Even I can’t stop the seasons.

Love and interest are fickle friends.  For months I was moon-eyed over my young lover.  I noticed when his car was home, if his lights were on.  I held my breath when his door slammed shut — would my door rattle from his knuckles 2 seconds later??  Seeing his boyish face made my day, hearing his deep, news-broadcaster voice tickled me, and seeing his fit, hair-dusted body made me want to unwrap him like a Christmas present and pounce.

But something has changed.

It is the autumn of my affair with The Neighbor.  Spring brought passion and bursts of colors; highs were the only notes on the breeze.  Summer was long and arduous — I barely survived the heat of my own emotions, his refusal of me, and our irrefutable chemistry.  Today, it is fall.  The leaves of my love are turning and will soon waft to the ground like so many dizzying streaks of gold.  When winter comes, the blanket of cold will insulate me as I rejuvenate away from him and our strange, misshapen relationship.

I don’t know when or how it happened, but it did.  His glorious, meaty cock still haunts me and I admit to lusting after it, but my conquering of it is no longer tied to my heart.  If I get to wrap my fingers around hot pinkness, then so be it.  If not, oh well.  I will live without sex.  A piece of Hy dies as I write that.

Saturday night was a dazzling night in our hobbled relationship.  As asked, I woke him up in time to get ready.  It wasn’t my fault that calling his name and gently shaking him didn’t work and my only option was to slip my hand beneath his puffy white comforter and find his sleeping manhood with my hand.  What else should I have done?  Honestly.

I stroked him slowly while I watched his face, his eyes covered in the black mask that had come with his bondage kit.  His breathing was even and ignorant of my presence.  I increased the pressure of my hand and he jerked awake.

“What the hell??”

“Wake up, TN,” I said smiling.

He pulled the mask off and looked at me bleary-eyed.  He rolled onto his back so I could get full access to his erection.

“Can you wake me up like this every day?”

“You say that nearly every day.”

“Well, I mean it.”

I ignored him and continued my ministrations.

It wasn’t long before I swung a boot clad leg over his waist and slowly slid down on him, my skirt hiked up to my waist and my ridiculously tacky sequined wolf shirt sparkling in the candlelight.  His cock hit me in my throat and I flushed with warmth as I rocked on him.  He gripped my waist and I increased my tempo.  Tremors skittered across my skin as a climax snaked its way through me.

He reached for my breasts, but pulled his hands back with a laugh when he got nothing but sequins.  I laughed, too, and bent over and kissed him just as I released around us both.  “I guess I’ll have to take a shower now before the party,” he murmured into my mouth.

“I guess so.”

At the party he was attentive and hovering.  He encouraged me to eat off his appetizer plate, refilled my glass, and was sure to be shoulder to shoulder with me whenever another man came within my orbit.  I was amused and smiled to myself.  Silly Neighbor, I thought, tricks are for kids.

Our chemistry ultimately belied our ruse of easy, close friendship when an old friend of mine cornered him and asked if he and I had ever dated.  His “No comment,” clearly an admission of guilt, her smile of satisfaction an admission of her pride of sniffing us out.

Our dance continues, but the song is ending.  How many loving, connected conversations can we have?  How many tiffs easily repaired?  How many mind-blowing sexual encounters?  How many tears, hugs, kisses, games, and parries before we admit it will never be more than this?

He thinks we will be friends in 10 years.  He thinks we’ll be close friends in 10 years.  How do I tell him that it might not happen?  That I see no such future between us?  That things are winding down?

He came over last night because he was sad.  I rubbed his chest, made him laugh, and finally slipped my hand into his shorts to grip his pretty, pretty penis and rub it to a big, full handful.  He flipped me on my back and filled me to the brim.  The lights were on and I struggled under his steady, smirking gaze as I slowly, embarrassingly lost my shit beneath him.

I drenched my bed and us, climaxed and orgasmed around him, heaved and sobbed little dry sobs and then we talked some more.  He was back to being sad and anxious about an upcoming trip home.  I told him he’d do great, that he had this.  He’d be back before he knew it.  He lazily traced lines on my arm with the pads of his fingertips.  It was close to 2 am and my yawns came more frequently.

We joked about the sexy pics we’d exchanged lately.  The one of him with his fat cock hanging out of his jeans and poking up past his t-shirt-covered belly button and the one where I’m stretched out on my side pulling down my pj shorts.  I wanted him to make that his phone wallpaper and vice versa.  I’m going to stump for it.

Good morning.

“What do you do with the pics I’ve sent you?” I wondered.

“I keep them all.  They’re on my phone,” he paused for a beat then said, “And I appreciate every single one of them.  Very, very much.”

Words like those from him are like cool drafts of water on my parched throat.  “Well, I’m glad.”

More yawning.  More snuggling.  More laughing.

Then he realized the time and dressed.  I called him over to me before he left, “C’mere.  Let me give you a hug.”  I stood on my knees on the bed, letting the sheets drop, and held out my arms.  He walked into them awkwardly.  I kissed him on the cheek and squeezed anyway.  This is what friends do, after all: they support and love.  “You’re gonna do great.  I promise.  Good luck.”

He squeezed back and put his other hand gingerly on my hip before he pulled away.  “Thanks.”

He walked out of my room and I called out, “Safe travels!!” then, “And thanks for the fuck!”

I heard him laugh as he shut the front door behind him and I snuggled down into bed.  The towel covering the epic wet spot pleasantly rough on my bare bottom.

I remember the month of July as the month I couldn’t breathe and food tasted like packing popcorn.  I laid nearly comatose every spare second I had in bed watching Cheers in between fleeting hookups and interactions with him and going to work.  I knew then that it would pass.  I knew it.  I’ve been through worse and came out alive, after all, but fucking Christ was it unpleasant.

I had to let myself be a pathetic, sniveling shit for a few weeks in order to move to the next season.  I molted.  It wasn’t obvious then because I hadn’t fully emerged yet, but I’d like to think it’s more apparent now.  I forget about him most days and I check my libido at the door like a good, stoic German woman should.  She has better things to do than lead with her pussy all day.

I wonder what the future of this blog will be as I enter this strange limbo of autumn.  I am extremely busy — too busy to go hunting — but this is a blog about my dissolute life and I’m not feeling all that dissolute.  I’m beginning to feel like now Hyacinth is that best friend I made at summer camp, but I really, really don’t want to see her go.  Not just yet.

I still want to be dissolute.

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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33 thoughts on “Even I can’t stop the seasons.
  1. It sounds like you’re at a crossroads, where you’re trying to hold on to summer but let go… slowly into winter, and really next spring. A different spring. Kind of. Or is it denial?

          1. The dissolute is harder from the current perspective. If you want the dissolute self in the future – different situation or a new chapter of the current, you’ll find it. No? =)

  2. Where would the blog have gone if he did admit his love, you two got together, got married? At what point would you have told him about this TN stuff, or would you feel guilty keeping it from him? All good things must come to an end for one reason or another.

    Until then, I will be here to read your thoughts on your experiences or fantasies. Your writing just touches me, sends chills often, and I love it. You should stop wondering what “IBF” thinks and enjoy the moment.

    Just don’t forget to take your vitamins, :).

    1. Oh wow. Thank you so much for that. I really appreciate it. And you raise some great questions. I guess “dissolute” will have to be a moving target for a while until I figure shit out. Being single certainly will keep me more on the fringe than committed would… xx Hy

  3. i want to say how beautiful the picture is before I move on to other thoughts. Thank you for sharing.

    It is hard work be be dissolute all the time. We have to be on the prowl for partners in crime, we realize that a cock or cunt is not enough to inflame the required passion. Anatomy is available at any moment, but dissolution requires concerted effort and a partner that will fritter away the hours with a drink in one hand a a pussy in the other. We get bored with it, it grates on our nerves when they won’t move forward with us, forward to passion or commitment to leaving behind the aimless sex in exchange for good sex.

    As summer follows spring and the leave drift in to fall, remember that spring will come again no matter how long the winter.

  4. My, have you come a long way. I am so proud of you, and truthfully, embarrassed with myself because at one time I feared you couldn’t let go without another breakdown. Now you’re wondering when the new season will get here!

    Dissolute? But you are Babe … you’re fuckin’ him just for the pure sexual gratification … what’s more dissolute than that? … little emotion, just the total physical pleasure. You’re just beginning Spring Training for the next full out dissolute season.

    And I know you only post the “good ones”, but sheeet that’s a VERY good one. I gotta go now … I’m taking the pic and finding a nice, private place to …


  5. The leaves of autumn suit this post well. It does seem to be a time to let go, to move on as graciously as one can, to treasure the past yet hope for the future. The sunshine will come back and surprise your life again. Be sure of that.

  6. What should be constant will remain constant in this story of yours, I think.
    It’s getting colder, might you find a new cuddle buddy(ies)?

  7. I am tempted to read more of the back story before responding, but I’ve decided I’d do that later. In the moment I will say this. If you want this relationship to last in some way shape or form it is possible. I had a relationship that seems similar to yours. It has been years, and through all of our various relationships he has always been a constant, always will be. I plan to have him as my man of honor at my wedding. You can make it work if both of you are willing to do the work. The sex, probably has to stop, but if he says he sees you as friends ten years from now, and you find you want that as well. Then go for it. Good friends are hard to find. Best of luck and great post

    1. Suqui, the story is long and arduous, so beware!

      And honestly, I just don’t know how this relationship of ours is going to end up.

      I appreciate your thoughts and your words. Welcome!

  8. Sweet dear friend. You will be dissolute when you’re 90. Even if you have been faithfully fucking the socks off the same man for 40 years prior. And you know why? I will tell you. You will be because your indifference to moral restraints is how you approach life. It’s not about the actions you do or don’t take. It’s internal. It’s like being pro choice and choosing to keep the baby. You will always be a shiny beacon of boundary pushing awesomeness. Even if that boundary pushing is talking the sexy physical therapist at the nursing home into doing a strip tease. God I hope we end up in the same old folks home.

  9. I believe the “dissolute” part began before TN. No reason it won’t continue without his being a major factor. If anything, your obsession with him has strayed you from that original seeking purpose. But, given the history here, I must admit I will only wait to see what happens rather than take this determined sounding assertion for it’s face value. One thing I know about TN is that he seems to make you desperately seek agency and control while simultaneously distracting you from it and keeping you at his mercy.

    If anything, I hope you are figuring things out. This post was beautifully written and as always, you are a joy to read no matter how frustrating your circumstances seem to be. :) Good luck dear, and know that you are beautiful in spite of yourself! <3

  10. My Hy, it seems like things are moving along the way they should. I’m glad that you’ve made it through the steamy summer and that you are feeling more like the ball is in your court now. You are a strong, beautiful German women!


  11. As I read this, I couldn’t help imagining it as a sequel to Beauty and the Beast. Maybe not the immediate sequel… more like Beauty and the Beast III: The Reckoning.

  12. Good luck with this new chapter of your life, young lady.
    You’ll be fine; you have a great head on your shoulders. Just stay strong and don’t be manipulated any further by your immature neighbor.

  13. Ah, Hy… I know you’ll solve it. Just becoming calmer about it is such a fantastic achievement, I just know how difficult that is… enjoy whatever is now, Autumn can be a fantastic season.

  14. Autumn is the season of change and you look like you have a handle on things. Though the passion may be decaying, the roots of your resolve are planted strong and you are coming through all of this beautifully. I agree with Noodle…..you will be dissolute because you aren’t bound by what others think….look at all the pressures you faced even here with IBF..all of us chiming in to “do this” or “don’t do that”…and yet…you followed the only voice that mattered….your own. That takes great strength of character and you’ve found your way through. oxoxx

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