As I slowly return into one body from all the corners of space and time, the conversation is easy and friendly. I can’t stop panting or saying “fuuuuuck” every few seconds, but it’s ok. I’m not uncomfortable and neither is he. He looks around, saying “this is a great couch! I’d love to watch a movie here and just have you tied up in my arms and use you whenever I wanted”. Couch? What even is a couch. I groan, because he’s saying sexy things and now I want to do them. I want him to do them to me. How is it possible to have this much stamina?
I ask what he does after a session, if he goes home and makes toast and watches Netflix. He laughs and says he’ll probably beat off to something later and then have a huge sleep before he heads into his tech job in the morning. He asks if I enjoy porn and I tell him I’m quite partial to a long narrative I can get invested in. He asks what kind and I can’t believe it but I start blushing.
He lifts me up like I’m made of balsa wood and unties my wrists, and I have a stretch to get feeling back in my arms.
“So moments after you fucked me in the ass I feel shy about discussing specifics of porn with you. That’s weird, I think it’s just a reflex. It’s like talking about what we do together – it’s so intensely private that I’m wired to never put words to it”. So I tell him what I like, and it’s easy, and another misplaced wall in my mind crumbles to dust.
I snuggle closer to him and revel in the uncomplicated nature of it – it’s been surprising to me, how clear cut it all is. One of my concerns going into this arrangement was about catching feelings. But it’s different. Sir James is a professional and I am a client. The feelings I have are about myself, about the rapture and release, facing head on what I want and how I want to be fucked. I like him a lot in a way that is collegial and platonic, like we have a mutual goal and we consistently nail it. He’s great value and excellent fun, and there isn’t anything dangerous about any of it.
He gathers all his gear from around the house that we transformed into our own personal amusement park, and we bid a fond farewell. I’m a pile of pudding on the couch and he sees himself out.
A brief check in is good both ways the next day, to make sure there’s no major drop for me or for him. I decide to write it all down. So much of the night was delicious confusion but some of it is etched in my mind. As I return to life outside of the play session I habitually reach for the things that will bring me serotonin and help me feel calm. Life is stressful, and we are all in danger, but it doesn’t feel like that right now. I can let my guard down. I let the good feelings wash over me again and again, with a brief glimpse into memory. They’re sticking even when I’m back in my regular life. I have gone through a pleasurable reset and I can exist without being strung out for awhile. I’ll hold on to it as long as I can.
Turning to face my own desires has been a strategy for stress management. I feel free, clear, easy and playful. Some people like jogging, but this works for me.