In the middle of my floor, he danced us

Sunday April 14th

A couple weekends ago, B and I were spending time together at my place. B had asked what we should read together. (We’d talked about reading the same book at the same time long ago, but hadn’t gotten around to it.) I said that we should go to the thrift store and  read the first book we found two copies of. “No!” he said. “I don’t want to read The Bridges of Madison County!”  Heehee. In fact, we found Reading Lolita in Tehran and Ella Minnow Pea. We started with Reading Lolita, reading aloud to each other.

My hips had been bothering me, feeling very tight and achey, and I told him that I needed to stretch. My pilates instructor had shown me the same stretches that a physical therapist gave me last year, and of course my flexibility and strength won’t improve unless I do the damn things. (Not surprisingly, I should have been doing these stretches every day of my life since childhood. Is any human good at self-discipline?) I’ve only stretched in front of B a couple of times, usually while he was cooking or otherwise occupied. We had been talking about the stretches though, and I’d been describing my pilates session, so I settled on my living room rug and began. He sat on the couch and picked up our book, reading aloud. When I attempted the stretch that my pilates instructor had assisted with, B put down the book and came over. I was lying on my back with my legs a bit pretzely, and B lifted my bottom foot and supported it. I love that he would read to me while I stretched. I love that he would put down the book and come over to help, placing my foot against his chest without hesitation.

Somehow, when stretching was over, we ended up sitting on the rug facing each other, my legs around his waist. I’d turned on a playlist of fast songs from my computer. B maneuvered us so that I was sitting on his lap, and I wrapped my arms around him. He moved to the music, bouncing and swaying me, and sitting there in the middle of my living room, we were dancing. I held onto him tightly, our torsos kissing from sternum to belly, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, and we sang along and laughed together. I’ve never felt that before. Secure in someone’s arms, letting him move us to the music, no fear of falling. It felt so good, sexy and fun. Almost magical. I don’t know if B did all this deliberately, if he knew that I’d never really danced and he found a way to give that to me. Could he know how I’ve longed to feel it? Maybe he knew what it meant to me and maybe he didn’t. I couldn’t tell him. I just held him tighter, loving him so much.

My sex life: an emotional roller coaster

I did not intend for a month to pass before I blogged again. Last time I wrote, I was one week post-setback and wondering whether it was safe to try again. And I was sad and frustrated.

I told B that night that I needed a couple more days, just to make sure. We had a good weekend, though, including my first time ever in a Crate & Barrel. We were even approached by a salesperson and treated like a real, grown-up couple who might actually buy something. (We didn’t.)

We did have sex that Sunday, the 10th, and according to my sparse notes, it went okay. Yes, I make notes. I know it’s a bit odd. Basically, it’s the opposite of a steamy, sexcapades diary, and instead only a note on whether there was pain during or after, whether we used lube, or anything that was particularly different. Anyway, I was glad I seemed to be completely healed, but was still wanting things to improve.

Friday the 15th was a very good day. I have fond memories of our experiences that night. We just kissed and kissed and kissed in bed. We took our time, and maybe it’s as simple as that, that I just need more make-out time. I remember feeling nicely turned on, and we managed without lube. I did still have to talk myself out of tensing up and holding my breath when we were trying to get insertion right. And I did still have that chafey feeling and tenderness when it was over.

The whole next week I kept thinking about it, and I wondered if I just didn’t have sex regularly enough, since it’s only on weekends. Maybe I have to keep everything stretched and conditioned all week long. It’s a muscle group like any other–and I may be dealing with spasticity there because of my CP (though that’s a complete guess and I may not). At some point that week, I got out my toy, curious to see how it would feel now, after I’ve had actual partnered sex. It did go in more easily, as I figured it would. I tried to simulate reality, and of course there wasn’t a chafing feeling or tenderness when I removed it, just a feeling of something having been inserted and taken out. My toy is an inch in diameter–much smaller than B. I wondered if I should work up to a size that’s closer to what I’m dealing with with my partner. If I could get my body to accept it when I’m the one in control of it, maybe that would help. I did some research and discovered that one inch is pretty standard in toys (low end, not-fancy toys). It isn’t easy to find 1.25, and I didn’t want to jump straight to 1.5. I also didn’t want to invest in a dilator set because I would already have been comfortable with the first two sizes. I wasn’t wild about buying two more toys, though, when I already have two I barely use. I decided that if I was still feeling that same tenderness in Sept/Oct (one year of semi-regular sex), I’d go get checked out. But for now, I think that time and practice is still the way to go.

Sunday the 24th. I woke up before B and showered and when I finished, he took one. I’d been thinking for a while now that it’s time I go…orally exploring. B has never asked me to, but it’s clear he’s been hoping for it, well, for years (since his last relationship in college). He’s never done it, on me or anyone, but he’s made overtures in that direction. I felt I was ready to, as well, and that maybe if we expand our repertoire, we’d discover something that works well for us. Understandably, I wanted my first experience to be a fresh-out-of-the-shower one, and I was happy to be climbing back into bed, all clean, and waiting for him. While he showered, I busied myself with sexy thoughts and some sexy actions, too. I got a bit of a head start, I admit it. I didn’t go all the way there, but I wanted my body to be ready for sex. So I got it ready. When he emerged, we made out, but I found it really difficult to make my way south. I wanted to, but I was nervous. Finally, I just told him, “I’m going exploring,” and he told me I didn’t have to if I didn’t want to. But finally I did, after warning him not to expect too much. This was a practice run; I had no intention of getting him all the way to release. I just went exploring and it was really nice. Men’s bodies are so much simpler than women’s. Not really all that daunting. So, yay me. New experiences.

We made out some more, and I touched myself some more, trying to get almost there again. Entry still doesn’t go smoothly, and inevitably, a bit of the arousal ebbs. But eventually we got it (without lube!), and I continued doing what I need to do. And, incredibly, I did it. I had an orgasm. While also having sex. I don’t think the sex made it better or stronger, and it wasn’t a spectacular one, but hooray. Hooray! I was pretty proud of myself, and pretty relieved that, yes, it’s possible. I felt good, too. Still a bit stretched, still the same tender spot, but much better than previous times. It proves that I do just need to be really ready (and that I can be really ready) and that my body does go through the arousal response and can respond properly. Maybe my body felt the same as the other times, but the chemicals/endorphins from the orgasm were working their magic. (Orgasms have been proven to relieve pain.)

Saturday the 30th. One more noteworthy occurrence. We’re together Fri/Sat/Sun but haven’t managed sex three days in a row except once. I’m okay with that. (Unless ‘more sex’ is what the doctor would suggest! ;-)) B has tried manually stimulating me lots of times by now. And I’m getting better at giving guidance. It’s easier if he asks, “Here?” and I can say up or down. Once he said, “You’re going to have to take over.” So I did. All this is to say, we’re just getting more and more comfortable with everything. And on that Saturday, finally he did it. I had an orgasm from his stimulation alone. Hooray! It’s quite a boost for both of us, I think.

Maybe my arousal response has finally woken up. Maybe I’m finally able to relax enough to let it happen. Whatever it is, I’m happy and relieved. It doesn’t mean, of course, that my (partnered) sex life is going to be full of orgasms from here on out. It’s not going to happen every time, maybe not even half the time. I’m just glad to know it’s possible.