POLYAMORY CHANGES

It’s been almost two years since I’ve been living a polyamorous love-style, and it has still been one of the best decisions I’ve made in a very long time. When I look back and evaluate what has made living poly so unique, one word comes to mind, change. 

Many things have changed since I’ve begun living poly, and the master change has been my expectations and “rules.” When I was living monogamously, I had expectations that never seemed to be met (at least not by the men that showed interest). There were also many rules I once had that I’ve since dismissed or lessened dramatically since being polyamorous. 

This pandemic threw a flaming monkey wrench into my dating life and plans. I had hoped to build upon the connections I already had. I had hoped to finish my book in the summer and promote it across the country. And lastly, I had hoped to be out of my parent’s home. However, with the city shut down (I live in NYC) and minimal opportunities for inclement weather date-nights, dating expectations became limited and scattered. With cafés, and bookstores closed, my comfort in writing was halted for months. And, since the city shut down, the organizations responsible for construction shut down as well, and my ability to move hit a brick wall. 

All wasn’t lost, though. Sex-positive people never stay without sex for too long, and over the summer, I reconnected with a partner from my past when he asked me to accompany him in a swap. We chatted up and got reacquainted, and he expressed his desire to “get to know me better.” We had planned a date, then the city shut down again (LOL!) Anyway, we’ve been in contact, and he bought my book. When he got to the part where I mentioned my strict “no kids” rule, he was concerned. I had to explain to him, that was a rule I had when I was monogamous. But, now that I’m polyamorous, I’m open to bending it. 

This was my first time really acknowledging that my rules when dating poly had shifted. I am spoiled. I was spoiled then, and I am still spoiled now. I want what I want. When I was dating monogamously, because my partner was the only one, the last-minute adjustments of dating a man with kids were always an issue. Knowing that I had maneuvered my entire day or week to be available for him to cancel or change plans if he had to pick up his kids or whatever, I would get pissed. Monogamy had him as my only target, and all of my expectations rested upon his shoulders, and that wasn’t fair. Being poly and having multiple partners and relationships and my relationship with myself, I never exhaust my options. If a date has to cancel, I may still be a little bit upset, but it’s no longer the house of cards tumbling down it was before. 

Being polyamorous, having multiple partners and relationships (including the one with myself) now allows me to have financially fair relationships as well. Because my primary love languages are gifts and acts of service, I like and want shit! Dates, flowers, candies, trips, and etc. But I’ve always thought of myself as a fair girlfriend. I never wanted or expected so much from a partner that it put a strain on him. Many would say, “it ain’t trickin’ if you got it.” But most of my partners didn’t have it, and I knew it. And since I couldn’t be with someone solely for financial gain, I found myself in many fair or financially imbalanced relationships. 

However, with the above realization, being poly has made space for relationships I may have otherwise turned away. Repeatedly going out at one partner’s expense can be a financial burden. Having multiple partners to date on occasion allows my date bucket to remain full, without the strain. Living poly has also allowed me to re-prioritize and consider myself a fantastic date. 

When I sought monogamous relationships, my alone time was a byproduct of my partner’s cancelation or lack of funds. I was forced to find happiness in being alone. But now, that happiness is genuine and very welcome. Those long hours of being alone allow me time to decompress, zone out, and refocus my energy and goals. I get up, make my way to a restaurant, read a book or listen to a podcast, and go for a nice long walk all by myself. Before poly, what a partner didn’t have would’ve been a huge deal breaker, but in this pool of poly-love, the laser focus is no longer on the perceived negatives. 

The poly changes allow me to see and experience a different kind of love, a love that’s not solely based on what my partner can do for me but how I feel for and with them.

DID MY CAT SHRINK?

I know the vagina is a beautiful work of art. Sure, it bleeds once a month, but it also brings life into the world. And throughout history, a few wars have been waged to attain it. Its allure can make a man want to get a better job, or it can drive a man to sell his car and remortgage his home. The vagina has undeniable power. And, sadly, I think mine may have shrunk. 

I attended a sex party while I was on my period last year. And since I didn’t want the night to be a total waste, I sucked a few dicks. And one that stood out from the rest. It was chocolate, long, thick, and hard. I hoped that I could one day ride him into the sunset, so I was elated when he asked me for my number before leaving. We kept in touch, on and off. Then, a year later, during a pandemic, we finally made plans to link up.  

He asked me if I wanted to join him and swap with a couple he met last year. I agreed. To be completely honest, I wasn’t 100% enthused about the swap, as he and I had never even had sex. I didn’t want the first time I rode his horse to be at a county fair. None the less, he booked the hotel, picked me up, and we headed to New Jersey.  

When the couple arrived, we started drinking, played a game of strip-adult-charades, then things started. The woman and I began by licking at each other’s nipples; then she went to use the bathroom. When she returned, I was on my knees sucking my date’s dick like the world was ending (because it just might be). The length of his dick presented a challenge I was eager to conquer. With my mouth a slippery mess, my left hand playing with his balls, and my right tugging at his nipples, he almost lost control, and to avoid his orgasm, he pushed me away. The other guy wanted to see what I was working with, so when I returned from rinsing my mouth, I gave him a sample. When it was time to fuck, it was hard for him to keep it up. And my annoyance only increased as I heard the screams and moans from his wife getting pounded out by my date. I was annoyed as fuck!   

Eventually, her man got his head in the game, and it was decent. But I knew what I wanted, waited a year for, and hauled my ass all the way to New Jersey for. My date had stamina, so after her man had his orgasm, I needed to get off. He walked to the bathroom to clean off, and I pulled out my Womanizer. As I watched them in action, I imagined I was her. I moaned and yelled commands to “fuck her harder” and “fuck that pussy.” When I had my orgasm, I let out a moan, and a moment later, he came. We all took a moment to freshen up and find out more about each other, and then it was back to business. I needed to feel him inside of me, and I refused to wait another year.  

I sat on the edge of the bed and took him into my mouth, and instantly he was hard. He played with my clit as I sucked with a mission. When he pushed me back on the bed and slipped on the condom, I was happier than a dentist’s child on Halloween. He pulled me down to him, and he slid into me. His initial entrance felt terrific, then something felt off. The sensation that I used to take like a champion was no longer there. In my fucking years, I definitely fucked dicks longer than his. So, what was it? Every thrust was a mixture of pain and pleasure, but more pain than I usually like. When he bent the girl over to fuck her doggy-style, I envisioned throwing it back and giving him a run for his money. Thank God I’m not a shit talker because I surely wouldn’t have been able to cash that check. I managed to fight through the pain and still throw it back and take the dick, but I couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me.  

When he came, we cleaned up, and we swapped one more time. Luckily, the second time around, the other guy had no problems staying up, and I rode him like a cowgirl in a western movie. I used my low squat form to bounce up and down, then I grounded on my knees to move just the pussy, and finally, I winded him into an orgasm. The final time we fucked, he bent me over, and once again, there was that feeling – What the Fuck! – He wasn’t as painful as my date, but when he switched to missionary, I was very thankful.   

The couple left, my date had to pick up his kids, and I remained in the suite. After I showered, I laid in the bed and wondered- is my vagina shrinking? My first had a seven-inch dick, my 10-year fling had an eight-inch dick, and my last two exes ranged between seven and eight. I took every last one of them all like a fucking champ. So why was I, all of a sudden, wincing at a dicks? I may not fuck donkey dicks as often as I used to, but my partners are not, by any means, small. They all (yes- they) have nice sized dicks, so it made no sense.   

Last week I went to a sex-party with my guy, and we had a blast. I fucked some lengthy Johnson’s and I was ready for more, until the last one. When I was sucking his dick as my man ate me out, I could tell he was big, but I didn’t realize how big. When he put on a condom to fuck me, it was then that I realized I was in for a rude awakening. Not only was he long, but he was rock hard and as amazing as every slow grind felt, each rapid pump felt like a dagger. It was as if I could feel him hitting a rib. I considered telling him to stop, but my fucking pride got the best of me. I used to be able to fuck these like no problem. When he asked if I would do doggy-style, I said, “Hell No!” It started to feel better, and soon as his rhythm became thoroughly enjoyable for me, he came. After him, I was done.   

I wanted no more sex, and I didn’t want to see another dick for the rest of the party. I don’t know if my pussy is shrinking, or it’s just used to what it’s used to. But I’ll continue to push the barrier. The vagina is a muscle after all, so if you work it- it works for you back. 

SIR, YOU NEED TO PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON

It’s always interesting to see how a person acts when you take them out of their comfort zone. Someone who’s amazing in bed and fantastic on intimate dates can be a total disaster when you toss in a little too much alcohol and mixed company. This was my experience with one of my partners early on.   

In February, a good friend of mine invited me to a burlesque show. I mulled over the invite for a few days, and when I finally agreed and she got our tickets. A week later, she messaged me that her husband surprised her with tickets to the very same burlesque show. I didn’t want to be the awkward third wheel, so I invited Milo, a dance instructor I was dating. I often hesitated to bring men I dated around my friends, especially when it’s still new. In the past, when things would end, I hated having to explain why we broke up or stopped seeing each other. But luckily, both her and her husband were in the lifestyle, and that awkward conversation could be avoided. When I decided to invite him, it was for multiple good reasons. Not only was the sex amazing, but he was also reliable, and since he was a dance instructor, I knew he owned formal attire that the event called for.  

It was agreed that he would pay her husband for his ticket. They would pick us up in the city, we would drive out to Brooklyn, see the show, then go dancing. It was a simple enough agenda, but the night went a bit array.   

The night of the show, I met Milo at a Mexican restaurant downtown for a quick drink. When I saw him at the bar, I could tell he already had a few too many. While we waited for my friend to arrive, I got us each a margarita against my better judgment. Right when we finished our drinks, she and her husband pulled up. When we got into the car, she reminded us that she had made a pre-game drink to avoid the overpriced ones. But, because the drink was too strong for me, she and Milo finished most of it.   

When we arrived at the loft, the atmosphere was incredibly sexy. It reminded me of a scene from the 1920s speakeasy, and I loved it. We walked up the stairs, greeted the host, and looked for the right spot to view the show. The show progressed nicely, the dancers were beautiful, and their sets were entertaining. All would have been amazing had it not been for my date.   

When we first met, I asked him if he smoked, to which he said no. I had to remind myself that a person that smokes when they’re drinking will never admit they’re a smoker. Many times, throughout the show, he would disappear onto the balcony to take a smoke. When he wasn’t inhaling toxic fumes, he was poorly executing a whisper that everyone within earshot could hear. I had to tell him multiple times to be quiet, and I began to get embarrassed. The next thing I knew, when I turned back around, his shirt was off. I guess he figured that since the dancers were taking off their clothes, and he too was a dancer, it was an open invitation for all dancers to strip. I saw the hostess strut over, perky breasts exposed, landing strip visible, and wearing a feather-trimmed sheer robe; into his ear, she whispered, “Sir, you need you to put your shirt back on.” She stood firm, waited for him to follow her instructions, and she walked away. Two acts before the last, I turned around, and he was nowhere to be found. I walked downstairs and out of the building to see him walking back. Where he went, I will never know; but when we got back upstairs, it was the final act. — Thank God! — After the show, we all chatted for a bit, then left to go dancing.   

We bopped around from bar to bar, drinking, dancing, and hoping to find the spot that would keep us going to the sun came up. The final place we ended was tight as a virgin, but the energy was amazing. I was still reeling from his earlier behavior, and to rid myself of the ordeal, I passionately kissed him with a touch of anger. When we kissed, I felt my annoyance change into arousal. I felt a pinch on my ass that I swore came from my friend or her husband (which I would’ve happily invited), but nothing else happened. We left in search of food, then he whispered that we should head back to his place. Once again, I got the impression that they wanted the night to end with all of us possibly together, but I kept my mouth shut.   

We sat back as they drove to his place and dropped us off. Once upstairs, I was overcome with so many emotions, I had to end the night on a good note. So, I made sure to fuck all the bad parts away. Despite how I described the events of the evening, make no mistake, I was mortified. I seriously debated seeing him again, so I had no option but to erase it with sex. I sucked his dick, he ate my pussy until I came, and we fucked like it was the end of the world. When it was all done, and we were both orgasmed out, we passed out.   

In the morning, I took a shower, and on my way out, he apologized for getting that drunk. I told him, “I forgive you, but let it be the last time.” We kissed, and I left. Over a year later, we still see each other, and I’m happy to say, that was the first and only time he got that drunk in my presence.   

CHEERS TO THE NEW YEAR (2019 Recap)

Dear 2019, 

I’ll be sad to see you go, but I’ll remember the beautiful times we had. At the stroke of midnight, my family welcomed you with prayers and open arms. We made our traditional “Happy New Year” and “I Love You” calls, drank some champagne, and eventually retired to sleep.  

My first post in 2019, Yay! She’s Back was a story about my vibrator’s love for me. In the summer of 2018, I had made the decision to stop having sex, because I needed to allow my mind and heart to heal from all the heartbreak I had endured in 2018. I needed to re-devote my energy back into myself, and I didn’t want the exchange of negative energy that sex often brings. So, being that the only forms of safe sex are either abstinence and masturbation; writing a story on masturbation seemed quite appropriate. 

Inspired by a member in the support group that I attend; I decided to write and publish my, first ever, post on herpes; The Ex That Never Left. Hitting publish was the hardest thing I did in 2019 and it was the post that would forever shift the tide and purpose of my writing. Being positive for 10 years- ‘it was what it was’ and I operated on a need to know basis. When I started to write my blog, I had no intention to ever discuss herpes. But, I realized that, to be a great writer, meant to be vulnerable and to let people in. I couldn’t continue talking around herpes, I had to call it out and give it a seat on stage; especially if I planned to stand in my truth of sex positivity.  

With herpes out in the open, I was finally able to take bigger steps toward being the writer that I am now. I wrote about my first 3-some experience, in Turn Up while also coming out as bisexual. Because I wanted to experience a woman alone, I went on The Hunt. Unfortunately, I never found a woman or couple that was actually willing to meet up. It became abundantly clear that if I wanted to explore being intimate with women, I would have to step out of my comfort zone and walk into a sex-club.  

In March, after being ‘celibate’ for almost 8 months, I walked into my first sex-club; but it wouldn’t be my last. Being the new honest writer that I was, I wrote all about my experiences in; Corset, Collar, Lingerie 1,2, and 3). In concluding that I was, indeed, bisexual; I also discovered that I deeply enjoyed being an exhibitionist, amongst like-minded individuals.  

It was during this time that I started dating again. However, this time around I was playing by a different set of rules. Over the years of dating, since I was 14; I had experienced my share of heartbreaks. During my time of celibacy, I realized that I had set unrealistic expectations on my partners and they did the same to me. I realized that I dated, like many other people, only for the end game. I missed out on cherishing all the amazing moments because I was only focused on achieving one thing. It was then I realized that, not only was I limiting my capacity and the ability to love; but that I was forcing myself to be someone that I was not. It was then that I decided I would love polyamorously; and in Working The Garden, I dived deeper into my emotions.  

With my mind and emotions finally aligned, I was surprised to see how quickly my sex life got on board. For the first time, in a very long time, I was dating how I wanted, with men whose company I genuinely enjoyed, and the sex was not only good, it was kinky as well. I was finally able to explore sexual acts that I was nervous to explore prior in (Tabooty 1 & 2). 

In June, I discovered an invite-only sex-party; and I slowly became a regular on the scene. I was enjoying my moment of being an ethical herpes-positive individual, and shared it with you in (The Wonders of Coconut Oil 1 & 2). 

By the time August arrived, I had only discussed my herpes status on my blog and with select friends and family. It wasn’t until I wrote into Whoreible_Decisions, and was chosen to be a guest on their podcast, did I finally decide to go fully public. I first told the remainder of my family, I made all of my social media public, and I waited. I was surprise at how many people reached out to me after the episode dropped and I immediately knew that I had made the right decision. Naturally, because I was nervous, I had missed some key pointers, so being that I did have a platform of my own (even though small) I elaborated on some of the things I wish I had said during the podcast, on the blog post Things Unsaid.  

By the end of the summer, I was fully invested in the poly-love style. I had one primary partner that I loved dearly, whom I met at a sex-party; (I Only Wanted Sex: Then you happened) and I was dating three other men. Eventually one of the men realized that dating multiple women wasn’t for him so he ended things; (Tales of a Polyamorous Heart Break), and I, in true fashion, wished him the best.  

I was finally living my life to the fullest; I was building amazing connections, having great sex, and living and loving my truth; (End of My Hot Girl Summer & You Can Have It All). 

Surprisingly polyamory was flowing smoothly. The only difficulty I found was having to explain, over and over, to people that weren’t in the lifestyle that Polyamorous Does Not Mean Sex-Addict). Other than that, I encountered no real roadblocks and/or difficulty dating, even while being herpes positive.  

As I write this, I could never have imagined being where I am now.  

After appearing on the Whoreible_Decisions podcast, I’ve been a guest on multiple other podcasts;  Shit! I’m 30 podcast, Something Positive for Positive People, and during my visit to Philly, to see Elton John, I (with my primary partner) were guests on the UnCumfortable w/ Muva Esh Podcast.  

In addition to publicly speaking about herpes on various podcasts; in the early fall I became a member of HANDS (Herpes Activists Networking to Dismantle Stigma). Almost every day I receive a new message from a person that tells me, hearing my story has helped them in some way. Who ever thought speaking publicly about having herpes would help so many people? It was a big step for me to take, but I’m happy that hearing my journey can help others. I offer tips on how to disclose to potential partners How Do I Tell Them. And I use my years of experience and words to combat bullying within the herpes community If Only It Were That Simple. 

In the year 2020 I foresee major changes in my personal life and career. I’m currently working on a book that hopefully will be out in the Spring of 2020. I’m also in the process of writing my memoir; and the future holds more fantastic ventures for me.  

So, I hope that you have enjoyed my 2019 re-cap and I hope you follow me into 2020.  

Happy New Year!! 

LIKE A COZY SWEATER

Sex (for those that enjoy it) is a wonderful thing. After a long day, sex can often be better than a stiff drink. I love everything that leads up to sex; and it often starts from when he licks on my nipples, to when he buries his face in between my legs and tastes all of my juices. After he delivers me my first orgasm, he gets on top of me and slowly enters me. As I can feel his penis pressing through the tightness of my entrance and once he’s inside; I can only describe it as, amazing. But what does that really feel like, it’s hard to describe. As he proceeds to fuck me, in as many positions as my limited flexibility will allow, I revel in the pleasure of knowing that he too is loving every single moment of being in my body. When he finally reaches his orgasm, I deliver myself an invisible pat on the back and know that I have, once again, satisfied my partner. It’s one thing to know you’re a good fuck, but I’ve never known how good, until my partners started verbalizing it.  

The first time, I remember, a partner attempting to describe how sex with me feels, I was in my late twenties. This particular partner loved to fuck me; the problem is, he never lasted long. I would freshen up to go and see him. We’d kiss, he’d play with my nipples and he’d be hard as a rock. Then once inside, he’d deliver a few good thrusts; and although I could feel him trying to hold out, all the time he would fail. One afternoon I was highly upset, and I called him out on it and his response was, “he missed me”, and my pussy “was too good”. I asked him what he meant; because he made it clear that this only happened with me. So, I needed to understand what he felt. He described sex, with me, as; an ice-cold coke on a hot summer day, when you stopped drinking coke years ago. I guess I understood what he meant, and I was grateful for the accolade; but I had made up my mind that his sex was no longer worth the walk across the street for me.  

At the last swinger-party I attended, my partner and I had an amazing time. After he pleased me, I happily returned the favor, then we proceeded to enjoy the other party-goers. Every once in a while, in between our individual pussy devouring and sex sessions we would circle back around to one another, and reconnect. As the party came to an end and the lights came on; two of the men I had played with during the night couldn’t stop bragging about how good my “punany” (as one guy called it) felt and tasted. They kept calling it; good, amazing, and fantastic. They asked him if he was my man, to which he said yes. Then they proceeded to congratulate him on being able to enjoy me whenever he wanted. I didn’t quite know what to say; but “Thank you” and blush. 

In a room full of pussy, I was semi-surprised that mine garnered such accolades. I’m aware that when there is an emotional connection, the sex can be much more magical. But these were two strangers, and there was nothing but animal lust driving the interaction. I mean- sure, I do my Kegels; but, could sex with me be that different from other women? I had to take their word for it, until it was solidified with this remark.  

I had an amazing sex session with M_Tinder. We hadn’t connected in a while because we were both busy; but he didn’t let distance stop him from sending me enticing pictures and telling me what he planned to do to my body. When I arrived; after chatting with his roommate for a bit, we headed to his bedroom. After kissing, he made his way to my breasts then to my pussy. He used his tongue to deliver me an intense orgasm and long after he drank my juices, he kept on going. He took his time fucking my body in a variety of positions. He fucked my ass while I used my womanizer on my clit and found another, more intense, orgasm. Then, he switched out the condom and finished fucking me doggy style. We passed out, and in the morning, I showered and left for work.  

I was sitting down and eating my breakfast when he messaged me to make sure I had indeed enjoyed our time together. I told him I had a fantastic time and I asked him the same. That’s when he responded “Yes! Your pussy feels so great and comfortable.” At first, I took a moment to process exactly what he meant by it. More often than not, comfortable means just that, but without pizazz or anything special. So, needing better clarification I said, “Like a cozy sweater” and he replied “Exactly!”. Then it all made sense.  

You know the feeling of cold in the winter time. Not just any cold, but the cold that gets under your skin and sits in your bones to where nothing feels warm. Then, you find or buy this nice, fluffy, soft, cozy sweater that warms you up and then you just want to go to sleep… That’s how my pussy feels.