Spirituality

A pink feather

To me spirituality is an idea that there is something more than me and us. That we are here for a purpose and after we die something of us remains somewhere. I’ve always wanted to believe that the soul and spirit live on. But I have no real evidence and being a science based individual I do like evidence. I am respectful of the beliefs of others, but don’t really believe in god and don’t like organised religion. This post might turn out a bit muddled, since this isn’t a straightforward topic and I haven’t planned it out.

My nan believed in God and the afterlife

She wasn’t a massive church goer, but attended on dates important to her (including remembrance services). However I do think she was a very spiritual person. When my grandad died she believed he was always with her. That he helped her find things. She spoke to him often and could feel his presence. I was young then, in my 20’s. I humoured but didn’t really believe it all. She used to read books by and about psychics which she passed on to me. I wasn’t sure whether to believe this stuff or not. But on balance I decided it was a load of rubbish.

After she died, some strange things happened. One most notable was that one of the toys in my son’s toy box kept starting up on its own. It happened quite a bit, even after I moved it somewhere it couldn’t be knocked. I also used to think I had seen her out of the corner of my eye. When I turned she would be gone. A friend who claimed to be psychic told me once that nan was standing behind me.

Interestingly nothing like that happened after my dad died, but then he was not a believer in any of this kind of stuff.

But I did walk downstairs just before he died

I don’t know what made me go down as I was preparing to go into work for a meeting. I realised the end was very close and called mum to sit with him. Sadly I was too late to get either of my brothers there. I have known when others are soon to die too. But that might be experience rather than a sixth sense. Certainly my father in law was very grateful when I wouldn’t let him leave his mother. I knew there wouldn’t be another day to visit.

Since his death I’ve considered my own mortality more. Even more so since developing cancer myself. The last time dad spoke to me he asked me ‘what is going to become of me?’ I told him he would be staying with us. But the question scared me. What does become of us? As our bodies shrink and close down, do we still dream? Do we know what awaits us, are we fearful or just ready?

I’m fascinated by tarot cards and fortune telling

But I am sceptical about how much truth there is in it. Someone read my cards and sent me the reading at the beginning of my relationship with Master. At the time, things were very difficult at home and his then primary slave was being a complete bitch. To me and him. My friend’s cards suggested that all would sort itself out and that I shouldn’t expect my relationship with him would end. At the time it seemed likely it would. But I’ll never know if she just made an educated guess or whether the cards told her so.

I’d like to learn much more about tarot and maybe while I have more time, I’ll start to read about it.

I have to admit I have more faith in this kind of alternative view than I do about organised religion. I’ve just met too many people who are complete hypocrites. Those who tell you to do as I say rather than as I do. They are also quick to judge others rather than to understand how diversity and understanding should be. while giving money to charity and thinking they have ‘done their bit’.

I guess I feel that I am spiritual rather than religious. I believe in respect, kindness and understanding before specific belief. There’s stuff I don’t understand and would like to know more about. And, as I grow older my thoughts on death and what happens to us afterwards are definitely on my mind. I need to read stuff.

Respect

Person with a notebook and grey book entitled love and respect on her lap.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Showing respect to others is important, but it has to be earned rather than assumed. During my childhood I remember the saying: respect your elders. But what if those elders don’t conduct themselves in a way that is kind or respectful to you as a child or other adults. As a nurse, my early adult years was spent in another environment of respect your elders and also people considered to be betters. That’s where I decided that respect must be earned rather than freely given.

Kindness and consideration to others

Showing kindness and thoughtfulness towards others is key to being respectful in my book. If someone is aggressive for no reason then it is going to be more difficult to show them kindness in return. However almost 40 years of nursing and working in the public sector has trained me to be courteous and calm even when I am screaming inside. There are of course times I let rip, but they tend to be in a private place. My mum tends to wind me up and there are certainly times I’ve treated her back with the disrespect she has shown me. But I do try to refrain from that, it get’s you no where.

Email and online respect

Way before we engaged with each other on social media platforms the age of email emerged into our lives. It soon became apparent that some people were quite prepared to write things in an email that they would never say on the phone, let alone to someone’s face. I decided early on not to join in with this pursuit but instead to try to be calm and measured. I soon gained a reputation at work as someone to help people structure their emails without causing offence. I’ve tried to carry this into my blogging and social media existence. I’d rather walk away, or at least allow myself to calm down before saying things. I try also to see the best in people.

Trouble is, that doesn’t stop me being hurt. I always imagine any supposed slight is aimed at me. Yesterday I was unfollowed for disagreeing with someone on Twitter. I find this sad, but we’re living in stressful times. So, I just quietly unfollowed them.

Online chat rooms are another place where disrespect is rife. Particularly when it comes to bending the truth and telling outright lies. When I was using those places I somehow managed to navigate my way around those individuals and found myself a great man. But maybe I was lucky, who knows?

Respect within my relationship

No relationship can survive without mutual respect and that includes a power exchange dynamic. We each bring different things to our relationship which make up the key elements of what make it work. Communication is probably the key. We entered the relationship knowing what we expected from each other and over time this has broadened out. In the bedroom and playroom he is clearly the boss and I tend to follow instructions, though can be bratty. He chooses to listen or ignore and that is how it is. In our wider life I still look to him for advice and decisions. But we are more partners in decision making.

Loss of respect

My ex did things throughout our marriage that caused me to lose respect for him. He lied and was often un trustworthy. Boy, he even lied about where he was at the end when he didn’t need to.

But while I’d never trust him in terms of a relationship again. Some respect has been restored because of the way he has coped with the loss of his mum and brother. Followed immediately by his dad’s stroke. I also have great respect for his new partner. I can see that she is better placed to support him. But then they don’t have the baggage in their relationship that we had.

This is also true for Master and I. At 6 years our relationship is relatively new (well in terms of a 30 year marriage). Our past mistakes are, well in the past. We speak openly of those and are able to do our best not to allow them to happen to us. Which takes us back to communication, truthfulness and respect.

Curves

Me in the bath showing my curves. Legs, and tummy rolls on show.
Bath colour caused by a Turmeric Latte bath bomb!

I am very curvy. I have curves in places I like, but also in places I don’t. For years I hated the sight of my body and would only look at it in a mirror that I found flattering. I also avoided the camera. This was helped along by the fact I always seemed to be the one behind the camera. Whole holidays passed with 60 photos of my son, a few of my husband and lots of the scenery. There’d be an occasional one of me, but if I felt I looked too fat, I’d hide it away or throw it out. We’re mainly talking pre-digital here, because those just never saw the light of day.

But things have changed. While I am still not sharing photos of myself in a swimsuit with family and friends I have no problem with showing my curves here on my blog. So, what has changed?

Writing about sex and kink

To begin with my posts were pretty much just words, though one of my first ever posts did contain a photo of me in a maid’s outfit. Gradually I introduced images, mainly those I found on Tumblr. But then I met Master and he took photos of me, some of which I liked more than others. S also took a few and they too appeared here, but there aren’t many. Now, I like to use a photo of or by me to illustrate my blog where possible.

Body positivity

I’ve definitely grown to like and love my curves more since I’ve been with Master. Partly because of his body positivity. He always tells me he loves my curves, loves to feel them, see them and photograph them. He loves the way I look in leather and other fetish gear. Admires my nipple piercing jewellery and me generally naked. In fact that’s the thing that set’s him apart from the other men I’ve had in my life. That he likes me naked. I’m not always so thrilled with the finished product. So, I’ll try and crop out what I think is the worst of my lumps and bumps.

Post mastectomy was a difficult time. But at the moment I feel happier posting a photo of my chest on my blog than going round without a bra. Go figure that one out!

Sensorship

There are few places that it’s ok to show photos of a naked body. It’s ok to show a man’s naked chest on Instagram, Facebook or Tumblr but not a woman’s. A self hosted blog and twitter for the moment are ok. But who knows when this creeping censorship will creep up on us further.

Sinful Sunday and February Photofest

It was really joining in with these two meme’s created and run by Molly Moore that sealed my place as a shower of my own curves. I’ve just completed my fourth February Photofest and am proud that I posted every day. Most of the images were of me. They ranged across the history of our relationship and if you look you’ll see that sometimes I have more curves than others. At the moment I’m proud to be shrinking down a little and that makes me happy.

As for Sinful Sunday. Often I’ll only post once or twice a week when I am busy or away travelling and one of those will usually be a Sinful Sunday. Our images aren’t always as creative as others but we try to make some effort.

When I look back over the almost 8 years of this blog I am amazed to see how far I’ve come. Not just in the quality and quantity of my writing but also in what I’m prepared to share of myself and our relationship. I can’t see that changing any time soon. I’m 57, I have had a mastectomy and I am a big curvy woman. And, I’m proud to share myself with anyone who would like to see me.

Co-dependent

I never thought I’d want to be dependent on another person. When my marriage was ending I was adamant I wanted to be independent and to live alone if that was required. I like my own space and at the time I had a well paid job and was exploring what being single could mean. I was 16 when I started going out with my ex, so I’ve never been single. That’s still true in a way. But this relationship is different from that one.

Master first asked me to live with him at the end of a very boozy evening in Amsterdam. It was 2014 and he had just finished with his other slave. Our hotel had an honesty bar and we sat alone there drinking dutch gin, well I did. When he asked if I’d live with him, I laughed and said no. He had to agree it was a mad idea.

But actually it wasn’t such a stupid plan, it just took a while to happen. Our dependence on each other took a while and changes were subtle. Giving up control of orgasms and my body were nothing in comparison to depending on each other emotionally. And, this isn’t a one way road. He has emotional needs that I try to satisfy, to listen to his concerns.

I also bear the brunt of his rants about the ineffectiveness of the bank of England, industry in general, government, the EU. I’m also a sounding board for his knowledge on music, film and literature. If I wasn’t there he’d just be living in his head, so it’s a worthy thing. Plus I learn stuff without having to do the hard work. I also cook and am better at it than him, though he has an amazing palate and advises on flavour He makes a mean salad dressing and is king of what herb or spice goes with what.

Since giving up work and moving in with Master the dependency ratio has swung a little. This is his property, though our home. I have an income from my work pension, but it isn’t enough to support myself completely. He is managing my savings and making a good job of it. Right now, I could walk away with a reasonable sum of money, but I’d probably need to go back to work soon after. I have no plans to do so, but I do recognise my dependence on him financially. Or maybe it is that we are co-dependent because we live cheaper as two than we did living separately.

For him, my being dependent on him feeds into his desire for power and control. I have no problem with this and have willingly given him elements of me and my body to own. There is no abuse here so I am perfectly prepared to let him have the control he so desires.

It’s easy to see how power exchange could result in an unhealthy co-dependency. That’s why consent is so important – safe, sane consensual. Plus the importance of communication, checking in with each other.

As I said at the beginning, I never expected this life. But I am happy to have it. To be with the man I love. Yes, I’m dependent on him, but he is on me. This Master / slave thing is no one way street. We co-exist and are co-dependent. Hopefully we can grow old together this way.

I am, because we are

It is a coincidence that as I walked home yesterday I was thinking about this topic. Wondering about who I am now as we enter the 7th year of our life together. Wondering whether I am worthy as his submissive and partner. I came to the conclusion that we are where we are because of who we are, together. So, some background.

Last weekend was the 6th anniversary of the day we met in person. This year we celebrated by going out for dinner. We often eat out, but usually it’s because we are doing something away from home and dinner out is easier. This was a meal out for itself.

Today I received notice that the first part of my divorce, the decree nisi will be heard in court in March. 6 weeks and one day later I will be divorced. My entire blog catalogues my own journey to this point. In many ways I am the person I was at the beginning, but of course events have changed me. Plus taking on the role of slave and starting a new long term relationship has added to that.

The person I was

Confused, probably sums it up. As I approached my 50th birthday I knew change was needed. My life wasn’t going as it should and I wanted something different. Trouble was I didn’t know what that different was or how to go about getting it. I consider my self lucky that the two men I met along the way helped guide me towards discovering what that might be. The fall out from my ex was hard to bear. Last week while reading some old posts from 2013 to link to my privacy post I came across some very disturbing writing.

My husband was playing me. I know that now since at the time he was already in another relationship (still unknown to me). But meanwhile he manipulated me and made me feel I was beyond dreadful for cheating on him. He made me sleep deprived by turning up early in the morning and then he snooped through my emails and was generally horrible. All the time I cooked meals for him if he decided to be home. Made sandwiches and did his washing. YES, I actually did those things. I was a complete doormat. I now know I should have kicked him out and changed the locks. But that’s with the benefit of hindsight.

The person I am

From the beginning of my relationship with Master things changed. He listened to me and helped me work out how to navigate the way ahead. I didn’t always to what he suggested to begin with. But usually there was some method in his ideas. His own other relationship was messy and so we worked through those times together. Sometimes that meant just being there for each other. I know there were times when he felt less dominant for it, but this was a human need not about power exchange dynamics. Not many months after we met my father became terminally ill and died. The support Master provided during that time set the scene for the kind of partner he would be.

Running parallel to all of those more intimate and personal elements of our relationship is the kink. Power, Dominance, submission, kinky sex and play. Over the years we have learned what is our norm. The things that feel safe and right. But we have also pushed each other to try new things.

For a very long time we played in the privacy of our own home and occasionally in a privately hired dungeon. It was also a while before we ventured to Munches and in the end it was through talking to people at those events that drew us to play events. Then recently we started meeting up with some people we met at one of those. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that often I’d prefer to stay at home. Well until I’m there that is. But that is also true of attending vanilla events even with friends.

Am I submissive enough? Is he dominant enough?

These were my thoughts as I listened to some podcasts while travelling yesterday (details below). My idea of submission at the beginning of this journey was based on erotica and other blogs. Training plans for submissives, men with dungeons in their basements, kneeling naked etc. It isn’t like that. For obvious reasons. But when Master tells me I’ve been bratty, I do stop and think. When he tells me to kneel and suck his cock I do it. When he asks me if I’ve achieved the things in my planner, I do reflect. And when he tells me his is proud of the person I glow with pride.

He has helped me become the slave he wants, but also I have helped him to become the dominant I need. Our life together is the one we have made together and it isn’t like anyone else’s I’m sure. But it occurs to me that we are who we are and I am the person I am because of us.

At some point soon, I am going to draw a line on some of the past. We share enough history on this blog not to need to go back further. The posts will remain but they will be archived from view. They are not ones that are retweeted anyway. Time to move on.

Thoughts generated from the following podcasts

Opposites Attract (or should you fuck a tory?)

MoteOo (pixabay.com)

In some ways that is true about us. Not in terms of kink, we seem to be aligned there. But upbringing, education and politics. There are some huge differences. This conversation with GOTN yesterday has led me here to this post. But actually I’ve thought about writing it for some time. That’s because a lot of fellow sex bloggers approach their lives from a similar liberal world view. One that I also possess. But I often keep quiet because Master usually has some kind of opposite view. People say, for example they would never fuck a Tory or someone who voted for Brexit. But actually it is possible to have sex and cohabit with someone who is and did those things. I wonder if I should have included a content warning on this post?

Roots

I come from a socialist supporting family, though both my brothers have moved away from that philosophy. My maternal ancestors were mining families from the North East of England. My dad was an electrician and I became a nurse through an apprenticeship type training. Since then I’ve gained 2 degrees and been a health service manager but I believe in socialist values and I’d also prefer we remained part of the EU. The original reason for this was a selfish one. I have a home in France and don’t want complications. But as time has gone on I haven’t been able to work out what will be better when the UK leave.

He went to a private school, on a scholarship and his father was a banker. Master is Oxford educated and was an accountant. He votes Conservative and believes in Brexit. Or did when he voted for it. He doesn’t take anything at face value and reads vociferously. When he voted for Brexit it was because he believes that the EU is corrupt and badly run. That view hasn’t changed, but the complete political mess that ensued after the vote created more common ground than we expected.

Arguments

I was never someone who would finish with someone because of their political beliefs. Unless they wanted to make me change mine, and that clearly hasn’t happened. We certainly don’t discuss politics in bed or in the practice of our BDSM art form. But that isn’t to say we haven’t discussed the two thorny issues of crap tory policies making the country less pleasant to live in and Brexit. We have also had our fair share of arguments, as you might expect.

My husband found it difficult to establish an opinion much less express one. He tended to regurgitate mine. So, actually having someone to argue the state of the country with is a good thing. I’ve also become less volatile in my reactions over the years, it must be age.

But we do argue. Not often and to be honest I struggle to maintain my side to the bitter end (to my own frustration). The trouble is Master often has much more knowledge on a topic than I do. Unless it is about health and health politics and then I can hold my ground. What’s more I tend to lose interest or wrap myself up in knots. His debating skills are just better than mine. Then there is the issue that I’ll never change his mind just like he won’t mine. So, what’s the point.

As I mentioned above though it has been the politicians of the UK and indeed world that have helped us along. There has been no doubt this country has been badly run for the last few years. There is also little doubt that Jeremy Corbyn was never going to be accepted as a prospective prime minister. Even though he has been a better leader than I’d imagined he would be. Brexit has been a shambles and in all likely hood will remain so. We therefore have agreement even if we come at it from opposite views.

Drink

My only caveat is that we must never have political discussions in a pub or even at home while drinking. Over the years that has caused some momentous rows, usually involving me getting so angry that I storm off somewhere. Plus, I’m less articulate when drunk and he tends to forget what he said by morning. So it’s a case of don’t go there. The only upside is that it usually involves some very hot make up sex. But to be honest it would be better to just have the sex and leave out the argument and hangover.

My advice

If you find yourself romantically linked with someone of an apposing political view don’t run away, it might be fine. If you fancy them like crazy and you find that they don’t want to talk about how wonderful Boris is while in bed. Also check they are capable of behaving themselves in public. That they won’t lecture your friends and family and keep their apposing views to more private encounters.

So, if you fancy a tory, don’t be frightened to snog them, or even have sex with them. They might just turn out to be the love of your life.

Home

14th July Fireworks from my balcony in France

Concepts of home have become more difficult for me to articulate over recent years. What does home really mean to me? Is home a place, a person, a state of mind? Unusually, I read the Food for Thought posts already posted before writing this. Now I’m not sure if I’m clearer or if the waters are more muddy. Let’s see.

Childhood

We moved to the house I would consider my childhood home when I was around 5. I have a few memories of the first place, but they may just be from photos I’ve seen. Home was my parents and brothers. My grandparents and cousins visiting. It was family Christmas’ and my room.

As a teenager I got my dad to paint it purple. I had my own little portable cassette deck, my books and other special possessions. It’s the place I did my homework and wrote. Once I got a boyfriend it’s a place I took him, though my mum was forever calling me downstairs!

I got married from that home (though I had moved out 6 months before) and then my parents moved to a new house. I felt at home in their new place, but it wasn’t my home.

Our homes

Hubby and I also owned two houses during the course of our marriage. Our first was special because I’d never lived anywhere that afforded real privacy. By that, I mean that parents and brothers could walk in at home and the home warden at my nurses accommodation. Here only we had a key, everyone else had to knock. That made it home. Then the fact we decorated and chose furniture and furnishings. Finally because it was just us. It was a place that we conceived our son and brought him home to. Later I discovered things hadn’t been as I imagined, because his infidelity started at around that time.

When my son was just 3 months old we moved. I wanted somewhere we could bring up a family, a bigger home and better neighbourhood. The new place was fine to begin with. We decorated, but often struggled to make it feel right (for me that is). However it was my son’s home and over time it became mine too. A place of sanctity, somewhere to hide when things were difficult.

At the end, when my ex had all but gone, it felt like the home it had never been. I spent days and nights there alone and became familiar with every nook and cranny. But when it came time to leave, I knew it was right.

My ex still lives there. I’ve been back and it feels no more like home than any other house in that street. That’s not because they have decorated and have new furniture. I’ve felt that way since I loaded my car with my remaining things and closed the door on that part of my life.

Looking back, I am still not sure that home was ever with my ex. But having my son there made it feel that it was at the time.

Now

We live in Master’s house. To begin with it was very weird, but gradually it has become home. Partly because my possessions have found their place and I have made changes to how things are. Also because we have started to decorate and make plans about how things will be. But this is a home because we are here together. I have a feeling about the concept of home that I didn’t have before.

There is one other place I call home. It’s a small apartment in France that I own (well jointly own with the ex). But it is my bolt hole. It’s the place I went to escape the pain and sadness when my life seemed to be falling apart. I’ve laughed, cried, got drunk and had amazing sex there. It is the place I’d run to if things went tits up here with Master. But it is also the place we go to and gradually it has become something of home to him too. Our place, our home.

Balancing our needs

In her introduction for this week’s Sex Bloggers for Mental Health, Catherine links to my post from last week about priorities. As she highlights, I wrote about the need to balance my and our needs with those of others. For this week’s prompt Catherine asks: but how?

For me, the realisation that a rebalance is required, comes after some kind of crisis. It may just be a moment of stress or some kind of over dramatic meltdown (oh yes, I can be a drama queen).

We are lucky. Our lives don’t any longer revolve around the needs of others. Just of ourselves. We don’t have dependents living with us, nor do we have parents or children living close. But there in lies the slight problem. On one hand we don’t have anyone turning up unexpectedly, but on the other hand, we do need to plan. We can live our own lives spontaneously but interaction with others needs planning. And sometimes we either get the planning wrong, get let down or else have to drop everything for the needs of others. This is kind of what happened at Christmas. My careful planning went wrong, because stuff outside of our control happened and then stress occurred.

Many of us try to control everything around us much too much. I and we are no exception to that. It is in my nature to try to please everyone and by doing so, I end up making myself unhappy. Master needs time of solitude and actually I need that alone time too. But both of us also need to engage with others. He claims he doesn’t; but then suggests going to a munch because he wants to be sociable. When I say we are going to spend an evening with my son or brother he pulls a face, but then enjoys it. Certainly before he met me Master spent far too much time alone and admits now that was not good for him. He claims he dislikes people, but I don’t think he really does, but he definitely needs not to be with others all the time.

That may reflect our different personalities. Me, the extrovert who likes to be with people and he the introvert who lives in his own mind much of the time. But, that’s too simplistic. I find meeting new people difficult. I don’t like noisy places as I can’t shut off from people’s conversations. It’s often he who suggests we go out to meet people and I who would rather stay home.

We both have elderly parents, and the possibility of a call is always there. I know that I will be required at some point to go and help out. My mother is frail and prone to falls. But while she is well and mobile I will keep to my fortnightly visits and support my brother who lives nearby as best I can.

My own brush with ill health and the desire to live my best life right now dictates how I makes sure there is balance. That I do the things I want and need. For example that I take exercise, even if Master isn’t joining me. That we go to new places and see what the world has to offer us. I am lucky to have retired from full time work at such a young age, but I know how easily the freedoms I am afforded could be snatched away. So, with that in mind we put ourselves first. But try to remain mindful of those that surround us.

A bit of a show off

Yep, that’s me. I was that child eager to strut her stuff on stage or to take part in fancy dress competitions. I was that live wire, loud, trying to be centre of attention. Precocious the adult me would have called the younger Julie. I’m an extrovert and I’ll be honest I am a show off and I’m not frightened to flaunt any talents I have. At one time that might have been my long legs and my boobs. I’ve never had an hour glass figure instead I’m more pear shaped. But over all I haven’t let it stop me from wearing what I want.

I guess that’s why I immersed myself so thoroughly into posting pictures on my blog. Because, although I tend to dress for the occasion at work or socially I really love to show off my body. And, over the past 8 years I’ve been lucky enough to be with men who appreciate it.

For S, it was stockings, suspenders and heels. With Master it’s me naked. Though he has a certain appreciation for me in leather fettish gear. I guess that I’ve got out of the habit of wearing it, what with one thing and another. So, last weekend’s trip to a fetish club was a great opportunity to strut my stuff. We don’t have any photos since photography in the club is (for obvious reasons) not allowed. But we certainly should take some for February Photofest.

Lingerie is often something hidden beneath clothes, or not worn (that would be Master’s preference. I tend to wear knickers with jeans, but not leggings and in winter. I do love the opportunity that summer offers. At the moment I always wear a bra, but hope that in the fullness of time that won’t be necessary again. But for now, I have a new found desire to buy matching lingerie and wear it. Last week I showed off my new set and don’t have anything else to show. But this is the 52nd week of Lingerie is for Everyone and so I feel I must join in. My show off, flaunt it self demands it.

So, I give you a photo taken for February Photofest 2017. This is one of my favourite sets and while I have thrown out some of the lingerie I doubt I’ll wear again, I very much would like to be seen in this set again. When I manage it, you’ll be the first to know.

Me wearing beautiful red lingerie. There is beading and lace on both bra and pants.

Thoughts on intimacy

While reading this post by May yesterday it struck me that there was a time when I hated intimacy. The reasons for these feelings differ between us, experiences in childhood and young adulthood are important. Being cheated on so early in my marriage had a profound affect on me. Over time, I learned to bury the hurt and pain, to bury my feelings. I guess I came across as cold and unresponsive. He told me I was frigid, so I know that was the case.

Sex during my marriage

Was perfunctory and was often just sex. I’ve said before that he was a man who could complete foreplay and PIV sex in during a commercial break. But to be fair to him, I was often ok with that. I’d hang around in the bedroom for a while and bang out an orgasm. Or else wait till he was asleep and find my rabbit. I actually didn’t want him to be intimate with me, to stroke and touch.

It’s strange, because we didn’t have full sex for quite a time after we met. But there was a lot of intimacy – a lot of foreplay (without the sex), we always sat close together and touched and kissed a lot. And then gradually that didn’t happen any more, but the catalyst for that was his affair. Don’t get me wrong we had our moments, but I think alcohol played quite a part in getting me to relax my guard.

Meeting S

This was a pretty transactional relationship looking back. I was his bedroom submissive, I dressed up and got off on some humiliation and degradation. In return we had some very good sex and through that I discovered I was in no way frigid. The play and the sex were fairly unemotional. But there was a lot of intimacy before and after. My husband rarely cooked a meal and being presented with breakfast after an early start and long drive was amazing. Picnics in bed were also a fun and intimate thing. But also there was aftercare of the physical kind – stroking, kissing and just generally being.

But then it was time to leave and I often didn’t hear from him for days or even weeks. To begin with that hurt, but over time I accepted that it wasn’t a love affair and took from it what I needed.

The intimacy of us

This relationship, with Master gives me everything I didn’t realise I needed until I had it. I’ve written before about the importance of touch between us. The intimacy is just there. If my husband came up to me and put his hands on my waist, then grabbed a tit I’d swat him away. Because there was a motive. With Master, there could be motive, but in general he is touching me because he desires me and just wants to touch me.

The stroking and holding takes place before during and after sex. During play he is constantly seeking to check I am ok and to let me know that he desires me. He also wants to know that I am aroused by the things he is doing.

As mentioned in the post – The touch of our hands – he didn’t always enjoy being touched. Now though he actively seeks my hands on his body. We approach each other regularly and just kiss gently on the lips. We don’t always hold hands when out, but sometimes, often late at night we do and it feels just right.

In many ways I feel I’ve come full circle. That I didn’t actually know what I needed till I didn’t have it. Didn’t know what to expect or to ask for. But, you know what? It’s never to late to find out what you need and perhaps to get it.

Click below for the thoughts of others on the topic of intimacy

Click below to see who else is participating in January Jumpstart.