Addressing My Sexual Health

*Doc, you are more than welcome to read this post.*

I finally got in for a pap and pelvic today. I tried, desperately begging, to get an appointment late last week, knowing that my cycle was due to start on Thursday this week and hoping to give myself sufficient cushion against an unexpected early flow.

However, they absolutely could NOT get me in last week, no matter how much I begged and pleaded. So, I got up at 4:00 this morning to discover, because that's how the universe works, that my cycle had in fact started two days early. Joy. That had the potential to interfere with my pap smear. Great.

Having gotten through the intake and had my vitals taken by the nurse, I changed into a gown and hopped up on the table. The doctor came in and asked me all the standard health questions. I explained the sexual health concerns that had brought me into the office. Because I am now sexually active, she asked about my choice of birth control. Condoms. I then explained that once Doc and I are both confirmed to be STD free, we'll dispense with condoms entirely.

Noting my age and some particular health choices, my doctor asked, "Have you ever considered children?"

Immediately I teared up. "My whole life," I explained, "I always thought I'd have children. But, you know, I started to get older and then I was 28, 29, 30.... I started to think that it might not happen, because I hadn't met anyone I wanted to spend my life with, let alone have children with. And then, I turned 33, and sure I knew I had a few more years, but I was less attached to the idea, because now it's really looking more likely that it won't happen. Then, I met this amazing guy, and yes it's very new, and I have no idea where it will go or if it will last, but, you know, it's different...I mean, not having children because life didn't work out that way versus intentionally choosing a path on which children are not a possibility."

My doctor handed me a tissue and apologized for asking. The primary concern was my age - while many Ob-Gyns are comfortable with women in their 40s having children, fertility declines and risks increase. 35-38 is the cut-off I have in mind for absolute latest age for childbearing. My doctor agrees that this is, generally speaking, an appropriate health choice.

Then, my doctor performed a breast exam before I lay back on the exam table and tucked my heels into the stirrups, a sheet over my legs.

The nurse came in and the exam began. Speculum in, swabs prepared, the doctor asked how I was doing. "It's uncomfortable," I explained. Then, the doctor did something and I was hit by a wave of nausea and an excruciatingly painful pinching sensation. I gasped and told my doctor how painful it was.

"Discomfort is common," my doctor explained, "but you really should not be experiencing pain at this level." She also confirmed that the pain I was experiencing came when she touched my cervix.

Everything looks healthy. Everything feels healthy. Still, being abundantly cautious, my doctor recommended a pelvic ultrasound, just to double-check. Once we get the results of that, we can discuss options for addressing my coital pain and post-coital incapacitation.

Given that the pain only happens in certain positions, if it comes to it, I'm okay with highly choreographed sex with Doc. Because highly choreographed sex with Doc is still sex with DOC and it's phenomenal!

It may be time to visit my local book store, see what they have for sex lit, and attempt some new positions. I continue to look forward to exploring new things and having a LOT of fun with Doc.

A Busy Weekend

I spent the weekend at Doc's house.

I arrived a bit later than I had planned on Friday, due to an accident resulting in snail paced traffic on the way down. Doc was preparing dinner when I arrived; steak and broccoli. I had made lemon bars because he'd told me previously that lemon bars are his favorite dessert, though he doesn't eat sweets often.

The steak was tender and delicious, the broccoli was perfectly blanched, the lemon bars were more tart than sweet and I was glad I'd deviated from the recipe as printed.

Then, we watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Doc is introducing me to his favorite show which, rather surprisingly given my friend group, I've never seen. I loved the first episode and am looking forward to more.

Then, I gave Doc a blow job. I loved the feel of him in my mouth and I loved stroking his cock with my hand in the process. I love the taste of his pre-cum. I want to taste his cum. I love that he touches my hair and tells me when it's too much. I love the sounds he makes. I love knowing that he enjoys this as much as I do.

At some point I asked or he suggested and we moved to the bedroom where really amazing sex ensued.

Saturday morning there was more amazing sex. Doc went down on me for the third time. I had been planning to ask him to do so at some point in the weekend, but he got started before I could ask. Whereas during my first experience I had too much going on in the newness of it and in the mental stuff in my brain about my lack of previous experience with it, I didn't have an orgasm that first time

The second time, while I enjoyed it, I still didn't have an orgasm. I was too afraid to move. Afraid that if I did, the attention, pressure, sensations would shift and it would stop feeling as good as it felt.

This time, however, I took a chance and moved when I needed to move, trusting that if the sensations felt less good, I could move back or communicate clearly to Doc what I needed him to do differently. I had the best and most intense orgasm of my life. I literally couldn't have another orgasm all weekend.

That did not stop me, however, from having more sex. With my previous two partners, while the sex was pleasurable, their penises felt...invasive. I can't explain it. It didn't feel right. It felt all wrong. With Doc, I don't care particularly much about the orgasm (though I really enjoy the orgasm), I'm really quite satisfied and fulfilled and take enormous pleasure in having Doc in me. I don't even realize how natural it feels to have him in me until he withdraws and I find myself physically aching with the emptiness he's left behind.

I whimper slightly when he withdraws and pout for a bit. But he stretches out next to me, and I'm thrilled to be able to touch his arms, chest, face, hair; our legs entangled; kissing and touching and cuddling.

Somewhere in the midst of all of this, Doc's cats need feeding and I haven't been sleeping well and my allergies have come on full force with the changing seasons. I roll out of bed and take extra strength allergy meds. We have breakfast and we're both rather tired. We return to bed for snuggles. I'm a very happy woman.

I drift off to sleep curled against Doc. Eventually he realizes it's close to 11:00 and Doc gets up for a shower. I'm too tired to move. Barely functional. I can't figure out why I'm as tired as I am. It occurs to me later that it's the allergy medication making me groggy and sluggish and exhausted. When Doc is finished in the shower, I take my turn. We have lunch and after cleaning up, we head out to get coffee with friends.

The service is terrible, the coffee is tasty, the company is wonderful.

After coffee Doc and I head to a munch where the local community will be introducing basic safety information for electric play. I've done electric play once before and LOVED it. However, electric play is the only experience I've had that's led to drop and I'm extremely hesitant to try it again.

One of the community members at this munch has a Violet Wand and a TENS unit which he offers up for anyone wanting to get a sense of what they do. The Violet Wand is light and tingly, nowhere near as intense as the Hot Seat. But it's pleasurable in it's own way.

The very fact of being in a space with other kinksters reminded me that I really do enjoy impact play. Being more comfortable with written communication rather than oral, I sent Doc a text from across the table. I told him, if he were comfortable, I'd very much like to try spanking later in the evening. When Doc received the text and read it, he looked at me across the table and nodded his consent. I glowed with excitement.

Eventually the educational portion of the munch ends and total chaos ensues as the very enthusiastic members of the community become more and more animated and side conversations start to flow. The board member who is presenting the basics of electric play begins to discuss some additional community news, desperately trying to be heard over the din.

As soon as she finishes her announcements I plead with Doc to leave. There has been far too much sensory stimulation today. I was close to the end of what I could tolerate for noise after coffee and I was beyond what I could tolerate well and still feel okay by this point in the munch.

Doc was gracious enough to leave with me. Doc had mentioned playing some of his favorite band for me on the drive to the munch, but we hadn't gotten to it. On the drive home, Doc asked if he could play some for me. I agreed, but asked if he could just give me 10 minutes. I just needed quiet, peace, silent time inside of myself when there weren't a thousand other things screaming for my attention.

Doc gave me several minutes of quiet and then asked me some questions about my experiences with this particular community. Doc is a good man. We talked. Or, I talked. Doc asked questions on occasion. I answered. I rabbit trailed. I just shared because Doc asked and has earned a right to my vulnerability.

Then, I realized that we were nearly halfway back to his house. I told him he was welcome to share his music with me. It wasn't what I had expected. I have limited exposure to most music and this was completely unfamiliar both as a band and as a genre.

It was enjoyable but not at all in line with what I would have expected Doc to listen to. Something to sound feels at odds with this soft spoken man who delights me to no end. Somehow I have this image in my mind of Doc in a smoking jacket with a fat cigar listening to soft jazz. Riot grrl is not what I had expected when I first met him.

One of the last songs before Doc pulled into his garage had a very '60s doo-wop feel to it. This delighted me to no end. I have a deep love of '60s doo-wop.

The entire drive home, I touched Doc freely. About thirty miles from his home, my casual stroking of his leg became more focused on his genitals. It wasn't even intentional. My hand just migrated and it was so comfortable to be allowed to touch him that I didn't think much of it. When I realized what I was doing, I asked Doc if it was okay. He indicated it was.

Eventually, I realized that I had to stop touching Doc's cock through his blue jeans because I was on the point of needing to touch his skin. I was fantasizing about unzipping his pants, pulling out his cock, leaning over and giving him a blow job. I looked at the center console and considered the logistics. I looked at Doc and considered what a cautious driver Doc is. I thought an impromptu blow job might not be appreciated, if only because it would be too distracting as we cruised down the freeway at 80 mph.

I began to touch Doc's arm instead, hoping to maintain contact and temper my desire. This didn't work. Fifteen miles from Doc's house and I stopped touching him altogether.

After a few moments, Doc asked if I was okay. "Yes," I told him honestly.

"You're quiet," he remarked.

"I want you so badly," I responded. "I figured it was probably wiser to stop touching you altogether rather than simply strip my pants off and begin touching myself when we're so close to your house." Doc agreed.

When we got to his house, we sat for a bit, talking, re-hydrating, enjoying the evening. I suggested we watch Last Tango in Paris, which I had purchased recently and been waiting to watch with him.

*****SPOILER ALERT*****

What. The. FUCK!?

I decided to watch this movie at Ichthy's behest. All I knew about that movie was that it was about a young French woman who has an affair with an older man shortly before her marriage to her fiance. The sex in the movie is all anyone ever seems to talk about. The infamous "butter scene" is the only thing Doc knew about the movie.

In a movie that is close to 2:10 in length, fewer than 6 minutes of the movie actually contain sex.

This is not what I had expected. The whole movie is so much more. I'm not even entirely sure I can wrap my head around the movie. It was completely insane. I enjoyed it, particularly the scene in which Paul, Marlon Brando's character, delivers a monologue to his dead wife's (Rose) corpse. This is the single most honest scene in the entire movie.

Still, I was leaning against Doc, his arm around me, stroking my hair, my arm, my neck, my cheek, holding my hand. Eventually, I reached behind me and began to stroke Doc as he stroked my breasts and teased my nipples.

Then, the infamous butter scene. Anal rape. I knew it was coming, but hadn't thought much about it. There were tears on the screen, and I went still. I couldn't touch Doc sexually in the midst of this. I withdrew my hand. Immediately Doc withdrew his hand from my breast. He wrapped his arms more tightly around me and held me closer. I gripped his hand and arm more tightly than I intended until the scene was done. Doc checked that I was okay. Eventually, I began to relax again.

*****END SPOILER ALERT*****

At some point, I kissed Doc. I turned in this arms, touched his face, and kissed him. Several minutes passed in which we weren't paying particular attention to the movie. Doc paused the movie and we headed to the bedroom for more incredible sex with spanking, some of it thuddy, some of it stingy. (I like both VERY much). After which we ate lemon bars and then finished the movie.

It was close to midnight, maybe after in fact. We headed to bed and snuggled. We talked about childhood book experiences. Eventually, we drifted off to sleep.

Early in the morning, I awoke and changed positions, snuggling close to Doc. My hand ended up resting close to his cock. I started to doze off again, touching him. Over the course of the next hour, I drifted between asleep and awake, sometimes stroking Doc, sometimes just touching him.

When we both woke up, Doc began to touch me in return. Eventually Doc began to perform oral sex on me again. As the intensity of my desire increased, I pleaded, "Please, Doc!" He began to reach for a condom. "Not yet!" I told him.

"Okay," he said, returning to what he'd been doing, sounding very slightly perplexed.

"I want you to make me beg," I told him.

But we haven't negotiated this type of interaction and I'm afraid to say more. Eventually I simply needed to have him in me. "Okay, now," I gasped desperately.

Doc got a condom and I slid a pillow beneath my hips. I looked into his eyes as Doc entered me and I knew bliss. Doc used slow, more shallow strokes. I wanted more, but I didn't want to change positions yet and I knew if Doc used deeper, more fervent strokes I'd pay a hefty price later. I focused on feeling him in me. "How are you doing," I asked.

"This is good," Doc told me.

"Okay. I was thinking that since I brought toys and you asked about the use of anal beads, I'd really like to add that, but doing so means you'll have to stop and I don't want you to stop," I told him in breathless half sentences.

"It's okay, we should explore. I'll only have to stop for a short time," Doc assured me.

We shifted positions, I grabbed my beaded anal plug and inserted it part way, allowing Doc to insert it the rest of the way. I was completely lost in the exquisite pleasure of the stimulation. A few position changes later, and the plug was firmly seated in me, Doc was pounding into me from behind and I was in heaven.

Even now, I get hot and wet just remembering it all.

After, we lay together and discussed the spanking the night before. What worked, if we needed to change anything. I'm deeply satisfied and find it incredibly gratifying that Doc would even seek to provide me with this service. We'll continue to learn each other as we go. Doc mentioned that I had gone very quiet when he was spanking me.

I was processing. I tend to be very quiet when I'm processing an experience in the moment. I can't always provide feedback in the moment about what is working. If I'm silent, assume it's working. I have no problem being VERY vocal about what things are NOT working.

Eventually, Doc headed to the kitchen to make breakfast and I hopped into the shower.

Cinnamon coffee, scrambled eggs with ham, cheddar, and green chile sauce, an tangerine. I'm really starting to love the whole idea of breakfast.

After we cleaned up, Doc took a shower and we took a walk together. It was the first nice day we've had in a week and it was wonderful to be outside in the sunshine and fresh air.

Then, I headed home, knowing I won't be seeing Doc again for at least two weeks. Doc waved goodbye and I smiled and waved in return.

I stopped for groceries on my way home and locked my keys in my car. This bought me an hour of down time and I was able to catch up with Ichthy, my best friend whom I'll be visiting next weekend, and a good friend I've known for years but haven't had a chance to talk to in recent weeks.

Perhaps next time I'll work up the courage to ask Doc to use a belt on me. I hinted at this weekend and seemed amenable to the idea. Next month's munch topic is breath play and I desperately hope Doc is willing to give it a shot - super light breath play is hot.

Back to my vanilla life in the morning. It's wonderful that Doc fits there, too.

A Love Letter

Dear Doc:

Feelings often don't make sense and so I find them quite confusing. I think some of this goes to my high need for control and my desire for a rigidly structured life. Feelings can't be structured.

I am enamored of you. You continue to amaze and awe me. I adore you and I want you. I long to be with you and to know you more.

I'm confused because I feel so well known by you, yet I know you so little. I look at the way you treat me and I am delighted by the level of respect, dignity and care that you demonstrate. I look at the way you treat others and I know that this is core to who you are, not just a front to win me over, and I know that I am safe with you.

Being safe with you allows me to let go and explore things I've never considered before. It gives me space to experience things wonderful and exciting and new. It is overwhelming in its expansiveness, and it is beautiful and good.

I am enamored of and in awe of you.

But I can also separate that out from other things. I find there are millions of ways to give expression to things that I experience and feel. I find that all of them are inadequate to fully communicate what I want you to know.

As we experience one another in various ways, various contexts, various moods, various activities, there are lots of opportunities for things to get all mishmashed together, for the lines between how I know you and feel about you in one way and context to become blurred and confused with how I know you and feel about you in another way and context.

So, I want to be clear about how I know and feel about you in the ways that I do, as clearly distinguished experiences, as discreet sets and expressions.

In that, I'm not sure how to label or define all of the ways I know and experience you. As a lover, friend, companion, fellow geek, as both safety and danger, security and excitement, comfort and fear.

The most solid conclusion I can draw is that in all of this, I know you as Doc. And separate from all of the other ways I experience you and all of the ways I feel with you and for you and about you, with absolute certainty, I can say this: as Doc, I love you. I absolutely freakin' love your socks off.

Sincerely,
Your Kinky Pastor

Perfection and the Less Than

When I first considered having sex a few years ago, I was full of anxiety, fears, worries. There were several "What if..."s running through my mind. Not at all an uncommon experience from what others have told me.

Rather than focusing on the anxiety-producing "what if..."s in that time, I wrote a poem to shift my focus to another kind of "what if." I began to wonder what would happen if "what if" were an invitation rather than a roadblock.

*****

Intimacy

I am more akin to a Pablo Neruda poem¹
than a Georgia O'Keeffe painting.²
I am full and fleshly.
My genitals do not look like a flower.

What if my partner does not like the way I look?
     ...the way I smell?
     ...the way I taste?

(What if I end up judging myself by the standards of church culture rather than the standards of the divine?)



What if these "what ifs" do not matter?



What if I open myself completely to whatever the moment holds?

What if I invite my partner to see in me that which I see in myself?
     That I am beautiful, lovely, and worthy.
     That I am powerful and mighty.
     That I am tender and soft-hearted.

That I am the best there is
     and I share myself freely with my partner
as a gift.

Never to be diminished
     in either the offering or accepting.

Because I am still wholly me:
     tender and soft-hearted
     powerful and mighty
     beautiful, lovely, and worthy.

*****

It was hard and somewhat painful when, after a lot of work went into re-writing the script in my head, my potential sexual partner bowed out at the very last minute.

Still, I decided to carry the confidence of invitation with me moving forward, trusting that even if I never again considered the possibility of having sex with another person, I could still invite people into my presence, space, and life in a way that is hospitable and joyous.

This is the best decision I've ever made, though it took a very long time and an intense breaking to help me to live more fully into this reality.

Somehow, though, the insecurities always creep back in.

I returned from my business trip yesterday. A trip that was much harder than I had anticipated due to the way my body responded to sex with Doc. I spent the second day of that trip trying to work through pain and when I finally had a moment to myself, I was bent over double, tears streaming down my face, unable to walk, stand, or sit without feeling like I was going to die. It was the most intense pain I've experienced.

Because of his size and the positioning, Doc's penis had struck my cervix leading to nausea and uterine cramps. This was not entirely unexpected, as it's happened with other partners in the past, but I expected it to clear up within 8-12 hours. Instead, it intensified to the point that 36 hours later I was on point of asking someone to take me an emergency room because I simply could not function.

Thankfully, after a shower and crawling into bed to lie on my side and cry for a few hours, my uterus finally calmed down. This, however, made me determined to seek out an honest conversation with my health care practitioner because I'm kind of pissed at my uterus.

I don't want every sexual encounter with Doc to be carefully choreographed. I want to make love with abandon. Don't get me wrong, I love and want negotiations, but I don't want every encounter to be undergirded by fear about whether or not I'm going to be capable of functioning physically tomorrow because I've chosen to have emotionally satisfying sex today.

Having determined to make my sexual health a priority and feeling better, I enjoyed the remainder of my trip.

When I returned home, Doc picked me up at the airport.

I don't know if it's related to my low cervix, crampy uterus, painful intercourse experiences, but suddenly, I was terrified to see Doc. Actually, terrified isn't the right word. Or maybe it is. I'm not sure how to qualify my emotional experience at the anticipation of seeing Doc again.

I do know that I was suddenly feeling a great deal of body shame. In truth, I'm quite a beautiful woman. I have excellent bone structure, gorgeous hair, and lovely eyes. My features are well proportioned and I like the way they work together.

But, I'm overweight. My body carries the scars of years of morbid obesity. My skin looks similar to a balloon that has been inflated to the point just shy of spontaneously bursting and then deflated until all you see is stretched rubber and flaccid wrinkly surface.

Doc is amazing. He's passionate and kind and generous and respectful and considerate. Doc knew I'd be traveling all Sunday, and so he planned to have dinner ready for me when we got back to his house after my trip was over. Despite the fact that my plane landed around 10:30 and then I had to pick up my checked bag, making it near 11:00PM before I saw him again, Doc chose to postpone his own dinner so he could eat with me. And dinner was delicious.

Doc communicates clearly and openly. He answers my questions honestly even when it's awkward for me to ask and it's awkward for him to answer. Doc listens when I speak and he does not judge. Doc treats me in a way that leaves me feeling cared for, cherished, delighted in, respected. Doc treats me like a human being with agency. Doc has expressed his belief that being treated like a human being with agency should not be impressive; it should be an everyday experience!

And Doc is intentional about respecting my boundaries and allowing me to lead in areas where he does not know what the boundary might be. Doc is happy to let me initiate intimate contact so that we are both clear that I am giving enthusiastic consent and not feeling pressured or unable to say no. Doc is willing to take it as slowly as I need.

When I told Doc that I appreciate all of this and that further, I was offering him blanket consent for the evening for any activity he wanted to pursue, Doc simply delighted in touching my body, worshipping my every infinity, margin, river and village with his eyes, hands, and mouth. The expression on his face told me that he genuinely enjoys touching me, kissing me, teasing me - not because he's intentionally building the aching need for him, but because he really just enjoys my body.

When Doc and I did make love, we found a position that may require a bit more work. We found a position that was pleasurable but awkward. We found a position that was so intensely powerful I'm rather amazed the sheets did not catch fire.

Though historically, missionary position has been an intimate position that was pleasurable and in which my partner's penis did not strike my cervix, it is the position in which Doc's penis strikes my cervix and leaves me incapable of functioning.

Though historically doggy-style has been my favorite position, it has also been the position most likely to lead to my partner striking my cervix. Not so with Doc. Doggy-style with Doc is hot and passionate and frenzied and our bodies are perfectly matched. As he hammered into me from behind, his testicles pounding my clit, Doc gripping my hips, digging his fingers into my back, biting my buttocks, I began to stroke my clit and when I came I couldn't help but scream with the intensity of my release.

And when we were done, we collapsed in a heap. And then, we did it again before collapsing into a heap again and finally drifting to sleep.

When the cats woke us in the morning, Doc fed them and then rejoined me in bed to cuddle. Once he kissed me, I couldn't keep my hands off of him.

I asked Doc to get a condom and if he was okay with it, could we please try missionary again, but I'd need him to thrust really, really slowly, and maybe a bit shallow. Doc was willing to do that, and he began to thrust into me as we kissed, touched, held hands with our finger entwined. It was exactly what I wanted in that moment, this intimate expression of care.

When I felt fully satisfied with our exchange, when I felt that I had everything I had needed in that moment I said to Doc, "If you need something different, I'm okay with that."

"Are you okay? Is it painful?" he asked, concerned that we'd crossed the line of what my body could handle.

"No," I said with joy. "This is good, it's exactly what I wanted, I'm satisfied. I want to make sure you're satisfied and your needs are met as well. So, if you need more, I'm okay with that."

"I'm just enjoying this," he told me. "I'll need more eventually but right now, I'm really enjoying this." When Doc was ready for more, he let me know. I rolled over and he took me from behind again. It was just as good as the first two times.

When we were finished, we curled up again in bed until we had to get up and get ready for the day.

This was a hard exchange for me.

I am not shy around Doc. I do not feel a need to hide. I have no problems stripping naked before him and allowing him to see every part of me in full light.

But I am ashamed of my body in other ways. I am ashamed of my body as an instrument of Doc's pleasure, because I want to offer him the best. I want to give him more. I want my body to be perfect and beautiful because Doc is a good man, a kind man, a man of integrity. Doc deserves the absolute best in life and in many ways, I think who I am and what I have to offer him is the best.

But I also know that my body is less than. Less than the best. Less than perfect. Less than beautiful. Less than lovely. Less than worthy of the way he worships it because it is less than good enough.

So, I go back. I go back to the work I did that allowed me to be ready to have sex in the first place. I go back to the work I did to accept that I am exactly as I am - and I am good. I go back to the work I did to accept that who I am is far more valuable than what I look like.

1. Neruda, Pablo. Sonnet 12, 1959.
2. O'Keeffe, Georgia. White and Blue Flower Shapes, 1919.

The Doctor, Part Deux

Doc and I had our second date last night. Though I was quite anxious to see him again (driving consistently 10mph above the speed limit), I was also incredibly nervous about what the evening would bring. He had made clear his desire to have a frank conversation about our expectations and intentions (super HOT), but I had no idea what that conversation might look like (super TERRIFYING).

He indicated he was excited to see me, but what if all that waned in the course of the day? He does not strike me as the fickle type, but you just never know.

What if he likes this and wants to discuss the possibility of something more? Am I ready for that? I feel like I have a few things up in the air, some things I can be flexible about and some I cannot.

What if he likes this and wants to continue but in a strictly casual way because he doesn't want to consider long-term with me? Would I be okay with that?

I spent the day at work reminding myself that obsessively revisiting the possible outcomes of any such discussion would NOT make the conversation come any sooner and I was missing a key ingredient in all of these speculations: any intimate knowledge of what Doc might want.

So, speeding like a demon down the freeway, I arrived just after 6:30. Doc was prepping an appetizer (cheese plate, crackers, apple, and a lovely arugula salad dressed with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper, and roasted almonds - BLISS). The dish I was making would take just shy of two hours.

Once the main course was in the oven, we sat at the table, hands touching, to discuss our expectations and intentions. As the fates would have, Doc is quite enamored of me, would like to see where things might go, has some concerns about possible long-term complications, but at the moment would very much like to continue in a relationship.

He wanted my thoughts.

Yes. Yes to all of the above.

Yes to the enamored, yes to the concerns, yes to the moment, yes to pursuing a relationship.

We finished the appetizers and decided to start a movie. Cuddled on the couch, we spent a few minutes chatting first. I explained that given his circumstances, I wanted to verify that he had been tested before we moved forward with a sexual relationship that did not utilize a barrier method. I had been tested myself just a month before and had not had any sexual contact other than digit-to-genital since that time. Doc agreed to get checked.

We settled in to watch the movie. A movie which delighted us both.

Eventually, we paused the movie and had the main course. Once dinner was over, I changed into lingerie and we finished watching the movie, laughing at the funny parts and discussing briefly some of the more serious edges. When it was over, we headed to bed.

Doc touched me everywhere: my arms, my legs, my breasts, my face, my hair. Touching, stroking, learning as he explored. He was coming to know me and in doing so, I was coming to know myself more. As he shifted the top of my lingerie for better access to my breasts, I asked Doc if he'd like me to remove it. "Please," he replied.

Rising to a half-sitting position and with his help, I pulled it over my head and off. I tossed it over the side of the bed and out of the way. I lay down again as Doc continued to explore my body. He stroked my calves, my knees, my thighs; his fingers lightly brushed the crotch of my satin and lace panties.

"Would you like me to remove those as well?" I asked, desperate to feel his hands on my sex again.

"I'll do it," he told me, and I raised my ass off the mattress as he slipped my panties over my hips, down my legs, and off of me. I spread my legs before him, feeling less shy than I had anticipated, allowing him to see all of me in the dim glow of tea lights.

He stroked my clit. He inserted two fingers into me. I moaned and writhed with pleasure. "Do you want me...?" I started to ask before I gasped as a moment of intense pleasure cut my thoughts short.

"Yes," he responded.

"Oh," I sighed in response "There was more to the question," I gasped. His hands stilled, giving me a moment to think. "Do you want me to ask for what I want?" I asked him. This is the most I can offer in this moment.

"Yes," he said, knowing the full extent of what I have asked, "because you deserve to ask and hear 'yes'."

"Will you?" I asked. I couldn't say any more. I wanted to and though I was sure he would say yes, I simply couldn't get any more out.

"Yes," he said again as he leaned in close and began to nuzzle my sex with his mouth. He licked me; he massaged my clitoris with his tongue; he drew my labia in between his lips and it felt good in so many ways that my brain got all quiet and mushy as the muscles in my legs and arms began to shake.

I wanted penetration again, but I did not want his fingers in me this time. "Would you like to get a condom?" I asked him.

"Yes. Are you okay with that?" he asked, clarifying my intentions.

"Oh, God, yes!" I told him.

But getting a condom required Doc to leave the bed and for those brief moments I almost regretted asking because for those brief moments he wasn't touching me. I asked if he wanted help rolling the condom on but he had taken care of it.

I took this interlude as an opportunity to place a pillow beneath my hips so that Doc would have more access and deeper penetration. Then, I spread my legs and waited.

Doc knelt between my legs and made sure, once more, that I was ready. He entered me and I was lost. Doc felt nothing like anything I'd ever experienced before. He is larger than either of my two previous partners and as living flesh he's qualitatively different from the toys I own, no matter how similar those are in shape to a penis.

Then there's the matter of how it felt to have Doc inside of me. This was the seventh time I'd ever had sex. The first six times were intense, angry, revenge fucking. I told that first partner explicitly that our contact was to be genital only. Penis-in-vagina. He was not allowed to touch any part of my body above or below my hips - only what lay in between. The last time I had had sex was in response to intense emotional pain and a need for affirmation.. Garden variety sex - again genital contact only - met that need.

But this was not the case with Doc. He was in me and he is in me. No restrictions, no pre-established limits, no rules. I am not in control. This was terrifying.

I have had other opportunities in the recent past for sex. Though I was emotionally ready to have sex at the time that each man asked, I did not want to have sex with any of them. I had turned them each down.

Not only was I emotionally prepared to have sex with Doc, or so I thought, but I wanted, achingly desired, to have sex with him. And there we were, having sex, and physically it was amazing, and emotionally it was scary. And then it started to hurt a little because Doc is so big and my body simply doesn't accommodate that well. A severely retroverted uterus leaves me with a low cervix which is not receptive to stimulation.

The physical pain and nausea of this stimulation intensified and heightened my fear. I was not in control and I wasn't sure I was doing it right. I wanted this but what if it's not acceptable? What if I'm doing something bad even though I feel good about it?

"Wait," I pleaded and Doc stopped immediately. He was still in me and suddenly I was overwhelmed. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I turned my head to the left. "I"m sorry," I said. "I just need a minute."

Doc told me everything was okay. He invited me to take all the time I needed. This unhinged me and I began to cry.

"Come here," Doc said, withdrawing from me, stretching out next to me, and gathering me in his arms. I tried to apologize again but he'd have none of it. He just wanted to make sure I was okay.

When I had calmed down enough and I knew that I wanted to proceed because I was ready and because I knew that I wanted this for myself and not to appease my partner (though I know he would never ask or insist or want such a thing from me), I told Doc I'd like to try again. Doc asked if I was sure. I was.

Doc got another condom and we began again. This time when he entered me, I focused not on the fact that I was not in control but on the fact that I was offering myself to this man in a way I've never offered myself to anyone. I focused on the fact that I was sharing something new and special with him. I sighed his name and he used mine as he told me, "Something wonderful is happening, ...."

But my body did not agree. "Wait. I think I need a different position," I told him as the pain and nausea washed over me again.

Doc suggested I shift to the edge of the bed and he would enter me from a standing position. This gave me full access to masturbate while he thrusted into me. This worked beautifully. With a few drops of lube added to the mix, I asked Doc to thrust much more slowly as I massaged my clit, my knees drawn up to either side of my chest, my feet resting on either side of his abdomen.

He did. Oh, he did. I could feel every inch of him as he thrusted into me and withdrew, again and again and again; not pulling or pushing me to the brink of orgasm but inviting me, coaxing me, accepting my orgasm when it came and asking nothing in return.

We collapsed into the bed together and at some point drifted off to sleep. I was later awakened by the sound of thunder and the flash of lightning. My arm was sore from the position in which I'd been lying. Doc was snoring softly and I enjoyed the sound briefly before my need to shift positions awakened him.

Doc graciously swapped sides of the bed with me. I curled around him and tried to drift to sleep again, but I couldn't. "Would you like to get another condom?" I asked him.

There was a brief pause. "Ask that again," Doc said.

"Would you like to get another condom?" I asked again.

Doc enthusiastically informed me that he would like it a great deal and he reached into the nightstand beside the bed. I asked him to turn on the bathroom light and he did so, increasing the brightness until I indicated it was enough.

He climbed back into the bed with me and once more I welcomed him between my thighs. I knew that the pace earlier had been too slow for him. "You set the pace," I told him. "Whatever you want, I'm okay with that."

I looked at him as he entered me. He looked at me as though I am the single most beautiful woman in all of history. The exquisite joy on his face left me feeling more naked than I ever dreamt possible.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and when the discomfort and nausea came, they paled in comparison to my overwhelming desire to offer this man anything he wanted. I pushed it aside and focused on his varying rhythm and the pleasure of having him in me and feeling seen, respected, cherished by him.

When he climaxed, I held him in me for as long as possible. I whimpered in protest as he withdrew. He needed to take care of the condom before it got lost.

Once he returned to bed, I curled around him, feeling peace, joy, satisfaction and contentment.

This is not fucking - the angry, hurtful, bitter exchange I had with my first sexual partner. Nor is this sex - the disconnected, self-focused, entirely-about-me, my wants, my needs, care-nothing-for-him exchange I had with my second sexual partner.

This is making love; this offering and accepting; this invitation and response.

"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear."

I am no longer afraid and I am still not in control.

We drifted off to sleep. Hours later when we were both fully awake, Doc kissed me again. He stroked my body with his hands. I began to stroke him until he was hard and leaking a bit of pre-cum. Once more I asked him to get a condom. Once more he did.

This time, as we made love, he once again set the pace and it worked for us both. Once again, I reached between us and began to masturbate in tandem with his strokes. I began to cum and just as my orgasm reached its peak, he climaxed as well.

Bliss.

Expectations and Intentions

I'll be completely honest with you. There are few things in life that get me as hot as being treated with respect. One of the most significant ways a person can demonstrate respect to me is through clear, direct, honest, open, respectful communication.

On my first date with Doc, he laid it all out on the table - where he's at, what he's interested in, what he's ready for, what he isn't ready for, what he wanted for the remainder of our time together on that first date. I was highly amenable to everything.

At the end of our first date, he invited me on a second date.

Now, as it happens, I am taking a business trip later this week. I'll be gone for four days. I will also be flying out of a different airport from the one through which I will be returning. This is not a big deal. It means I do not have to worry about airport parking. I had already made tentative arrangements for a ride to the first and from the second airport.

Then, Doc asked me on a second date. "I know you're going out of town this weekend," he said. "If you're interested, I'd like it if you came over Wednesday night. I could make you dinner again, and then you could head to the airport from here Thursday morning."

I liked this suggestion. And I told him so!

"I really want to," I replied. "The only problem is the airport logistics. I'm flying out of airport A, but returning into airport B. As such, I'm going to have to get a ride to and from the respective airports. I've made arrangements for this. At this point, the only way I'd be able to see you again Wednesday is if you would be able to give me a lift to the airport Thursday."

Doc indicated he would see if he could make this happen, as he has quite a flexible schedule for work.

"And, since I'm going to be stealing a few hours of your Thursday if you can work this out, I'd like to cook dinner for you when I arrive Wednesday evening, so that you can take the time, if you need it, to make sure you've got everything taken care of that you need to have taken care of."

Agreements all around that this is the way to proceed, Doc checked his schedule for Thursday and informed me today that he can take me to the airport Thursday.

Our second date is on the calendar. I'm excited. I suspect Doc is excited as well.

I was so excited I posted about this impending second date on social media.

Shortly thereafter, I got an email from Doc. I was terrified, certain I would open it and he would be telling me that he'd seen my post and while he was flattered, my excitement was just too much; that while I'm great, I'm just too eager for his tastes; that he isn't really sure what's going on with him, but he's just not feeling it anymore, and so while he's really sorry about it, the fact is he's going to have to cancel.

For all of my confidence and my intensely cocksure attitude in real life, in my head, I'm a great big bag of insecurities when the possibilty of rejection arises. I mean, if I hadn't gotten an email at all, I would have just assumed that everything was golden. Having gotten the email and not yet read it, I steeled myself for the worst.

Instead, when I opened and read it, I discovered that Doc is also excited, which was enough to make me glow with pleasure.

Now, after our first date in which I had two orgasms incredibly close together shortly before midnight and a third orgasm the following morning before 7:00am, my body is a bit spent. My lady bits are just worn out. I'm just not sure I can handle any more stimulation, particularly stimulation of my clitoris.

So, I had decided, as I would be seeing Doc fewer than 60 hours after I last left him, I would not masturbate between leaving his house Monday morning and seeing him again Wednesday evening. I wanted to ensure that my clitoris wouldn't be overstimulated and insensitive to touch when I next see him.

Then, I finished reading the email from Doc. He wrote, "We should talk about intentions and expection for the evening when you get here. But I would like to continue...."

I was immediate wet. Pussy soaked. In need of changing the sheets on my bed, aching to touch myself or better yet be touched by Doc RIGHT NOW, achingly hot and horny and ready.

Doc is pretty vanilla. Though he has far more sexual experience than I do generally speaking, none of his experience has been particularly kinky. But this email, expressing his desire to share our intentions and expectations? YES! I think Doc would be a natural in the kink community, and I'm looking forward to the possibility of exploring more of those things with him.

Clear, direct, honest, open, respectful communication. It's one of the sexiest things a man can do.

The Doctor and the Pastor

I had my first date with the Doc yesterday. We agreed to meet up at an art museum roughly halfway and in the only town between where I live and where he lives 90 miles away.

We had agreed to meet a little after 1:00 as I had church in the morning and an hour drive from there to our meeting point. I had one tiny errand to run between church and our date and this put me a few minutes behind where I wanted to be. I apologized but Doc was gracious and indicated my tardiness was not noticeable at all, as he hugged me in greeting.

Entering the museum, I was a bit nervous. Yes, we'd been in contact for a few weeks. Yes, we had much in common and enjoyed our exchanges. Yes, I had suggested we go on a date.

But.... I had never met him before. I do not have a lot of experience dating. We had previously discussed the likelihood that this might not move beyond casual dating. Still, we agreed to look at some short-term enjoyment of one anothers' company, which is a good thing all around.

We were in the first gallery and after everything we had discussed and all he knew about me, and here he was looking beautiful with his curly salt and pepper (mostly pepper) hair and intensely blue eyes, I thought to myself, "I think I'd actually be okay kissing this man." I tried to focus on the art. I tried to read the plaques at the entrance to each gallery, the plaque next to each work of art.

I was distracted. I was distracted by this beautiful man whom I had just met and who knew so much about me and with whom I felt comfortable enough to want to kiss but nervous enough to ramble. A lot. Incessantly. As in, for two and half hours we were in the art museum, I barely shut up. I tried to give him room to speak and I even succeeded at points! But, at some point, I finally just told him, "I'm nervous and rambly and I'm sorry."

We had just managed to reach the last gallery when a security officer approached us, informed us of the hour, the museum was closing and we were required to leave. As we headed out of the museum, I wasn't sure what was next. As first dates go, this was pretty wonderful, but with all my nerves and chatter, I wasn't really sure Doc would be interested in a second.

Complete relief accompanied his suggestion of continued conversation and the possibility of dinner. I was pretty amenable to just about anything, and we headed toward the downtown area to see what was available. Turning a corner and spying a bar, Doc asked if I'd like to get a drink. Approaching the bar, however, we noted that they were closed for the holiday weekend.

Now, however, we were six or seven steps above street level and though completely in the open, the height and the concrete wall on the street side of the staircase and the fact that there were no other people on the street lent a feeling of privacy. I was sorely tempted to invite Doc to kiss me. Nerves kept me from doing so.

One might think that the fact that Doc asked to spend more time with me yesterday afternoon might have been interpreted as a sign of his continued interest. I, however, like to have things spelled out for me in a very blunt, straight forward manner.

So, we continued on and spying a bar down the next street that was open, we headed inside for a drink. As we settled into a booth, I crossed my legs and my foot ended up resting lightly against his calf. For a moment I considered whether or not I was ok with this physical contact. Ultimately, I decided I was. I was not, however, clear on whether or not Doc was aware. He, after all, was wearing blue jeans. I was in a dress and flip-flops. My foot was resting so gently against his pant leg, I thought he might not have noticed.

The waitress arrived to take our order. We requested a drinks menu. She brought one directly and in the intervening moments, Doc had moved his leg sufficiently that the pressure between his calf and my foot was undeniable. He did not shy away from the touch; nor did I.

The waitress gave us a few moments to peruse the menu while she attended to other patrons. Eventually she returned to take our order: IPA for him, a french martini for me.

Over our drinks, we chatted for some time. I still wasn't clear if the foot/calf contact was flirting or just an acceptance of the fact that occasionally crossing your legs under a table puts you into contact with others. However, being this was a date, and I was feeling comfortable, as we talked, I would occasionally touch Doc's hand or arm while making a point. With little response, I thought.

I began to wonder if he was enjoying himself, if he was merely tolerating me to be polite, if he was anxious to end the date with a "Nice to meet you, thank you for the company, I'm not interested in seeing you again, but it was worth a shot." When he would speak, I rested my hand on the table, wondered if I should just reach out and touch him.

Eventually, however, Doc tentatively touched my hand and before I knew it, we were holding hands and chatting and the connection was exciting and wonderful and made me even more nervous than before.

The waitress came back and asked if we needed anything else. Doc asked if I was interested in eating. I indicated I was and asked for a few minutes to peruse the menu. When I offered to share, Doc said to me, "I'm going to just lay things out for you in a really direct way." Oh, nervousness. This is it, I thought. He's not interested. He's going to tell me he's had a very nice time, and he's happy to have dinner, but he doesn't want to see me again. Doc started by explaining his outlook on his immediate future plans and then said, "I like you. I've enjoyed spending with you, and I'd like that to continue. So, I'm proposing that we go back to my house. I'll cook you dinner tonight; I'll make you eggs in the morning. I'm not looking for or expecting sex. I'm having a good time and I want to continue the evening. What are your thoughts?"

"Yes. Yes to all of that. Yes to the no sex, but I'd still like to make out with you."

Doc paid the bill and we headed out.

I had to move my car - overnight tow away zone - and we agreed to meet at a location known to both of us before proceeding to his house. I took the opportunity to stop by a department store and pick up a toothbrush and contact lens solution and case.

Doc drove us to the grocery store so he could pick up a few essentials, and then to his home, where he introduced me to his book collection and furbabies. Then, he made me an absolutely delicious margarita and started making dinner. More conversation followed, a bit of flirting, a bit of nerves.

As one who does not drink much or often and who hadn't eaten yet that day, I was starting to feel the margarita. Doc indicated he felt as though he may have provided me with too much alcohol under the circumstances.

"I want to be clear about something," I told him. "I know it was after the martini that I mentioned making out, but I had been intending to invite you to kiss me long before you suggested we stop for a drink. I may be a little tipsy now, but I had intended to consent then and I'm consenting now. So, anytime you'd like, you are welcome to kiss me."

Immediately he was before me, kissing me with surprising intensity. I had just begun to settle into the kiss and move past the suddenness of it to relax into the delight of feeling his mouth on mine, raising an arm to pull him in closer. "I've been wanting to do that for awhile," he said. "And unfortunately, I have to attend to the food." He returned to cooking.

We enjoyed dinner and then sat down to watch Joe and the Volcano, cuddling on the couch. I leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around me in a gentle embrace. As we watched the movie, holding hands, occasionally kissing, Doc stroking my hair and nuzzling my neck, I grew more comfortable and shifted his hand slightly. "I'm inviting you to touch me," I told him as I slid his hand beneath my clothing to touch the bare skin of my breast.

There were moments when it was difficult to pay attention to the movie, but it was silly and ridiculous and fun, so I remained focused while occasionally sighing and shivering with delight at Doc's touch.

When the movie ended, I turned and we began kissing rather passionately, wedged into the corner of his couch. The positioning was bit awkward and Doc paused in his kissing to say, "There is a whole bed available," and we retired to his bedroom and he excused himself to brush his teeth and complete his evening routine before settling into the bed with me as we kissed and touched and enjoyed one another.

Eventually, I removed my bra, followed by my panties, followed by my dress, as Doc kissed, touched, stroked my arms, breasts and legs. Eventually Doc himself stripped down to his boxers and I delighted in touching his chest hair, running my hands over his body, enjoying the expanse of his shoulders.

Touching my genitals, he asked, "Is this okay?"

"Yes," I told him as he began to finger my clit while kissing me. I told him what was working, what wasn't, how I needed him to touch me; he told me he wanted to make me feel good. He succeeded.

"Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do," he said to me.

"I want penetration," I told him. "Please, put two fingers in me," I gasped, aching to feel fuller as he continued to stroke my clit.

The penetration was wonderful, and I began to stroke and massage my clit myself. Doc, touched my arms, my face, my breasts. He kissed me as he continued fingering my pussy. He kissed the inside of my knee, moving his way up my thigh, kissing my lower belly.

"Do you need me to move my hand?" I asked. "Do you want something specific?" He told me how much he enjoyed watching me touch myself while he touched me as well.

The pleasure which had started at that first kiss in the kitchen continued to build until my orgasm crashed over me, leaving me keening and moaning in pleasure. As I was coming down, my orgasm reaching it's end, Doc withdrew his fingers from me. "No!" I gasped. "Please don't stop!" So, he continued to finger fuck me until my first orgasm ended and a second wave of pleasure rolled through me.

When it was over, when I was done and spent and immobile with bliss, I told him I was done. We kissed, he held me, and I delighted in the occasional spasms of pleasure that continued in my pussy for several minutes afterward as we talked until nearly midnight.

We drifted off to sleep eventually, still touching.

This morning came early as the furbabies demanded that they be fed. Doc told me he would be right back, and I took the time he was feeding the furbabies to get a glass of water. Furbabies satiated, we returned to bed.

Additional kissing, stroking, touching; this time, Doc was naked as well.

Eventually, Doc asked if I would permit him to perform oral sex on me. I consented. And as he licked, nibbled and sucked on my clit, I thought I'd died from the pleasure of it. It was my first experience of cunnilingus.

I asked him to insert two fingers into my pussy while he continued. Eventually, desperate for more, I asked if he'd also insert a finger in my ass. Doc asked me to shift closer to the edge of the bed to accomodate my request.

I came without knowing when or what put me over the edge. I just knew that eventually everything was simply too much and I could feel the occasional spasm that follows release.

We kissed again and lay entangled, talking over some of the finer details of the exchange. "When you kissed my inner thigh last night, I thought you might be wanting to perform oral sex on me," I told him, a little confused that he hadn't asked the night before, or told me so when I asked if he wanted something or would prefer that I stop touching myself.

"I wanted to," he told me.

"I wish I had known. I really wanted you to, but I couldn't ask you for that," I confessed.

"You should have," he said. "I wish you had. You should be able to ask for what you want."

"I do," I told him. "I do ask for what I want. This is the one exception. I can't ask my partner for oral sex. I can't." And then I told him why I can't and he listened and was caring and supportive and made it clear how much he had enjoyed himself.

Then, Doc made me an amazing breakfast - an orange, scrambled eggs with mushrooms, ham, chives and goat cheese, fresh ground coffee prepared in a french press. Absolute bliss.

After breakfast, we returned to the couch. Doc apologized for crossing a line the night before, as he had stated upfront he wasn't expecting or seeking sex - just a continuation of the conversation and company. "I'm okay with everything that took place last night and this morning," I assured him. "Penile penetration at this point would have been more than I could have handled, but this...this was wonderful." We continuned to snuggle and chat, kiss and touch until it was time for me to leave.

All in all, it was an exceptional first date.