… and I was genuinely wondering what the neighbors might think. I mean she really belted–it was loud and it was long. We live in the suburbs but our bedroom is on one side of the house, maybe 35 feet from the next house over, so their kitchen and living space are right there. It was not terribly late at night, maybe 11pm, so they could have been awake. Well, the cops didn’t show up or anything so either they didn’t hear us or they don’t care if we die. Or maybe they could tell it was an orgasm scream and only hoped it would ever end.
It’s taken my long enough to publish this post that it’s now happened a couple more times. Life is good.
We’ve really had great sex lately. Not every night, we still have some slower big nights, but more often than not we’re just really getting into it. She looks so good it’s not hard to go a little crazy. I mean she’s very fit and firm and hot. She says “I don’t know what got into you,” but it’s her.
Anyway, the screaming. The funny thing is she still whispers when she talks, as if we have to be quiet still, even though there are no kids in the house. Sometimes I speak at a normal volume but it doesn’t feel right. So whispering is still our main mode. But when she lets go, now, she really lets go and some of these screams are incredible. So awesome.
I look back and wonder what it would be like for her to be my first girlfriend. Would we have great sex? When we first started we weren’t like this. I was extremely motivated, and excited to be eating pussy after many years with someone who didn’t want me to do it (this is a long story that is not mine to tell and I don’t really understand it well, anyway). The desire was there, but we still had to get used to each other and trust each other. I wasn’t calling her baby girl and she wasn’t calling me master when we first started (that took around 20 years).
With my first girlfriend, the sex was discreet and quick. I usually came pretty quickly; usually I got her off with my hands first, rubbing her clit, then we fucked for a minute or two. I mean maybe it was longer sometimes but I wasn’t good. On the other hand I had to be really careful; I think my dick was too big for her or anyway it was painful for her if I wasn’t careful. The one time I lasted longer was the one time we slept together all night and she surprised me in the morning. I didn’t enjoy it that much, but she did and I was glad for it. We broke up after 2 years together and the way we had sex never changed.
Anyway, when I first started having sex it was kind of tentative, you know, I was hesitant to do things or ask for things that I thought were dirty, figuring the girls I was fucking weren’t going to be into it. Not just with that first girlfriend, with basically anyone I fucked. I did have one girlfriend, for about 9 months, who’d had some genuine life experience, including heroin addiction, and she was pretty wild–I thought. In fact she was not any different from anyone else, she just knew some things she wanted. Then when I moved on to the next girlfriend, I was tentative again.
Of course it never occurred to me that if both of us took that approach we would never do anything either of us thought was dirty. The question is, when and how did I grow out of this? Honestly I think for both of us, it was our past history of unsatisfying relationships. We were older, too, me 32 and her 29 when we met. Anyway, we both knew we wanted more and in many ways, not sex at first, we were more demanding with each other because we were both a lot better about expressing our desires than I had been. We had some fights about me looking at other girls or seeing and talking to former flames, for example–she wouldn’t have it. Within a couple months I had severed contact with anyone else who still wanted to be my girlfriend, but the looking took longer.
If I’m right about that, then my wife and I would have failed if we’d met too young. My previous relationship had been for many years, living together and basically being married without the ceremony or the contract. It was also pretty bad in some ways that I never did anything about. She was a lot like me–non-demanding–so we nurtured each other’s conflict avoidance and never had a truly deep commitment though we were together for many years. Had I not come out of that, and had she not come out of a bad failed marriage, maybe we wouldn’t have known so clearly what we needed, which of course was prerequisite to asking for it, and then learning how to ask for it better.
This is a scary thought, right? Could I have had better relationships earlier had I not needed to learn this lesson? Could I have had a life like this with someone else? In the end, I doubt it; I’m sure there’s something about the two of us that makes it work. Soulmates, although I’ve never used that word (there is no soul). Plus that last one, she was a lesbian, which she never told me, which may be why she was OK with having a relationship that wasn’t that good. I.e. yes, maybe it would have worked out with someone else out there, but not with anyone I actually went out with or lived with or fucked.
So it’s not like I truly failed any of them (at least, not for this reason) and I don’t doubt that I’d be a more effective romantic partner with just about anyone today than I would have been 25 years ago. The question is what if I’d met my wife when I was 22 or 25, would that relationship never have developed to the extent that this one has? I think probably it wouldn’t have gotten this good, and that’s truly scary.
But really I wanted to tell you about one of our cats. We have two. They’re literal brother and sister from the same litter. Gray tabbies. They lived on the street, behind a donut shop, with their mom until they were 6 months old. The boy is a lunk, calm and sluggishly friendly, and big but not fat. He has some dog-like qualities … greeting us at the door and generally wanting to be around people and part of the action. We had a movie night for a group of about 16 people and he sat upright in one of the chairs through the whole event, acting like he was another attendee. He takes being part of a pride pretty seriously. The girl is small, skinny, skittish, and goes feral when mice or strangers enter the house but is loving and cuddly with us. They’re both great.
The boy knows when we’re having sex and always comes in the bedroom with us. He plots to get in. We try to keep him out but he knows we go in and out a few times before we really get to bed, so he hides nearby and sprints out, getting through the door before we can react. Then he acts all snuggly and purry. Does he want to be part of this action? Then he plops himself down at the far corner of the bed, below my wife’s feet, where there’s the most room.
The problem is, he’s hard to ignore. I try but in the back of my mind I know he’s there and I try to not to kick him, dislodge him, etc. It suppresses my enjoyment of the big night. It’s hard to say no to a snuggly soft critter (and he has the softest fur I’ve ever felt). Eventually I get up and lure him out of the room with treats, and then lock him out.
My question is why? He’s a friendly cat but there’s something in his demeanor at these moments that makes us feel like he knows what’s going on and doesn’t want to be left out. I may come back to this topic.
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