Making Love With My Gentlemen Part One

If you've not been reading me from the get go, maybe you don't understand how I've arrived in the middle of the maelstrom.  I circled around a good deal, dipping my toe in, but not ever swimming in 3D until last October when I kissed my first gentleman. 

He was lovely.  Well dressed, charming and suave, yet well familiar with the rougher parts of the neighborhood.  He'd been around.  Enjoyed both women and men.  Fathered children and suffered loss.  Danced.  Read, and written.  And he kissed me.  Repeatedly, in fact.  Kisses with tongues.  And he told me he wanted to **** me.  More than once.

It was a heady experience for a suburban matron who'd only ever had her husband as a lover.  It made me think that maybe, just maybe, I might be desirable.

When you've been married as long as I have, as determined to remain married for the sake of the children as long as I have, you tend to shut down and repress your sexuality.  At least, I did.  But something powerful cannot be denied forever.  Eventually, it's going to burst free of its bonds and erupt as intensely as the optic blasts that Scott Summers wields shoot out when his ruby quartz glasses come off.

I've not made a beeline for the bedroom with someone else.  But I've kissed a few more men.  Even a woman, the lovely Rascally Rabbit, though hers was on the cheek.  It's not that I wasn't tempted by her sweet pink lips.  But I am bashful, and I wasn't sure she liked me that way.  Had she kissed me, though, I'd have eagerly kissed back.  With tongues.  She is that lovely, that dear.  And though I'd never considered myself bi-curious before, with her, I found myself wondering more than a bit.  She is something special.

I'd submerged my love of sex for so many years with a mate who possessed a low libido.  I never denied him, and I often initiated, but was denied.  Hence I came to think of sex as a favour he granted, and I concluded it was so because I was no longer desirable.  We'd ****** a good deal while dating, and in the early years of marriage as well, but clearly I no longer inspired him.

When I became bedridden with pneumonia the winter of 2011, and fell down the rabbit hole of internet sex sites, things shifted.  I learned that others shared my yearnings.  And I was able to play with men just with my words, corresponding and feeling happy.  I realized I loved sex, and I missed it.  Unless they are lying to me, I've brought well over a hundred men to climax from my writing.  And at least 75% of them have done the same for me.  That's a lot of lovers.  I seem to be a bit of a ****.   But I'm a happy ****.

I don't think of my trip down the rabbit hole as a free fall descent.  It's more like once I slid down, I was in Charlie Dodgson's little room with the table holding a bottle and a cake.  He has wonderful imagery in that book, don't you think?  The sexual allegory couldn't be more blatantly obvious.  That dear man's literary invitations to "Drink Me" and "Eat Me" make me smile so much.

My point in referencing the bottle and the cake is to point out that I've made some choices.  I am not some helpless innocent, compelled to sink into depravity.  I've approached it deliberately, sipping and nibbling a bit at a time.  I am still largely an innocent.  I don't anticipate a visit to a glory hole in this lifetime.  At least, not as a participant.  It might be interesting to be an observer.  Wait, did I say that out loud?

No, I'm not entirely an innocent.  There is the matter of those kisses, you see.  And the planned liaison with one of the participants for further action.  That marks a sharp departure from the realm of cyber ******* into skin against skin.  I tell myself that is a step over the line, but I can still control the outcome.   Except I wonder.  My new pal RunToTheMoon commented "once you take that first step there is no turning back....the addiction is way too great."  He warns of worlds colliding and entropy resulting.  I can attest to the thermodynamic nature of those kisses.  I cannot stop, I cannot go back.  I don't want the heat to be wasted and dissipate.  Nor do I want to construct some sort of sexual supercollider.  That's a dangerous proposition. 
milkynips milkynips
46-50, F
6 Responses May 24, 2012

It is a nice thing to be referenced (by name or anonymously) in a Milky piece for sure ;)

lovely lady, anything involving rabbit holes can not be a bad thing! Just ask Moondancelady and get that wine chilled

Oh my... I have been referenced in one of your stories...<br />
<br />
my 15 minutes?<br />
<br />
singing...<br />
<br />
Peter Gabriel... Big Time!<br />
<br />
You know I only comment...because I truly care about you... and have been there as well! I also have every confidence you will find your path... and it shall be the right one.

It shall not be the last time you're referenced, fella. And I know why you comment. And I appreciate it more than you may ever know. Thank you, my friend.

Not really, but I do think that my perceptions are reasonably accurate. However you go forward, I hope that the path is rewarding to you.

Thank you, dear friend.

Not to tell you how to live your life, because it's yours, but I'll have to agree with your friend on this one, Milky. That first step, more often than not, is a death trap, and will lead to a train wreck. You say you know that it's a step over the line, and you can still control the outcome, but so do a lot of others. Then they risk that first step, and before they realize it, screeeech....CRASH, BOOM, aforementioned train wreck. Again, not tellin' you how to live your life, and I'm sorry if I sound harsh, but I'm just voicing my concern here. <br />
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Course, now that I think about it, I'm probably way out of line.

Oh, TK. You are not harsh, you are not out of line. You raise some good points.

I really cannot speak to the rest of the story, but I have no doubt in my mind that you are desirable.

Thank you, HStoner. You are a very nice man. :-D