romance.
I’m still getting calls from clients, several of whom I haven’t heard from in over a year. I don’t know what it is. Maybe the economy. Maybe the time of year. Maybe they figured out that I’m ‘debauchette’ and they’re just feeling me out. Most of them just want to talk, about their lives, about their work, about the economy, about our past, and it’s all fine until they start talking about a relationship.
Something I love about client relationships is the clarity and sanctity of the boundaries. Take that transaction away and it changes everything.
And I have all the relationship I want.
It’s been a busy few weeks, and the first thing I did when I resurfaced was fuck Gabriel. We’ve been seeing each other for seven or eight months and he makes me happy. I love his sexual aggression and his perma-erection and his great, expressive face and his soothing demeanor. Some people progress down a road of increasingly lovely lovemaking, but I think we’ve just been fucking harder. And by “we” I mean “he.” I just take it, lovingly. (And I love it when he growls, “take it.”)
There’s something in shared rush of endorphins. Bitemarks, exhaustion. Intimacy, trust, affection, for me it’s all grounded in the ability to feel wide open, physically, with someone. Spread. Sex doesn’t follow intimacy, for me; intimacy follows sex.
When I first met Gabriel, I could sense that he was sexual, so I liked him. And it’s funny because it was winter and we were both bundled up in layers of wool and he was sweet and a little shy-seeming on the surface, but I could just feel it when I sat across from him at the cafe that he was someone who maybe relates to the world through his hands and his cock. I wanted to fuck him immediately.
After we first fucked, he said, “I feel like I should manhandle you more,” and I wondered then if he felt like he needed to compete with the invisible men I’ve written about here. But he did manhandle me more. I could feel this expansion in Gabriel over time, of confidence, maybe trust. He fucked me from behind, my hair in his hands, and he pushed my head down, cheek to mattress, and he wrapped both arms around my waist until I was bruised from throat to cunt.
I associate Williamsburg with my post-fuck limp, where I’m so raw and bruised that I become perfectly female, just sex and pheromones in a skirt. And the thing with all that hardness and fucking and bruising and the way he pulls out and covers my skin with his come, is that it’s more than that; it’s definitely more than that. There’s an ineffable something, a deep affection, a kind of love that comes out from all that rending. As I’ve felt Gabriel become more confident in the way he fucks me and feels me and uses my mouth, I’ve felt myself open up in ways that make me slightly more human. And sometimes, when he bears into me from behind, I feel his hands close over mine until we interlace our fingertips, and I feel bliss.
Damn.
And amen.
And thank you for this.
There’s something very beautiful in this post. I think it’s the connection, but I’m not certain.
aaaaawwwww
i have a boner and a tear
YES. There is nothing that makes me feel more feminine than being manhandled and well-fucked. Beautiful.
what you describe here, well, its just amazing. can i ask how you two met?
That was beautiful writing, D, and hope the happiness keeps on flowing.
You’ve just pinpointed the problem I almost always have as relationships progress: the sex becomes too gentle. How can I convey to men that the more they care about me, the harder they should fuck me?
this was truly lovely. you’re both very lucky bugs. xo
“How can I convey to men that the more they care about me, the harder they should fuck me?”
you tell them just like that. right after you also tell them to never high-five their buddies about it.
sex, then intimacy. I’m the same way and it is getting increasingly harder to find men that understand it and don’t judge it. Glad you found one..
Wow. This is so very much what I’m looking for for myself.
Beautifully written.
Amazingly hot.
The more I’m into a woman, the harder I fuck her for sure. I want to feel her flesh in my grip and I want her to feel me deep into her. So I really enjoyed this post.
Your blog is great. I got fleshbotted along with you and would love for you to check out my site and let me know what you think.
I know I’ll be back to read yours often.
So happy for you honey : )
wow
that sounds amazing
i like lovely slow romantic sex too you know… SOMEtimes
it’s just that i find that when you get seriously involved somehow you stop experimenting and suddenly it’s all slow and nice and sweet and romantic and you never get fucked anymore.
this is particularly true if your man can only come once a session because if you can get him up more than once usually you can up the hard fuckery meter in the later rounds…
You made “bruised from throat to cunt” beautiful. The flow of relationships and life are laid out in your writing. The engagement, the emancipation and independence which led to fresh experiences and feral abandonment … and a few orgies, and then love again. Thank you for all of it. oxox
Sounds blissful. I’ve experienced similar, but oddly it has never been in a relationship where I was as satisfied clothed as I was unclothed. You know you truly have it made when tolerating the mundane and every day is as easy as fucking. I wish that for everyone. Even myself. Especially myself.
Finally, a post I can sink my imagination into. I have missed your writing and the way you take me places that most men never do. Thank you.
Really beautiful–you described it perfectly.
“Sex doesn’t follow intimacy, for me; intimacy follows sex.”
And it did in this case, as Gabriel realized what you craved and gave it to you, full bore.
A wise and fortunate man, he is.
“Sex doesn’t follow intimacy, for me; intimacy follows sex.”
Of all, this stands out. I am exactly the same. Thank you for sharing a penetration deep enough to touch your very core. It is rare. Enjoy!
This is brilliant. And yes, like some others have said, I’m a little jealous.
But there is absolutely something beyond intimate about letting someone really fuck you, hurt you. I love it and the transcendental feeling that seems to accompany it.
Congrats on finding someone who you can be genuinely intimate with, in all the connotations implied… It’s certainly a rare find.