…I will be living with my wife again, for the first time in two years.
I’ll be moving up north, a decision that we’ve made jointly after long, arduous and definitely un-fun and un-sexy debate.
And we talked about it tonight — briefly, since I’ve been sick for the last two days — and I get the feeling we’re both a little nervous. Part of that nervousness is sexy, “Ohmigod, we’re going to be living together and having S&M sex whenever we want it! How will we ever stop fucking long enough for Belisarius to get a job?” nervousness. Our sex has happened in pulses of a couple days here, a week there — it’s never been something “on tap” as it were.
And part of it is that this is going to be new for us — we’ve both been tempted by the idea of 24/7, no-holds-barred, he’s-my-human-pet domination and submission, but it’s never been even remotely feasible. Until now. Will we resist the urge to take things to new extremes? Will we keep a lid on it when we’re living it every night? Will we keep pushing the envelope until I’m showing up to jobs with a black eye or scabs on my back? Will we get involved in whatever local scene there is? Will we come out to the one or two people we know up there who openly practice BDSM lifestyles?
I have to admit to a little trepidation. I love reading Dev and Eileen’s blogs, because they live in close proximity to their partners. And I love reading Mistress 160’s blog, because she and Sol cohabitate and clearly get up to all kinds of trouble. And I haven’t been able to live any of that with my wife — no building a queening stool, no being in each other’s presence for longer than a couple weeks at a time, no day-in, day-out grind of BDSM and seeing whether it remains hot and sexy when we’re not seeing each other in tiny commercial breaks from our separate lives.
But I’m happy. Because we’ll be together again, and I think we’re going to make BDSM work for us. My real issue is I suspect we’ll have to start out in an apartment when we get settled in up there, and I’m a little frightened of how we’ll make loud-hurty-sex and not have the neighbors dialing 911 every night. “That’s right officer, I heard blows, and then screams, and then moans, and now a bed creaking.”
I think I’ll celebrate our reunion with something permanent — a piercing, or that ownership tattoo I’ve wanted for so long. (Can I just say that I wish there was some male version of a corset piercing out there? God, I would love to be pierced all over for my wife, then have the piercings threaded into something sexy, but a corset piercing just doesn’t look cool and masculine enough for me. Maybe a big spider web?) And I’ll finally get that daycollar I’ve been wanting, but she’s never gotten around to buying me.
There’s always been this feeling in our play that what we’ve had are stolen moments — brief, beautiful moments of heaven that are special but so, so fleeting. Now, we face the prospect of being together, but also the fear that our sex will become routinized. And I don’t want routine — I want for it to continue to be as wonderful as it’s been. If we can figure out how to do that, I’ll be happy.
I am so happy. But just a little worried. But I also think we’re going to figure it out and it’s going to be no trouble at all to keep that spark lit, if we’re willing to put in the work.
