One of the many things I get to do in my open relationship is have sex with other people. It is indeed a wonder, and I embrace it as often as I possibly can, but it is no easier in this situation to find a good, steady lover than in any other, contrary to popular belief. Many planets must align and several angels must sing for everything to fall properly into place.
That was why I was actually stoked for the second time with Schneider, who, for the purposes of this post, has earned the name of the maintenance guy on the epic 70's TV show, One Day at a Time, which featured, not coincidentally, a middle aged woman trying to get through life...slowly. Schneider was into light S & M, he was funny and reasonably handsome. We had connected sexually once before and it was pretty great. But about halfway through this second event, something very sad happened.
There I am, enjoying his body, biting him as he likes, eventually doing my best to warm him up to a blow job that will knock him for a loop, doing everything I can to make sure that he knows that I am in it to win it, and what does he do? He gives me the Lazy Hand. At first, I am wondering to myself, "what is this? That strange sensation between my legs that tells me that someone is doing something down there who knows not. It can't be Schneider, because just last week...." Then it comes to me. He is incorporating, so early in our sexual relationship, Lazy Hand.
I am a bit thrown off because he didn't seem like this type of guy last week, the kind of guy who is perfectly happy to let you do the heavy lifting while he lies back and absent-mindedly tweaks/rubs/fingers your ass/nipple/clit...much to your disappointment and great lack of satisfaction. But there he was, employing Lazy Hand, and the more he did it, the less I felt interested in putting my back into it, much less anything else. For several moments, as I sucked and licked, I wordlessly lamented, "no...dude! NO! Not Lazy Hand! OH lord save me from Lazy Hand..." but these words did not pass my lips. They could not. It was, in my case and his, much too late to teach him about the rudeness of Lazy Hand.
So I decided, on behalf of all people who love sex everywhere, to write about it. Because, well, that is what I do. So here it is, my next list, telling you why Lazy Hand is an inevitable ticket to the wrong side of my bedroom door:
To some, this might sound harsh, to some, this might sound like the person they have sex with on the daily. To those people, I implore you; do not allow this to continue. We all deserve better than Lazy Hand. The person employing Lazy Hand deserves better! It is the difference between passive participation and engagement. It is the difference between enjoyment and tolerance. It is the difference between pretty good sex and mind blowing sex. It is the difference, my friend, between life and death, for if you are not truly living, you are just waiting around to die, and no one has time for that.
Inevitably we all must die, but why must I do it in my bedroom with my clothes off as I am cradling your cock in my mouth? This is the time, this naked, playful moment, to live. To swing for the fences. To do everything you can to blow the roof off.
We are all in this together. Let us all be more vigilant in what we will accept and provide to the people who are lucky enough to be there with us, who we are lucky enough to be there with. Let us all do our best, because within our best we find new levels of pleasure, new levels of freedom. We find new levels of ourselves.
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