Shutterstock
Shutterstock

It started with porn. We watched porn together sometimes, more his desire than mine, but whatever, it was kind of hot. I mean, porn is weird and unsexy and a bit depressing if you think about it too much or pay a lot of attention to it, but if you can find a good one and pay attention for the beginning only, it can be good. It’s like watching a horror movie and you tense up and your blood pressure rises even though you know it’s fake — given the stimuli, your body can’t help but produce a physical reaction.

Anyways, we watched porn together sometimes and I knew he watched it alone. I’m not like, “the cool girl” who’s totally okay with her boyfriend watching porn but I knew it was an uphill battle and one that wasn’t going to end well for either of us, so I tried to use it to bring us closer together. One night, loosed by a few stiff drinks over ice we drank on his balcony, watching the city lights come on and turn off — the full metropolitan life cycle in one night — I asked him what he liked about porn, and whether access to me or all the other women in the world (hotter ones, I even gave him) would be better, ideally.

His answer surprised me, it wasn’t about quality or quantity, but about availability. With me, (and he loved me very much, he clarified), he had to woo me, constantly. Sex was never a given, and this is a biological difference between men and women. He was trying, all the time to make me think of him sexually and to initiate sex and even my higher-than-average female libido couldn’t keep up with him. As loving and as open and assuring as I was towards him, he was still getting rejected by me in this way, often (and even more often if he would be honest about how frequently he wanted sex).

And so watching porn made sense to me in a way it never had before. The fantasy, the real fantasy, was a world free of rejection, from the tired trope of the guy who wants sex more than his girlfriend does. I felt bad about it, to be honest, as much as I loved him, why did he have to suffer these feelings that he was somehow not enough?

By personality, I am a maximizer. I am the kind of girl with checkmarks and to-do lists and the one who breaks her New Year’s resolutions into “action items.” So I took this sort-of imbalance in our sex life as a challenge — what kind of system could we get on that would work for both of us?

The very first thing to do was to switch places. If our sex life was currently running solely on Adrienne-time we needed to switch it to Boyfriend-time, at least to try it and see what it was like. So we decided that for one week, we would do just that. We would be running our relationship on his biological frequency instead of mine. I could try anything for a week. Boyfriend was too cautious to be excited, as if I would change my mind if he showed too much enthusiasm.

We started on Monday with morning sex before he left for work. I was in the habit of spending the night at his place (it was nicer than mine, albeit less homey — and I’m a writer so I don’t have to get up and get dressed at the crack of dawn like he does) and usually he lets me sleep and I talk to him dreamily while he gets ready, without really waking up. But today was the first day of Sex-On-His-Terms week and I woke up to his breath on my neck and his hand running up my leg, grazing the boy-cut panties I wore to bed — and running back down again. He was ready to start.

I opened my legs to him immediately. There was something freeing about the choice already being made. I was going to have sex with him, I was necessarily “in the mood” because I’d already decided I was going to be. For an overly-analytical maximizer like me, decisions are a lot of work, and knowing this one was already made felt relaxing and luxurious. Like morning sex. I made him 45 minutes late that day. He blamed it on a faulty alarm clock.

I napped afterwards and woke up to several text messages from him, rare for having just seen him off a few hours ago.

This morning was so hot. I can’t wait for more.

The second was more forceful than complimentary:

Stay in bed. I’m coming home for lunch.

I laughed. This was part of a fantasy he had about my schedule. When we first started dating he thought that a freelance schedule meant that I would always be available to him. He talked about lunchtime rendezvous — coming home to pillage me and then leaving me naked there while he returned to work. I filled him in on the reality of deadlines and the hours of uninterrupted focus it took to produce something really good. He got it, but it was like telling a kid Santa isn’t real. Today was going to be his redemption.

I have to admit, it was hot to snuggle back into his linens, smelling him, waiting for his return — to be instructed not to dress. It was the kind of thing where I might usually touch myself and think of his hands instead of mine, but his return was coming so soon that I didn’t, I just waited for him and smiled my cat-who-got-the-mouse smile when he walked in, already unbuckling his belt. I was wet for him, more than usual — it was all the waiting. He felt like a stud, I could tell, as I crawled across the bed towards him, still naked from the morning sex, and climbed on top of him. I rode him without even unbuttoning his pale blue work shirt. I wondered if it would smell like me for the rest of the day.

I didn’t go home after he returned to work. Usually I would have let myself out long ago, gone home and showered and have several hours of work at the corner coffee shop under my belt. I used his shower and didn’t bother dressing, simply draping his t-shirt over me while I helped myself to his much fancier computer. I had to save time somewhere, and he was probably just going to undress me again when he got home anyway. (He did).

Tuesday morning I told him I was going to go home and work, and that I would make dinner for him that night if he wanted to come over. I wanted to keep going with my promise, but I also needed to get some work done so I figured the added promise of a home cooked meal would be enough to tide him over through the day. I made a lasagna so I would have plenty of time to get ready after I was done cooking. I showered and sprayed perfume in all his favorite places. I dressed in lingerie instead of clothes and then when he texted me that he was leaving work, I tried something silly I’d read in Cosmo once. I was kind of sexed out and I needed to get back in the mood so I put on some relaxing music and laid in bed. Without trying to get off or do anything other than relax, I placed my vibrator inside me and thought about him — again, nothing too intense, just kind of opening myself up for the evening. As robotic and forced as the action seemed at first, when I put it away and got up to pour wine for dinner, I was in an entirely different mood. I wasn’t tired anymore, I was desirous, the knock at the door was one of promise instead of obligation.

I kissed him, open-mouth, in the stairwell, surprising even myself with my unwillingness to even walk up the stairs before I touched him. I was already ready, already wanting him and he, in turn, was turned on by my suddenly elevated interest. I wanted to feel his weight on me, and I placed my hands on his lower back, pulling him into me and feeling his jeans rub against the thin fabric of my negligee. I turned, finally, to lead him up the stairs to my kitchen and felt his hands left the back of the slip and grab my ass fully in his hands. I almost couldn’t keep walking, the needing-him sensation inside me about doubled with that touch. While we ate, his hands never stopped touching me — rubbing my thigh, pulling me into him by wrapping his arm around my shoulder, brushing my hair back from my face. It was, oddly, an extremely romantic meal we both prolonged because the tension building between us was so fun to play with. Every touch was becoming unbearable.

After dinner we didn’t go to the couch or pretend we were going to do an activity for a bit. We went to my bedroom. We kissed like we hadn’t kissed in forever — long, deep, high-school kisses. He walked me back to my bed and laid me down beneath him, kissing my collarbone and murmuring sweet nothings between breaths. He slid a finger inside me and held his face above mine, watching my reaction, cherishing my reaction. He told me I was beautiful, that he loved watching me respond to him.

His confidence at this point was intoxicating. He knew I was on board with whatever he wanted to do and instead of it turning him into a greedy tyrant, it relaxed him, it opened him up. I felt closer to him than ever before.

When he pulled me to the edge of the bed and entered me, it was slower and more lust-filled than usual. This wasn’t get-it-over-with sex. This was vacation sex on a Tuesday night. He took a pillow and I obligingly lifted my hips so he could place it underneath them and return to pushing himself into me, deeper now. He places his forearms next to my arms as he leaned over me, maximizing our skin-to-skin contact.

Convinced now that this sex session would be leisurely he pulled out of me and bent down, flicked his tongue over my clit as my eyes rolled back into my head and I squirmed before him. I wondered if he could taste himself in me?

His finger was inside me again, swirling around, feeling the width of me while he kissed and flicked me on the outside. He stimulated me all at once, like an expert. Every erogenous zone was on fire. I heard myself begging him to fuck before I realized that was even what I wanted — and he was on top of me again, thrusting into me like I asked, like I needed, filling me, driving me over the edge.

For once, I came before he did — in a hot sticky dizzy wave that came roaring out of me.

He came next, catapulted into it by me spasming around his dick. I felt his heat inside me and his breathing slow, finally. Lying supine next to my breathless match, I couldn’t believe there were five more days of this. TC mark









Thought Catalog

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email

~
quotes on we heart it

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email
GIRLS
GIRLS

1. Ever since you were young, you’ve been observing the people around you. Your parents and siblings were your first introduction into human behavior and you studied them as if they were in your home solely for you to understand why people do the things they do.

2. You started talking, reading, and, eventually, writing sooner than your older sibling did and/or other children your age. You have been interested in communicating since you were old enough to understand language.

3. You have always felt deeply misunderstood and like an outcast, simply because you have not viewed the world in the same way as everyone else has.

4. Your entire life could be summed up by this exact cycle: feel deeply, overanalyze the feeling, feel crazy about overanalyzation, feel deeply about the overanalyzation, overanalyze that feeling, and on and on and on.

5. People have said to you many times, “Why do you think so much?” And, for a while, you felt embarrassed about how much you can think yourself in circles, but now your answer to those people is, “How can you not think so much?”

6. Once you began writing, you realized your ability to think about something from many different angles is the attribute which separates you from other writers. Your specific brand of thinking about the world is your voice and now you know all that time spent overthinking was basically practice for your writing career.

7. Your most prized possessions are the many journals and Moleskine’s you’ve collected over the years. You’d throw out every last material possession, but never your journals. Never!

8. You know the pure ecstasy of filling out the last page in a journal and retiring it to the sacred area you store your other weathered-down journals. (Furthermore, you know the pure ecstasy of, then, opening the first page of a new journal and how it represents a whole new world of possibility.)

9. Your entire life has been a journey to collect stories. You will do anything for a good story or life experience and your threshold for emotional pain is higher than most, plainly because your pain becomes words on a page and there’s nothing more valuable to you.

10. You have spent your life alone, craving space and openness. Distraction might be a natural part of your writing process, but you know it only serves to keep you from the work at hand, which is, simply, to write until you’ve laid your blood on the page.

11. After a few days of not writing, you start to become irritated, frustrated, and you have this sensation of being emotionally backed-up. Once you start writing—after, presumably, procrastinating the writing for minimum two hours—you suddenly feel freer, lighter, and more at ease.

12. If someone pulls out a quote of your writing to compliment your writing skills, you fall in love with them a little bit in that moment.

13. You have never let your life be easy. You have willingly sludged through your past pain, welcomed in breakdowns, and have never allowed yourself to become complacent or mediocre. Contentment is not a workable muse for a writer.

14. Thinking is an actual activity for you. If your life is too chaotic or stressed for you to slow down and hear your thoughts, you are not okay. While your thoughts may drive you crazy, they are also what propels you to write, so it’s a double-edged sword in a way.

15. You’ve always needed solitude. You’ve craved traveling alone your entire life. You’ve done it, too. While you appreciate and respect other people, you cannot process an experience while first having to process it with someone else.

16. You are sensitive, empathetic, and emotional. These attributes are great for a writer. For a human being who has to exist in the real world? Not as fun! You find yourself envious of people who can shut off their brains and exist in a non-overthinking universe of, what you imagine to be, sunshine and happiness and the absence of the never-ending need to feel things deeply as a means of inspiration.

17. Your entire life has been unconventional and you’ve always willingly chosen the path least likely, even if it ostracized you many times. And yes, maybe it has been lonely, but every lonely night has led you to a deeper understanding of what it means to be human. And, funny enough, this is exactly what you’re always writing about anyway… TC mark









Thought Catalog

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email

Something Special  ❤
quotes on we heart it

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email
Shutterstock
Shutterstock

After a heavy backlash over the casting of accused rapists Curtis Lepore, Rainn Wilson issued a statement announcing Lepore has been dropped from his upcoming series. Here’s what Wilson posted October 24th, on his Facebook:

Rainn WIlson
Rainn WIlson

While it’s troubling that it took so long to make the decision to cut ties with him, it is definitely a step in the right direction and sends a message that there are consequences to things like pleading guilty to felony assault. Just as most employers do background checks before hiring employees, we can only hope Hollywood can follow that example. Thank you for doing the right thing, Rainn Wilson. TC mark









Thought Catalog

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email

Classy Blog - Fashion, Celebrities and Cosmetics
quotes on we heart it

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email

. | via Tumblr
quotes on we heart it

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email

So true..
quotes on we heart it

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email

‼❤
quotes on we heart it

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email

Woow.
quotes on we heart it

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare on LinkedInShare on TumblrSubmit to StumbleUponSave on DeliciousSubmit to redditShare via email