The New Guy, part 2

Now what, indeed?

Atlas and I had a conversation about our expectations.  We both admitted to knowing the rules, not exceeding or breaking them.  We both knew how the game was played.  We weren't going to get caught up.  I didn't want to fall in love, he wasn't available. My world was too precariously balanced to have someone akin to Loki wreaking havoc.  He leaves for Asia in the fall.  It seemed that we understood each other perfectly.  We would have no strings attached fun with each other, that seemed reasonable.

When adding a new lover to the roster, I'm usually very open and honest with Satan.  I know he doesn't like talking about it, doesn't particularly like knowing that I've taken pleasure with another man besides him.  But he is practical enough to understand that waiting on him to be available these days is like waiting for a tax refund.  Agonizing.  My going catch-phrase; "What's good for the goose is good for the gander", are words that make him roll his eyes and say "Whateva".  But the truth remains that after our reunion last year, I made it clear that I was not going to sit on a shelf and wait for him.  I'd see him when I see him, but not let anyone touch my heart.  Somehow, I knew Atlas was different.  I haven't told Satan about him.  I don't want to have that discussion until I have to.  Satan senses it, he's just that intuitive.  He senses my distraction, and I find him calling and texting me to ask where I am, what am I doing.

So where am I and what am I doing?  The answer is I have no idea. 

Atlas and I made plans to meet for a day to have relaxed time together.  Time to ask silly questions to get to know each other.  Time to play with each other without interruption or an audience.  Time to just.....chill.  I found myself extremely nervous the day before, fussing over my clothes and my choice of toenail color.  I was taking extra care with my grooming, even working on my legendary crusty feet to tame them down to simply dry instead of lethal.  Texting him during this furor, I told him it was way easier when I didn't give a shit what he thought.  Yet somehow, I did care what he thought.  I needed to make a good impression so that he liked what he saw.  I felt shy, and a bit discombobulated, and all I knew was that I had to be.....amazing. It was incredibly girly, and as anyone who knows me will say, I hate girly moments with a passion.

After seeing to my errands and finally getting on the road, I received a call from Jachin.  He wanted to know where I was going, who I was seeing, and how long I expected to be out.  I told him I wasn't worried, and he commented "Of course you're not, that's my job".  He was unhappy I was meeting "strange men" and told me I should never go out without telling someone where to find me.  I met him at the rest stop, he gave me money for tolls, I told him where I'd be, and I was off again.  Another conundrum for a different day.

The rain slowed my progress, and I arrived after Atlas did.  I had been so nervous in the morning that I wasn't feeling good, and my stomach was in a knot for most of the drive.  I was concerned that my stomach ache might translate into some unpleasantness, so I didn't eat, I just drank some Crystal Light.  He texted me the room number, and I parked next to him.  I took a moment to just breathe.......

I knocked, he answered...and promptly slammed the door on me.  LOL, ahh it was going to be that kind of day. With his humor, he disarmed me and put me at instant ease.  I brought my bags in, and as I watched him work on his laptop, knowing he had a business call in a few, I took out my laptop and prepared to amuse myself while he worked.  We chatted a bit, and we laughed.  Of all the memories I will carry about him in my life, it will be how much we laughed.  I slyly looked at him over my computer screen.  I find him so beautiful.  His body is in amazing shape, and he has eyes that really look at you when you talk to him.  I can't imagine any woman NOT finding him crazy hot.  I have also found that he is a man that does not say things he doesn't mean.  So far, I find that he says what he means, and means what he says.  He doesn't grandstand, doesn't need to talk endlessly just to hear himself.  He is a careful listener, and he is even more careful at replying, knowing his feedback may not always be rosebuds and unicorns, as he is at heart, a realist.

He climbed onto the bed with me, in a side 69 position, my back to his front, and he stroked his hands up my legs, under my dress, to a pantyless me, which he had requested. His hands, gentle and soft, finding spots front and back that had me panting.  He got to stroking me in earnest and I came for him, almost as though his quiet confidence had simply commanded it without words, and it came into being.  I came and squirted, and he got naked too.  He just stopped playing, it was time for his business call.  I lay at the end of the bed crosswise, while he lounged against the pillows, naked.  As he entered his conference call, I looked at him, looked at his cock, and did the chin up inquiry move. He silently shrugged as if to say, why not?  So I promptly moved between his legs and sucked his cock.

His skin is so velvety smooth, we joke that he feels like kitten paws.  I so love feeling him grow in my mouth, and feeling his gentle yet insistent hand on my head encouraging me to press my lips against his body while his cock goes down my throat and I swallow him.  It excited me to do these things to him while he was conducting business.  And my beast rose with every intention of shattering his self control, except we failed, as he is an incredible challenge to ruffle.  Earpiece intact, he swung himself behind me and fucked me until I squirted on his cock.  Not being able to be vocal during sex is challenging for me, and it heightened the pleasure to an almost painful degree.    He must have sat back and watched me trying to stifle my noise, chuckling, and I heard him say, "Oh, I hung up my call a bit ago, you can make noise now."  BASTARD!!!

Going into detail about the rest of the afternoon seems redundant.  It was a beautiful dream, laced with passionate kisses, ecstasy, and lots and lots of my body fluid.  I lost track of the number of times that I came, just enjoying each small eruption of pleasure as it's own fantastic gift.  I realized that i couldn't do this with him on a regular basis and remain casual. I told him so in an effort to be honest.  He inspired an intensity in me that was difficult to ignore.  It felt like it welled up in my core, and wanted to spew out of my mouth in the form of pretty words and promises. I would not be the conqueror, as I had insinuated in emails to him...I would be the conquered.

He moves me in ways I haven't thought about in a long time.  He makes me feel a little less lonely inside. He makes me want to see what he does during his days, how he walks through the door, how he organizes his kitchen.  He makes me think of long lazy days off spent lounging in bed. He makes me think about walks along the shore talking about everything.  He reeks of the word companion, not simply fuck buddy.  He makes me realize, in the grand scheme of things that I have something I hadn't believed in for a long time....options.

It's been a few days now.  The intensity has started to dissipate, and life in it's routine has re-intruded on my fantasy.  I still text him daily, and am still wondering what the hell happened.  He's made some statements to me that make me wonder what he's about and what it is that he actually wants, and I realize I've spent so much time listening to the double speak of Satan and Jachin that I no longer know how to take someone at their word without copious positive reinforcement about said statements.  I wonder about the men in my life, how I love them, what their role in my life really is. I've been thinking about what I really want, from everyone.

I treasure and value being excited by a man like this again.  It has ignited a fire in me that has been dormant for a long time.  Though I love all the men that play a role in my life, I have worked diligently to kill the penchant for expectation.  If I don't expect anything, ever, I will never be disappointed.  Ergo, I gave up the fire to wish for more.  Perhaps the biggest turn on this man presents to me is that I don't merely look upon him as a tool.  He is more in the great grand scheme than just a guy looking to get his rocks off with little regard to how he does it.  He's discerning, he's picky, he's artful.  And here's the clincher...I'll say it.  He makes me feel like I'm enough to satisfy him.  True or not, I'll think of him fondly for a long time for making me feel that again.  Sharing is fine, but once in a while, it just feels good to be enough for someone.  And I thank him for reminding me that I have the right to expect it, should I choose to.

Where am I and what am I doing?

I still haven't figured it out, and I'm not going to try right now.  I prefer to take the ride and see how the road goes.  Hopefully I'll enjoy the journey, and remember a few more things about who I am and what I have a right to want.

Change

Where to begin.  The folly of not blogging for long periods of time is that then there is just so MUCH.  And so I find myself this morning wondering how much, and which tidbits.  But to be an honest blogger is to commit to documenting them all, in some fashion.  So I shall.

I committed to making the holidays 2011 the BEST EVER...again...for my mother.  She was doing so well, seemed to be plugging along like the trooper she was, and so I told her "You know Lucy, I busted my ass last year to make it the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER since it was supposed to be your last one.  That's just too much pressure to try and out-do.  You get what you get this year."  It was designed to make her laugh, and it did.  I of course worked like a fool to make sure all the decorations were just perfect.  And she did have a wonderful Thanksgiving and Christmas, she was happy.  New Years came and I had thrown Malcolm an all night birthday party on the 30th.  On New Years Eve I was exhausted and fell asleep by 9 pm.  I had promised Lucy I wouldn't go out that night because she'd told me she wasn't feeling well, and I wanted to be around the house.  My daughter celebrated the New Year with my mom, as I was passed out cold and my Pet had attended a party just a short ways away.  New Year's Day came, and things seemed fine, my mom was feeling better, and we were making plans for what we'd accomplish in 2012.

New Year's day was a great day with Lucy.  I began taking our tree down since it had lost every bit of moisture, and was dropping needles at an alarming rate.  I got all the balls off, and the angel put away.  I'd had enough though, and called it a night.  We'd had spaghetti dinners from Sam's, and that always gave me heartburn.  It was one of Lucy's favorite meals though, and it seemed an appropriate salute to a new year.  We all went to bed, and I was awakened at 3 am by Lucy banging her cane on the floor.  I jumped up, aware that she did that when she was in distress.  I put something on and went down to see if she'd had diarrhea again, knowing that was a chronic condition and that eating spaghetti can trigger it.  When i got to her room, she was sitting on the side of her bed unable to breathe.  She was in respiratory failure.

As a Congestive Heart Failure patient in tertiary stages, respiratory failure is an indication that some kind of cardiac event has occurred.  Little did I know at the time, Lucy had been having intermittent chest pains for days and had never discussed them with me because she didn't want to worry me.  Because of where she was in the stage of her disease, she wasn't supposed to be going to the hospital any more.  We were supposed to be dealing with it at home, and making her comfortable.  I looked at her and said "Jesus Lucy, you made it all the way through the Holidays just to give it up on the 2nd day of the new year?  Really?"  She kind of chuckled, and said, "I know, right?"  I told her that if her choice was not to go to the hospital, that there was every indication that I could not get her out of the failure, that this one would be the last one.  She looked at me knowingly and said "I'm not getting out of this one."  I sat on the floor of her room then, feeling utter defeat, and not really wanting to accept what was coming up now.

We stayed at home for about 16 hours, she laboring to breathe, me administering morphine to make her comfortable because it was all I had.  Finally after seeing the stress it was causing my daughter, and realizing that I really couldn't make her more comfortable, she agreed to go to ER, and did so with Hospice's blessing.  She went, and seemed to rebound then.  The ER techs administered a neb treatment, which rather infuriated me because had I known about it, I could have done that too.  I have a million of them as i am an asthma patient.  Knowing I could have made her comfortable 16 hours previous was an irritant.  They also found she was dehydrated, so they pumped a bag or two of fluid into her.  She wanted to go home, but I was worried that the added fluids would put her back into respiratory failure as soon as we got home, so I convinced her to stay overnight for observation.  Her breathing was good and bad by turns that night, unknown to me when I went home at 4 am.  I went back to the hospital in the afternoon then, met with the doctors and nurses who were diagnosing the beginning of the dying process, and indeed weren't sure she would make it through the night.  I stayed at the hospital that night and she rebounded again, the woman of a thousand miracle recoveries.

We decided to have her placed in Hospice House.  It was apparent she was now bed-ridden and needed more care than I could administer at home alone.  She also didn't want to go home, didn't want to burden me with that level of care.  I assured her I would do it if that was what she wanted.   I'd applied for FMLA, and was prepared to do it.  I felt abject relief not to have to though, and I'm not afraid to admit that.  I'm so thankful that my daughter didn't have to watch it all in the close confines of her home.  The rest of the story is not really for writing down.  The slow steady decline of her body, my mental fight with the concept of Comfort Care and it's close similarity to Euthanasia, and more than 2 weeks of watching her struggle.  But also watching my brothers and sisters and I come closer together by degrees, leaving old grievances behind, and moving forward as a unit to take care of the woman we all loved in our own way.

It became apparent after the first week and a half of watching Lucy hold on that somehow she was waiting for something.  My oldest brother said it first.....maybe she's waiting for dad...he died on the 18th you know.  I had my doubts at first that she'd last that long, it seemed impossible that someone could labor to breathe for that length of time.  But the date fast approached.  The eve of the 17th, I knew it was time.  I went to her, brought Christmas lights, brought an alpha/beta wave CD, and stayed the night doing vigil.  That morning, I just knew.  I had the CNA that came in to wash her also groom her and make her beautiful.  They washed her hair, sculpted her eyebrows, removed her facial hair, and washed her body.  They put on her favorite color.  I'd told her repeatedly it was ok to go, that we would be fine...that she didn't have to worry and that if she wanted to continue to help my daughter and I, she'd have to pass on and help us from the other side.  I gave her permission to go.  Then I sent up a thought to my father "You bastard, you better not be late".

My father was killed on Jan 18th, 1979 at 8:30.  At 9:45 on Jan 18th, 2012, after they'd finished washing and dressing her, my mother also left the earth.  Thirty three years to the day, and almost within an hour of my dad's passing....the nursing staff was incredibly creeped out.  I cried, I hoped to God I did right by her, and I called my siblings.  They came, as they could, and we sat with her a bit, to say goodbye...to figure out what to do, to just....think.  It had been so much for so long, and suddenly it was just over.

We planned her funeral to her specifications.  She'd been remarkably frank about what she wanted, and she and I had gone over virtually every detail.  If I can recommend one document to everyone I know that will make your life, and your death better, it's the Five Wishes document (http://www.agingwithdignity.org/).  Take it from me, people do fucked up shit when their loved ones die, and if you have a vision that you want followed....WRITE IT DOWN!!!! And tell someone that you trust to do it.  She didn't want a wake, she thought those were creepy, being on display for everyone to gawk at.  So we just had a beautiful funeral mass for her at Holy Cross Church, followed by an open house back at our house, finally opening it back up for friends and neighbors to visit...like the did way back in the old days.

Both my real family, and my swinger family helped me get through this time.  With cleaning, catering, everything.  I love you all for all the help both physical and financial.  THANK YOU.  So yes, everyone was there for me, sort of, except for one glaring missing person.  Satan.

There are a thousand reasons, excuses, and explanations I suppose.  But the end result was that he was not there for me on the one day that I needed him above all others.  And even more interesting, he knew he wouldn't be.  He knew, and he felt badly enough to make sure that Jachin, after a year of not being in my life, would be there for me.  So, he called in a backup?  I'd told him that if he didn't show up, to not bother calling me again.  I was done.  And I knew from his mother that the one thing that Satan couldn't stand more than anything else on the planet was....silence.

Silence I gave him, for months.  I was moving on without him, my life tumbling faster than I could manage it, in ways I wasn't sure I was ready to handle.  I went to parties without him, knowing that every move I made, every man I touched was being reported back to him by someone, somewhere.  So I made every party count, and I became a dirty whore in truth, fucking men by the truckload with no other need than to feed a growing beast inside me that couldn't be sated.  And as I knew people were telling him my escapades, so were people attempting at every turn to report back to me about his equally voracious appetites.

Valentines came and went, and I passed it feeling angry, and unsatisfied.  My inner beast, Lilith, was thrashing about inside of me screaming for release, yet she was trapped.  Satan called me one morning at 5 am, knowing I was still programmed to answer any early phone call as something akin to an emergency.  To answer without looking at the caller.  He knew how to play dirty, and he slid in under my defenses.  It was ugly, it was accusatory.  How could I love him, but just shut him out?  How could he abandon me when I needed him most?  How could I create a family of the people we cared for most, then close the door in his face.  How could he always place other people above me and think I'd always be ok with it?  And then the question from both of us...."Why did you leave me?"

In March, I went to visit his mother.  I'd missed her fiercely, and looked forward to taking her shopping, and maybe out to dinner as well.  I got to her nursing home, and she was......gone.

Gone.

The nursing home staff could only tell me that he'd removed her just the weekend before but couldn't tell me anything else.  In a panic, I called him at work, hyperventilating and sobbing.  "WHERE IS SHE???"  He was so disdainful.
"I moved her to Boston".
"You didn't tell me!  I didn't even get to say goodbye!"
"People who throw giant tantrums and refuse to answer their phones don't get to find out about shit."
I had to hang up then, unable to even speak for the sobs that were coming up my throat.  I'd lost it all at that moment.  I'd lost my mother, I'd lost the man I loved more than life, and I'd lost his mother too.  I had nobody left that knew my soul. Even now, thinking back to that very dark time brings the tears again.

I'll have to continue in a part two.

In Love With a Jealous Man

I'm not a terribly jealous person. I enjoy sharing, things, people, you name it. I'm the last of five children, but younger than the rest by an enormous gap, so I never had to fight for everything, or have all my stuff taken away. My family has always been incredibly giving and generous to me, and I, in turn, enjoy passing that along.

Though I don't consider myself jealous, I am intensely loyal to my friends, family, and lovers. Some might confuse my desire to protect and defend as jealous, but those that really know me understand that I love them beyond the borders of jealousy. So how is it that all the men I know and love suffer from terrible jealousy? And is it a bad thing?

Malcolm has finally admitted that he is jealous of another man touching me. Well, let me rephrase that. Malcolm is INTENSELY jealous of another man touching me if he isn't there to see it. LOL. Though we managed to blunder through the first 2 years of our relationship openly, and seeing other people with little to no issues, something has subtly changed for him in regards to my sexual activities. It started to manifest itself with the whole Jachin thing, and my blogging and poking his bear with it didn't help matters any either. But his jealousy blossomed into something more far reaching, with him admitting that he didn't like the thought of me fucking other men if he wasn't there. It's made me rethink a lot of things, my dealings with other guys in general, and certainly my relationship with Jachin. But it's also made me rethink my relationship with Malcolm, and it's made me examine what's changed in the last couple of months.

And no doubt, things HAVE changed. He gives me much more of his time, whether it be at home relaxing, or making love, or watching a movie, we just spend more quality time together. He spends more time calling me to chat, upwards of 6 times a day usually, at various intervals. I feel very very connected to him now. He always seems to know when I'm thinking about him, and he's incredibly in tune to my feelings, and how I express them through tone of voice, language, even silence. He's ended his boycott of Affinity, and is making arrangements for us to do couple things together. Date nights. LOL. It's.......wonderful.

And the jealous thing? Well, it isn't the jealous rage that some men show. And it's just enough to be endearing to me. His new nickname has been "jealous ass", said only with the most love. And I do find myself loving him more intensely than ever. He called me today, this morning in fact, to tell me that he'd miss me this weekend, and was so sorry that he couldn't make it, since he has his daughter and son for the weekend. I'm actually so thrilled for him being able to HAVE his daughter with him on his weekend foray that I'd never be surly or bitter about him not making this party. Yeah, it would be nice to have him by my side every time, but parenting always comes first. I'm incredibly lucky to have a fantastic friend who will sit for me when I need her to, and I enjoy my daughter's company every day. I can't imagine how it would hurt to only see her 2 1/2 days a week. I'd be devastated. I told him all this and he paused a moment to gather himself and thank me for putting up with him. "I know I'm not an easy man, I come with tons of baggage, and I just want to thank you for always just dealing with me". Silly man, don't you know it's because, baggage and all, I just love you.

He's worried about me for this weekend. He wishes he were by my side to keep me safe and sound, to be my protector and make sure that nothing hurtful even approaches me. I assured him that I love his protection, I love his always wanting to push me behind him a little bit and take the brunt of the matter away from me. Even his jealously has validation in his wanting to just keep me safe. How can I not find it endearing that he loves me so much? I see him trying so hard to make me happy, to do little things that will make me smile. I see him struggling to let me keep my wide open freedom. I see him listening to me when I honestly express myself to him about how I feel and what I want. Better still, I'm willing to meet him half way. He doesn't need to be the only one bending here, now SHOULD he be. One thing we've both learned is that when we communicate with each other, neither of us is unreasonable, and we get matters taken care of and back on track.

So yes, I love a jealous man. I even love his jealousy because in it's present controlled form, it is his stamp of love upon me, the irrefutable evidence that he has fallen as much as I have.

Missing You

It's been a stressful week, and capped today by another death in my family. I got the call from my sister in law as she gets to be the bearer of the bad news this time. Though I feel sad at this uncle's passing, the sting isn't quite so fierce as it was for Norm. This uncle I only had the pleasure of seeing once a year, and that once a year had stopped awhile ago. My brothers and sisters and I are distinctly overwhelmed by the loss right now, and my prayer is to have just one day, one simple day where there are no tears. Today wasn't that day.

Malcolm and I have been talking every day, discussing his issues, discussing my issues, and between the both of us discovering some of Jachin's issues. So I decided this morning that I'd had enough of not seeing him, that it was time for us to negotiate in person. Being away from him has been hard....I love him, and I miss him terribly. But I desperately needed some time off, and he understood. He's been patient, and hasn't been pressuring me, has been letting me get my head back, letting me vent my grief and rage. Last night he stayed with me during my crying, listening to me talk about my loss, all the changes going on around me, and how sad it made me to see how disposable a life really is. I can't control when it comes over me, the overwhelming sense of loss, to see the house 3 doors up from mine that has stood filled with my relatives all my life, bustling with their comings and goings, and all of our celebrations throughout the years, all the comings together, done...and the house now dark, empty, and silent. And Malcolm began to understand the magnitude of this death to me.

I called him this morning to ask if I could spend the morning with him. I knew he'd wait for me to ask as opposed to asking me to come to him. I love that even though I asked him for space, he didn't abandon me out there, he loved me enough to not let me run away, and kept us communicating as best we could. So I asked him, and he didn't hesitate for a second, like he'd been waiting and hoping for it. We spent some moments in friendly banter, him asking me to stop his shopping compulsion, my telling him he needs to learn to just appreciate and love what he has instead of always trying to upgrade to the latest greatest thing. That's such a guy thing though, isn't it? I realized, when I saw him open the door for me that I'd missed his smile. I'd really missed his sloe shaped eyes, and I'd missed his kiss. And we talked more, and made love, and satisfied each other over and over and over again. I cried again when we both came for the last time, together. I'm not really sure why. I felt relief, for sure, for finally getting rid of my sexual frustration. I knew I could never leave him, because he "gets" me like nobody else, except maybe Jachin, does. He asked me what I wanted, and I told him I wanted him to give me my fairy tale. He couldn't promise that, and really, most fairy tales are kinda scary. But he knows I need more time from him, and I see him trying to make it.

As far as the whole jealousy thing goes, god only knows what will happen with that. Jachin is rather mad at me for staying Malcolm's girlfriend. Malcolm just wants me to put myself in his position and take his feelings into consideration concerning all my activities with Jachin. They both make some valid arguments, really. And as always I love them both and I don't want this bickering to go on. Jachin's jealousy has been very active lately, with him lashing out at imagined indiscretions on my part. I'm not really sure what's going on with him, but I can't imagine when he became this possessive again. Malcolm said it's always been there, but I never bothered to really look before. Either way, I wish I could say or do something to put them both at ease. Unfortunately, there just is no easy answer this time. Maybe, like with my grief, time will be the greatest healer of all.

A Little Bit About our D/s Relationship....

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Our First Anniversary

I just HAD to take a moment...to wish my partner in this endeavor, the man that makes this all so much fun a happy 1st year together anniversary. I'm not much for celebrating anniversaries, and to me we don't really have a "date" that officially marks the time. But I am happy to be celebrating a year together with Malcolm all the more so because of all the people who told me it wasn't serious, he'd never stick around, I was just a toy, it was just about sex, he couldn't commit long term, he had lots of "friends". I also laugh because for as many people were saying this shit to ME, there were just as many telling HIM all the reasons I wasn't any good for him. I was still holding on to my ex, I wasn't ready to move on, I was needy, I was hurt, I was naive, I wasn't worldly enough for him, I was too young.
LOL, today he asked me to be his leading lady...OF COURSE silly man. I asked him if this meant I'd put in enough time to become greedy and demanding, to which I got a RESOUNDING... "uhh, no." LOL, maybe next year then.
I think that perhaps because we entered into our relationship as swingers, and have strengthened and solidified our bond and remained swingers that people thought it would never last. But we've pledged honesty to each other, no matter what. That goes a long way into making everything bearable. He fulfills me. He says I do the same for him. As the year has gone by, I've struggled with trust, will continue to struggle with that issue. But I love him dearly, and he loves me back, in ways no man has ever bothered to shower me in love before. It means so much, and I'm proud to be his lady.
So HEY BABY!!! WE MADE IT A YEAR!!! I'm so glad we're still sharing the road together, can't wait to see what's coming up around the next corner.