Tag: R

All the secrets there


A grey and lazy day – a kind of blue
descends on me – listening to Goldfrapp
Some of the music reminds me of you
It’s summer but cold and I take my wrap
do you remember it on our first date?
and on other mild evening jaunts for drinks

sometimes a film night out or in, up late
merry and wild, getting up to high jinks.
I’d had fun but often felt wrong footed
and don’t miss those embarrassing moments
of thinking this heart was what you wanted
Since then the path has altered in essence

a labyrinth now hides the secret garden
a stronger keep guards the darkened eden.

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on being scrumptious

The date last week sent me a message extolling the extent of my scrumptiousness. So apparently those weren’t such innocent caresses on my hand and upper arm. Of course I’m flattered by the attention but so much time has passed and I’m not sure if I want a repeat of last year’s bumpy ride. Yes he is charming and cute and lovely but I’m warier now and even though it’s flattering to find out that he still has the hots for me – where can it lead to?

This morning I bumped into Madelaine and we chatted on the street corner. We had been mums together at the school gates in another life. Her four are also all grown up now – the eldest is 32, youngest 20. She was walking two little black poms and I my large black mutt. Suddenly she started to yell across the street to a passing driver – he had slowed down and paused to look us over – I caught the flirty tone of her voice and realised that she must have clocked him clocking us. I was suddenly full of admiration for this woman of 60 who clearly can still pull.

Haha, no darling, she laughed her full throaty laugh – he wasn’t looking at me. He didn’t stop his car because of this, pointing to her overall get up – windswept wisps of hair escaping from the scrunchy which pulled the rest of her black hair into a ponytail at the top of her head and her dark blue anorak over her short summer dress.

You’re showing quite a bit of leg there – I teased her as it dawned on me that it might be the combination of the two of us as I was in shorts and a vest top.

When we parted I mused on the fact that whilst I may have the looks and brain to attract the opposite sex, I was still nowhere closer to knowing what I wanted from them afterwards.

the entrance to the keep

I usually love the giddy experience of falling in love.  It induces a high and I’m sometimes reckless enough to risk a broken heart.  The other evening I agreed to another dinner and movie date with an ex. Some seven or eight months have passed since our break up and the only form of contact had been when he sent me a birthday text on Facebook messaging.  That had been some six months ago and things had still been a little raw.  With the passage of time I no longer feel embarrassed at the way things fell apart at our last meeting though and was curious about how R was getting on.

We met at the cinema and then went to have a meal at a restaurant next door.  The cuisine was East Asian and the whole experience felt vaguely familiar.   When we were dating last year we’d tended to have a movie and dinner date which involved going to an east Asian restaurant. He was easy company and we surprised ourselves by there not being many  more awkward moments.   In fact he had quite a few entertaining tales and we swapped anecdotes.  We decided to enter a square of green and sat down on a sunny spot.  There were parties of families dotted around the space.  One had even brought their own collapsible chairs and tables and a few were enjoying wine and pizza.  The sun was beginning its descent but the evening was warm and balmy. The sky was still clear and blue without even a hint of a stormcloud even though the forecast had been thunderstorms since the previous day.  On that patch of grass we’d sat cross legged and he made me laugh out loud with a story about the prudish establishment and a feature toilet cubicle at the top of the Shard.

He was very pleasant company and I couldn’t help wondering where this might eventually lead.  I am sufficiently wary not to want my heart broken but it would be so easy to fall in love with him all over again.  I tell myself that it would be extremely foolish to repeat the past but as we teased and flirted with each other over the course of the evening I wondered how the date would end.  We walked back to the cinema and he got us both some red wine.  I’d chosen a cushioned bench and we both semi reclined on it.  The place had been done up so that it was now concrete, glass and steel.  The cushioned seating were shades of grey and stainless steel.  It wasn’t exactly comfy but it was oh so stylish and elegant!  We lounged companionably and I let him take my hand on the pretext of showing him some of the scars the bee stings had left in the recent past.  He stroked the bumpy blemishes and I told myself that he was merely being solicitous and there was nothing suggestive in his manner.  Later in the cinema auditorium itself we settled into our sofa seats.  Throughout I was conscious of his close proximity but the film was riveting.  At one stage he stroked my upper arm deliberately with his fingers but I gave him no encouragement and after a while he stopped.

When we came out of the cinema we found the ground soaked.  It had rained and a thunderstorm was brewing.  He gave me an enormous hug and kissed the side of my cheek goodbye at the entrance to the tube station, he needing to catch a bus home. We made promises to repeat the pleasant experience and I made my way down to the platform.  Later there had been some incredible lightning flashes in the midnight sky as I walked home from the station soaked to the bone.  I wonder if we really would see each other again.  Sometimes those sorts of promises made at parting can easily be forgotten.  The fortress that surrounds my heart still stands but how close had it come to being disturbed?

fear of getting hurt

Taking a step back and re-reading this blog i realise that i’m just kidding myself about how i really feel.  of course i’m sweet on R and at the same time terrified of getting hurt but more especially perhaps made to look an idiot (again!); so i dally about the dating website and chat to other men even though they probably sense that i’m not that keen on them.

a moment in the shed

i think i have a few in the shed – she led the way down to the end of the garden.

i don’t think i’ve ever ventured into the grounds before – he says tongue firmly in cheek.

be careful as it can be a little slippery here.

inside the aladdin’s cave of the usual bric a brac that can be found together with gardening tools and in her case spare beekeeping equipment as well, she was on a sofa peering into an old ikea wardrobe – the cheap kind with a cotton curtain instead of a door.  she brings out a number of small buckets.

will they do?

he selects 2 and as she turns her back to him again putting the rest back into the wardrobe, he couldn’t help reaching out to stroke the back of her neck, his other hand on her bottom.  she straightens up but does not turn around.  he leans down to kiss the back of her neck softly and slowly.  he could feel her relax and lean into him, an appreciative moan escaping her lips.  his hands come round to the front and tries to undo her trousers.  as his fingers slip into her knickers and touches the moistness between her lips there, she brings her hands round behind her and impatiently undoes his jeans.  he continues kissing her neck knowing that it’s the cause of the frenzy in her as she next tugs at the buttons on the front of his pants, until eventually she slips one hand in.

he gasps when he feels her cool fingers grasp his cock, pull it through the opening in his shorts, and then in one swift movement she bends down and takes it into her mouth.  he laces his fingers in her hair as she wraps her lips around his growing hard on.  the sounds of her licking and sucking him, including the sight of his cock disappearing in and then reappearing outside her mouth kept him hard and he brings his hand down involuntarily, enjoying the sensation of wanking himself as her lips and tongue play with the tip.  when she glances up at him, his eyes were closed concentrating on the moment.

after a while, she gets on the sofa on her knees and bends over the back of it, offering her back to him.  the wetness of her pussy glistens darkly in the dimness of the shed when he parts her butt cheeks.  earlier he had taken some pictures of this in her bedroom upstairs, except that now he keenly wanted to feel the heat of her pussy around his cock.  she cries out her pleasure when he enters that slippery lair.  to her delight he gets into a satisfying rhythm which only serves to intensify that feeling for her – at the edge of coming, not quite.

this is one of the more urgent aspects of their relationship.  they meet up once or twice a week ostensibly to fuck but a tendresse develops in spite of herself.  she hates it and sees it as a weakness which if she is unable to shake off, coaches herself against indulging and tries to put obstacles in the way of it.

it almost succeeds as he finds it frustrating and hugely annoying trying to understand this woman who will not enjoy the thing which is plainly there but will keep on looking ahead for an end to it all.

a seedy caravan

woke up with this phrase at the tail end of a dream i now can’t remember.   is it a reference to Caravan, that passenger song about endings, loss and bittersweet reminiscences?

i told my lover that i was taking down the blog because it was becoming a distraction from what i wanted to do.  i don’t go on to elaborate because i wasn’t sure if it’s a reaction to his decision last night not to come home with me.  and so if i write that, it would cause him to be frustrated at me as he specifically said he didn’t want me to read into this other than the fact that he was feeling too tired and needed his own space to unwind.

i want to be able to say how i really feel about things and not to feel constrained by his reaction.  the last post was less than honest to spare my lover’s feelings – i don’t want to feel censored as i write and so it would be better if i didn’t have him as an audience.  so i uninvited him from the blog.

perhaps all the relationships i’ve had come to nought because what the ex said a decade ago has some validity – i’m not capable of having a meaningful relationship with anyone since i cannot really let them in on how i really feel – i find it difficult to share my true thoughts and opinions and we never get close to each other.

what can i do that’s different here?  is R someone worth trying to change for, make the effort to keep this relationship going or shall i try and make a new connection?  already i’ve been in touch with someone new from the dating site – we haven’t met except online.  it’s so new i’m treading cautiously still.  why do i go from one lover to the next so easily? how can i even think of dating someone new even as this thing with R has not actually come to an end?  why do i keep trying to end it at every turn?

kiss and don’t tell

I grappled over whether to include the following narrative in the blog i share with R but it remains a draft. i don’t want my lover to think i’m posting it to get a reaction from him but as a record of what happened and the struggles i went through thinking on it.  but the words i’ve crafted and the story it tells is all couched to flatter my lover and so it lacks complete honesty.  and so i don’t actually post it there:

last wednesday i went out for drinks and a meal with an old friend/ex-lover and for old time’s sake i invited him back to mine at the end of the evening.  on the way we stop off at the salsa drinks place at the top of the road just as it was closing.   we might have had a little cuddle before falling asleep, but we were both pretty well-oiled and i can’t remember if we did have sex then, most likely not.   in the morning we definitely did – initially i was quite turned on when i noticed his priapic state, but during the actual act i couldn’t help feeling as though i was merely going through the motions perfunctorily.   i tried to focus on coming and for the first time in ages (ever?) was unable to.  i’m not sure if he noticed at all as he was fussing over the condoms and wanted us both to orgasm together.  he knew my preferred position and his hand came round to stroke my clit briefly until i stopped him by taking his hand away and laced our fingers together firmly until he came.

post-coital we chatted about various things – plans for the week, our children, house renovations (yes coincidence), etc..  he was going to let himself out after showering and dressing but i came downstairs and saw him off at the front door.  later in the evening he sent me a text to thank me for the night.  we exchange messages briefly but don’t make any plans to see each other.

the question percolating at the back of my mind is why we do the things we do.  i felt a trifle guilty and wondered if i would or could lie to my lover about the night’s events.  the conversation would never arise where he would ever ask me just as i would never ask him and so the only occasion he might ever know is if he were to read about it here.  and why would i ever reveal my indiscretions – i tell myself that it’s to be an open book so that i can never be accused of being misleading about who i am, what i do.  i want to be honest but it’s my own fault for not being able to articulate these things and as my lover noted previously, it’s just easier to say difficult things in a blogpost.

i may be testing the parameters of this relationship – and i hope to find that there are really none?  but i’ve already been told that – how true is it?   and also if the sex with someone else is so rubbish should i continue to see if that was just a blip and i might enjoy it with another?  i did stop seeing someone else at the end of last month, who although was quite fun in bed was a little too much like L, with whom i broke up last year. 

at the moment things are sweet and very easy with my lover and i should just enjoy it for what it is.  still i went back to the dating site and had a little peep.

Amy G’s dilemma

there was a time when i was not in love –

delighted in equal measure at all my dates

always managed a delectable few hours with each one.

there was the possibility of kisses –

the anticipation of these

at the back of taxis

in the corridors of underground stations

and at street corners before parting

in dark passages off the beaten track

in the last row of cinemas as the film played on

walking along the Thames or a wooded glade.

since meeting my lover it hasn’t been the same

His are now the kisses i ache for, i count

the spans of time until we meet again.

… love was just a feeling that ran out between my legs – The Black Cab Sessions. Chapter Two: Emmy the Great

staying up late listening to this young lady with her honest ditties sung in her clear sometimes plaintive voice i don’t want to stop or go to bed.  i asked my lover earlier in the evening who that singer was he’d put on in his front room that night when he took me back to his; and i’ve been playing as many of her tracks as i can find online since.  and even though it’s now past midnight i’m still enchanted by her – most extraordinary!

sex is …

one Friday night this bold trollop went out on a very pleasant dinner and theatre date with one man and then she went on to the home of another who received her on his sofa in red jim jams.

we kissed and cuddled for a bit and it was past midnight when he suggested that we go to bed.   his bedlinen is now a lovely creamy cotton and as it was so late i wasn’t expecting him to want anything other than go to sleep.  i think it was his pyjamas – they had i’m not having sex with you written all over them.  but he did remove them before getting into bed.  I, rather foolishly had kept my vest and pants on thinking we were just going to sleep, prompting my lover to comment on my being a tad over-dressed for our romantic tryst.

so of course i was mistaken and we did rather have quite an extended session of how’s your father, repeated again in the morning twice, with breakfast and the papers in between.

i woke up several times in the night and had lain there thinking amongst other things, of the few times i’d actually slept through the night in somebody else’s bed since my marriage broke up – there were the 2 stalkers.  in fact, this does not bode well at all judging from my pre-history i remember thinking.  i leaned over to kiss him on his back once, just wanting a little human touch.  later in the morning i took him in my arms under protest.  he seems to think that i deliberately wake him up to keep me company!  i’m sure he’s winding me up again.

we have a little disagreement over what sex is, or rather what giving and receiving pleasure is all about.  he thinks that i am under the erroneous impression that if he doesn’t achieve orgasm it’s not sex, and perhaps i can concede he might have a point there because certainly for me the most sensually gratifying part is at the point of just before actually coming – what he calls the plateau – i can have as many of that and regard the tryst a success, so why not in his case – hmm i’m now in the black.  i think in the end we could agree that what doesn’t give me pleasure certainly doesn’t turn him on no matter how hard he tries.

we make arrangements to see each other next week so things appear to be on an even keel so far.   when i drove home the car drives itself back almost smoothly now that it’s learnt this route in such a short time.