Being vulnerable letting him back in.
We met years ago by happenstance, he just restarting his career and I locked into purgatory, my walls closing in, not a glint of light at the end of the tunnel. Our emails transformed into late night phone calls, we’d talk for hours sometimes. I recall being so sleepy during the day after a night on the phone with him, promising myself; tonight I would not answer his call and get some sleep. I didn’t make it, but I made him promise that we would talk for a few minutes then hangup and we would both get some rest. We tried texting. It allowed us both to sleep, him from after shift at 1:30AM and I a full normal night’s rest. But the first opportunity we were up all night again on the phone catching up from the week we missed talking.
Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years passed and still we had not met. Yet, I felt we had known each other for years, not just three months. I felt tremendous trepidation about meeting him, I found endless reasons not to travel to meet him and countless times rebuking his offers to travel to me. I had baggage, afraid it would ruin the chemistry we had built. How long could I actually put off our first meeting? Then one blistery day in January, I took the plunge, told him I was planning to drive down to see him. The excitement building within me as my departure day grew closer. Every morning I would awaken saying; I have no business going down there…by lunch I would be knee deep in my closet putting together the perfect out fit for our first meeting, the excitement so powerful sometimes unable to eat.
The morning arrived, it was predawn, I packed my car, headed south. I stayed in a hotel a few miles from his place.
That night he finished around 1:45AM. He called to give me directions, he would head home now. I phoned the valet to bring my car around. The streets were empty, the houses around his were all pitch black. He had not arrived by the time i reached his place. I told myself, this was a sign, I should cut and run, while I could. Just as I opened my car door, I saw car lights coming towards me. The lights became brighter, moving closer. A patrol car. The car parked, a uniformed officer got out, began to walk towards me. I was frozen, my hand still on the car’s lever, but not open. Quickly trying to form some sort of plan as to how to explain why I’m on this street, this hour of the morning. The officer continued to approach me, tall, built man with a buzz cut. As I released the car’s lever, moved to turn more facing him, he walked up, grabbed me and kissed me passionately and deeply. My vagina fluttered, my nipples became erect as I received his tongue in my mouth, as I pressed myself against him.
He took a step back, looked me up and down and said; ”I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”
We were a couple of sorts. He a single man, re-establishing himself as a police officer, after serving in the Federal Boarder Patrol in Nogales, Arizona. I, an unhappy women in a loveless, sexless marriage, just wanting someone to adore me, care about me, desire sex with me. We were happy for several months, traveling back and forth many times during the six months we were hot and heavy. Then one day were the opposite of happy, at least I was.
My first clue, he was no longer attentive. He use to insist on picking me up from the airport. He began paying for a car, not being at his place when I arrived. The third time, it was two hours and he still had arrived home. He was under the notion because I had a key, I had nothing to complain about. During my third visit I did not bother to unpack, instead I ordered a car, made hotel reservations, had the car drop me off at the rental car company, drove a rental to the hotel. Once I checked in I purposely turn my phone off. I showered, changed into an off the shoulder dress, a pair of sandal heels, put my hair in a messy up-do drove to a nice restaurant. I purposely found a place that would be crowded, have a nice bar, crowded of course, where I could order wine and dinner at the bar. I enjoyed a huge salad with ample shrimp, warm bread and several glasses of wine. My mistake. Having missed lunch, the wine went straight to my head. I decided dessert would combat the wine, which it did not. I convinced the valet to drive me back to my hotel, ordered him a car to take him back to the restaurant.
Once I settled in my room, I turned my phone on. Voicemail, text messages filled my screen. I sat, gazing at my phone and on impulse deleted them all. Two days later, while waiting on my flight to board, I pulled up my contact list, found his name, clicked block.
It would seem the heart has a tendency to forego pain. Five years later, after numerous texting back and forth for three weeks, returning from a business trip, I am heading to his house, to see him again. Before this trip, during all that texting some two, three times a day, some very hot and sultry messages, I decided to open myself, to be vulnerable to him. Allowing him to feel secure and in charge. It worked. We had some of the best exchanges, better than any we’d had prior.
Upon my arrival, he was excited to see me. The look on his face and the bulge in his shorts solidified that. We left my bags in my car, headed inside where he promptly blindfolded me. I instantly became wet between my legs and nipples hard as rocks. One touch, I knew I would explode. Instead of going down on me he pulled out a toy. As I laid on the bed half dressed, blindfold on, he began to masturbate me with this toy. Of course I came, I actually orgasmed a couple of times. Next thing I knew he had ”mounted me” was fucking me hard. This went on for a while. On my back, on his bed, he pounded (literally) for what seemed like more than ten minutes. Just as I removed the blindfold, I saw him withdraw and shoot cum on to my chest all over my necklaces, barely escaping my hair. He got up, got a warm wash cloth for me and that was it. He took a shower, I retrieved my suitcase from the car, showered while he dressed. When I walked into the living room, he was fast asleep. It was then I notice a few things, later confirming them on day two of my visit with him.
Two days, three nights in his bed we had sex one time, actual intercourse, again it took him awhile to cum. Day three turned out to be a rainy day, complete wash-out of thunder and torrential downpours. I was departing early the next morning, so we decided to stay in, order Mediterranean take out and watch movies. He made no move towards being intimate, I was certainly dressed sexy enough. Made suggestive moves, brushed against him – nothing. Finally, after two movies I told him to go take a shower, to which I joined him. It was…well, as I suspected. Further proof, was a porn clip of a woman giving a guy a blow job as I gave him one of the best blow jobs I could give. He did not cum, he did not get rock hard, flaccid at best. My heart sank, coupled with the weigh gain, bouts of sleeping, he was possibly experiencing low testosterone.
I let him sleep the next morning while I dressed and loaded my things into my car. I woke him briefly to say good-bye he merely rolled over (he had to work later that day 1:30p -1:30a) over went back to sleep. About two hours later, he called asked me why I did not wake hime before I left? I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had…forgetfulness being another thing I observed.
Men, please, if you are experiencing low moods, less urge for intimacy with your partner, forgetting more than usual and weight gain…have your testosterone level checked. You owe it to your loved one. There are home test available…avoid those unwanted conversations with a health care provider until you are sure.
I unfortunately don’t know how to have that conversation with him. Certainly not by text, phone or email. Heading back his way in a few weeks…lots to contemplate. He says the words, it’s the intimacy that is missing. I enjoy his company, we do get along, it’s just that one thing…
Celebrating multiple years blogging
Whereas, if women masturbated more, they are less likely to want emotional attached sex. Women who masturbate freely, at will, with creativity are more prone to have sex, for the sake of having sexual intercourse, as a natural part of being a woman. There are some they masturbate freely with and for their husbands. For the most part, married women who masturbate do so when they are alone and he has no idea that his wife enjoys pleasing herself, regularly. These women are not what society would call good wives, she’s not saving it for him. Which brings me to the man who has lost his lust.
Often wives of these men are their caregivers and life has just bogged them down with doctor’s visits, medications and the inability to connect on a sexual level. Age, for men, can also be a contributing factor. He’s lost his zest! She’s never had that much interest in being sexual, performed it as a duty and now that he’s comfortable to snore the night away in his leather loungers, she happy to have the bed to herself for most of the night. But. What happens to the woman who was afraid to tell him she wanted them to add zing to their sex life, adding a nite of swinging, or a visit to a sex club? She had the missionary sex for 20 years, or more, he’s lost his manly man and has put sex on the back burner. Which as it turns out was a couple of years ago when he had missionary sex with his wife. She’s still wanting sex! She’s got a secret stash in her panty drawer of dildos that vibrate and maybe even a butt plug, nibble clamps, essential oils…How does she tell her lackluster husband she’s horny for some wild sex? She fantasizes about being fuck by a man while she sucks her husband’s cock? The kids are gone, empty nesters and all he does is watch Netflix! She’s surfed the sites and she knows there’s a vast world of sexual fun and no way to get to it, unless she goes it alone.
Affirmative Spirit 
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