(I doodled this while I was on the phone with Mr. Sweetheart. Not sure why all of my doodles end up vagina-shaped…)
***This is the very first correction I’ve ever posted (no, he didn’t ask me to) and maybe the best correction ever: Says Mr. Sweetheart: “I have never once, in all my life, worn underwear under my kilt.” Noted! Sosorry.***
And now back to the tent: I was pleased and flattered by their pillow talk. Mr. Shiny Eyes told me that I feel really good to him and that my insides have nice contractions. He said we should spend more time together and I was happily surprised to hear him say that. They went back and forth a little bit about who lives further away, and by how much, and I reminded them that I’m off all summer. So who knows!
Then we played my favorite favorite FAVORITE (even more favorite than Apples to Apples) game: “What if I tried to get away?’ I tried to wiggle out from between them and they descended on me, holding my whole body down with theirs. Sometimes every limb was pinned! Sometimes in these kinds of situations I try to resist, but the struggling is really part of the fun. In this case, it wasn’t so much wrestling as it was futile attempts to fight a blanket of strength.
There’s such a relief that comes from being held down lovingly, a transcendence to it, like I’m kicking all of my fears’ asses and ironically like I can take a break from the day-to-day struggle of being alive. The relief and joy came from my trust in them and the aliveness and safety of it-of knowing that I won’t just float up off the earth.
(Sweetie has a similar explanation for why I like ropes so much—I don’t have to hold myself together for that little while, so I can just relax.)
(My sense of my own existence has always been a little fragile, if that makes any sense at all.)
It was almost time for Mr. Sweetheart to fuck me, but the game continued. He placed himself between my legs and held my arms down by the wrist. He is wiry-strong like an animal. I told him not to leave bruises that my students would notice and he loosened up his grip a little but pressed down with his arms all the more so there was still no way that I could’ve gotten away. (Unless, of course, I wanted to.)
As I pulled and strained, his heart beat fast against my stomach. That stopped time a little, the perfect closeness of it.
Then he leaned up and got the condom on. While he was doing that, Mr. Shiny Eyes played with my clit, and my ridiculous moans started up again. Sex with Mr. Sweetheart was slow and warm. At one point he said “Well, this is lovely.” and that it exactly what it was. I looked up into his face and felt safe and known, in exactly the right place.
Mr. Shiny Eyes looked, petted, and complimented. He’d found himself a flavored condom and I gave it a try. I was so happy to have his dick in my mouth, but not so happy with the artificial vanilla flavor. He rearranged himself so that I could reach to squeeze with my hand instead.
Here’s my (entirely unsurprising) confession: While Mr. Sweetheart was inside me, the warmth spread all the way up to my heart and I got feelings for him. It’s just that fast sometimes and just that simple. I knew it might be a what-happens-at-the-festival-stays-at-the-festival situation. I was and am ready to let the experience stand on its own. But part seven, friends, is where I get attached, where I started to hope that more would happen. And since we’ve been in touch almost every day since, maybe it already has.