An almost half year dry spell marked my Divorce’s conclusion. For a variety of reasons I waited a long time to try all those basic aspects of the flesh. It was not without encouragement to the contrary, as friends and even Strong tried to coax me to find someone or something to fill the ah… breach. I got lectured on zipless, no strings fucks, coaxed to try dating again, etc… But the flesh recoiled at the thought. There’s particular ways it needs to be touched and more to the point, I need there to be respect and the time it takes to vet another human being for that sort of thing is extensive.
And yet, Saying sex and pain are, for me inseparable concepts, both makes me sound like I’m talking about chronic vaginismus and does not capture the nuances of how I experience it. I’m talking hands on sadomasochism.
So, sex. It’s about touch, really, light touches, hard touches, scrapes of nails, stinging slaps, pressure, joints straining and for me, the sort of push that digs to the bone. To have and be touched is a wonderful thing. And I’m enraptured by smell and texture, that clean sex musk, the veins beneath the skin and the softness of the skin that wraps a cock.
And for me, pain. To hurt and be hurt. I adore the way that after your body has been primed, the weight of the last hurt drags into even the lightest caress, so that your whole body sensitizes and touch becomes more than how it was before there was pain. And there’s the noises, the facial expressions, the changes of posture are all extremely erotic to me. Pain is such a raw thing to have, creating a suffusion through the flesh from where ever it has been triggered.
Pain makes me wet, seeing it and taking it. Trusting Strong, I can give and get. The neighbours might mind the muffled screaming, but my flesh welcomes it. But the bruises, oh the bruises. Lying in the sprawl of a lazy afternoon, Strong found the places on my flesh that have been marked, and the places that don’t show because the bruise is on the muscle. In the night, I put my hand over his mouth so the screams vibrated through the bones in my palm and made sure I returned what I’d learned with my own twist. For me, pressure points were always a lot cause, not so much because I didn’t feel them but because they were just meat I could ignore until something grated wrong and I knew I was actually taking real harm. With Strong, on his flesh and my own I’ve discovered a certain intensity.
Sex also depends on that intensity, thrusting, pushing, swallowing and licking. as much as I’m coy to talk about it, there’s nothing taboo with fingers and tongues. And as I named him, Strong is just that, immovable except by two things, his will and mine.
It was good to have sex again. I’d almost forgotten how good.