really? REALLY? I mean: REALLY?
Can anyone even imagine a discussion on whether male ejaculation is real or a myth? Or whether it matters if it is?
I didn’t think so.
A perfect day. Or two, actually...
Saturday morning the phone wakes me up. Brooklyn friends cancelling brunch, it’s too cold for them to want to take the baby out. When I discover just how cold, I’m glad they did. In this regard I have never been much of a Viking. So I get back to the bed, suggesting we’d stay inside the whole weekend for a change. "I’ve got an even better idea", he says, putting his hands around my wrists and pulling me underneath him. "Let’s stay in bed for the whole weekend".
I laugh. I’ve never stayed in bed for a full day straight unless I’ve been really unwell. For now, I feel great. And as he kisses me, I feel even better. Let’s do that, I agree. And so we do.
We don’t have sex for the whole time. We read the newspapers aloud to each other. We quote passages from favorite books. I do the crossword, he a Sudoku. We talk and laugh. We cuddle. We order in pizza. We take a nap. We only leave the bed to use the bathroom or to make coffee. We don’t use the TV, we don’t turn on the computers. Phones, we’ve turned off, too. Around six p.m I go restless. Sure, I've moved some. We’ve already had sex a couple of times, some three hours all in all. Some of it has been vigorous. But I still haven’t gotten my workout, and usually, I do an hour a day. He won’t let me leave the bed to do it, and he teases me.
"You can do it here. You can use me as your yoga mat, I’ll handle it", he says. And so I do. To begin with, I pretend to be doing the exercise for real. Playfully, I ignore his sighs as I put my full body weight on my hands on his back. I know it hurts, but not that much. Eventually, we get it on the way he meant it all along, his cock is inside of me, positions just slightly different from what they use to be when I do them solo for another purpose. We do doggy for upwards dog and I skip the warrior poses. The boat feels very interesting... In that angle, as well as some of the others, he helps supporting me so that I won’t do any damage. Keeping my breath is quite a challenge, though, and I give up on it after not that many minutes. The try-to-stick-to-the-poses attitude goes next, but I keep bending and stretching and trying out whether the regular poses can be translated into sex poses. Surprisingly many of them can.
After, he spoons me, and we cuddle some more. Telling each other silly little secrets. Joking and laughing. It’s a great day. And then Sunday’s the same. As we wake up Monday morning, ready for work, he says "We don’t always need to do something for it to do us good".
I think he is right.
I laugh. I’ve never stayed in bed for a full day straight unless I’ve been really unwell. For now, I feel great. And as he kisses me, I feel even better. Let’s do that, I agree. And so we do.
We don’t have sex for the whole time. We read the newspapers aloud to each other. We quote passages from favorite books. I do the crossword, he a Sudoku. We talk and laugh. We cuddle. We order in pizza. We take a nap. We only leave the bed to use the bathroom or to make coffee. We don’t use the TV, we don’t turn on the computers. Phones, we’ve turned off, too. Around six p.m I go restless. Sure, I've moved some. We’ve already had sex a couple of times, some three hours all in all. Some of it has been vigorous. But I still haven’t gotten my workout, and usually, I do an hour a day. He won’t let me leave the bed to do it, and he teases me.
"You can do it here. You can use me as your yoga mat, I’ll handle it", he says. And so I do. To begin with, I pretend to be doing the exercise for real. Playfully, I ignore his sighs as I put my full body weight on my hands on his back. I know it hurts, but not that much. Eventually, we get it on the way he meant it all along, his cock is inside of me, positions just slightly different from what they use to be when I do them solo for another purpose. We do doggy for upwards dog and I skip the warrior poses. The boat feels very interesting... In that angle, as well as some of the others, he helps supporting me so that I won’t do any damage. Keeping my breath is quite a challenge, though, and I give up on it after not that many minutes. The try-to-stick-to-the-poses attitude goes next, but I keep bending and stretching and trying out whether the regular poses can be translated into sex poses. Surprisingly many of them can.
After, he spoons me, and we cuddle some more. Telling each other silly little secrets. Joking and laughing. It’s a great day. And then Sunday’s the same. As we wake up Monday morning, ready for work, he says "We don’t always need to do something for it to do us good".
I think he is right.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Enough?
I know I can be demanding. My energy levels are higher than most. My sex drive, the same. I want it daily, and preferably, a couple of times a day. In my past, there have been men who’ve been able to handle, and there have been men who haven’t. Inevitably, when I am with one of the latter, I tire of it. Sooner or later I call it quits.
I am now beginning to wonder if that’s where my current relationship is going.
Sexually, as well as out of bed, we’re different personalities. We always have been. He’s introvert, I’m extrovert. I enjoy variation. I thrive on that stream of ever new experiences. Sometimes this, sometimes that, sometimes for a long time, sometimes for a short time. Sometimes here, sometimes there.
To him, sex is best done more or less the same way every time. Every session is like a three-course meal. Or more. It’s a marathon. It’s a triathlon. There are sequences to it always repeated. It starts with cuddling and grinding, kissing and fondling. Perhaps some fingering, perhaps some licking. Then intercourse, for as long as I am able to take it. (A couple of hours, mostly.) Missionary, missionary with my legs up and around his neck, doggy, sideways, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, rotating cowgirl, both of us standing, then him standing next to the bed as I lie down on it straddling him, then him kneeling on the bed as I straddle him. Then, more often than not, back to doggy or to one of the missionary style positions, one of those we can do for ever. We go through some eight-ten standard positions every time. When I’ve come too many times to be able to continue, I blow him and I work him with my hands and tits until he gets off. If he gets off. Sometimes, he enters me again when he feels he is close. Sometimes, he wears himself out before he gets there. Too sore or too exhausted to keep it up.
You can say I do get my variation. Because every time we do it, we go through more positions than I'd get in a week or a month with another man. But it still feels as if we do the same thing over and over. A quickie is out of the question. We can’t do it in the morning unless we’ve both got the day off. We can’t do it in the lunch break, we can’t do it in between plans, like, before the guests arrive for dinner or when we’re expected somewhere. He needs his time, and he doesn’t think there’s no point to starting it if we do not have a couple of hours for it. Surprise sex? That’s rare. And so I do not get it on a daily basis. Sure, I can take care of my own pleasures, and of course, I do. But I do not cheat, and I will not cheat. I’ve promised him that, and I won’t break my promises. As long as we’re together, he’s the only man I am with. And of course, whenever I am with him, he pleasures me one hell of a lot. His cock is wonderful. He’s in good shape, and he’s always willing to let me take the lead and to add some new to his repertoire. But still. I am beginning to wonder if it is enough. Whether I need some more. Whether he’s worth this kind of patience.
I know why it is like this. I don’t want to share the details, I think it would be unfair without his knowledge. Suffice to say there are control issues due to experiences of his past. Troubles letting go of control. I understand it, and I think I accept it. It took me some time, but I know that there’s no failure on my part, when he isn’t getting there, and it doesn’t frustrate me like it used to.
To begin with, I felt as if it was my fault, every time he didn’t come. I felt as if I couldn’t live up to my own expectations of myself as a lover, using all my tricks, twists and turns, those never failing to work before. Now I know that this has nothing to do with it. It’s not about abilities. It’s not about techniques, it’s about the mental state he’s in and the experiences he’s had before me. I also know that he finds sex with me more fulfilling than it's ever been before. He says, and from the way he acts, I know it's the truth. Though he can from time to time be frustrated about himself and about the lack of fulfillment, I also know he enjoys it even if he’s not able to finish. And when he is, oh, when he is, he's so happy about it, it makes me happy too.
Question is whether he gives me enough. I don't yet know.
I am now beginning to wonder if that’s where my current relationship is going.
Sexually, as well as out of bed, we’re different personalities. We always have been. He’s introvert, I’m extrovert. I enjoy variation. I thrive on that stream of ever new experiences. Sometimes this, sometimes that, sometimes for a long time, sometimes for a short time. Sometimes here, sometimes there.
To him, sex is best done more or less the same way every time. Every session is like a three-course meal. Or more. It’s a marathon. It’s a triathlon. There are sequences to it always repeated. It starts with cuddling and grinding, kissing and fondling. Perhaps some fingering, perhaps some licking. Then intercourse, for as long as I am able to take it. (A couple of hours, mostly.) Missionary, missionary with my legs up and around his neck, doggy, sideways, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, rotating cowgirl, both of us standing, then him standing next to the bed as I lie down on it straddling him, then him kneeling on the bed as I straddle him. Then, more often than not, back to doggy or to one of the missionary style positions, one of those we can do for ever. We go through some eight-ten standard positions every time. When I’ve come too many times to be able to continue, I blow him and I work him with my hands and tits until he gets off. If he gets off. Sometimes, he enters me again when he feels he is close. Sometimes, he wears himself out before he gets there. Too sore or too exhausted to keep it up.
You can say I do get my variation. Because every time we do it, we go through more positions than I'd get in a week or a month with another man. But it still feels as if we do the same thing over and over. A quickie is out of the question. We can’t do it in the morning unless we’ve both got the day off. We can’t do it in the lunch break, we can’t do it in between plans, like, before the guests arrive for dinner or when we’re expected somewhere. He needs his time, and he doesn’t think there’s no point to starting it if we do not have a couple of hours for it. Surprise sex? That’s rare. And so I do not get it on a daily basis. Sure, I can take care of my own pleasures, and of course, I do. But I do not cheat, and I will not cheat. I’ve promised him that, and I won’t break my promises. As long as we’re together, he’s the only man I am with. And of course, whenever I am with him, he pleasures me one hell of a lot. His cock is wonderful. He’s in good shape, and he’s always willing to let me take the lead and to add some new to his repertoire. But still. I am beginning to wonder if it is enough. Whether I need some more. Whether he’s worth this kind of patience.
I know why it is like this. I don’t want to share the details, I think it would be unfair without his knowledge. Suffice to say there are control issues due to experiences of his past. Troubles letting go of control. I understand it, and I think I accept it. It took me some time, but I know that there’s no failure on my part, when he isn’t getting there, and it doesn’t frustrate me like it used to.
To begin with, I felt as if it was my fault, every time he didn’t come. I felt as if I couldn’t live up to my own expectations of myself as a lover, using all my tricks, twists and turns, those never failing to work before. Now I know that this has nothing to do with it. It’s not about abilities. It’s not about techniques, it’s about the mental state he’s in and the experiences he’s had before me. I also know that he finds sex with me more fulfilling than it's ever been before. He says, and from the way he acts, I know it's the truth. Though he can from time to time be frustrated about himself and about the lack of fulfillment, I also know he enjoys it even if he’s not able to finish. And when he is, oh, when he is, he's so happy about it, it makes me happy too.
Question is whether he gives me enough. I don't yet know.
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