I still love him.

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Spilling my guts in a coffee shop.

It’s happening again.

That lurch in my chest, that belly ache.  The wild sense of fear and loneliness has somehow returned in flashes here and there.  I can’t decipher if it’s because of the year I’ve had with him or because my life has primed me for fear of loss.

The funny thing is loss hasn’t killed me yet, so why would it now?  Fear is an infection on my life.  It steals the beauty of a bright blue day with sounds of twittering life on the breeze.  It robs the beauty of a moment between lips and thighs and puffs of breath.  It decimates the beauty of a feeling between beings, that raw, wondrous energy one human transfers to another.  Fear is death of all things beauty.

I’ve lost much in my life, like most — I’m no different from the hipsters sitting next to me.  Loss isn’t just a death of a being, it’s also the death of a thing, a feeling, an agreement.  Divorce is the death of a life planned and hoped for.  The death of love and trust, even faith.

And yet, I’m still kicking.  No loss has gotten the best of me.  I continue to grow, feel, love.  Why am I so afraid, then?

It confounds me that I fear losing TN so much.  What would happen to me? I wonder.  Well, I would hurt.  I would ache and flail and sob and shrivel up a little, but I wouldn’t die.  Perhaps I would find beauty in my pain.  I believe it exists there because pain is life and life is art.  Some put it on our bodies, others turn it out.  I put it into letters on pages and sometimes I put it into my pussy.

Pain is unavoidable and grand simultaneously.  It’s reassurance that we’re here.

And: I am falling in love with him all over again.  That’s why I fear.

I’ve been avoiding writing that sentence — even saying it to myself — for weeks now, but it’s unavoidably true.

I do.  I love him.  Perhaps I always will, I don’t know.

Switching to the top, becoming his Domme, has transformed me.  I feel as though it’s where I should have always been.  I feel frantic about it and stupidly calm.  He needs me to care, I need him to need me.  Why has it taken me this long in my life to surrender to this?  Would this have saved my marriage?  I’m certain my ex-husband would have plugged into this — wait, I should never speak in absolutes — I’m confident he would have liked it.  Maybe it would have salvaged our broken promises from the wreckage.

Feeling TN’s desire for me to care, to take charge, to reprimand him and tug him this way and that lights my insides like a Roman candle.  The trust between us is growing, my love expanding, and thus, my fear.  I am juggling two kittens and an ax.  One wrong toss and the kittens are ribbons and my hand gone.

We have spent night upon night together cuddling and/or inside each other — literally and figuratively.  Since last Monday, we haven’t played with our new roles much other than setting light boundaries.  The way he speaks to me, for example, is up for review.  He gets punished when he says things on the assumption that I am silly or that I am old.  It’s a brilliant way of communicating.

Me: I’m going to get an ice-cube for your bottom now.

Him: But the water will drip down!

Me (firm and holding up one finger): That’s 1, TN.

Him (thinking): It’s because I assumed you wouldn’t take care of the drips, right?

Me: Yes.  Good boy.  (SMACK!)

Me (as I’m cooking us dinner): Could you please put the dishes in the dishwasher away?

Him (smiling): Why?

Me (smiling back): Because of my bad back and because it’ll help me stay organized.

Him (with a face-splitting grin): It’s because you’re old, right?

Me (also still smiling): That’s 2.  You are not to make fun of my age any more.

Him: Yes Ma’am.

Touching him, his cock, his lips.  I feel as though they’re mine.  I require a kiss now before he leaves.  He always presents his bottom for a nice smack, but then I pull him back in to feel his 5 o’clock shadow on my face and under my fingertips, his pliant, warm lips on mine.  I take what I need and he obliges.

Sunday he donned another pair of my panties and vacuumed my apartment for me.  I languished on the couch in my yellow dress, breasts to my chin, and mused that I should probably invest in a nice vacuum cleaner, one that wouldn’t wrench my back each time I used it.  He stopped the rhythmic push and pull and stood up straight, and looked at me.

“I don’t think I like that idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because then you wouldn’t need me.”

And so the story goes.  He wants me to need him as much as I want him to need me, though we dance around labels and real commitment and loving each other as openly and proudly as we are able.

This week I felt myself unraveling.  That fear of loss has me stumbling and gasping.  He has pulled back infinitesimally and it I feel like it’s the Titanic to my iceberg.  It’s ridiculous: He didn’t want to cuddle with me Tuesday night.  It was the first night in weeks that we didn’t spend time with limbs entwined.  And last night, as we cuddled and he said firmly for me not to touch his beautiful cock with my mouth or pussy, he wasn’t forthcoming with details for his plans on Thursday.

“I don’t remember what they are,” he said, eyes closed, brow knit.

“You don’t remember?” I asked, clearly not believing him.

“Yeah, I don’t.  I’m all out of it tonight.”

And just like that, the seed was planted.  He has plans with a woman! I thought.  They’re probably just friends, but he doesn’t want to tell me. What does that mean?  How am I supposed to respond?? I’m like a dog with a bone.

When asked, he assured me that We were cool, that he was just in a bad mood and that it had nothing to do with me.  I emphasized that he was welcome to discuss any problems with me if he had them.  He accused me of being insecure.  I scoffed at that.  He had the wrong reaction to deduce that.  Yes, I am insecure, but guaranteeing open lines of communication is not the indicator.

When I see him, my heart skips, my eyes twinkle.  He loves on me, cuddles me, kisses my shoulder, strokes my hair.  He humps me.

When he was vacuuming my bedroom I jumped on the bed, lay on my stomach with ankles crossed.  His erection was mighty and straining at the cotton of my panties.  He turned the machine off and came around to my face.  I patted his meat and breathed on him.

“Lay down,” I told him and we switched spots.

I pulled my panties down over his hips and fell on him with my mouth.  I crawled up the length of him and he popped my breasts out of the top of my dress and sucked on them with exquisite perfection.  I slid down back between his knees and when I stood up we laughed because his cock was caught under my dress, popping a yellow plaid tent between us.

photo 1

Mine.

I reached down and grabbed his shaft.  “It looks like it’s mine,” I said.  He pulled up the fabric of my dress and I stood there with no panties on with a giant cock leaping out at him.  Again we laughed as I took a picture.  It really is mine.  We both know it, though never say it.

I rode him and he rode me, hearts pounded.  It was the old TN and Hy.  No D/s, just me losing my shit and him reveling in it.  “God, I love fucking you!” he said over and over.  I thrashed beneath him naked, my breasts round Jello domes of jiggle, my eyes fluttered to his unable to keep eye contact.  If only I could get him to remove one word.

Monday night shifted things inside of me.  For a few hours my fear was gone.  I know I have no control, I know that life will do as it wills, I know I am insignificant.  But for a few hours I was in charge of something important to me: Him and Us.

I scribbled words of devotion all over his body, though he didn’t know that’s how I meant them: “glorious cock,” “yummy chest,” “broad shoulders,” and, over his heart, “Good Boy”.  If he ever finds this blog I hope he sees the love seeping out of every word I’ve ever written about him, good, bad, or ugly.

He wrote on me.  It was his reward for behaving: “magnificent breasts,” “sexy, horny slut,” “hottest, wettest best pussy ever” with a little arrow to my shaved vulva.

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Reflection.

My fear of loss, my need for love.  They are constantly warring, constantly pulling me into a million little different directions.

I can’t say more.  I feel shy and protective of him now; I am incapable of sharing the details of the D/s encounters, my fingers will not move, but I feel beautifully vulnerable sharing the changes in me and the other wonderful sex and things between us.  I think I’m ok with the fear.

I think I’m happy.

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I shamefully admit: this is my love.

40 thoughts on “I still love him.

  1. Ups and downs are inevitable. The bigger question is why the return of the fear (since you see/feel when it goes away). You talk about fearing losing him, but not really why right now.

    Even more, is it because you subconsciously feel you need that fear/pain so you can get to that point where things feel good again? Shitty way of thinking about it, but some people have that as a motivator…

    • I fear losing him because I’ve grown closer; I care more. I’ve admitted (again) that I love him. I’d talked myself out of it for a few months, but now it’s undeniable.

      • Yet it hasn’t changed… inside you. Except now you’re facing it and the fear kicks in. You fear losing him because you’ve grown closer. Sounds more like you fear that hurt, after admitting it to yourself.

        Because, if you tell him that, either it’s validating or it crashes all down…

        Which, really, sucks.

        • Good God, tell him what? I would never tell him (again). He’ll have to find this blog if he ever wants to really know and I die before I ever say it again.

          But, I think he knows. You INTJs are smart shits — though his scores said he was an INFP, I think they’re bullshit… and my exhusband was an INFP. SHOOT ME.

          • You wish you could tell him again, which means you want to tell him again. And that’s what fucking hurts, in the end, no?

            Of course he knows – he wouldn’t get the attention from you that he gets if he wasn’t that aware.

            So your weakness is INXX, like you said before. My weakness is ENFPs, so we’re both fucked (except I’m not – haha). SHOOT US BOTH.

            You gonna be happy tomorrow? That’s all I care about. One day at a time, dammit. At least, now.

          • Yes, I think I’ll be happy tomorrow. But who knows, right? He has some mysterious previous engagement tomorrow, so I’ve made plans with two of my friends to keep busy. If that was a “tomorrow” of existential meaning, then definitely YES, I will be happy. At least for a tomorrow.

            And I honestly don’t want to tell him I love him again — not in this reality. I’ll just get hurt. It’d be nice to live in an alternate plane, though, and be able to say, “I love you, TN,” and have him look back at me and say, “I love you, too, Hy.” But that’s NOT how this melodrama is going to end, I assure you.

            It will end when he moves away and we let it die on the vine.

  2. I want to coddle you away from the world. Not because I think you’re weak or because I think you need it. I think I’m weak, and I see such fear and such… willingness to give into the possibility of the pain and the loss, only for those stolen moments of happiness… and it is like I’m looking into a mirror.

    I like so very much when you are happy, and believe it or not, I have a hard time sharing small intimacies too. Just now, I have something written (if only because it is how I decompress)… but I’m not sure if I’ll share it. I may leave it in the draft folder forever. This becomes more and more about me, the more that I type. Forgive my shameful Leonine ways, I merely wanted you to know, as always, that I understand.

    Beautiful pictures, Honey. You’re absolutely divine.

    xoxo

    • I think I get it, Fay, I really do. I’d like to be coddled, frankly. How nice would that be? Protected and shielded from the harsh realities of life and love?

      And you are always welcome to write about you, are you kidding?? Please! xx Hy

  3. It’s blurry to me but your post bubbled up these questions because there is something familiar about your fear. It sort of sounds like it could be the actual FEELING of the fear is what triggers you to focus on any negative possibilities you see for the future. Even though they may not be true, you just do it out of habit from before. I can only imagine that the changes have changed the dynamics of your relationship with both of you. Is it that you only need to step away from your nose to nose stance with fear. Is fear so comfortable that when its around, you always entertain it, like a first love? I wonder these things about myself. It goes to anything in life decisions -You might not relate to this at all……

  4. Your writing just sent shivers up my right side, legs to ear. There is something in that, your description of love and devotion to another person, I FEEL it in my body. I believe in you both. I’m confused and bewildered and excited about your inner changes… I feel left behind in a way, it is so hard for me to fathom a D/s relationship…its something I’m sure in time I might explore but I run from control in my mind as much as I crave it. I understand your fears and vulnerability.

    Love it Hy, such pure emotions.

    • Thanks, G. I feel this is a clumpy post, but if it touched you, then all the better!

      I don’t know about feeling left behind. I hope that my experience is more broad than narrow, but I’ll keep trying to cast a wide net to catch the emotion and not just the deed. xx Hy

      • You do a great job capturing the emotion, and the deed. I just don’t want to think of such blatant control, over me or over another person. It is not hurting anyone, it seems to be a good thing…. I will want it too much.

  5. The more I become friends with impermanence the less I fear things going wrong. With that understanding comes a bravery that allows me to engage the world with honesty and openness.
    Just trust what you already know, that what ever happens its all workable and in the end you will be fine with whatever happens

    Hugs and XXX’s

    • I know you’ve been preaching this from day one. I understood it then, but that muscle was non-existent. I feel it’s stronger now, but it’s still a struggle. It may be a daily exercise for me to let go, to free myself of ownership, jealousy, loss and fear. And you’re right, I will be fine with whatever happens. I believe it! xx Hy

  6. He’s so furry! No wonder you love to cuddle into him! Enjoy your passion with him. Each day brings it’s own worries and pleasures.

    ~ Vista

  7. My biggest fear would be to lose my wife. But I accepted that fear knowing that some day i will lose her. Because of me or because of someone else. Nothing is forever. So I live in the moment, enjoying the fact I have her on my side for the time it will last. And I prepare for that day. In fact, put shortly, there is not much to prepare for, she’s the unique perfect fit for me. And there’s is nothing I can do if she decides to leave for any reason. I won’t fight, I may cry but I’ll accept it and I’ll go from there.

  8. I am fearful, and sometimes I create chaos to hide the fear. It swirls around in drama and denial, only to settle back inside of me, quiet until it rises again. I am learning to appreciate the moment, know that I cannot stop anything, and understand that the fear interferes. I can only enjoy the present.

  9. Hy….unfortunately for me the fear seems to be where I live from most and I wish I could change it…it’s always there coiled in my stomach waiting to move up from there to cover my heart. I call it protection…but I recognize its really fear. It makes it hard to live a joyful life. You are definitely living life more on your own terms, with just a hint of fear…but its a healthy balance.

    • Dammit! Accidentally hit Send!

      Anyway, I’m always exploring what it is I’m feeling and what it is I have/want/need. I’m working on ridding myself of a lot of preconceived notions of what happy means.

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