Sweetie and I have embraced the pretty pink ropes and made them part of our regular sex routine. (No, the phrase “regular sex routine” doesn’t bother me; it just means we’ve so far avoided my biggest three-word fear: “lesbian bed death.”) I’m always delighted to stand in front of her, trying to distract her while she cooks up various arrangements of ropes. Lately, she’s taken to doing this naked, so all the better.
I had a dream Saturday night that she was concentrating the ropes on my thighs, so that’s what I asked her to do. Yesterday, after we went swimming and ate lunch in front of some Buffy episodes (I think Willow’s coming out episode makes her extra hot…) we got showered up and ready for ropes. She put the now-usual halter on me, with rope firmly on either side of my nipples for easy-fun pinching. Then she wove the ropes around each of my thighs, making a little decorative handle in front of each.
My thighs aren’t a part that I usually think about or concentrate on, except maybe during half-assed yoga, so they were soooo happy to have some attention. As I fell dreamily into bed and into Sweetie’s arms, I went a little more subby than I usually do with her. At home, usually the ropes make me fiery, switchy, animalistic, but this time, I was floating in a cloud. I became a cloud.
As she played with me on top, rubbing and pinching my nipples between the ropes I while I pinched hers, (This is always the point at which I remember, jeez, we have to get this lady some nipple clamps. I’ll take recommendations!) I pulled the thigh-handles back and forth, up and out. It made me wish that the phrase “opening up like a flower” weren’t corny and overused. The tug of the ropes on my inner thigh felt warm, vital, life-affirming. It gave me a deep sense of well-being, a pleasant yoga-like sensation. It also pulled me open wider. It’s hot as heck here so the fan was blowing on us, blowing onto my wetter and wetter and more and more yielding openings. It was a new kind of bliss.
And then she took hold of the handles, pulled me up towards her, up and down, up and down, a little bit like a swinging feeling, and then a total calm washed over and into me. It was like I was a parachute that had just opened and was floating down through the air gently, or I was a very happy jellyfish buoyed by a warm and loving sea. I was dissolved into happiness, closer to oneness with the universe than church or most other things have ever gotten me. (Note to self: keep not going to church. But that’s another post.)
Afterwards, when we were both relaxing with our books (beach book for me, Star Wars for her) and bowls of cereal, we talked about how cool it is that you can have this same body your whole life and still it keeps offering up surprises. I never would have guessed that my thighs could give me more than they already had. The best thing about this journey so far is the ways that my body has given me new gifts (If I’m ever brave enough, see the upcoming post entitled “Jeez, I Really Love My Butt.”) and has given Sweetie and me new ways to be close to each other. The word that keeps popping into my head is “miracle.”