apples of my eye

Both my daughters have boyfriends and I'm cool with that. Maria is 17 and Christie is 13. Frankly, this house runs a lot smoother when everyone has a man (or boy!) to smile about. Skews the hormones from major attitude to happiness which is a big relief in a house of 3 women. We also go through a helluva lot of toilet paper, but that's another story.

Rob's daughter Jennifer is 14 and has had boyfriend adventures for a couple years now, so we often compare notes. We also tease each other about what these young ladies are doing with their boyfriends. I've never fretted over Maria's relationships because we've talked openly about sex since she was a wee one. I never overreact to what she tells me, nor do I condemn her for her actions, because they really have been responsible.

But it was only recently that my baby Christie started referring to her boyfriend as buff, hot, and mentioned how they stare into each others' eyes. O...K...

When I related this to Rob he laughed at me and said, well the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it? Was this supposed to make me feel better? Considering I was only a year older than she is now when I lost my virginity, I have some concerns. Also because Christie and I are like 2 peas in a pod. She looks like me, acts like I did at that age (and a little even now), and has some of the same weaknesses as I did/do. So what's a mama to do?

Lee cont'd.

I wanted to know, what did Lee think of me?

To find out I had to let him close enough to see the real me. We spent the first day doing a lot of talking. It was a crash course in getting to know each other. Although we were hitting it off amazingly well all day, it wasn't until we said goodbye at 9 that night that we hugged. He felt good. Solid. I held onto him beyond the norm of a friendly hug. I eventually asked, "Am I hugging too long?" to which he replied, "No, I've been thinking about getting close to you all day." I smiled all the way home.

Day 2 was more challenging. I had only been able to sleep for 4 hours the night before, after my adrenaline levels returned to normal. Shit, this was exciting! Plus I'd put more food and alcohol into my system than usual and it was rebelling a bit. Nevertheless, I leapt into day 2 with abandon. After business lunches and meetings were out of the way, we found ourselves alone in his hotel room again.

He made his first move by sitting on the couch close to me. I leaned against him to show my approval. This was my cue to get some questions answered. When we were talking about our own living arrangements, I mentioned that I couldn't imagine him being alone. He said that he dated, but nothing serious because his plate was pretty full with business and his daughter being with him every other week. What I really wanted to know was if we lived in the same city, would he date me. I asked it, just like that. He kind of laughed at first. When I pressed for an answer, he said of course.

Over the next hour or so, he touched my leg, my hand, commented on my painted toenails, I touched his leg, laid my head on his chest, asked to rub his back, felt his muscular back and neck, let my fingers wander through his hair a little, kissed the back of his neck, was pulled on top of him (sitting, straddling him), got groped a little through my clothes, but we never kissed.

I don't mind so much that we didn't kiss. Maybe that was his way of staying detached. (I'm sure that it helped me.) Anyway, it was his words, not his body, that I wanted to take away from this whole experience. And I got what I wanted. At one point in the steamy groping he said you must be-- then he hesitated, searching for the right words, and continued --a very beautiful lover.

There was no response from me. It was no time to be modest, or to confirm his words. I was simply appreciative. He commented on how soft the skin on my chest was, and that my body was beautiful, very tight he said, with strong hands and strong lower lumbar. (Typical speak considering his line of work.)

He expressed a couple times that he wanted to lay me on the bed and just have his way with me. Gentleman that he was, he respected my thanks but no thanks wishes. I'd said that I couldn't do that to myself. To me, sex is very special, even sacred, and knowing that we couldn't have a relationship, there was no reason to experience that joy only to feel the loss of it when he went back home. He understood.

The next day he came to my office to say goodbye. He gave me a gift with a card that says Thanks for a wonderful visit. It was great getting to know you. You have wings.

into the wild

It's amazing what dating a nature boy will do to a girl. I was pretty much a homebody for most of my adult years. I lived a typical domestic life for the 18 years I was married and raising my kids. But a couple years ago when I left my marriage, and Rob entered my life, I was exposed to his world. He loves the outdoors, and sports, and has been physically fit (like hot) his whole life. His body is a heavenly reflection of his need to be active. Lucky me. La de da de da.

One thing we do regularly is hike. We are surrounded by some of nature's finest work in this area, and he takes me to all the cool places--often where others won't go because it's too much work to get there. I love being in a secluded spot with him. It brings up all sorts of feelings--gratitude, contentment, sexual desire. Something about doing it with the animals, I dunno.

Last weekend we found a great spot to have sex. Big flat rocks were set perfectly so that he could sit with his back against a tree. I climbed on top facing him and lowered myself onto his, ahem. That tree was the bonus though. I was able to wrap my hands around it and use it to work myself up and down quite nicely. Things got pretty wet in the woods that day. Chipmunks skittered by. A few leaves fell on us. I love the smell of fall in the air.

Lee lingers

I'm thinking of Lee today. Tomorrow's his birthday.

Lee is a hot, successful, business associate-cum-friend* who lets me flirt endlessly with him. He's one of those guys with a flashy smile that carries himself with confidence and knows how to wear a pair of jeans and good shoes. Unfortunately Lee lives in a glittering metropolis 3000 miles from here. But he visited our company/town/(me!) a couple weeks ago and I took him on a whirlwind tour of the very unique region where I live and work. He was all mine for 2 days. Before he left I told him I would miss him. And I was right. For the record, I also miss the smell of his grey J. Crew sweater and the thrill of being seen with him.

I didn't sleep with Lee while he was here, though I easily could have. We'd spent hours in his hotel room and drank enough to lose inhibitions and underwear. But sex wasn't what I was wanted from him. Aside from the obvious excitement of spending time with a sexy guy, what I really wanted was to see who he was. I knew Lee the entrepreneur, the guru. But I wanted to see the personal side, the vulnerability, the feelings. And I wanted to see myself in him. Who did he think I was?

to be continued...

*get your mind out of the gutter...here's what it used to mean:
cum /kʌm, kʊm/ –preposition
with; combined with; along with (usually used in combination): My garage-cum-workshop is well equipped.

there's nothing wrong with vanilla

I'm not terribly ashamed to say that it was only a few weeks ago that I first heard the term vanilla sex. I stumbled on it while leafing through a magazine one afternoon at work. Deciding to poll the girls in my office, 5 of 7 who are younger than I, I discovered that my lingo was out of date. Oh well. That didn't bother me (I know where my talents lie). What I found somewhat disturbing was that they scoffed at the idea of vanilla sex, as if it was inadequate or boring.

Now, at the risk of sounding judgmental, I must pipe in and say that they haven't tried hard enough if they think that good old plain sex is boring. In my opinion, we ought to master the basics before turning to toys or games for satisfaction.

Have you ever noticed how the missionary position never goes out of style? It's because that's how humans fit best together. It feels awesome, physically and emotionally. Man on top gives him the best leverage to ram as hard and fast or as slow as you want. Being face to face, able to kiss, gaze into each other's eyes, and talk, is by far the most intimate position. And to feel his hot bare skin against yours, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, sweat to sweat.....awe...some. I love to feel the weight of my man on top of me, and submit to his wildest desires (which are also mine). It also lets you control each other's orgasm, because you have such great access to front and back at the same time. You can squeeze or prod asses, tease nipples, and kissing, did I mention that?!? Who the hell needs Rocky Road?

sacred sex

I am blessed with regular trips to heaven. It's not just that I love sex. In fact, speaking for myself here, I feel that sex without deep emotion is rather a waste of time. (Unless one feels the need to masturbate.) Having finally escaped a numb existence, aka 'a dead marriage', I returned to my former life of seeking and enjoying sex. Just out of my marriage, new 'old' love Cam said he'd always thought of me as a sex goddess. I laughed at the time, having completely forgotten who I was, but soon saw my return to that role.

Cam will be the subject of many future posts, but today I need to talk about Rob. Rob is the happy beneficiary of my renewed passion. Rob and I go places during sex that neither of us have ever been. The intensity of our emotion completely envelops us soon after our bodies touch. It's waaay bigger than both of us. I often feel the presence of God when I'm making love to my man. I know God's smiling on us because we are truly celebrating LOVE. We are celebrating God.

Last night after Rob came in me, we found ourselves face to face staring into each other's eyes and souls. I was in such a zone, as was he, and I felt we were truly one. There was nothing between us, and everything between us. It was only us, and God, of course. This is sacred sex.

I emailed Rob my thoughts today because I simply didn't want to let that moment go, and I hoped he was feeling the same. He likes to hear my thoughts. I tried to put that experience into words. And this is what he wrote back:

It's the pot of gold, the rainbow, the sound of the birds and the smell after a fresh rain all in one, plus we get to go there again.

I say it's the alpha and omega.

Birth of a Blog

Wow. It really did only take 5 minutes to give birth to my first blog. If only childbirth had been so simple. Or maybe a good thing it wasn't. Or I'd have kids coming out of my ears. Gives a whole new meaning to 'prolific writer'.

People say I'm a good writer. I think I am. I've been called "the wordsmith", "the word lady", "queen of words". I do love words. Written, spoken, sung. Words move me. And I have an affinity for writing. It sure beats speaking. Words once spoken can rarely be erased. At best they can be edited, feels more like back pedalling sometimes. Time is on my side when I write and that's why, in general, I'd rather write than speak when trying to express myself. Does anyone feel like me? Are we just scaredy cats?

I've always desired to be understood. Maybe it was an attempt at understanding myself that made me journal obsessively from age 16 to almost 40. I finally kicked the habit because I was driving myself so hard to do it that I stopped getting anything out of it. To this day, though, I find it pretty cool that every day of my life from 16 to 30-something is documented on paper. And between you and me, those were some pretty juicy years.

So I'm back to it. Can I do it without being borderline OCD? Will I get something out of it? I'd like to hear your thoughts about my thoughts. And this seems like a good place to start. Welcome to my rebirth.