A Couple of Random Thoughts

THOUGHT THE FIRST:

There’s something wonderful and relaxing about being beaten and having a cock forced down your throat.

I was such a goddamned wreck for the last few days, and just a single, relatively quick scene made both of us feel immensely better. My wife is back to her old self, I’m feeling impatient and eager to continue working on my own success but without the raw edge of anger that’s pervaded everything.

Last night we watched a couple of episodes of “Lost” — our friends have pushed us into hopping on board, so we’re making our way through the first season — and we made googly-eyes at one another and joked about the sex we’d recently had at every opportunity. She talked about being pleasantly sore, I joked about my jaw being broken, and it was very … good. She put it best when she said, “S&M makes us more in-synch, sometimes.” I mean, she’s right — there’s something about a good scene, both partners on the same page, focused on the same goals, in a private little space all of their own, that really does kind of push everything extraneous aside.

The flip side of it all is that I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and had a hard time sitting down for the bruise on my ass. On the one hand, a bruise! Cool! On the other hand, late night trips to the bathroom aren’t so much about using the bathroom as they are reading time without interruption — I grab a book, sit down, the house is quiet, the lighting is perfect, and I just kind of kill about three or four chapters of whatever it is I’m working on. That kind of relaxed reading time is all for nought if I have to spend the night canted at an angle on one cheek for the gigantic blue-and-purple reminder of my beating.

I ended up spending the night reading CNN on my smartphone while shifting uncomfortably on one asscheek. On the other hand, the Supremes handed down a decent holding for the first time in a while, and Kennedy showed he hasn’t completely embraced the Dark Side, so that was a brief moment of happiness.

THOUGHT THE SECOND:

Sex organs are weird.

Growing up male, my sexual thoughts were all about penetrating — about driving my cock into some wet sex belonging to a beautiful woman. The cock is all about that driving, stabbing, thrusting motion into something warm, wet, and tight. My whole worldview, sexually, lies on a foundation of that atavistic desire to just thrust inside of a woman. That is the central axis around which everything else revolves.

I’m not really bi. If we measured some kind of scale where exclusively gay is 1 and totally het is 10, I’d be around a 9. I chalk this up to my parents’ fairly enlightened attitudes about homosexuality — I got the “It’s okay if you’re gay” talk at the same time I got the birds & the bees, probably because I was a very effeminate little boy until my voice came in and I had my growth spurt. I never had any of that repressed, forbidden fruit baggage to deal with, and really, I just have always focused on women to the extent that I’m a big, voracious hound for the female form. My reticence about being with another guy in a threesome environment had less to do with concern about gay shit going on than it did with my massive fear of my cock being revealed as tiny thanks to my first girlfriend. (A fear my wife finally eliminated.) Guys are cool, they’re handsome, they’re beautiful, but they just don’t do it for me at all.

So guys…do nothing for me. Girls with cocks, on the other hand…

My wife and I have been doing strap-on play since our second scene. And there’s just something awesome about being penetrated, or the sight of a woman with a harness on and a big cock popping out. I love the way my wife looks with a cock on, the way the power of it, the way it weighs and moves and juts out registers on her face, in her movement. And the way we both love her cock in my mouth, in my ass, about force and power and thrusting all happening on the other side of the equation. About being taken with that big, thrusting, stabbing implement, or in her case taking…

I know my wife’s big regret is that our genders aren’t elastic — that she can’t slough off her skin and become a boy for a while and just fuck me with a real cock, come in my face with a real cock, take my mouth with a real cock. And I have to say, I’m in the same boat — as wonderful as it feels to have my ass pounded by her, I envy the fact that her sex organs are built for being penetrated — that they lubricate, they tighten, there are all those nerve endings and a nearby clit.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think we’re a bit jealous of one another. That really hit home last night, as she tried to choke me with her cock — the purple one that usually goes in her strap-on harness. She wanted to feel my teeth, to feel my mouth on a cock — her cock — and it just wasn’t happening. She still gets off on it — the power, the thrusting, the feel of having that weight right around your crotch, that tool jutting out and just waiting for you to shove it into something warm, wet and tight — but there’s always going to be that elusive element we’ll never get right.

I’m the same way. As much as I love anal with her — and I do — the ass is just not a vagina. The prostate is not a clitoris. No matter how much we want to trade places, it’s never going to happen to the degree we want. Which is a tragedy, because I think I’d enjoy having a vagina, even if I don’t want to be a woman; and I know my wife would love having a cock for a while. Neither of us want to make a permanent trade, but it would be nice to shed our skins for a while and put on new ones. At least from the waist down.