I missed seduction. I realized it last night when his hand first brushed against my thigh, almost accidentally, then my shoulder. It’s not the orgasms or the fucking or the sex that I missed so much, though it’s some of that too, but mostly it’s been the seduction, the play, the release, the flow of sexual tension and energy from one body to another.
When he motioned with his finger for me to turn my back to him and ran his fingernails up and down my spine, slowly, just testing my responses with a wartenberg pinwheel and then a small dagger, I felt it creep up on me: that desire to feel and express. I liked the feeling of my own muscles and joints moving, of my eyes closing and my neck tilting and extending to give him more surface area around my neck and shoulders. It felt like coming home, like being cared for and the energy came in waves. Especially when he sidled up behind me and pressed his body against mine. That feeling. That feeling. That feeling was what I needed.
I won’t say the flogging and the spanking and the crop and toys and things didn’t help, oh they did. It was fun to push my limits and feel my body and soul expand and contract with every hit. It was good to not have to think about looking him in the eye and being awkward. It was nice to glance down and see the tips of his incredibly hot, black-leather, combat boots in that wide stance. It was amazing that one time when he threw some heavy flogger hits and I heard his breath struggle to catch up with his motions.
But I liked it best when he pulled my head back and pressed his body against my back and me against the wall and just didn’t say anything. Just let that hang there for a second before stepping back. I can see so much potential. The way I could practically feel a hard-on developing even though he wasn’t wearing his cock was such an intense feeling.
Things like this are why I’m starting to believe in the woo and the energy and the ephemeral. I can’t find any other way to determine whether a scene or a person or an activity will click with me. Sometimes the exact same motions with the wrong partner fall short. They aren’t satisfying in that same leave-my-body-humming-the-next-day way. And sometimes i feel bad about that. Sometimes my ingrained upbringing in monogamy says well how can you love someone if they don’t check all your boxes, but I can and I do and I just need other people to check the ones they don’t.
I need a sadist to help me discover my masochist side.
I need a dominant to help me figure out how maybe this submission thing can even be possible.
I need a lover to return my confidence to full-bloom.
I need a person to call my own.
I think perhaps maybe just kind of sort of a teeny tiny little bit I might have found the first.
But it far too early to tell.
For now I’ll just stop trying to not grin.