Sex only, please

A recap of the week – met up with Tomas – not much happened apart from some sensuous stroking of each other’s naked bodies.  Some alcohol was imbibed – he’d brought champagne, which tasted delicious drunk from various parts of the other’s body.  No one interrupted our afternoon tryst and we said goodbye at the end of it.

Someone new, just a few months older than me wrote from the dating app and he seemed interesting enough for me to suggest a first and then second meeting. He had lived in Russia a couple of times which was experience enough to modify his initial (militant!) left-wing leanings.  Anyway, we fell into bed together almost from the beginning, at the end of the first date in fact; after the hit and miss, mostly miss efforts of Julius and Tomas, I was in sore need of some real action in the bedroom department.  This new man was keen and happy enough to be thus employed and it was a welcome break not having to worry about the complication of emotional connection.  I liked how he aroused me and was gratified that he proved sufficiently virile to initiate sex and orgasm no less than four times overnight.  We made a third date next week and perhaps it will become an almost certain pattern of once or twice a week, until I tire of him, or he me …  who knows.  I hesitate to give him a name, but ever the optimist that this may last a little longer than the usual, it would be apt I think if we all knew him as Alexander.

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Epiphany

6th September 2016

Bade Julius goodbye today outside the tube station – this was after a date that ended with a sleepover.  He’d invited me to meet his friends on a canal walk last Sunday.  Complications with other things in our life meant that it didn’t end with either of us spending the night together – in my case I had work the next morning and in his he had to untangle himself from a relationship which did not have a promising future.  When we met up the following afternoon he still had not quite completely ended it, treading the fine line between saying no and not wanting to hurt.  I was uncomfortable when he tried to unburden himself as I tend to subscribe to a firmer method of rejection. We went for a ramble around Golders Hill park and supped at Eat Tokyo.  The evening walk with the dog on the golf course saw some al fresco nookie.  It was pitch black in the woods but the golf course itself was lit where a few houses backed onto the links.  We started off kissing there and moved on to a more sheltered area.  In any event the dog stood guard and would have warned us if anyone had happened upon us.  According to Julius it was his second experience of outdoor sex.

9th September 2016

Since the last time we met up in the Scottish Highlands at the beginning of summer, June to be precise, I hadn’t seen Ewan who came down the previous evening.  He was fairly ardent in his approach, claiming a dearth of suitable bedmates and so we had almost a quickie post-prandial, after which we enjoyed a siesta.   Later that evening we tried out the Ab Fab party venue in west London: under a starlit sky we swam in our birthday suits in the pool and made friends.  In a public room, i.e. one where spectators could look through we indulged in a fairly organised orgy with two other couples.  It was my first experience of a woman who squirts during orgasm.  One of Julius’ lovers does that and he claims it is a nuisance.  The woman at the sex party was a lovely friendly warm person as was her partner and post coital, as it were, were both happy to impart some advice for us swinging newbies.  I think Ewan had a lovely time of it and not feeling particularly emotionally attached to him I was able to indulge in the whole experience without any attendant angst.

I fully empathised with Julius’ feelings of insecurity and the following afternoon arranged to meet him at his after work.  I had work the following day and didn’t stay the night.  We discussed further how we felt about each other and confirmed that we were both fairly comfortable with the idea of our dating/sleeping with other people.  He asked me whether I had any opinion about his considering closing his dating profile on the app and I told him that it was his decision to make and I would not presume to ask him to do so.   I added that apart from Tomas, I was not chatting to anyone else.  As someone once said, they were poly-saturated and I felt fairly sated by the choice lovers I am in contact with.

He continued to tell me that I was desirable and earlier this afternoon, after several risqué message exchanges with Tomas, I began to realise that perhaps men really did want to take me to bed.  And perhaps that is all, … and that is really quite enough and almost an epiphany for me.  Perhaps it didn’t matter after all – the aging, the wobbly bits, the less than symmetrical features, the loose skin, the silver strands amongst the ebony.  Some men – Julius, Tomas, Goran (whose own domestic issues continue), Ramon, etc… desired me.  But not Michael anymore it would seem – we had met at a family event with some of our children in tow and our relationship is friendly and warm.

I went to the poly-cafe in Warren Street with Max yesterday evening for a book club meeting, the book being The Ethical Slut.  There was a nice balance of people at different stages of polyamory and we talked about our experiences and relationships.  I recognised one other person I’d met previously when I arranged with Goran to meet there one Saturday afternoon some time in early summer this year.  It felt reassuring to be a part of a group whose chosen relationship lifestyle mirrored mine.  Max was in fragile mood and I gave him a few warm, close embraces when he asked me for a hug.  I am wary of becoming attached to him but am not so unfeeling as to deny him warmth.  He is more than an ex-lover and I feel a strong fondness towards him.  It’s strange how I am no longer giddy over any of my past or even present lovers but continue to feel a bond with some of them.  I still adore Julius but can sense my infatuation passing as he tells me that he is still meeting new women – including one last night and another this evening.  Reluctant to be hurt by someone who has the potential to unsettle me my survival instincts kick in and I take the initiative with Tomas this afternoon, asking him for a preview of his back torso, gambling on the possibility that he would ask for one of mine in return and he did not fail me.

This is the picture Tomas sent me earlier today in a bid to convince me that he was not as curvy as the Felix Vallotton nude who has a coquettish profile.

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Felix Vallotton’s nude

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The Rhinoceros

There was the invitation to view his favourite exhibit at the Hunterian Museum.  It was another scorching afternoon and I had walked around the chilling displays in formaldehyde and peered at the instruments employed in the myriad surgical procedures which gave us  among other things, this Royal College of Surgeons.

The text message from Tomas alerted me to his presence before a Stubbs.  It was the one that had got away.  Many years ago he had requested for it to be a part of an exhibition he was putting together at the Institute of Contemporary Art.  But the then curator was no fan of modern day art and was suspicious of Tomas’ motive and turned his request down.  It had been awhile since he last viewed it and it had magnified in his head.  It was a magnificent creature I agreed with him – with greater complexity than its African counterpart.  We wandered about for a bit and eventually went down to the cafe in the square opposite.

We sat at a sunny table across from each other with two glasses of chilled Vioignier.  I liked the gradual pace of our flirtation, exchanging views on art and film, and debauchery.  He told me how he was currently seeing a woman who wanted him to whip her soundly with a paddle and riding crop.  In return she sat for him for the before and after pictures.     He claimed not to find her rotundity sexually appealing and I myself am determined that he would not see me in my flawed nudity until I was sure of a positive response.  The second date was not the time for this intimacy.

Eventually the sky got darker and we promised to meet again, when he might take me to his studio.  We said our goodbyes outside Lincoln’s Inn Fields and I went home just before the rush hour.  Later in the evening he told me that he had been quite aroused during our tete a tete, but the wine had gone to my head and I couldn’t remember everything that we might have talked about.  He was planning a trip abroad at the end of the month which would last two months and so I’m not sure if we would ever get round to consummating this dalliance before the end of the year.  All the sameI am enjoying being chatted up and it gives me more time to improve my physique!

Stubbs’ Rhinoceros

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non-monogamous messaging

A rather frisky evening spent in text chats with two of my current beaus, Ewan and Julius, as well as a potential lover – the art historian, Tomas, who told me last night that he was in a playful mood having just finished working on an academic nude that evening.  I invited him to play with me, letting him know that I was reclining on my bed sans culotte, as it were.  He found it a welcome bit of information and offered to stroke my inner thigh.  I found the exchange incredibly tantalising, as it escalated, with both of us employing bolder and more salacious language.  It culminated with an arrangement to consummate our flirtation some time next week.

Ewan meanwhile, reiterated his desire to indulge in an orgy with me, detailing the extent of his proclivities with increasing fervour.  When he sent me a graphic image of his own state of arousal, asking for one from me in return, I declined, pleading the inferiority of my phone camera and the poor lighting at that late hour as my excuse.  The following morning, quite coincidentally Douglas made contact on his way abroad via the airport and I sounded him out on his keenness to join Ewan and me at some stage in the near future, whether with or without his current lover Carrie.  He was delighted and offered to arrange something with us on his return.

It comes as no surprise now that Julius and I are engaged in text chats or emails on a daily basis.  That evening we filled our diaries with future dates; we might meet as often as twice over an 8 or 9 day period, leading up to our holiday together at the end of next month.  Our exchanges were more decorous – we regard each other with greater warmth and affection and a large degree of respect.  There was nothing prurient and the terms we used rang with sincerity.

We still have yet to find a name for me to address him by as his real name happens to be identical to the one used by someone who had been very close to me from my past.  I had asked him to think up something he might be comfortable for me to use with him but we were nowhere near figuring this out.

He has dates with some of his current lovers but I don’t ask him for details, feeling more or less confident now that he still regards me as his favourite, just as he is mine.

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The above image taken from http://littlepennydreadful.tumblr.com/post/102159517051/rivesveronique-margaret-watkins-academic-nude

Lovers new

Watteau

The 97% match is an art historian, (edit – let’s call him Tomas) head of his department at a post-graduate art school in London.  We recognised each other at once outside the art centre at the Barbican – my choice of venue, even before I’d discovered his professional interest.  In a darkened studio our hands brushed against each other’s until at one of the larger rooms, behind a pillar, we embraced.  We went down a level for cocktails where he told me of his complicated love life involving one long term partner and  other tempestuous lovers.  He walked me to my station later that evening and we enjoyed another kiss at the top of the stairs.  We exchanged phone numbers and he sent me a sketch by Antoine Watteau the following day – a libertine painter who painted love and had no time to spend on actual love-making – my new love interest tells me.  The refined banter between us hinted occasionally at libidinous themes and he invited me to the hunterian museum as a precursor to indulgence of a more sensuous nature.  How could a girl resist?  I assented, of course.

The following evening I had a date with Julius who continues to delight me.  He had indicated that some of his friends might be at the Crossbones vigil we were attending and I’d been slightly apprehensive.  As it happened, there was no one there who knew him very well and so the evening had been all right.  When the vigil was over we went for a drink at a pub before coming back to mine.  In my bed, after dallying about downstairs baptising the sofa in the living room, we came upstairs, and then I remembered and we booked the tickets to go on holiday together for the end of next month.  We marvelled at our confidence about the strength of our relationship, to take such a bold step other lovers might consider foolhardy since it was only our sixth date, but we were both certain that it was unlikely we might ever fall out.

I spent the entire night cradled in his arms –  both amazed the next morning that we suffered no ill effect from this unfamiliar sleeping position.   We re-affirmed our adoration of each other, and were careful and also careless about describing our emotions.  The carelessness sprang more from spontaneity and the care we took in our choice of words stemmed from a desire not to alarm the other.  We understood where we stood with each other and I can enjoy this phase of my life being the apple of my lover’s eye, until the end of the year at least!

Ewan makes a date finally, having received the parenting calendar for the new school year.  We pencil in an evening in a fortnight’s time as he is given to understand that my own diary was being rapidly filled.  I am jealous of the time I can call my own after being pressed by the new men in my life to meet them.   Goran still sends me messages and I no longer feel the need to meet him.  What a difference a few months apart has made and I am regaining my self-esteem, helped tremendously by the ardour of Julius’ passion.