Tongue Tied
I am days away from seeing Hugh, but my mind and my heart are focused North.
I find myself calling it ‘the house’, rather than ‘our house’ even though we’ve spent the last four days loading up the trailer with my belongings and raw materials we’d salvaged from some incredible homes my family bought to teardown. What a dream to be giving new life to such beautiful pieces. How rewarding to enjoy time together in this way, literally hand selecting each piece, disassembling and packing them away for transport North. It’s worth stating that Mr. Wilderness looks incredibly sexy while working. My only regret is being too focused on the task at hand to act on my sexual impulses.
Leaving our home (trying this on for size) was not hard because I know it’s waiting for me when I return. Leaving Mr. Wilderness and the daily doses of pleasure that often resulted more than just once, is a different story. It’s not just the way he devours me with his eyes, his hands, his tongue and his cock, it’s the freedom to indulge in the random moments of joy. I’ll miss the way that we fell asleep holding hands, the times I’d feel his tongue between my legs, licking my pussy even before my eyes opened for the day.
As I write now, I am lounging on the luxurious patio alongside the hot tubs and cold plunge at Espace Thomas in Montreal. I am days away from seeing Hugh, but my mind and my heart are focused North. I’d never felt at home until I moved to New York in 2008 and now it seems I found a new place to call home; It only took 5 years since leaving what some call The Big Apple. I am fully confident about my commitment to Mr. Wilderness, yet even though the town really does feel like home, there is fear about how I will be received by the others.
How will this final summer in Montreal play out? What will my connection with Hugh become? The anticipation of our third date is starting to feel like that of our first. We’ve built a beautiful friendship in the preceding months, but the distance has been tough in terms of my desire for him.
Summer is fading fast, while it’s also just beginning. The biggest question of the moment… Do I reply to the text from that sexy engineer/gymnast asking if he can tie me up?
After all, he did tell me he’s been practicing.
Art of Sext
It has been a hot second since I’ve taken time to share about Hugh. Dear reader please do not for one second think it’s because things have faded. My Montréal based beau is very much alive and well, living his best polyamorous life. In fact his other lover will be joining him this very weekend for a night out at one of the many sex club experiences the city has to offer. Am I jealous?
“Tonight as you fall asleep,” my heart skips a beat as Hugh’s message lands on the screen of my phone. It has been a hot second since I’ve taken time to share about Hugh. Dear reader please do not for one second think it’s because things have faded. My Montréal based beau is very much alive and well, living his best polyamorous life. In fact his other lover will be joining him this very weekend for a night out at one of the many sex club experiences the city has to offer. Am I jealous? Only that I won’t be available to join them.
He continues,“I want to lie you on your stomach with your fingers on your clit thinking of me behind you, massaging your lower back, squeezing my hard cock between your cheeks. As your pussy starts to drip, I slide inside you, pushing deep and filling you up. Letting you feel all of me throb as your pussy contracts to welcome me. As we fuck I start playing with your ass, massaging it until it’s succumbs and lets my thumb slip inside. I finger your asshole and ready it for my cock. You’re so close to orgasm as I take my cock from your pussy and slide it deep into your ass; I grab a fistful of your hair and pull your head back off the bed so I can see your face and watch you. I keep my weight pressed heavy against your waist, your fingers still moving hard against your clit as I move back-and-forth, sliding in your ass until we both explode in violent orgasmic release. We collapse together, my weight pinning you down sweaty and heavy in unison. Exalted.”
Ummm… Yes Hugh, I can absolutely lie in bed tonight and cum fantasizing about savagely hot anal sex with you.
We’ve found ourselves after only two in-person dates in a long distance relationship that goes well beyond Sex; although with messages like these the anticipation and the desire is strong and I feel almost bad for the poor people who will be my neighbors in Montréal this summer.
After more than six months apart Hugh and I have some serious making-up for-lost-sex-time well overdue. For now, our weekly FaceTime’s and lengthly written letters continue; the sexy texts are creating an intense build up and I explode again and again to his written words.
Keep the sexts coming Hugh.
Actions But Also Words
"Cigarettes and monogamy are deal breakers," my long nails clicked as I typed this into the description field of my dating profile. Still uncomfortable with labels, this at least felt more authentic and genuine to who I am and the type of relationship I am seeking.
"Cigarettes and monogamy are deal breakers," my long nails clicked as I typed this into the description field of my dating profile. Still uncomfortable with labels, this at least felt more authentic and genuine to who I am and the type of relationship I am seeking. After all 'deep connection and hot sex' may attract the wrong people.
It had been less than a month since Hugh and I met. After our second date, which happened to be the night before I left Montréal for the winter, we decided to stay in touch and see what grows; grow indeed we did.
Weekly FaceTimes, sexy texts and deep insightful emails strengthened our bond. Remote, yet flirtatious lunchtime orgasms kept things spicy, but long distance is always tough on physical intimacy, most especially when you're in your home town and staying with family. With 2 weeks before I departed for warmer weather it couldn't hurt to see what else the universe had in store for me sexually.
Boom. Match, poly man. And again, match, another hot young-ish polyamorous man. Basically the second one was my age.. but we all know I have an old-man fetish, so let's leave it that he is young. I met the first one for a date in a nondescript coffee shop where we were the only two there, unless you count the barista. After ordering coffee, which neither of us has much interest in drinking, we took a seat by the ever-classy electric fireplace. His hand grazed my knee as he told me how beautiful and sexy he found me. The feeling was mutual and I could see he was as hungry to devour me. With nothing on underneath my navy satin skirt I guided his hand to feel how wet I was as I leaned in to kiss him. He got me close with his fingers and then got on his knees in the middle of the coffee shop and ate me until I came.
He was fun, but based on the fact that he and his wife are not open about being poly within their circle, I knew it would just be a lusty encounter and didn't have any intentions of seeing him again. Hot sex? Check. Deep connection? Hell no. Next!
Young-ish poly man was freshly married and had only been open with his wife for the last 6 weeks. After chatting further, with a healthy dose of flirtatious texts thrown in for good measure, it became clear that they are in a very experimental phase of their relationship. As I am not a science project nor looking to be in their social experiment, I'm clearly running my own here, I had to pass. NEXT! (Too bad though, he was pretty cute.)
I was done with all the back and forth messages from boys and toys. Later that week when I matched with a sexy and charming man from up north and he asked me to dinner I happily accepted, knowing a night of fun with a handsome stranger would not take away anything from what Hugh and I have been building.
There is a hotel in my hometown where I have spent many nights locked up in their most glamorous of suites having multiple orgasms with multiple partners. It's dark and sexy and each of the rooms are different; if you've ever stayed at The Hotel Fort Garry, you can take pleasure knowing that I've probably cum all over your sheets. Don't worry their laundry service is topnotch.
When this handsome stranger, and would be dinner date, told me he normally stays in a hotel when he visits, I knew even before meeting him that if he was the kind of man that would book to stay at the Hotel Fort Garry there was exactly a 0% chance that he'd be sleeping there alone. Until Saturday...
And Then There Were Two
Why does everyone who isn’t “hetero“ or “monogamous“ have to “come-out“ as themselves? We can often get so caught up in the labeling that we lose sight of who the person is and what they stand for, instead focusing on who they fuck and their lifestyle choices.
Anyone who has read my ramblings knows that monogamy isn’t my style. That said, I've been resisting putting a label on myself until now. Part of me feels like I shouldn’t have to. Why does everyone who isn’t “hetero“ or “monogamous“ have to “come-out“ as themselves? We can often get so caught up in the labeling that we lose sight of who the person is and what they stand for, instead focusing on who they fuck and their lifestyle choices.
We matched on an app. I was drawn to his handsome smile, athletic pursuits, international background and his use of the word polyamory. After one or two messages he inquired, “You read my profile? You saw that I’m Poly?”
To which I smiled and replied, “Yes, it’s one of the things that attracted me.”
It was more than just the labeling that had prevented me from embracing the word polyamorous. I want a family and that for me includes children; I’ve been struggling to see how ethical non-monogamy works successfully with children. There are almost no media examples and I personally didn't know anyone achieving this. Yet here is this man; he is smart, charming, kind and confident with two children, a primary partner and a commitment to openness and honesty. He knows what he wants and there is a clear structure of what works when it comes to additional partners.
We sat across from each other, the seafood restaurant in the Old Port of Montreal was nearly empty on this Friday afternoon. I'd just spent 4 hours at Scandinave Spa and was beyond relaxed from the thermal cycle. A light dusting of snow was sprinkling down, evaporating as it made contact with the pavement. Our eyes were fixed on each other and the tension building all week from our messages was thick in the air. Part of me wanted to clear the table with a sweep of my arm, lean across and pull this man towards me; I should have, but I didn't.
We stood on the cobblestone street after lunch and with the glow of the white Christmas lights sparkling in the sky above us, he kissed me. Shivers ran down my spine and through my being. A kiss like that could only mean one thing and I’d spend the next 24 hours until our first dinner date fantasizing about the way his tongue would penetrate me… Let’s call him Hugh.
P.S. After he read this draft he responded by saying, “I'm pretty sure you kissed me…” but given that he clocks in at over 6 feet tall and I’m just a touch above 5 foot 2 inches, I beg to differ.
