Room service

He opened the door and my heart was pounding like a mad thing. A million thoughts raced through my head becoming a jumbled blur. This was it then...

I'm a flirt. I love banter and I love the delicious interactions between men and women who aren't afraid of their sexuality. Since I had first entered the world of sex blogging he'd had my attention. Lighthearted, playful, and easy interactions flowed.

I was intrigued as well by this man for more than the delicious glimpses I'd gotten of his body and his intelligence, but also by his life. Beautiful family, open loving relationship with a gorgeous, supportive wife. I'd never been with someone in an open relationship. I'd never been a toy.

I'd never really thought, beyond the fantasy, to seek out such a person or interaction though. Until, amidst one of the flirtatious exchanges of words and images, he suddenly issued me an invitation to join him while he was nearby for work.

I knew it wasn't cocktails and a pleasant meeting he was proposing, although that was certainly part of the deal. Suddenly, this vague daydream was a real and actual possibility. I instantly got hot and wet at the thought and agreed. No hesitation, simply excitement.

We began making plans. Not only did his wife know, she bought the condoms for the trip, which just made me all the more in awe of her and excited. Being single, there wasn't really anyone to tell, except my sister, and that was something I was a bit hesitant to do. After all, how would that conversation go:

"Hi sissy! Just wanted to let you know that I am taking a couple days off of work to go have sex with this really pleasant married man I know from the Internet!"

Um, yeah. I avoided the scenario and imagined reaction throughout all of my planning. Instead I focused on the meeting and the items I wanted to pack for my little overnight adventure. He and I exchanged several emails about practical, logistical concerns  but there were quite a few more texts about what we wanted to do to the other when we were finally afforded the opportunity. Suddenly it became a question of "How many sex toys are too many?" and "Is lingerie overkill or killer?" One of the extremely exciting factors to this for me was the fact that I already knew about this man's sex life. I already knew he was just as open and adventurous as I was and that really, can you ever have too many sex toys?

Finally, the day came to make my trip. The only time I'd spent this much time in grooming prep was when I was doing photos (ok, you got me, I take photos constantly.... but there was extra attention given!). Well, and really, I WAS going to be doing photos. He not only liked photos as much as I do, he even had gorgeous equipment I lusted over almost as much as his beautiful dick.

I'd ran into a little problem earlier on in the week. This problem I refer to as "spray tan leprosy". I'd gotten a spray tan on my legs as usual for photos. The problem this time, was that it rained immediately after and my legs got wet. You aren't supposed to get wet for a few hours after application. So, thanks to in-climate weather, I now had light spots on my legs that needed to be filled in. A bottle of tan in a can and suddenly the holes were filled, even if my legs were now a bit too dark.

I dress immaculately normally. I am a woman who loves to ooze femininity and sensuality, so a lovely, form fitting dress to show of my curves and a pair of strappy heels completed my pinup hair and ruby red lipstick. I was packed, ready, and on the road.

The drive time between home and my destination was about 4 hours. I was overly excited and decided to make good use of the present my sister had purchased me for long car drives. So, thanks to that wonderful little bullet, my trip was made much more pleasant by the two orgasms I had while thinking about what was to come (no pun, okay, maybe a little, intended).

It was during the drive that I finally found my gumption. I'd always confided in my sister, and no matter what she said, I was already on my way, there was no turning back. I finally picked up the phone and told her. To my surprise, she not only said that was awesome (she knew the man too and had actually expressed an interest in meeting him and his lovely wife), she also said she envied my spontaneity. It was perfect, there was nothing left now to worry about...

Except actually BEING there. I pulled into the parking garage of his hotel already wound up. I was in a tightly populated business district with construction going on. I hadn't taken anything for my anxiety because I didn't want the dulled senses side effect. My anxiety was through the roof! I was here, he was so close and my heart began to flutter. I checked myself and decided I wasn't too rumpled from my car trip, it was time to go upstairs.

I knocked. Counted my irregular heartbeats, and suddenly, the door was opened. Bright eyes peeked out at me from behind the door where he had playfully hidden to perpetrate a joke we had previously discussed of him waiting naked for me. His tall frame moved from behind the door and I saw him, in front of me (dressed), for the very first time. The next couple of minutes are a bit hazy to me because my nervous system went into overdrive. Thankfully though, despite my pink stained cheeks and nervous glances away, he was able to make me feel comfortable with the lighthearted banter I'd enjoyed engaging in with him previously.

He cupped my cheeks and kissed me, taking the edge off while I got settled and we exchanged pleasantries. I can't describe the transition from friendly meeting to me yanking his shirt off. No more than a few minutes had passed since I had been in the room. He heeded to my earlier expressed desire of worrying about taking clothes off and foreplay AFTER I already had him inside of me. I am notoriously impatient. I wanted to taste him, I wanted to feel him, I wanted to fuck him.

See our next segment Special Delivery coming soon to hear what happens next.

Open

"Poly-what?"
Sigh. This wasn't going as well as I'd hoped. I was making a muck of things and it wasn't only hurting my cause, it was hurting him. I had so carefully rehearsed the way things would go, but as soon as I sat him down, it went out of the window.

"I love you."

I knew that these words confused him. I knew they too, almost hurt. It didn't make them any less true; and it also didn't alter the path I had set myself on.

When I first started seeing K it was uncanny almost, the similarities to my Ex. I thought I had done it, finally done it. Ex was everything I had wanted in the care and love department with me, but sexually we were a nightmare. I spent over 5 years in a very loving, committed, nunnery. I wasn't about to do that again. K is a big strapping man and from the first he handled me with care, and cherished me... He also threw me over his shoulder and then on the bed. He'd pull my hair and leaving glowing prints on my ass... I finally had everything. So I thought.

I had been ready to settle down into monogamy again after enjoying the single life for awhile. To achieve this goal I started taking my time getting to know someone. K and I were great together and he respected me for waiting before intimacy. I spent every night cradled in his arms. We'd kiss and touch, sigh and breathe, and reach heights of desire that were hard to come down from.

Finally, though, I was done with waiting. I spent every moment with this man and I knew I had him. We took a weekend trip; I took my lingerie. We had a lovely night out and once we got back to the hotel we were both giddy with anticipation. I lit candles around the room and after a steamy bath I came out in my corset and silk stockings, my garter lace and delicate. My cheeks flushed with excitement...

We came together on the bed and there was a driving urgency, a need that had to be fulfilled. What felt like hours of teasing passed until I was urgent to have him inside of me. This is where it gets tricky.

I had already had a discussion with K about medical problems he had as a child that rendered him unable to feel sensation in more than a very small area on his penis, and the surgery at a young age that meant it never grew up with the rest of him body. He was this BIG strapping man with an extremely disproportionate body. I didn't care then and I still didn't care now.

It didn't work. I am so extremely short and he is so very very tall that the only position we can manage is missionary, and that hurts. My hips can't span him, there was no leverage for me on top. Our height differential made from behind tedious and frustrating as we couldn't even thrust, no matter what we raised me up on. When we were done, it was more an air of defeat and discontent instead of completion.

I got a twinge of apprehension but didn't express it. I offered reassurances, joked about my tiny legs, and said we had so many more opportunities for exploration. We continued on with out weekend and everything was just the same as it had always been.

We had problems with the condom. It wouldn't stay on and what sensation he did have the ability to feel was stripped away. We had a frank conversation about safety and responsibility and decided we would both head out to our doctors and get testing. I was committing to this relationship and monogamy henceforth.

After more blissful time together our results finally came back, and we finally got the green light. I have to say, I expected completely different results from our previous attempt. The foreplay was still amazing. The things this man can do with his hands gives me the shivers just to think of.

45 minutes later and I am covered in sweat. My hips are screaming and my poor body is dried out and tired. K still hadn't come. We waved the flag of defeat and told ourselves tomorrow we'd do better. Weeks go by, our relationship is perfect but the sex is becoming something we are both avoiding now. Sexually, physically, we aren't compatible. I cannot bring my partner to orgasm and it's killing me. I'm a sex goddess in my own right and I do not know what to do with his body. He doesn't feel head, wrapping my hand around him hurts, and other than shallow thrust in missionary, we can't even have sex.

By now though, there's a problem: I love him. I love him enough to be searching desperately for a solution. My self esteem has tanked and I don't make any effort to be sexy... I am losing a very huge piece of me, drowning in loving someone I am not compatible with. His Ex left him for another man, the first woman he had ever been with. Now suddenly, the second might be leaving because of sexual problems. I couldn't do that to him.

I did a lot of soul searching. I felt selfish, confused, and apprehensive. I was thinking about shifting my views on everything I had ever thought was sacred in a relationship. I wanted us to open our relationship.

I couldn't think of losing K, but I couldn't lose ME to US.

I had discussed with my sister the idea and she linked me to some great things on how to approach it. I read everything I could find and formulated a game plan. I had previously been withdrawing from K and now I redoubled my efforts to give him affection and show him I loved him.

So here we were, sitting down for this talk I had planned for ages it seems like and I was making a muck of it. His instant reaction was one of inadequacy. I told him repeatedly that it had nothing to do with my love for him or that he was inadequate at all. I was the problem. I was kink and fetish and insatiable. It was just how I was made. The things that made him love me, that made me vivacious and irresistible were now too leading us down this unexplored path.

I wanted to be open. Not just our relationship, but our communications, our feelings. I would never cheat and so I needed to make this an acceptable part of our relationship. K had many of the problems I knew he would, they'd be the same potential problems I'd be opening myself up to if we opened our relationship. Jealousy, possessiveness, fear. What if the unknown "she" could get him to climax when I had proven so woefully incapable of it myself. I explained that we would have to have very clear boundaries. I was ok with coming home every night rules, of letting the other know what was going on while sparing them the unnecessary details. Of taking it slowly over months before any actual relationships with others were formed.

No matter what I said, though, K always looked - always said the same. He was unable to see himself being okay with it; he was inadequate. It broke my heart. This was our last option. We'd spoken with doctor's, we'd done counseling, tried new toys, wedges, everything. This had to work.... Or I had to leave. I told K that I didn't expect him to be ok with the idea at first, and to just consider it for a bit.

A week went by and K was redoubling his efforts to please me and I was doing the same to him. It wasn't enough for me though. This was my path, this was my choice, and either we could journey into it together, or I would need to do so on my own. I was beginning to withdraw again and knew I needed to bring up my resolve. Now I just needed the right time to do it.

One day, K suddenly comes over to me, rubs my leg and says "Hey, I just wanted you to know, that blog you asked me to read? I read it. I also ordered a book on polyarmorous relationships and I've been reading it along with things I've looked up. I want you to know, that I'm thinking about it. I'm trying to see if I can be okay with it. I love you."

My heart melted and I knew I loved him more. Even if it didn't end up being my perfect fairytale ending, even if he decided he would never be okay with it, I knew I made a right decision in loving him and wanting to stay.

Some things remained to be seen, but regardless, at least I knew that the man I loved, loved me enough to try to be open.