Unsurprisingly, I Love the Clothing-Optional Beach, Part Three

We did get to bob around in the water with the poly meetup group, though they eventually got pulled away by the current. I don’t always know quite what to say, but I was glad to float and smile with them. I asked The Lady of the House if the beach is always this queer-friendly, and she explained that we were currently in the gay section, (the other side was the family section) so yeah. I oohed and aaaaaaaahed about getting to hug Sweetie in the water. did I really wait all this time to feel this way? What’s the MATTER with me?

The whole day was such a joy, and my worries about nipple-sunburn never materialized, staved off by lots of spray. (Big big thanks to the reader pal who suggested spray-on sunscreen how can I ever thank you?)

When we weren’t swimming, I lay on the blanket delighting in being exposed or sat up and people watched. It was similar to my first BDSM event because it gave me a chance to revel in the abundant variations of the human body. Sometimes we can get trapped in a simple schema of what a body should look like, a cookie-cutter frame built from TV and dumb fashion magazines, but the real diversity of bodies is so wonderful to behold. Every single person there, clothed or not, looked flushed, sun-kissed, relaxed. I am so grateful that people were generous enough to share their bodies with my happy eyeballs.

And then, of course, there’s being seen. After a while it dawned on me that I was surrounded by penises, that there were hundreds of men there, gay, straight, bi, poly, pan, omni, everything, and they could all look at me if they wanted to. YAY!  The point of this beach isn’t to get turned on, I don’t think (Guys, can you tell me how you avoid it? If I had a thingie it would have been sticking straight up for seven hours. I would have had to consult a physician.) but I got turned on. I struck a pose and when I noticed a guy looking, I’d meet his gaze and soak it up. I can’t believe I felt so free and safe. What a gift.

Of course I had to have some personal time in the car on the way home.

The next day, I cried a lot. I cried happy tears over how beautiful and generous everyone was, I cried sad tears for how long we’d waited to try it, for the sensations we’d missed until then. I cried lucky tears for feeling so accepted, and I cried wistful heartbroken tears for not getting to share the place with the Mayor of Kittentown. Sweetie held and patted me and told me I’m good. She assured me that we could go back soon and of course we’ve got it on the calendar.

As much of a revelation as it was to be there with Sweetie, I really want to find the right guy to go with, too. Well, I don’t want to find a new one, I want to go with MKT, but since that’s not possible, I put up a personal on the beach’s FetLife group under the heading of “Seeking a Nice Naked Guy.” Lo and behold, plenty of dudes would be glad to go with me. Their naked selves are more intimidating on the screen than they are in person (Maybe it’s the screen’s proximity to my face?) but once I take a few days to get over being overwhelmed by their responses, I look forward to making some new friends.

Unsurprisingly, I Love the Clothing-Optional Beach, Part Two

As we set off down the path to the beach, “hugging the dunes,” as the directions had instructed us, I noticed kids heading down to their beach with their families. I was weirded out for a second.

“Wait, what, there’s kids? At the nude beach?”

Sweetie, bless her heart, said “So?”

“So…they’ll never learn to be ashamed of their bodies? They won’t end up having to learn to love themselves at 37? I hate them.”

We laughed and that was the end of being weirded out.

I found Sweetie a perfect peach-colored shell as soon as our feet hit the sand. The dunes were roped off to protect piping plover nests as well as a few other endangered species. As we got to the end of the path, We saw a sign that said “Attention: Beyond this point you may encounter nude sunbathers.” We looked around for the spot where the poly meetup was happening, but no one had set up yet. Plus we were in wifie mode, so we made our own space down closer to the water.

It had rained on the way in, we weren’t sure if the clouds would lift, but as we settled into our blanket, the sun started to peek through and the air warmed up. As we were slathering on sunscreen, I felt momentarily hesitant to take my top off, but then I figured it made no sense having to sunscreen twice. I wiggled out of my pink flowery bathing suit top and there I was. Unfortunately, it was that time of the month and I didn’t feel right about showing off a string-tail, so my bottoms would have to stay on this time. (Except, because I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation, in the water…)

Sweetie is not a showoff like me, but she likes showing me off. She seemed very happy to be looking up at naked sunny me and spraying SPF 70 on my nipples every so often. As we sat reading our books, I saw some members of the poly contingency stroll past us to the water. They were beautiful, but I wasn’t ready to say hi just yet. This was a day that I felt every inch of my half-introversion. I watched them walk into the water and get such big smiles on their faces. As with all lovey-dovey people who are comfortable with themselves, I admired them and wasn’t sure I could aspire to belong with them. A guy I’d snuggled with at my first snuggle party was there, as was the Lady of the House from the Cuddle Party back in June. Later, I’d get up the courage to go over and say hello, but just seeing them was a joy for now.

Sweetie and I got into the water a little ways down the beach from them. The waves were little more than swells, but the current pulled strongly to the (I think) north. The water was cool and smoothly, clearly green. As we eased our way in, a friendly man came to encourage us: “You’ve just got to take the plunge, just dive in, after that you’ll feel fabulous.”

He was so nice but as he stood there encouraging us, I was inching away. I knew that my nipples would get really hard from the chilly water and I wasn’t quite ready for a stranger to see that up close, first thing in the morning. He was in his fifties, bald, with a big cheery grin, and his penis was cute and shrunken from the water, bigger than an outie belly button, but just as pink and charming. Oh penises, how I’ve missed you, my new friends.

Once the man swam off, I propelled myself into Sweetie’s arms. This feeling was a complete revelation, something I didn’t know I was longing for. Ever since I was a kid, I’d watch couples in the surf and hope that I could someday find a love to hold me in the waves. It was such a gift, to hold her and be held in the water and not worry that we might be disturbing someone, that we might be disturbed by some homophobic comment. It was deeply gratifying.

I slipped away from her (not too far, though the current pulled me) and pulled off my bathing suit bottoms. The cool water moving up between the lips of my vagina was difficult to describe to her—she couldn’t understand how it was any different from being in the water with a bathing suit on. It was a cool, fresh, opening up, like the other day with the thigh ropes but more refreshing. As the water filled up that little space, I felt delighted and loved, elemental, at home. I picked up my feet, put my arms out, and floated on the swells, eyes closed, boobs and hoo-ha to the sky. I felt reborn, perfect, like every real worry was just a silly memory. I felt the way that I was born to be.

Next: Happy to be around so many penises.

(Again, sorry...) Song of the Week: The Soundtrack of Falling in Love With Myself

This morning I was walking to work listening to this song for the jillionth time, and it made me realize I kinda have a crush on my new self sometimes.

Dear kinky/poly/nakedy self, before you came into my life, I missed you so bad.

I'll put the original and the Roots version, just because.

Unsurprisingly, I Love the Clothing-Optional Beach! Part One

Last Saturday was one of my top three favorite adventures so far (along with public fireplay and Sweetie’s knack for ropes.) I love the feeling that I get sometimes that this was what I was made to do. I’ve liked all the time I’ve spent at regular beaches, having a nice time but sometimes feeling self-conscious, not getting to show Sweetie the (mostly-chaste) affection that straight couples always feel free to show in the ocean. I honestly didn’t know how much I was missing.

But before I get into the Edenic delightfulness of the day, I have to confess a few sad things about it:

At the moment, Sweetie and I are unsure of the future of our relationship. For all the progress we’ve made, we still argue badly and cause each other a great deal of pain. She worries a lot that I’m not really hers, that all of our co-adventures and connections don’t mean anything, that everything wonderful between us can be taken away, and that causes her to lash out sometimes, which scares me, which leads to stupid marathon fights. For all of my work this year, I still feel ashamed of liking men and wanting to submit to them, and I often feel like she is judging me  about them. I spend a lot of time feeling lonely, and so does she. We’re isolated and it’s not good. We’re together for the time being, being as kind and loving as we know how, but we don’t know if we can make it. One way or another, I would like an end, or even a reduction, of the sadness and tension between us.

The other sad thing is that the clothing-optional beach made me really, really miss the Mayor of Kittentown. Though he wasn’t there that day, he frequents the same beach and I’d always thought we’d go there together, I always thought that would be our adventure.  The feeling of my body being warm and bare and loved and accepted reminded me of what it sometimes felt like to be next to him. I feel like a failure for not figuring out a way to be with him, for not being enough to convince him to be more flexible about monogamy. When he told me he’s going there next weekend with Monogamous Girl, I felt the first deep, dark stabs of jealousy that I’ve ever felt about him—I guess it’s good that I don’t usually feel jealousy about someone until he is totally lost to me.

I wish that I could have shared a day at the beach with him, could have felt his bare body there, happy next to mine. I’m sure that I can find another naked guy, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling regretful. It has, however, spurred me into action—it’s time to somehow find a way to start dating/playing with guys again. I can’t keep looking back.

That being said, let’s start the story of our happy beach day. Sweetie and I got up early, ate our customary strawberry waffles in front of a Gilmore Girls episode, and were packed up and on the road by 6:30. I drove the first leg, bleary-eyed and shuffling through folk songs. I didn’t know what to expect from the day, just knew I needed a wide horizon and a change of scenery.  Sweetie worked on the same page of crossword puzzles that she has been working on all summer, an activity that makes me bubble up with love for her.

As we neared the beach, it really was like driving into an Eden. It felt magical as we turned down deep green and sandy beach roads, spotting egrets, cat birds, butterflies. The place felt redemptive—I doubted whether I could deserve something as beautiful as this, yet here it was. Despite warnings that the parking lot fills up quickly, we found a space and parked.

My body felt the relief of the place well before we were in the nude sunbathing area. As soon as I changed into my bathing suit, I felt myself become soft and sweet, free. My thighs, my shoulders, my feet felt loved. I felt Sweetie’s body relax as well. Free of the shame and tension inside us and between us, we could spend the day being our best/real selves, what a relief. We followed the happy crowd down to the beach.

Next: Self-Conscious for about Ten Seconds.

Sweetie’s Knack for Ropes Part Four: God Bless the Crotch Rope

This is the first, but hopefully not the last, piece of smut that begins: I got home from church and we had omelets. We read our books in bed for a while—me with my chick lit book and her with a scary alternate telling of the Christmas story. When we’d finished our breakfast and coffee, it was time to get started.

Probably like a lot of long-married folks, I don’t always get naked for Sweetie—I am super-averse to being chilly. But even though I’d only just turned the heat on, I drew the blinds, stood in the middle of the room, and stripped all the way down. I was cold, but a little bit of discomfort actually made me more turned on. Her hands were cold as she moved the ropes over me, as she stopped to play with my nipples a little. I squirmed and laughed and she felt aggressive, just enough more aggressive for it to be hot.

A few weeks ago at ropes class with the Gentleman, the teacher lady told us to always make sure there are knots in the “crotch rope”—“They’re gonna hit something.” she said helpfully. As she ties the crotch rope to the ropes around my waist, she tested the crotch rope for where the knot would land—right on my clit. Sweetie is a rope genius. A…smell started wafting up from me; I was so much more than ready. I looked at myself in the mirror, the first time I’d been able to do that with ropes on. She took some pictures, making me even more turned on. I had a rosy glow and so did she.

Cycles and circumstances had led her to be the less-taken-care-of of the two of us for the past few weeks, so I was determined that she would come first. I couldn’t resist climbing on, though, seeing what the crotch knot could do for the both of us.

As you know, my sex drive has been dodgy for the past few weeks, elusive, bound up in fear and sadness, but as I placed that knot between us, I felt slutty doors open in my heart and brazen sunlight shine in. It wasn’t just our relationship that was shining, but my relationship to everything. I was ready to open up again.

I played roughly with her breasts, the way I love feeling guys do. She has very pretty boobs, pale and almost as big as mine, but with little delicate-looking nipples. They only look delicate, though, she likes them pulled and pinched and bit and I let the aggression out on them, enough to bruise a little.

I hung my breast down into her mouth and she sucked, playing with the other one. All the while I was moving on top of her, any more and she wouldn’t’ve been the first to come. I backed up and played with her a little, she felt so good, a few weeks away is way too long. I was so glad to be back there, slick, warm, and in love. I pushed my fingers inside her and she moaned. I grit my teeth, bore down, and fucked her as hard as I could, kissed her, felt like we were the sex goddesses of my dreams. She felt so good, her skin glowed pink with happiness, she looked (like she always does) like an angel.

I got a little cramp in my leg and climbed down, lay by her side and finished her off. Then it was my turn. I didn’t want it to be over too soon, so I asked her to concentrate on my nipples, she pinched them gently in rhythm, rubbed, played, and kissed them. As she played up top, she ran her arm under the top of the crotch rope so that it pulled hard into my butt cracks and the knot worked my clit. I could feel everything at once. I came, loud and jubilant.

I wanted to just turn over and spoon, but I had to get up for her to take the ropes off. As we snuggled down into spooning, I didn’t drift off the way I usually do. I felt energized, inspired.

A little while later, we got up and drove to the nature center for a walk. It was a perfect spring day that smelled like wisteria. There was an art installation in the woods—someone had knitted cozies for the trees. We sat on a sunny bench and birdwatched. There weren’t too many, but we did see a tufted titmouse. We started to feel like we just might make it.

***Writing this down in my notebook this morning made me so turned on that I had to take some, as we call it in our house, “personal time” before I went to my Environmental Conservation final. Lots of fantasies I’d been afraid to look at, about her and others, came rushing back and I just had the best time. I felt back to being an adorable unicorn again. I’d been worried that my project wasn’t getting anywhere, but this feels like a breakthrough. ***

Another Song of the Week: Something Beautiful

For the looming presences still looming a little:

Song of the Week: Beautiful

Can't wait to murder this song at queer karoke tonight. It's goin' out to all the bottoms. 

Sweetie's Knack for Ropes Part One: A Pretty Picture and Two Lists

Sweetie and I had a great time this weekend with the ropes both at a play party and at home. I can't wait to write a whole bunch of smut about her, but for today, just two lists:

What She Learned Online and in Class Over the Weekend:

Simple Shinju
No-Knot Two-Column Weave
Double Butterfly Knot
Somerville Bowline Knot

What Goes in My Suitcase

change of clothes (In this case, pink pajamas)
pack of fresh socks
water
pretty ribbons
my own fluffy silver blanket

Yay, I Inspired a Poem!

One of my dearest poet pals wrote a poem about yesterday's post. I'm glad something pretty could come out of such an ugly story!