I decided to wait before going to fuck the ex in my rebellion against sexual deprivation. Shocking, I know.
I decided to take some time to think about what I want to do. Obviously my feelings for Mr. Jones are a factor, and I want to make sure I’m o.k. with whatever I decide to do. Or something. The thing is, orgasms help me think more clearly, so catch-22.
I spent the day ruminating about what I want and how I can possibly bring up the subject of opening the relationship. I’ve been driving myself crazy wondering what six months of celibacy would look like (a straight-jacket). if I decided to do it.
Then I remembered that we’ve been through this, and he did it for me.
This summer, while I was busy hemorraging for two months or more, Mr. Jones patiently waited first six weeks for it to stop, and then when it started again another six or eight weeks until I had surgery. So we had three or four months of no sex at the beginning of our relationship after we had already slept together a few times.
As I recall we didn’t even discuss it much, it wasn’t much of an issue. Of course we fooled around (blowjobs, anal, nipple play, mutual masturbation), but there was no PiV for weeks. So yes, I feel like a jerk making such a big deal about six months. But I’m not going to lie, either.
Then later this afternoon Mr. Jones callsed and we talk for a while. I finally get up the nerve to mention the celibacy thing. “I still can’t wrap my head around it,” I say. “Six months? Every so often it hits me and start having a stroke,” I joked.
“I know it’s a long time,” he says, not understanding what I’m saying.
“You don’t understand,” I say. And I think, why? We’ve talked about my sex drive before, and my…activity before we met.
“Before we met, sex was basically my hobby, this is just…” I trail off, unable to find an adjective that’s horrific enough to convey the deprivation this will cause.
“Your hobby?” he says, all judgmentally, but I stop him immediately. “Don’t even go there,” I say. “You know my past, and that I was only interested in fucking around when we met, you can’t be all horrified that I’m horny all the time, come on,” I reminded him. “We both said we were looking for something casual when we met,” I said.
So he blows me away with: “I know, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you tell me you can’t do it and you need to step out of the relationship,”
I almost screech. He caught me off guard.
“I’m not saying I want that, but I’m prepared,” he continues.
“I mean things are still new between us. Six months is a long time, it would be normal for you to say – ‘I can’t do this, I need to step out.’ ”
I’m stunned and breathless when he says this.
Stupidly, I’m petrified of having the very thing I’ve been trying to achieve placed before me on a silver platter with a cherry on top. I know he’s giving me an out because he loves me. But I love him too. There is no way I’m going to jump at this like a bitch in heat (which is basically what I am lately) without talking to him about it.
“We can play in other ways,” I say, “we don’t have stop all contact,” I say. “And, we have a toy [a really fun vibrator which I’m supposed to review here at some point], we can get more toys, this can get interesting.”
“I’m going to get jealous of the toy,” he says. And I love, LOVE that he said this, because it proves he’s being totally open and honest with me. I know he’s jealous of the toy, LOL from the way he looks when I mention it. And if he’s jealous of a toy (a pink curvy one) imagine another lover(s). Right.
“But why?” I ask.
“Because I always think that it should be me in there, giving you that pleasure,” he said. “Well if you are using the toy to give me pleasure, it’s an extension of you and you are ‘in there’ giving me pleasure,” I say, recalling and amazing multi-orgasmic clitoral massage he gave me with it. “There are many ways of giving pleasure.”
“Harrrumph.” Okay then.
“Like I said,” he continues, “if you want to step out I can understand.” Again, I’m so non-plussed I start babbling. Ah, wah, blah, blah — very sophisticated. When I was finally coherent again, I said. “You know how I feel about you, don’t you?” He does. We had a huge talk the night before this happened about our feelings. “I really, really don’t know if I can do six months,” I said. I don’t know…”
“All I ask is that you tell me beforehand. Tell me,” he said.
So it’s on the table…all I have to do is take a bite.
Image: The Agony of indecision by the-surreal-arts via deviantart.com. ©the-surreal-arts.