Friday, October 9, 2020

A Brotherly Proposition, Part II

A week later I parked my car in the driveway of a small house at the end of a cul de sac. I walked up to the porch, unfastened the third button of my shirt, and pushed open the already cracked door. My eyes had to adjust to the dimly lit room but quickly found LL's solid muscular form silhouetted in the windows of two sliding doors leading out to a backyard deck. He was as beautiful as ever. Skin a warm umber brown, tattooed in all the right places, jet black hair, and full soft lips that could make me shiver when they touched me, and those deep brown expressive eyes of his.

After my conversation with him last week, I had spent the last several days swirling things around in my head wondering if this escapade was a good idea or was it just... weird. One of my most open minded friends was hesitant and advised me to proceed with caution. I certainly understood and appreciated her concern. This wasn't really your run-of-the-mill threesome, this was a threesome with two brothers. But in my mind, it was just naughty enough, just taboo enough to make me squirm and anticipate delicious possibilities. I knew if I didn't go for it I'd always wonder. Besides, I trusted LL implicitly and he had assured me that he'd talked to his brother about ground rules. Nothing was going to happen that I wasn't comfortable with, condoms were nonnegotiable, and he made it clear that they had no plans to "cross swords," as he put it. 

LL embraced me in a firm, reassuring bear hug and kissed me hello. He led me out onto the wooden deck facing a huge backyard. A lean bodied man with LL's same skin tone and identical brown eyes looked shyly at me as he sat atop the deck railing. 

"This is my brother, RJ. RJ, this is Bella."

What's the protocol for greeting a stranger who is about to join his brother in fucking you? A hug, handshake, high five? We did none of those, just said hello and gave each other slow, awkward smiles. LL slid quietly back inside for reasons unknown, leaving RJ and I to converse alone. 

"So, how are you?" RJ spoke in a warm Louisiana accent that my Tennessee ears weren't used to, but that made my knees nearly buckle with its sexy drawl. I don't recall what I said back, probably something about how I was good and what did he think about the weather here. We chatted for a few minutes and then decided to see what LL was up to in the kitchen. 

Rolling a joint was what LL was up to, and I was thankful. I could use something to relax my nerves. RJ settled on a stool on the other side of the bar while LL stood behind me as we passed the joint around. I felt LL's hands on either side of my hips working his fingers inside the waistband of my pants, massaging gently. His mouth went to my ear and he whispered, "Are you ok? Do you still want to do this?" His words instantly calmed me (or most likely, it was a combination of that and the weed) and I nodded and murmured an emphatic "yes."

With consent confirmed, LL's hands unhooked my bra from behind and his hands encircled my breasts and squeezed as his lips nibbled at my neck. I moaned, arched my back, pressed my ass into LL's crotch, and locked eyes with RJ who was puffing on the joint and watching us with a slight smile. LL unzipped my jeans and wriggled his way under my panties to find me dripping and ready for whatever was about to happen to me at the hands of these two tantalizing brothers.

To be continued...

A Brotherly Proposition, Part I

Even before the pandemic, LL and I liked to take walks and chat. 

"Remember that time I said that I wouldn't ever want to share you, like, at the same time, in the same room? Well, what if I found someone who I would share you with like that?"

My curiosity was piqued. "I'm listening."

He went on, "You might think this is a bit weird...it's my brother."

No stranger to threesomes, I still wasn't expecting THAT. So of course, I said yes.

To be continued...

Saturday, October 3, 2020

My Open Relationship in the Time of COVID

This post could have been written months ago, but it's something that's impacted me and that I'm just now writing down. 

I don't have many good things to say about the state of the world, the U.S. in particular, right now. We're living in the upside down, watching a raging dumpster fire--a shit storm of corruption, racism, threats to women's rights, environmental and economic crisis. Oh, and that little pandemic thing. And that's just the short list. 

COVID has fucked up a lot of things, I daresay most things. Sex though... that pleasure ought to still provide us with a lovely escape from the outside world. Right? Right?!?!?!? Yes, but it looks different now, at least different for those who take COVID seriously. 

These bizarre times have made many of us in the open/poly* community take a good long look at how we're engaging in extracurricular activities and reassessing the risks and what our sex lives must look like now for our safety and the safety of our partners. I'm seeing kinky Twitter friends bemoaning the lack of sex lately and wondering when conditions will allow them to return to multiple partners as usual. It feels confining. Restrictive. As if some folks didn't have enough restrictions in their lives before becoming open, now it feels like they're back inside a different sort of locked box with taunting memories of the free love, open sex lives they used to lead. 

It's changed for me, too. Pre-COVID, I had 3-5 partners I'd see on occasion. I've never been much of a one-night-stand, swinger party kind of girl. I consider my partners as friends (some closer than others of course) who I can hang out with, have great conversations with, AND have NSA sex with. I was already operating in a sort of safety bubble that felt good and right for me. When COVID became a thing, even this relative safe space didn't feel good or right anymore. Mr. Man and I take the pandemic very seriously. We mask, pulled our kid out of extracurricular activities and into distance learning, I moved to remote work only, etc. We are not playing with this thing. I/we had to consider how our open status impacted the safety of our family. 

Of my handful of partners, Joe was one who took COVID as seriously as I did, and he just happened to be the one I saw most often anyway. We had many conversations about the pandemic, the easy, drama-freeness of our thing, and what made us feel safe and what didn't. I trust his decision making and for now, he's the only one I'm seeing outside of my marriage. We've ramped up how often we hang out and it's been pretty much an every weekend thing lately. It's working out great so far, and while I try to only speak for myself in this space, I think it's safe to say that he's pretty keen on it as well. So far, I don't feel restricted--I feel safe and good about making what I consider to be a smart choice about my sex life.

How long will this last? Who the fuck knows. Nobody knows anything anymore, do they? I made a comment to Joe last weekend about wondering what my non monogamous life will look like after COVID. But really, what will anything look like after COVID? We're all trying to make the best of a shitty situation. I'd like to think that in the coming months things might look a bit closer to what they were before. But for now, I'm going to don my mask and run to the liquor store in preparation for a sleepover with Joe. My upside down looks pretty good right now, considering.

*I have never settled on a label that feels right for my particular situation. I guess "open" is as close as it gets. Or just simply "non monogamous." I'm not really poly. Definitely not a swinger. I'm just a married woman who loves sex with a few extra partners.

Photo by Crawford Jolly on Unsplash


Tuesday, February 5, 2019

Morning company

I look down at him, running my hands the length of his body, stopping briefly at his midsection to dance my fingers in lazy circles across his belly.

"You're the most beautiful man," I say. And he is.

He's the color of the walnut armoire I admired in that one hotel room in New Orleans. I'm the shade of the lone ivory teacup we found on its top shelf.

Our fucking is...powerful...I've forgotten how virile he is. His strength makes me whimper.

We collapse onto rumpled gray sheets and tell each other good morning.

Saturday, December 29, 2018

About this photo

I've never been a good sleeper, although I could kick your ass at midday napping. As I get older my sleeping patterns and restfulness during the night are getting worse--I am mirroring my father. I was staring into the darkness last night thinking a myriad of thinky thoughts and finally resigned myself to getting up and wandering, eventually settling into the guest room to take this photo.

I'm trying to see the body that I currently have in new and honest ways. I follow a lot of body positive folks on social media and have found a lot of interesting and new perspectives on fatness, diet culture, and wellness. And the more bodies you see in the media that look different and diverse, the more accepting you can be of your own. At least that has been my experience. This book in particular has radically changed how I view myself and the world when it comes to physicality and body image. This is not to say that I don't have many days where I curse my jiggling flesh and want to cry when I catch my reflection or struggle to button my pants. But I have gotten so much better at pausing when I begin to hate on myself and being kind and remembering that those negative feelings are not warranted, they have been ingrained and taught to all of us by a culture that exudes consumerism and preys on our insecurities for monetary gain. And really, fuck all of the media, companies, and products that try to make us feel shitty and unworthy. Why do we let them do that? It's nothing less than brainwashing, really.

A post I ran across a couple of months ago really stuck with me....something to the effect of when we talk down to ourselves, when we criticize and beat ourselves up for what we have been taught are physical imperfections, who does that benefit? Certainly not the object of that criticism. We are worthy at every size. Beautiful at every size. And I have to say, as I've gained weight over the years, it has not been a barrier to finding sexual partners, I have no less sexual prowess in bed or out of it, and the friends I've slept with regularly for years are still into me. The only person giving me a hard time about extra jiggle...is me.

All of this has crossed over into the way I view photos of myself. This may be the hardest thing for me. Photos are forever. Photos are how you present yourself to the world online. Photos can be referenced. Photos can be scary. Even the one above, it's filtered and it shows a part of my body that I'm ok with, at a good angle and with good lighting. But, I still see the "flaws", or what I've been taught are flaws, the rolls of flesh that begin on my back, curve around to my stomach and torso, and then meet in an embrace to make up the mountains and valleys of my front. Mountains and valleys that I'm trying to learn to love and accept.

Health always comes up in these discussions. But just as the amount of space we physically take up in the world doesn't make us any more or less worthy of acceptance, respect, and love -- the state of our health follows the same construct. For me, a renewed focus on health and wellness takes the number on the scale and my pants size out of the equation. At my last doctor's appointment, my cholesterol and blood pressure were way up. That's a number I'm trying to get down by exercise and smarter eating. Should the scale go up or down in that endeavor, so be it. But that is not the sole focus of my journey anymore.

I see photos of fat* women rocking their big, beautiful bodies with confidence and I want that. I want to be able to post a photo of my belly, arms, thighs -- areas I am not as ok with but that are no less beautiful because they are me, soft, flowing, and comfortable. I want to get there. And I think I will. Eventually.

xoxo,
Bella

*So many more articles on this, I just ran across this one quickly. 
Reclaiming the word "fat" as a positive term.

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

We shone bright for a moment

I missed him a lot today.

Sometimes I go to his Facebook to look at his pictures, to see remnants of his life left online. I don't want to forget. To read his favorite quotes, written in his own handwriting, like the Bukowski one here, that means something altogether different now that he's gone. I scroll through my phone to see pictures he sent to me, read his messages, watch videos to hear his voice.

I'm writing about you, but I don't want to share it yet. I write it for me, because I don't want to forget.

I'll bet Death did tremble when you showed up.

"We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us."     - Charles Bukowski

 

Saturday, November 17, 2018