I've recently started seeing an ex, I'll call him Dirty Carrot, from a dozen years ago. We'd ended on amicable terms and, even though we've drifted in and out of contact throughout the years, I've always had a special place in my heart for him... I always will.
But 12 years is a long time. Combine that with the fact that when we dated before, he was 18. He has grown into a man who, at his core is still who he was but is now more mature... more self confident... more everything. And different. He's changed... and so have I.
The situation still makes my head spin. I wasn't expecting it. My sister, who introduced us to each other lo these many years ago, was in town visiting. While she was here, they hung out, caught up on each other's lives, and he said he would like to get back in touch with me.
So we did. But I was under the impression that it was a, 'let's get together and try being friends again' type deal. After we broke up, we stayed friends for about a year... longer than we dated. And maybe, that's what he was thinking too. After all, I was very up front (as I am) and told him I was poly and got the distinct impression that he wasn't the least bit interested. He said he doesn't share well and that while he's glad it works for me, he didn't think it was something he could do. He even had a girlfriend who tried to push a poly-like situation on him in the worst possible way. She did this whole after the fact being honest thing.
Her: Oh, I went out with this guy...
Him: As long as you don't kiss him.
Her: Oh, I kissed him...
Him: As long as you don't sleep with him.
Her: Oh, I had sex with him...
At that point, he broke up with her.
But that's not poly... that's cheating. I believe that one of the most important aspects of poly, along with honesty, is negotiating the boundaries... beforehand. That's why the beginnings of any poly relationship are so much stickier than others. There's just so much to negotiate! That whole communicate, communicate, communicate mantra.
Back to Dirty Carrot.... We went to dinner. He caught me up on his life, I caught him up on mine... well, as much as one can over a meal. Then we went back to my place to chat some more.
All this time, my feelings for this man were bubbling just beneath the surface. The chemistry I have with him is ridiculous! I mean, he's physically adorable, really smart, his wit slays me, he's sexy, and I feel so comfortable around him. The attraction I have for this guy is like nothing I've had with anyone else... except his younger self. But I wasn't going there... Mostly because I didn't think he wanted to go THERE.
At home, Sir Artist and our wonderful new housemate, Powers, were in the living room talking with us. They were on the futon while Dirty Carrot & I were sharing the Chaise. (The Chaise we have is kind of like an over stuffed and extra large sofa chair with an ottoman built in.) I was sitting back & he was on the ottoman part leaning against the wall. Powers had just had an amazing first date so he was all starry eyed and was telling us all about it. Then Dirty Carrot had a leg cramp. I moved so he could lean back on the chaise. As I sat forward, he pulled me back saying, "sit with me."
So now I'm tortured... there's no way to share this chair without touching, so we are and he's warm and my libido is raging and he feels so good and I want to sink into him but I can't because it's just a friend thing, right?
Yet his hand brushes my thigh... once, twice, three times... and he's caressing my arm with his other hand and... people don't disappear... I know my roommates are there, but I've lost all awareness of them. I'm tingling all over and flushed and can think of nothing more than, "oh gods! I want to kiss him!" And he kisses me.
Not a peck... not just a brush of lips... no, a full on tongue and saliva melt me into the furniture kiss. And fondling and touching me there and there and... oh my sacred orgasm!... there, oh wow, there...
I'm beyond any rational thought, but clothes miraculously stay on and he did eventually go home... with promises of more to come.
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