Monday, January 31, 2011
Njoy-ing Herself
The toys had come out. They don't always, but this was one of those nights...
We had had an enjoyable round or two already. I was hefting frances's new favorite toy, about to have some further fun, when i heard a playful voice.
"Can I show you what I do?"
We had talked about this for a long time. In fact, I've gently teased her even here about how she's done this for me on the phone, into my voicemail, on video... in pretty much every conceivable way except with me there in the room watching her. It's not that she's too shy to show me (well... not entirely that she's too shy...), but mostly that when we're together there's too much fun to be found in other things.
Naturally, i said yes. I fetched frances her tiny purple finger puppet vibe from her pouch of toys - this much, I already knew - and settled back down on the bed. Frances let out a sharp gasp as I quickly slid the cold steel of the toy inside her. I paused briefly to give her sweet little clit a few quick nibbles of encouragement, and then cuddled up beside her.
The tiny vibe buzzed to life, and I held her close as she began to slowly pump the njoy in and out of her eager pussy. Occasionally I would find a spot to kiss, or to gently pet, trying to be with her, but not in the way. Mostly, i just watched. And listened.
It was all at once brand new and wonderfully familiar. The sounds were the ones I knew and loved so well, both from her sounds at my own touch, and from those afternoons on the phone. But the sight was one i so rarely get to enjoy. I loved watching her, her soft lips opening as each new pleasure played across her face.
I know my love. I know her sounds, her breathing. I knew she was close. I pulled her closer to me and kissed her neck, holding her tight as she came, moaning and quaking gently in my arms.
"Thank you, baby", I whispered in her ear as she came slowly down to earth.
It was my turn...
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Insecurities and Concerns
As the time nears when Daniel and I will finally live together permanently, little Insecurities are creeping into my mind. I know they're silly. I'm certain he'll still love me if wheat thins make me gassy. If I have in-grown hairs and can't shave daily because of my sensitive skin. I don't doubt his ability to look past these and other curses of being the woman named frances. (...like my velcro dry feet when i'm neglectful of giving myself the occasional pedicure) However well my head knows these things, I still worry. I wonder if we'll actually be able to sleep together nightly. Will his snoring keep me from being able to fall asleep? Will mine wake him up? Can we negotiate the perils of living together successfully once this 'honeymoon phase' has ended? Will he still love me when he realizes my shit actually *DOES* stink?
This is absurd. After everything we've been through, I have no doubt that halitosis in the morning is of little importance to him. Still, I a little bit wish I could retain a bit of that feminine mystery. And yet, on the other hand, I want him to know me at my worst AND at my best. I need to know we can count on each other when we are snotty and miserable as well as dressed to the nines and read to go out. These little insecurities mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. He makes me want to be better and keep myself up for him, AND for me.
So even though these concerns creep in, I won't let them consume me. I know what we have is real and Daniel with be at my side, whether I need a breath-mint or not.
This is absurd. After everything we've been through, I have no doubt that halitosis in the morning is of little importance to him. Still, I a little bit wish I could retain a bit of that feminine mystery. And yet, on the other hand, I want him to know me at my worst AND at my best. I need to know we can count on each other when we are snotty and miserable as well as dressed to the nines and read to go out. These little insecurities mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. He makes me want to be better and keep myself up for him, AND for me.
So even though these concerns creep in, I won't let them consume me. I know what we have is real and Daniel with be at my side, whether I need a breath-mint or not.
Friday, January 28, 2011
3
Three used to be my lucky number. I claimed it back in high school the day my first boyfriend asked me out. I was 15. It was the day before my birthday. Third day of my birthday month. For the last 17 years 3 has been my go to number, and it has served me well. When I started this post 6 sentences ago, I thought I was going to say I was done with the number 3, but once again 3 has saved my ass.
From the moment I walked out the hotel door after my break up with Daniel to the moment I caved and texted him, it was just a few hours over 3 days. In that time I had told 2 friends, the man, and considered making an emergency appointment with my therapist. I was devastated.
The first friend, Lynn, congratulated me on taking a step in the right direction. She assured me it would get easier and that I should just take it one day at a time. She didn't care what my decision was, just supported the fact that I had MADE one. Sadly, when I needed her most to check in on me, she was busy being pregnant and mothering a 2 year old. She couldn't have known and I know it is only my impression of things, but I felt that if I didn't contact her she forgot about me.
The second friend I told, Lorraine, promptly gave me a smack up side the head. She said, and I quote, "Well good. It was time you shit or get off the pot." In her defense, I expected this response. My friends have made no bones about telling me their thoughts. However, I had hoped I might get a little conciliatory hug before the swift kick in the ass.
These first responses to my despair just caused me more heartache. I felt so alone and the only person I wanted to talk to, I couldn't. I hadn't intended on telling the man. In fact, I distanced myself from him as much as possible. In the end, he caught me in a weak moment of tears and distraction. I told him I had broken up with Daniel. I don't know WHAT I expected his reaction to be, but what it was, CERTAINLY didn't sit well with me. He was triumphant. Happy. He had "won." He attempted to console me, but his good cheer was too obvious to bear. The worst part though? Five min after I told him, when I'm still crying inconsolably, he tries to get in my pants.
Needless to say, this was the final straw. I hemmed and hawed for another couple of hours before I finally contacted Daniel. I had been trying to leave him little messages on twitter in the hopes that he would give me some reassurance that he was as broken up as I was, but he was being stubborn. I deserved it. I created this mess and I was paying for it.
Thankfully, in the end we reconnected. We now have an end date to this whole affair. We have agreed that by April 1, 2011 we will be together, or...well, I can't say "or," cause that's NOT going to happen. It can't. I can't go back to my marriage. I love him, but I'm not IN LOVE with him. He is currently my roommate and friend, but nothing more. It's painful to know that I made mistakes in getting where I am, but I have to focus on the fact that those mistakes made me frances. I'm trying to get better. I need to be better. I WANT to get better. And those 3 things are going to lead me to daniel.
So, yeah, 3 is still my lucky number.
From the moment I walked out the hotel door after my break up with Daniel to the moment I caved and texted him, it was just a few hours over 3 days. In that time I had told 2 friends, the man, and considered making an emergency appointment with my therapist. I was devastated.
The first friend, Lynn, congratulated me on taking a step in the right direction. She assured me it would get easier and that I should just take it one day at a time. She didn't care what my decision was, just supported the fact that I had MADE one. Sadly, when I needed her most to check in on me, she was busy being pregnant and mothering a 2 year old. She couldn't have known and I know it is only my impression of things, but I felt that if I didn't contact her she forgot about me.
The second friend I told, Lorraine, promptly gave me a smack up side the head. She said, and I quote, "Well good. It was time you shit or get off the pot." In her defense, I expected this response. My friends have made no bones about telling me their thoughts. However, I had hoped I might get a little conciliatory hug before the swift kick in the ass.
These first responses to my despair just caused me more heartache. I felt so alone and the only person I wanted to talk to, I couldn't. I hadn't intended on telling the man. In fact, I distanced myself from him as much as possible. In the end, he caught me in a weak moment of tears and distraction. I told him I had broken up with Daniel. I don't know WHAT I expected his reaction to be, but what it was, CERTAINLY didn't sit well with me. He was triumphant. Happy. He had "won." He attempted to console me, but his good cheer was too obvious to bear. The worst part though? Five min after I told him, when I'm still crying inconsolably, he tries to get in my pants.
Needless to say, this was the final straw. I hemmed and hawed for another couple of hours before I finally contacted Daniel. I had been trying to leave him little messages on twitter in the hopes that he would give me some reassurance that he was as broken up as I was, but he was being stubborn. I deserved it. I created this mess and I was paying for it.
Thankfully, in the end we reconnected. We now have an end date to this whole affair. We have agreed that by April 1, 2011 we will be together, or...well, I can't say "or," cause that's NOT going to happen. It can't. I can't go back to my marriage. I love him, but I'm not IN LOVE with him. He is currently my roommate and friend, but nothing more. It's painful to know that I made mistakes in getting where I am, but I have to focus on the fact that those mistakes made me frances. I'm trying to get better. I need to be better. I WANT to get better. And those 3 things are going to lead me to daniel.
So, yeah, 3 is still my lucky number.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
HNT: In Honor of Os
I wasn't planning on participating in HNT today, but I stopped over at Os's blog on my lunch break and just had to share. He is celebrating 6 years of blogging. Congrats! (Hope we make it that long. And even more, I hope we're still friends with folks like good ol' lovable Os) Anyway, I digress. Os is celebrating by showing us where is sixth toe ought to be. I too have a similar digital 'condition.' Now he knows he's not alone. :-)
(Forgive the bare tootsies. I'm in dire need of a pedi!)
(Forgive the bare tootsies. I'm in dire need of a pedi!)
The Break Up
It was inevitable no? We were bound to break at some point. With all the stress and doubt piling up, I can't believe it didn't happen sooner. It was Thursday Dec 30th. Daniel and I found ourselves holed up in the midst of the snow enjoying each other. We needed to reconnect. Our Christmas rendezvous hadn't gone well. He was with me physically, but not present with me emotionally. Things were weird, strained, but we were attempting to pretend it was all normal. Blaming the distance on our busyness, ignoring the fact that we were faltering. He didn't know what I was thinking and I certainly could only surmise what HE was. (This is what gets me into trouble, over thinking. Guessing. Attempting to figure out what other people are thinking instead of taking them at their word.) I take a large part of this break up as my responsibility. However, if we were healthy in the first place, I can't imagine it would have happened.
I was snuggled in my spot under his arm. My questions came out of no where. I hit him with the left, "We really need to talk about what we are doing and how to begin the process of leaving them." He was stunned. He didn't respond. OR he didn't respond in the way I had been expecting. He nodded. There was agreement in his demeanor, but when he didn't jump right on board to talk about plans for leaving, my train left him on the platform staring at the pavement. So I hit him with my right. (Sorry, I'm totally mixing metaphors at this point. Pugilism and riding the rails don't really mesh, but it's what I've got at the moment. Forgive me.)
Assuming he wasn't wanting to leave, I jumped to the tack of telling him goodbye. In my defense, I needed SOMETHING to happen. Things felt so off since Christmas. We obviously weren't communicating well. I needed in depth conversation. Placation. Assurances. I got, in my estimation, nothing. At one point he told me he had a lot to say, but couldn't find the words to say it. Of course, being the pessimist I am, I took this to mean he had bad, break up things to say. It was a tidal wave of suck. The harder I tried to get a response from him, the more he retreated and let my mouth fumble us into the realm of non-coupledom. He stopped me once when I got out of bed to leave, but I didn't trust that he meant it. I kissed him goodbye and stood on the other side of the hotel door in tears, begging him silently to come after me. For whatever reason, he didn't. And for 3 long days I was lost, in a panic, unsure what he was feeling and fearing the worst. It was unbearable. There is so much more to talk about regarding those days, but I just don't have it in me at the moment. (And this is getting incredibly long.) Let me leave you with this, after those terribly dark days, we are stronger than ever and currently searching for a place to live, together. We have chosen an end date for this crazy ride (more on that in a later post) and I feel like we are stronger than ever.
They weren't lying when they said communication is key.
I was snuggled in my spot under his arm. My questions came out of no where. I hit him with the left, "We really need to talk about what we are doing and how to begin the process of leaving them." He was stunned. He didn't respond. OR he didn't respond in the way I had been expecting. He nodded. There was agreement in his demeanor, but when he didn't jump right on board to talk about plans for leaving, my train left him on the platform staring at the pavement. So I hit him with my right. (Sorry, I'm totally mixing metaphors at this point. Pugilism and riding the rails don't really mesh, but it's what I've got at the moment. Forgive me.)
Assuming he wasn't wanting to leave, I jumped to the tack of telling him goodbye. In my defense, I needed SOMETHING to happen. Things felt so off since Christmas. We obviously weren't communicating well. I needed in depth conversation. Placation. Assurances. I got, in my estimation, nothing. At one point he told me he had a lot to say, but couldn't find the words to say it. Of course, being the pessimist I am, I took this to mean he had bad, break up things to say. It was a tidal wave of suck. The harder I tried to get a response from him, the more he retreated and let my mouth fumble us into the realm of non-coupledom. He stopped me once when I got out of bed to leave, but I didn't trust that he meant it. I kissed him goodbye and stood on the other side of the hotel door in tears, begging him silently to come after me. For whatever reason, he didn't. And for 3 long days I was lost, in a panic, unsure what he was feeling and fearing the worst. It was unbearable. There is so much more to talk about regarding those days, but I just don't have it in me at the moment. (And this is getting incredibly long.) Let me leave you with this, after those terribly dark days, we are stronger than ever and currently searching for a place to live, together. We have chosen an end date for this crazy ride (more on that in a later post) and I feel like we are stronger than ever.
They weren't lying when they said communication is key.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Why I love Rough Sex
If you saw D's last post you kinda have an idea what prompted me to write this one...
francesanddaniel happened to squirrel away a couple hours together last Thursday. It was snowy. We were reconnecting after "the breakup." (More on that another time. I think it's still a bit raw for us.) In the space of an hour we made love in ways that ranged from tender and intimate to all out, rough fucking that ended in bruises and exhaustion. Needless to say, it was intense. I don't even know how we end up in the midst of the rough stuff sometimes. One moment I am cradling his face in my hands as he stares into my eyes lovingly and the next he is pumping himself inside me furiously with his hands gripping my throat. These movements are fluid, never hesitant. He does not question my willingness to submit and I never doubt his power to dominate me in all the ways I need. It is just how we are. And I love it. I love being an extension of his arm. A tool for his pleasure. It's not so much the pain that gets me off, but his power, his need. When I am truly at his mercy I can let go in my head, and more importantly, in my heart.
He slaps me. I am surprised. My face reddens, it stings. The pain reigns me in. He catches my eye.We are there, together. Lost in each other. Frantic. Needy. His hand tightens on my throat. I cannot breathe. I cannot worry about the marks that will surely show. All that exists is the feeling of his weight on me. His cock filling me and my pussy spasming wildly before his next return stroke, deeper than before. My hands tighten on his hand surrounding my neck, urging him to hold me tighter. I must have him closer. Our muscles are rigid as these bodies, prisons of the soul, slam together simultaneously bringing us closer to orgasm and threatening to break bones with the force of our colliding. We attempt to become one or die trying.
That's how I feel about Daniel. I can't have him close enough. I can't live without him. Rough sex can be so many things and come in so many different forms. This night though, for us, it was almost spiritual. All that energy that animates each and every living thing was trying to escape and allow Frances and Daniel to become, forever, francesanddaniel.
francesanddaniel happened to squirrel away a couple hours together last Thursday. It was snowy. We were reconnecting after "the breakup." (More on that another time. I think it's still a bit raw for us.) In the space of an hour we made love in ways that ranged from tender and intimate to all out, rough fucking that ended in bruises and exhaustion. Needless to say, it was intense. I don't even know how we end up in the midst of the rough stuff sometimes. One moment I am cradling his face in my hands as he stares into my eyes lovingly and the next he is pumping himself inside me furiously with his hands gripping my throat. These movements are fluid, never hesitant. He does not question my willingness to submit and I never doubt his power to dominate me in all the ways I need. It is just how we are. And I love it. I love being an extension of his arm. A tool for his pleasure. It's not so much the pain that gets me off, but his power, his need. When I am truly at his mercy I can let go in my head, and more importantly, in my heart.
He slaps me. I am surprised. My face reddens, it stings. The pain reigns me in. He catches my eye.We are there, together. Lost in each other. Frantic. Needy. His hand tightens on my throat. I cannot breathe. I cannot worry about the marks that will surely show. All that exists is the feeling of his weight on me. His cock filling me and my pussy spasming wildly before his next return stroke, deeper than before. My hands tighten on his hand surrounding my neck, urging him to hold me tighter. I must have him closer. Our muscles are rigid as these bodies, prisons of the soul, slam together simultaneously bringing us closer to orgasm and threatening to break bones with the force of our colliding. We attempt to become one or die trying.
That's how I feel about Daniel. I can't have him close enough. I can't live without him. Rough sex can be so many things and come in so many different forms. This night though, for us, it was almost spiritual. All that energy that animates each and every living thing was trying to escape and allow Frances and Daniel to become, forever, francesanddaniel.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Bundling up...
It's a new year. That time of year when the darkest days are over and it's time to start things fresh and new.
Those darkest days were hard, but more about that in time. We're here. We hope you're well. We hope you're staying warm. *I* am, cause my sweet frances made me a scarf. :-)
Wishing snuggly necks to you all...
-d.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)