Change, part 2

The thing with finally talking to someone you've shut out of your life for awhile is that all that angst, all the rage, all the worry and sadness have an outlet.  They get channeled to the person on the other end of the conversation and suddenly two people who were raging at each other, who were nose to nose figuratively speaking, are suddenly tired.  Exhausted.  And curious.

So Satan and I had conversations.  He letting out his vitriol in emails, me letting the pounding surf of his anger crash against me until he was just done.  And then, in my quiet way, I raged back until I couldn't rage anymore.  Slowly, so slowly....those conversations stopped being about us hating, and started being about us just talking.  We'd have careful talks about our lives, friends, family, and how we were.  Careful talks that never said anything meaningful, and never talked about sex.  Boring talks.  Talks about how he was going to leave Maine and move to Boston.

One day out and about in Portland, I decided I couldn't let him leave the state without having the courage to say goodbye.  I had to pee like the dickens, and though I could have stopped anywhere, I called him and asked if I could use his bathroom.  He said yes, that he was packing, and that I was welcome.  I went, and seeing him in person was like a physical blow to the gut.  So beautiful, and so untouchable now.  We sat in his room as he folded and packed his pants, and sneakers.  And we talked about things I can't even remember now.  I stayed a bit, but had to get home for my daughter.  I let him know I had to scoot, and he walked me down to the door.  I remember turning back and trying to say...something, but failing to find the words.  He let me off the hook then, and just moved in, held my face in both his hands, and kissed me softly.  My eyes watered, and fat tears slid down my cheeks knowing he was leaving, and I bolted.

Seeing him, smelling him on every level that a mate scents her male was vicious.  My beast, which had been roaring already, went ballistic.  It was a physical pain inside me screaming for release.  Like a shape shifter that can't actually change to let her beast out, so mine was clawing against my innards.  I hosted a party and played with a boatload of men, each one merely ramping up my need to release another notch, and nothing coming even CLOSE to the level of release that I needed.  Every orgasm I gave myself just made me more frustrated.  Nothing, it seemed, could calm the beast.

Jachin and I, during this time, had resumed sexual relations.  His growing concern for my inability to feed my beast led him to volunteer his services in attempting to fill the role.  Scared he wouldn't last, he took a pill, or two.  He fucked me until he came like a rutting beast, and then continued to try and fuck me with his hand.  But his heart, literally, couldn't take it and we had to stop and attend to him.  Realizing that The Beast was going to kill someone should I not adequately attend to her, I kept trying.  A few days later, after being teased by my pet endlessly that morning, I laid in my bed and tried to masturbate.  Jachin came by and sat in the bed with me trying to help.  I came, hard, but I could feel the tight coil inside knowing it hadn't been satisfied at all....it had merely gone up another notch.  Jachin tried to help me rub another one out, and I busted out crying, begging him not to touch me because it just got worse and worse.  Jachin, worried for real now, did the only thing he could think of.  He called Satan.

Keep in mind that since things ended badly between Satan and Jachin with the roommate situation, Jachin absolutely HATES Satan.  He has said that if he saw Satan on the side of the road riding his bike while he was driving, that he would swerve just enough to pick him off. Yet he was moved enough by his concern for me to call the one person he thought could solve the problem, regardless of the fact that it made him want to puke acid through the phone.  They made arrangements to bring Satan up to Maine that weekend, mid-May.

My pet drove down to pick up Satan.  He left around 11 in the morning, and I saw them drive in around 8:30 that night.  I was so pissed at the time warp it took to get from Massachusetts to Maine that I slammed my bedroom door in Satan's face.  He was in high spirits though, and wouldn't be deterred.  I felt as skittish as a colt, not knowing where to look, heart beating in palpitations, mouth open to breathe because I felt breathless.  He had that look in his eye, that his prey was target marked and locked.  He came to me and enveloped me in his massive hug, his lips descending to mine, not letting my nervousness make me bolt, or turn me into a shrew.  He took my hand and led me upstairs, to the spare bedroom we'd be using for the night.

He laid me on the bedroll on the floor, opened my thighs and settled his mouth on my quim.  And I could breathe again because my mate was home.  He licked my cream, lapped at me like I was nectar and sweet syrup. And he made these satisfied beast noises, grunts, and sighs, and small growls.  His hands roamed my body, clutching my thighs in a death grip, then gripping my tummy, holding my breasts.  He loves my rolls, loves to hold and squeeze them, sink his fingertips into my fluffiness.  He pushed me over my first small orgasm, and the coil unraveled, not to let me off the hook, but to perform as my master expects...with frenzy and abandon.

He climbed back up my body like the predator he is, lifted my legs up and back, and pressed his cock into my hole.  Slow, steady pressure moving all that dick inside me.  It was tight, it was beautiful, and my pussy contracted all around him.  He didn't stop pressing inward until the head of his cock had bumped my cervix.  Then he withdrew and slammed it home.  Again.  Again.  Again.....over and over until he triggered my spot, made the rain squirt out of my body.  It was so intense, that it overwhelmed me emotionally and all the rage I had carefully tucked away from him erupted.  I pummeled his chest repeatedly, screaming my hate out, releasing my anger and disappointment and hurling it at his body, which never missed a beat in fucking me to another orgasm.  Tired of being punched and hit, he grabbed my fists and lifted them over my head kissing my lips and sucking my neck while he continued that shattering rhythm.

Flipping me over to my knees, he opened up my ass for his pleasure.  He still had a hold of my hands, holding my wrists behind me while he fucked my ass and made me cum like a ban-sidhe.  I was filthy from his handiwork, and he had no qualms, and no mercy.  He demanded my submission, demanded I answer his age old question...."Who do you belong to?"  "NOBODY YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, I BELONG TO NO ONE. I AM ALONE"  He grabbed my hair then, hauling my ear up to his mouth "You are NOT alone, and you will ALWAYS belong to ME.  I will NEVER, EVER, let you go again."  He sank his teeth into the meat of my back, and roared out his release.  We both collapsed for a moment, he rolled me onto my back, and ate me some more.  By the whimper in my voice and the cadence of my noises, he knew I hadn't given him my big orgasm.  His hand crept between my thighs, and two fingers went into my pussy, stroking in there and hitting the trigger point. He was sweating like a madman, and fucking my pussy with his whole hand.  It bloomed then, like a white hot poker radiating in circles from my core to the tips of my fingers, and even after I fell limp, he pushed me towards the abyss again.  And just that quickly, I climbed to another peak, higher, more devastating, that destroyed me on every level.  I hated him, I loved him, I needed him.  And I thought briefly, could I just use him for sex?

Tucked into his body, held safe in his arms, I slept the sleep of the dead for the first time in many many months.  No bad memories, no regrets, no sadness, no emptiness, no.....beast.  At last and by the mercy of god, Lilith was sated, and quiet.

Managing Men

It occurred to me, late last month, that somewhere along the line Malcolm and I were no longer just a couple. For those that read my blog about my times with Ian, I'm sure you could sense that it was way more than just a casual good time. So could Malcolm, which was why he had an issue with the very first blog. He knew that Ian was someone I could relate to and heartily enjoy on so many levels, and that first blog struck him hard because it was the first time the object of my literary adoration wasn't him. However, after talking to him at length, we decided that Ian was someone that both of us adored, albeit in different ways. And our relationship with Ian, collectively, has grown closer over the last couple of months.



Granted that alot of Malcolm's relationship with Ian is vicariously thru me, as he doesn't have as much free time to dilly dally chatting with him as I do. Ian has been there for me to while away the lonely days when both child and lover were gone doing their own things, and I was home trying to dodge housework. He was there to chat and joke with me, to call me up and talk, maybe phone sex a little, and plan on some together time. Ian's obvious respect for Malcolm is always present, though, and the two men have their own bond that I witnessed aboard the cruise. Malcolm genuinely likes Ian, and thinks him an able, competent, and demented friend. Someone who can literally match him freak for freak, and not get bent out of shape about too much. Malcolm's tastes run to the extreme in many things, and he's found a willing cohort to help him pull off his kink, much to my delight or chagrin, depending on what they've plotted on. I love watching them together, knowing that they are both sexual powerhouses. Knowing they are both the envy of women that see them. Knowing that they are both mine. Yes, I'm a greedy girl, and my need to have them both knows no boundaries.



Malcolm and I would not be averse to living with Ian, to cementing the relationship into a genuine "trouplehood". We've joked and chatted about it as we lay basking in the afterglow of sex. However, since Malcolm and I can't even get OURSELVES living together at this point, moving Ian up here seems a distant dream. Not that he'd come anyway....he feels the north is just, well, too far north for him. LOL. And then there is the matter of our children to worry about, but it's only in theory right now. And a wonderful warm theory it is. Watching them together on the cruise was a joy. I saw Malcolm unconsciously look for Ian and go in search of him when he wasn't within sight. I saw the camaraderie, the male bonding, and the way they can both look at me and know....and both chuckle and plot. I love the way Malcolm loves to function in a sexual capacity with Ian as his right hand, the way they take on a woman together and virtually destroy her with pleasure. I love their easy way with each other, and the way they look standing next to one another...one so dark and the other so fair, but both of them stunning in their looks. And if I love watching them together with other women, it's nothing compared to how I love being together with both of them. We are a complete circle, and I've never felt happier. The only thing that could make me happier would be to sleep curled around both of them, well, only if I had a giant air conditioner blowing the steam off of my two radiators. LOLOL. To be a big puppy pile with them both, Ecstasy.



Recently, I committed a faux pas in this odd relationship. Here's the story, and I'm sticking to it. LOL....

I've been involved in a second Swinger's group, helping this group grow and organize. Originally I was to attend the September party to observe and report on it, and to lend a hand in making it a smash. When one of the hosts couldn't attend, I was asked to step up and be the host of the party, which I accepted readily. I didn't want to attend stag, and originally, I was most likely going to be the only big girl attending. Malcolm and I had previously attended a group just like this and I knew he wouldn't want to attend with me because he likes BIG girls, and I do mean Big. Not chunky, not thick...BIG. That particular party, although it was a good time socially, didn't stimulate him one iota sexually. PLUS, he'd already agreed to escort me to my 20th high school reunion the weekend before. With the kids, it's virtually impossible to attend back to back events, so I had to make a choice. I chose my reunion for 1000 reasons, all to be dissected in my yahoo blogs. LOL. So, that left Ian to ask, yet Ian had made it abundantly clear at the Braintree Party that big parties weren't his thing, and that he didn't want to be at a party with a bunch of skinny chicks either. So I didn't ask him. I went down the mental list of Malcolm approved men and picked Devin.



Why Devin? Phffff, I've been asked that a million times. But I really did have solid reasons. I've known Devin awhile, actually met him before I met Malcolm. Devin tends to the hyper side of life, and has a great biting sense of sarcastic humor. Sometimes he drives me insane. Malcolm calls him the Atomic Chihuahua because sometimes he gets on a roll about something and he just starts to dig in like a manic ankle biter. But he's so damn cute you can't stay mad at him. Malcolm thinks of him like a little brother, and I've had great times with Devin, and not so great, depending on his moods. He's incredibly blunt and to the point, just like me...so sometimes we clash. But in the end we've remained close friends, and I trust him to do a great job. What's nice about Devin is that he likes all kinds of women. Short, fat, tall, skinny....as long as they pay homage to his fabulousness, he loves them all. LOL, I exaggerate of course, but he does love to be in the center of attention. And who's to blame him? He's got looks, and a big cock. He's a skillful lover, and he knows it. But underneath that is a young man that is vivacious, personable, has an easy way with lots of people, and loves to socialize, in addition to being very nice eye candy. It seemed a win-win for this party. Until the cruise...



We talked up the new group to my attendees on the cruise, and in doing so achieved a phenomenal crossover of membership....upwards of 40 of my members also joined this group. To some extent there was some confusion as well. Many of the members thought that I also owned this second group as I am the vocal one of the triad of couples that mediate it. I recruit, and since I was also hosting, I can see where that assumption would have been made. However, in the flurry of activity following the cruise, Ian suddenly found within himself a new love of these larger parties. However, since I'd already secured a date, he found himself asking the young lady he'd hit it off with at the cruise afterparty. And to his credit, I whole heartily agreed with his choice. She's a fantastic girl, and I'm glad he found good company since my duties as hostess will keep me running most of the night. Malcolm, too, suddenly found himself wondering why he wasn't going to be attending, since most of the girls and ladies he likes from our group will be there. I had to explain myself again, until he understood what had occurred, and remembered about the reunion. He's still chewing the whole thing over in his mind.



Meanwhile, I had to introduce my "date" to the group. Why? Well, first off, he's going to be a co host of sorts with me. Next, I didn't want people speculating why I wasn't with Malcolm or Ian, I wanted it sorted out beforehand. And lastly, I wanted to pimp Devin out a little bit, and build the excitement over him. I know he seems awfully forthright, but really, I see a lot of insecurity hiding underneath all his bravado. Handsome or not, he's just as worried as the rest of us that he'll attend a party and nobody will like him. I want to make sure he's the belle of the ball same as Ian was at the last one. Plus, my boytoys have become legendary in their own right.



And therein lies the faux pas. I introduced Devin as Boytoy #2. And really....Ian had an issue with it. What's more, Malcolm agreed with Ian. I'm an idiot for not realizing that this was something more important and not to be fucked with. Perhaps I don't let Ian know what I feel for him enough. Maybe he feels his position is tenuous. I'm not sure, but the reality is that he's so much more than a boytoy to me. Devin is a friend, and a fuckbuddy, maybe. But Ian....no, he's much deeper than that. Ian knows how to make me cry. Ian knows how to make me scream. Ian knows how to make me love. So I've decided to write this so that he knows with all his heart and mind that nobody could ever replace him in my life. I'm so thankful for the day that Malcolm brought him into our lives because he makes everything even more amazing. Malcolm is the great love of my life, and as such it is my honor and privilege to share my life with him without reserve. I'm so happy, inside and out, that the person he chose to be our third, to complete our trouple was Ian. The only thing more I could wish for is for more, closer, sooner, together. Ian, I'm sorry. I love you, Malcolm loves you, and nobody can take your place in our lives. I'm crying now, will you come and comfort me?