Sex & Sox

My passions: Sex and the Boston Red Sox!

Monday, January 03, 2005

Ringin' in 2005

Have you ever been faced with a situation that you thought you wanted to be part of, but had doubts? I was, on New Year's Eve. Well, actually, I have been, for the past year.

Several entries ago, I wrote about our friends who are a couple, that we've been toeing the line of having group sex with. They came over for dinner a few weeks back and things were a little bit strange; I didn't take a few cues I was given to go ahead and get the situation started, and nothing happened.

New Year's Eve, we were invited to their place.

I came to realize how well my boyfriend can orchestrate... how well he can read people.

He and I were sitting together on the loveseat; the woman was on a chair and her husband on the couch. After midnight, when we were all bright-eyed and laughing loudly and drunk, she stood up to get another drink and my boyfriend went and sat in her chair. She came back and sat next to me, and while the boys talked about the best way to teach karate or something, we snuggled up with our heads close to one another, hands high on each other's thighs, and whispered about going to see movies and concerts together.

My boyfriend moved to sit on the end of the couch closest to me, and pulled me over into his lap, talking to the woman. Twenty minutes of conversation between us all later, he nudged me off his lap and towards the other man, who I promptly curled up against. Shortly thereafter, the woman moved to sit between my boyfriend's legs, her chin resting up next to his groin.

I couldn't stop smiling.

I was always vaguely uncertain about how I'd feel to watch my boyfriend seduce someone else -- not the act of having sex, but the slow convincing, the stroking and smiling and smooching. Half an hour later, when she was next to him on the couch, his hands slipping up her shirt or down the front of her pants, those uncertainties disappeared. Snuggled up against her husband and shivering as he toyed with my hair or stroked the sides of my neck, we just watched the foreplay between the other two.

"We'll have to do this again," she whispered, "when there aren't so many people in the house." So true. There were two other couples (useless, in this context) in the house -- one near the master bedroom, one near the guest bedroom we'd be sleeping in. Our orgy wasn't an option, that night.

Hours later we separated, and as the boyfriend and I stripped down and crawled into the bed together, I asked, "Sex?"

"Tired," he replied, "Drunk. I don't know..."

That wasn't about to stop me -- not after a night-long ritual of arousal and seduction, watching those not-so-innocent but restrained flirtations that aren't usually a part of adult life. We (I) don't take our (my) time with lovers: we meet them, we make a tacit agreement to sleep together, we sleep together. There is no courtship, no "getting to know" one another; there is the simple acknowledgement that "I want to fuck you" and it goes.

At least, that was my experience. I recall inviting a male friend down from New York to spend the weekend with me in my apartment in Connecticut. As we sat talking in the living room, I said, "I should go get the extra blanket and pillows for you," followed by him looked me straight in the eye and replying, "Don't play around like that... we're sleeping together." He was my first after my ex, and I realized that lying to myself, and whoever it was I wanted to sleep with, was silly: a single, virile man wasn't going to refuse a willing woman.

Anyhow, I needed that sex we had on New Year's Eve, the boyfriend and I. I needed to bite my lip and control my voice, because I couldn't control my desires. I needed the erotic connection with him that drew us together, rather than the mental one that keeps us going. I needed to scratch my nails down his back and hiss that he was mine and know that, even though he had been focused on another woman, I was his ultimate aphrodisiac.

I needed a rough, feral, growling fuck. I got it.

And when we'd both orgasmed, he leaned over me and we kissed and kissed, quick, sloppy, alcohol-scented kisses, gasping "I love you, I love you," between them.

Happy New Year.