(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.