I don’t know how to be happy.

hyandTN_b&w_sex

I blinked in the sunlight that streamed through my windows and stretched like the cat who lay on my pillow purring like a crazed motorboat.  He’ll be here soon, I thought, and as if on cue, I heard the front door open and close and the cat tore off to greet our visitor.

“Good morning, TN!” I called.

“Good morning, Hyacinth!” he called back.

I fixed  my eyes on the doorway and let him fill my view as he sauntered in, sheet marks pressed into his skin and his eyes puffy, but his cock enormous and jutting out against his shiny black basketball shorts.

I giggled at the image of his exhaustion mingled with a giant erection.

He walked up to the side of the bed and pulled himself free of his shorts, his taut, pink skin a slightly curved appendage for my viewing pleasure.

I wrapped my hand around it.  “Mmm,” I said and stood up.  “I have to pee.  I’ll be right back!”

When I came back out he pushed me roughly down onto the bed and licked his hand.  “I doubt I needed to do this.  Hmm, let’s see.  Could Hyacinth be wet already?”

“It’s possible,” I answered looking up at him.  “You wake up with that monster between your legs everyday.  I happen to wake up wet everyday.”  He pushed at my opening and sure enough he slid right in.

We moved together in the sunlight, carefully avoiding each other’s morning breath and hugged and humped and clutched and climaxed.  He pinned my legs onto his shoulders and moved until I was begging him to stop and then with a puffy-eyed grin kept going.

We were done relatively quickly, it being the morning and all.  He gently removed himself from me and lay beside me.  “Hang on,” I said and rolled over and grabbed my phone, something I’d done alone for so long.

I began taking pictures of us freshly post-coital.  It felt intimate and odd, like a salty candy that gives you two flavors at once.

He left shortly after to go to work and I smiled, stupidly happy.

And then I realized how uncomfortable I am with happiness and how I am doing my best to destroy what little peace I’ve finally managed to accomplish with him: I suggested that he fuck other women. 

The night I came up with this grand plan I had just met his parents.  Over the course of roughly 4 and a half hours I’d had a glass of white wine while getting dressed, a glass of Prosecco before dinner, and a glass of Rosé with my scallops, but when I’d suggested it to him he seriously wondered if I were drunk.

“I trust you, TN, I really do.  And I’m proud of you and I think you’re amazing in bed.  I want you to be able to go out and have fun.”

He just looked at me, dumbfounded as I blithely continued.  “No, really.  I’m so happy with you, I want you to be happy, too.”

“Ok…” he said, incredulous.  “But why the change of heart?  You’ve never felt this way before.”

“It’s because you told me you loved me and I feel safe with you, content.  I really feel like I could handle it.”

I’d dozed off then on his warm, furry chest and forgotten all about it.  But he hadn’t.

The following day he brought it up again.  “So, what you said the other night.  Do you still mean it?  Or were you just drunk?”

It all came rushing back to me: the warm glow of acceptance, the sense of safety, this ridiculous drive to prove I were invincibly in love with him.  What.the.fuck.  But I was too embarrassed to back out.  “No, really, I do,” I replied and then began that weird dance that people in open relationships do wherein they try to think of every possible thing they can’t handle: no two dates with the same woman, no threesomes without me, no lies, everything has to be transparent to me.  Then, of course I asked if he’d care if I slept around.

He was thoughtful, then said he’d be ok with me and another couple, but not with another man.  I told him I couldn’t imagine fucking another man anyway, I already had my unicorn firmly in my grasp.  He’d smiled at that and then I felt a twinge of something, like a tiny splinter: why would he want to fuck another woman? aren’t I good enough? the best?  And that’s when I knew I was full of shit and actively trying to sabotage my own happiness.

The next night, after the sweet, yet brief morning love session, I came to him with hat in hand, sheepish and utterly embarrassed.  “You’re right, TN.  I can’t handle it.  I think I’m just really uncomfortable with how happy I am.  I mean, look, we’ve only been this kind of happy for 3 months and I’m already looking to inject it with chaos.”

He pulled me into his nook and stroked my arm.  “I thought so,” he said.  “Besides, I’m not a player.  I’m really not that interested in opening this up.”

I’m almost 40 years old and this is a humiliating moment for me.  I left a marriage that was safe, yet passionless, and embarked on a wild year or two of no safety whatsoever, but chocked full of passion.  I manage to cultivate a passionate — and safe — relationship and the first thing I try to do is dismantle it.

After everything we’ve been through — 4 am girl, my secret sex blog, his resistance, my anger — we’ve made it.  He wants me and my entire life and I am inexplicably uncomfortable with his unconditional regard despite my longing for just this very thing.  I am a stupid bastard.

So for now we have agreed to just be happy with each other and I’ve vowed to immerse myself in this new sensation called happiness.  It’s strange and terrifying, but I happen to like salty candy so I’m going to keep chewing.

We masturbate with the light on.

hyacinthjones_polkadot_shorts

The outfit of ill repute.

I pressed myself against his bare back and reached my arm around to find his stiff cock resting on the mattress.  We’d been cuddling for a while and our new configuration had interrupted my stroking.  I sighed into his back and kissed his shoulder, squeezed the hot thing in my hand.  He picked up his stream of consciousness and I closed my eyes with a smile as I breathed him in and indulged completely my joy of curling around him while sunk deeply into my mattress.

My hand, wrapped around his hotness, lazily moved the length of him and I felt a familiar draw between my legs.  I was surprised; I thought for sure the pounding headache I’d endured all day had surely killed any kind of libido, but no… she was purring just below the surface.  I decided to test it and thought out loud to us both.

“How long has it been since you masturbated?”

“Since Saturday or Sunday whenever I sent you that pic.”

“Mmm,” I replied remembering the glorious cock shot I’d received, all resplendent dark pink skin arched like a dolphin above the surface of his belly.  “I remember now.  Thanks for that.”  I squeezed my hand again and pulled his shoulder toward me to reposition him on his back.

“I want to watch you cum tonight,” I said softly, firmly.  The room was filled with light and an evening stillness, waiting.

He politely declined, but I persisted, perceiving the game.  “It’s so hot when your hand is a blur, to watch you tense your big thighs,” I whispered.

I traced my hand over his meaty quadricep.  “And to watch you shake a little.  To see your arm flex, your biceps harden.  Your little grunts and then you curl.”

“I curl?” he asked.

“Yes, you curl, just a little, like this at the end,” and I demonstrated the little crunch he does during climax.

He moaned a little and took over.  A slight smacking sound from the head of his cock joined the lilt of my story as his hand moved quickly and expertly over his own body.  “Mmm, how could I have forgotten about that sound?” I wondered.

“I want you to cum with me,” he said.  Then added, “Please, ma’am.”

I rolled over and retrieved the Hitachi resting on a nest of tangled cords and put the head over my polkadot shorts.  I lifted my white see-through t-shirt and lay in the bright light, his eyes locked on mine for a moment before we both shifted to each other’s bodies.

The wand seared through me as I watched the blurry arc of his hand.  Words tumbled out of me as quickly as my orgasm tumbled toward its cliff of release.  “I love your cock,” I gasped, “It’s so fucking big.  Look at you: so beautiful, so sexy.”

His body was doing all the things I’d already described.  His legs were rigid slabs of muscle, his chest was taut with exertion, his breath coming fast and in little jerks.

“I can’t believe you put that giant thing in me,” I managed to say and then my orgasm pushed through me like a wave crashing on the beach.  It came so swiftly the second I was done I wanted more.  He was still beating himself with a steady, sexy rhythm.

“You’re going again, right?” he asked, hopeful.

“Definitely,” I confirmed.  “Talking — hearing my own voice say those things — made me cum faster,” I said a little incredulously.  “But it’s hard.  I’m so shy.”  He said he felt the same way when he tried to talk and I felt less silly.

I put the Hitachi back on me and kept talking.  Again, it pounded through me in seconds and I arched and moaned and called out.  He closed his eyes and moved to his own music, his own needs.  His hand moved impossibly fast and his breathing shortened.  I pressed my hand gently on his thigh, close to the magic and waited.

And then he curled a little and spurts of his seed came spilling out to rest on the brambles of his hairy abdomen.  He giggled a little and relaxed.  “See?” I said kissing his shoulder.  “You curled!”  He giggled again and sighed, wiped the cum off his belly with his bare hand.

I took it and licked some off and smacked my lips, rolled back onto my back and quickly had a third orgasm with the taste of his cum on my lips and his mouth latched onto my breast.

“Let’s talk about our feelings,” he joked.  I snuggled down into my nook and kissed his chest.  His arm squeezed me to him and he nuzzled me for a kiss on the lips.

“Ok,” I said.  “I love you.”  He smiled and I got lost in his icy blue eyes, the whiskers he was growing back for me.

“I love you, too,” he replied and I quietly wrapped myself in the evening’s joy as I looked out into the quiet stillness of my brightly lit room, his chest a pillow beneath my smiling cheek.

hyacinthjones_polkadot_shorts

What he saw.

I write a letter to The Neighbor.

hyacinthjones_grey_tank_blue_briefs

The morning after.

Dearest TN,

Last night was what I needed though I didn’t want it.  Not at first.

All I wanted was your company on the cold balcony while I dragged on my sad little cigarette and drank out of my fishbowl wine glass.  My heart hurt and I was bereft that my ex is making poor decisions, fast decisions, but you sat with me and listened.

And when I cried because I was a raw nerve you held my hand and told me you were sorry and you stuck up for me like the Polish bulldog you are, your Irish heart pure and bold.

I was mush, but you turned me into putty.

You led me to my bed and you lay with me, stroked me and giggled with me.  I felt heavy and then I felt light.  Your flaccid cock came alive in my hand, large and stiff, and when you loomed over me in the candlelight I was skeptical that I was even there with you, it was another woman, someone else.

But then you punctured me, huge and taut, and began to move.

I’ve never felt you quite like that before and my body only just accommodated you. And then it became slippery, but I was still only barely letting you fit.  Every thrust, every move I felt our skin touch and my heart began to beat with our movements.  I was stretched apart by you.

You kissed me then and I kissed you back.  I arched my back and gripped the bars of my bed for purchase, for mercy.  You gave me none and bore into me and glared into my weeping face, sad and lovely, at home and so alone.  But you were there.  Big.

I clung to you, your wildly pumping buttocks, and you dumped yourself into me.  I was sobbing at this point, my heart broken into so many pieces then shattered into infinitely more by you, your love, your resistance, your everything.

You kept at me, ignoring my sobs, turned on by them, I suspect.  I felt exposed and vulnerable, unworthy and like a fraud.  Happy.  I was out of control.

“I’m going to cum again,” you said through gritted teeth, but I couldn’t take another stroke.  I had died so many times.  La petite mort and all that.

But you started up inside me again and I melted and wheezed my love into your ear, silently and coded.  Your powerful thighs flexed between my soft and gripping ones and I rolled my eyes into the back of my head to see my heart slip out behind.

Mercy came then when you chose to roll off of me.  It wasn’t going to happen for you that way.  I squirmed and writhed and tears streamed down my face as I gulped in ugly breaths of air and turned my cheek to you and watched your hand become an arc on your hard cock.

Fap fap fap fap fap fap fap, said your hand.

Unnnnhhhh, ahhhhhhh, ooooooh, said your mouth.

And then you jerked and flexed and creamy bright globs spurted out on your furry abdomen.  I stared slack-jawed and drooling for a moment, dipped my head and licked the tip of your cock as if it were fairy dust.  It was my way of punctuating your beautiful, dirty solo act.  Yum, yum.

The magic your body bears on mine is unequivocal in my universe.  I’ve never known such beauty before with another human.  It is a symphony of luck and love.

You are a balm on my aching heart and my racing mind.  You heal me in places no one else can possibly reach because your cock happens to be a magic fucking wand and not everyone runs around with one of those between their legs.  Who knew that when I decided to shove my hand down your pants in a drunken pass almost exactly 2 years ago?

But of course you’re so much more than just the sex we share.  You are terrifyingly smart and weird and loyal; you don’t like any of the foods I love so much, but yet we still manage to make eating a sinful delight between us; you don’t like anyone, but you like me… a lot; you demand alone time, but give me none preferring to a cuddle to solitude every time; you are thirsty for wisdom and I can see your impatience with “catching up” to me, yet you have your own special 29 year old knowledge I could never have; you like to fuck with your socks on and have an amazing non-relationship with clothing in general; you are generous and kind, witty and utterly likeable.

How lucky are we that we both landed in this apartment complex, in this city, in this state, and all next door to one another??

I don’t know what the future holds for us when I move out in March, but what I do know is that I will always have memories like that of last night to keep me warm when we are apart.

All this to say: I’m hoping I’ll muster the courage to tell you I love you this weekend.  We both deserve to hear it, though, I am petrified.

And please, god, don’t let it be a mistake to finally lift the veil of denial from us. Please…

We’ll see what Monday brings.

xx
Hy

He’s my TN.

My body opened for him, my heart pumped for him, my legs spread for him.

It had been days since we were able to connect; weekly demands, family in town, and work schedules conspired against us.  I felt an angsty itch I couldn’t swat away, but we had promised each other that last night would be the end of the itching.

“I need you deep inside of me,” I texted.  “It will make my world right.”

“I sure hope so,” The Neighbor responded.

“I’m sure it will,” I said.

He popped over later in the evening and lit a fire for Peyton and me.  They chatted for a minute and then he and I talked on the balcony while Pey watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

My heart was heavy and has been re-broken as I navigate a new stage of my relationship with my ex and my ex-family.  He was kind, offered words of encouragement.  “Fuck them, Hy.  Repeat after me, ‘Fuck them!'”

I said the words and joked that at least I had his cock to make me feel better.  He agreed as I leaned across the chilly night and grabbed his warm, soft bulge.

“You ok?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I answered eyeing his lips.  I brushed them with my own and his soft beard tickled my skin.  “I am now.”

“Good.”  He stood up.  “Text me later, ok?  I’m off to get dinner.”

I thanked him again and finished my warm, cozy night with my gangly limbed little one and the second I knew that sleep had descended on my house I texted a simple, “OK!”

I changed out of my jeans into maroon scrubs and removed my bra.  My heavy breasts sagged against my white cotton shirt and I sighed.  I went and laid down on my couch to wait, excited and even a little nervous.

I heard heavy footsteps, a door open, a door shut and then my door open.  He was here.

I looked at him as he walked into my apartment wearing only black basketball shorts.  “Come on,” he said with his hand out.  “Let’s go.”  His face was serious, his bulge obvious.

I giggled and sat upright, grabbed his hand and skipped a little as he led me to my room.  He shut the door and locked it lest Peyton wake up and need Mommy for something.

I handed him a lighter and gestured toward the candle on my nightstand as I turned off the lights.

I heard the lighter and the room filled with a warm glow.  He turned to me and took my face in his hands and kissed me.  His cologne filled my nostrils and I inhaled the sweet, manly scent.  I pressed my body against his bare chest and pulled back and in one motion removed my shirt then my pants.

I stood before him in purple knee-high socks and black lace panties.  I arched my back a little as I noticed him glance at my breasts and abdomen.  He grabbed me again and pulled me in for a deeper, longer kiss.

I tugged at his shorts and shoved them off the rest of the way with my stockinged foot.  He giggled at my antics, kissed me again then shoved me down on the bed and ripped off my panties.

I could feel my wetness and grew more excited to see his reaction.  He pushed my legs apart and positioned himself between them, his cock found my hole and his eyes grew wide when he felt his cock slide in with such ease.

“Jesus Christ, Hy,” he moaned into my ear.

He began to rock into me and I clung to him.  He kissed my ear, my neck, my lips.  I grew greedy and mewled at him, kissing him back like it was my last opportunity for touch.

I grabbed at his flanks and ground down on him as his arms wrapped around me to hold me to him.  He pounded my fucking pussy like it was his last opportunity for touch.

I gushed and I came in so many bursts that left me breathless, my breasts crushed against the fur of chest grew hot from our friction.  His mouth was all over me, such a rare treat, I felt like a chocolate beneath his mouth and tongue.

He pushed himself up on his knees and bent my legs, my dark purple socks looked like boots.  My pussy was so slick I could barely feel him and I worried aloud about it.  He assured me that wasn’t the case for him.

I began to pant how much I loved his fucking cock over and over, a broken, lusty record.  I clenched, I prayed, I hoped to God he could actually feel me and then I heard a hitch in his voice and his pants began to come in earnest.

The tops of his thighs slammed into the soft undersides of mine as his body jerked and he came deep inside of me.  He paused for a minute and I wanted to cry with relief.  I felt like a rag doll.  But it lasted only a moment before he started to move again.

“No, wait,” I begged.  “Please, stop, please.  Let’s just rest!”  He laughed at me and asked if I was sure.  “I said, yes, please.  I know you’re a sex machine and you can go forever, but please, go easy on me.  I really just want to lay with you.  I’ve cum 14 times already, I swear!”

He laughed again and flopped down next to me and I curled up into his nook.  I lay there thinking how weird it is that I have to tell the man-who-never-cums-in-me to stop fucking me after he finally does.  He’s a special one, that’s for sure.

We lay in each other’s arms and I felt the ooze between my legs and smiled.  I couldn’t wait to wake up the next morning and feel its continuous drip, proof that he was there.

I stroked his shoulders and his temples, anywhere I could lay my hands on him and he melted into me before announcing his departure.

I realized that it has been a solid year since I’ve been monogamous with him.  It feels weird, scary and also very right.  A year’s worth of one man’s semen in and on me, one man’s cock, one man’s eyes.  It feels possessive and free all at once.  It feels truly lovely.

I walked him to the door, gave him a good, hard smack on his ass and kissed him goodnight.  My love, my neighbor, my TN walked next door through a cold 5 feet and disappeared for one more night.

Take us or leave us.

My emotions aren’t unstable, but they do run the gamut.  One week, I feel solid, another I am shaky.  I rehearse speeches to no one and I ferret out my feelings about my non-relationship relationship with single-minded determination.  I want to make sure I am doing what I want to do for good and noble reasons, not out of desperation or habit.

The Neighbor lights me up.  And despite the trauma of our early days I love him more now than ever.  I fight to keep the darkness away, the fear of a life without him, but it’s an easier fight all the time.  When this is done, I will be ok.  I know it.  And part of how I know that is because of what I feel today with him.  I cannot regret one thing we’ve done because it has always been magic.

A few days ago, something happened that was new.

::

He kissed me softly and his new beard pricked my nose and lips like a little nibbling hedgehog.  I moaned and opened my mouth against his and breathed in the perfume of cologne and soap and love.

A candle flung fleeting light against the walls and ceiling and he moved to cover me with his naked, pale body.  His knee pushed my knees apart and he settled his weight above me and positioned his giant cock at my opening.  Our mouths remained connected with soft laps and locked lips.

He pushed at me and I lifted my knees higher and wider and hooked my ankles together behind his buttocks.  He pushed harder and I gave way.  The universe shifted as we joined and pressed our bodies as close together as humanly possible.

“Don’t move,” I whispered against his mouth.  “Stay.” And I pulled him in deeper until I felt him poke my heart.

I wriggled a little and twisted my hips until I screwed down tighter onto him.  He growled into my ear and curled his hips into me slowly.  We began to move like this, the slow motion dance of timeless lovers, on endless waves of lust and passion.

Again and again and again he curved his curved cock into my cunt.  I clung to him with all my limbs and kissed his neck as he kissed mine, a connected yin and yang.

I whimpered as my heart began to feel tender and my pussy began to bloom.  His tempo increased and I heard a squelch from where our bodies met and then another.  He went faster and faster, the curl now a thrust, the dance now a beat.

He pressed up on his arms and I grabbed his hips to pull him in faster, harder.  He hitched my ankles up to his shoulders and sat up, watching my face twist in ecstasy as I came and came in little bursts.

He didn’t cum this time, but he was smiling when he finally stopped and I fell loose into a the puddle below us.  He opened his arms to me and I rolled heavily into them, catching my breath.

“Wow, that was really good,” he said, stroking my arm

“It really was,” I answered.  “It was like you were curling into me.”

“Yeah, it really was.  It felt amazing.  You felt amazing.”

Then we chuckled at our self congratulations and fell silent.  Later, with me on an elbow facing him and him on his we talked about our day, our week, everything, nothing, our navels.  My hair was still in long, wet ropes from my shower and with one hand I pinned it as I talked.

He looked at me softly, strangely then.  “You look really pretty right now,” he said shyly.

“Aw, thank you,” I said and leaned forward to kiss him, but he ducked away and latched onto my bare breast instead.  “No,” I said pulling him up.  “Kiss me here,” and I tapped my mouth with a finger tip.  He gingerly touched his mouth to mine until I pressed in for more and as we kissed I said between them, “That is the sweetest thing you’ve said and thank you so very much.  I’m so glad to know you.”

When our lips fell apart he ducked his head again, but this time into the pillows.  “Aw, what’s the matter?” I asked, rubbing his shoulder.

“I had no idea that was all I had to do to make you feel that good,” was his muffled reply.  “And now I might be feeling bashful.”

“Yep, fuck me hard and tell me I’m pretty!  I’m easy like that,” I laughed, my heart smiling from its melted place.

He looked up at me and I read in his eyes a desire to reach out to me, to touch my face, but he held still and didn’t move.  Then the look passed and we were both back in bed smiling at each other, but the moment had been there.  It’d been there.  He had surprised himself with his sentiment and I was lucky enough to witness it.

He may be too scared to admit it, but I know he’s curled up around my heart as much as I am around his.  We are a tangled, dirty, mess of love and fear.  Take us or leave us.  I choose to take us.