When I Wasn't Looking...

Hi, Prowlers. I suppose it's time for an update, isn't it?

It was a month ago that I declared I'd be returning to fidelity, even though it had been a couple months before that since I had been with anyone besides Hubby. Here we are, a month later, and I still haven't played with anyone except the guy who put the ring on my finger decades ago.

But here's the funny thing. You're most likely to meet someone special when you're not looking. That's what happened to me.

And I really wasn't looking.  Seriously.

You know that JJ and I celebrated two years together and decided that we'd take a break but not count out getting back together. JJ knows he's very special to me.  He also knows that he's too busy for me. Way too busy.

I don't consider myself high maintenance, but I'm also not "no maintenance." Just like anybody else, I want to know that someone wants to chat or write or talk with me. I want to know that he cares about what's going on in my daily life, at least to some degree.  When you're "with" someone who knows nothing at all about what's going on in your life, are you really "with" him?

I don't know, but I'm leaning toward "no.".

Anyway, along came.....hmmm, what should I call him?  Let's go with Smart 'n' Sweet Guy (SNS Guy)  for now. Along came SNS Guy, not suddenly, but he's been around for awhile. A PWK reader, he wrote to me in the fall about a post I'd written. He was very kind, sensitive, well-spoken (well-written?).  We exchanged a few more emails, infrequently, through the new year. Slowly, things heated up through late-April and they ignited in early May.

I'm smitten.

And we haven't met in person yet. We live in different states, so meeting is a bit of a logistics challenge, but we have a plan to meet soon.

This is new for me.  I know what you're thinking, "Kat, how can anything be new for you?" Well, this is definitely new. Over the course of my prowling career, I've become accustomed to a little bit of getting-to-know-you (emphasis on "little) and then jumping into bed before there's any emotional involvement. Sometimes it follows, sometimes it doesn't, but the rule was always to guard my heart, for obvious reasons, until I knew it was safe to let it go. It didn't go that way with my first affair, but that was a long, long time ago. The few times I've cared first, I ended up hurt.

Here I am, in the deep end of the emotional pool with SNS Guy, and its much scarier than just meeting someone for sex. This is much more than sex and he's much more than just "someone."

He had been right in front of me and I didn't really notice, until I wasn't looking anymore. Then I saw him.

Now I can't get him off my mind.

Stealing Anal

I was awakened at about 3:00 a.m. this morning by a hard cock rubbing against my back side. That's not a bad way to wake up. Since we were new together, if Hubby couldn't sleep, he would wander over to my side of the bed and start rubbing against me.  Sometimes he'd slide it in me, sometimes just against me, but he'd do his thing until he came and then he'd roll back onto his side of the bed and sleep.

My response depended on many variables.  If I didn't wake up, I did nothing, of course, but I'd find the evidence of what happened in the morning and I'd usually ask him how it was. You may wonder how I could sleep through sex stolen in the middle of the night, but that was common for me during what I call, "The Decade of Exhaustion." That's the period of time in my life when I was working more than full time, going to graduate school, and I caring for a very small child at home. If I was fortunate enough to fall into a deep sleep, itself a miracle, there wasn't much that could wake me up.

If I did wake up, I'd do one of two things: 1) Ignore it and try to sleep anyway (because didn't he understand that I just got the baby to finally go to sleep and hour ago and I had to be up in 2 hours!!???), or 2) Join in the fun (Sleep is overrated. Sex is great.).

Last night This morning I woke to the feel of his cock against me. I slipped another step into consciousness and noticed that his cock was lubed because I could feel the slickness as he slid against me. I was really tired and trying to decide if I'd be able to get back to sleep if I just ignored him.

Then I felt a little more pressure and my eyes popped open.

Is he really trying to steal some anal? I asked myself.

Yes, that's exactly what he was trying to do. With each stoke he was pressing against my ass with just a little  more pressure, stretching me just a tiny bit, then more, and more.

I didn't move. I wondered how far he'd take this.

A few strokes later, the head of his cock popped in. I bit my lip and held my breath, willing myself not to move or make a sound, in spite of the pain. He froze, like the way a child sneaking into the kitchen at night to steal a cookie freezes when the floor squeaks. He waited. Then his cock involuntarily throbbed, and I.....

.....burst out laughing.

"Did you really think you could steal some anal without waking me up?" I asked him.

He said, "Oh, you're awake," and he grabbed my hip and drove himself all the way inside me. I gasped and grabbed onto the side of the bed to steady myself while he pumped me hard.  He came quickly, pulled out, cleaned himself off, and rolled over to go to sleep.

Wide awake by then, I rolled over with him, snuggled up against his back and started talking to him....about last night's baseball game, about my plans for today, about our son's academic progress, about the status of our bills, about my current work project. I could tell he was trying to sleep, but I just kept talking.

Finally he rolled over and said, "Kat! It's the middle of the night. I need to sleep.  Why are you doing this?"

I kissed his neck softly and whispered in his ear. "Because stealing anal isn't free."

Lust and Desire

A good friend of mine sent me an email this morning about the difference between lust and desire. I loved it, so I asked him if I could share it with you, and he agreed. Enjoy.

*******

Do you know the difference between lust and desire?

I do.

Lust is simple, the pleasure of the flesh. Lust is the aerobics instructor who was so incredibly flexible but you can't, for the life of you, remember her name. Lust is the waitress in some nameless restaurant in whatever city it was who flirted with you, called your bluff (well, called my bluff) and left me feeling like Lady Macbeth: needing a shower and knowing that all the water in the world wouldn't make me feel clean again. Lust makes you do stupid things, things you know you will regret but seem so right at the time, because you really don't care about the outcome.

Desire is where you go to sleep thinking about a person and wake up with absolutely no break in the train of thought. Desire is where you get up at 6am on a Saturday because you can't sleep, start to make the coffee and realize that your hands are trembling and damp. Desire is where the thought of that person makes you sweat because suddenly you're harder than Chinese algebra. Desire will make you hesitant because you don't want to fuck things up. If necessity is the mother of invention, desire is the father of necessity.

I've been successful with women because usually I know what to say, when to say it, how to say it and say it with confidence. I like to think I'm not too hard on the eyes. I'm smart, sophisticated, cultured, successful and know what wine to order with fish, the maitre 'd at Incanto and how to play the guitar licks from "The Wall." Is it so difficult to think I could be desired, in turn? Of course not - but with lust, you don't care, with desire, you do.

*******

Your thoughts, Prowlers?

That Dangling Thing

One of my favorite things to do is spend a little bit of time every at at Wallpapers by WWC (II). It's a virtual cornucopia of handsome, muscular young men.  What's not to like?

Someone told me once that it was a site for gay men, as if that would make me like it less. I'm not planning to fuck them or marry them.  I just want to objectify them and gaze at them in all their sexiness.

Every now and then, though, something gets in the way of my enjoyment.  It's that little dangling thing. You know what I mean. It's the penis.

Everyone knows that I am an adoring fan of the penis and all parts of a man's body (Extra credit for anyone who remembers my favorite part of a man's body), but let's face it.  The un-erect penis is an ugly little dangly thing. It's all wrinkled up and men are insecure about it ("It's cold in here."). And they use it for.....(whispering) peeing. At least a woman's pussy is somewhat pretty. Pink, sort of like a flower.

This is a very handsome young man, in spite of the rather gay, I mean, strange, pose. And I thought sitting on a mirror went out in the 70's. It would have been nice, but the dangling dick ruins it.

Look how much better this one is. Mmmmmm. Very hot.  He keeps it covered up.  It makes me want to see.

Same with this one. Wow. Is it getting warm in here or is it just me?

And because I'm such a big baseball fan, you knew this one would be my favorite. I'll have a nice long  shower tonight thinking of how I'll remove that gear.

If you must include a penis in the shot, make it an erect one, like this one that reminds me of JJ.

Now, Gentleman, does my enjoyment of these young studs mean I don't prefer more mature men?  Absolutely not. These young ones are for looking.  You gorgeous and sexually skilled older men are for touching....and licking....and sucking.....and......

From time to time, someone sends me a cock picture.  I'm grateful that they think of me, but the cock by itself  - flaccid or erect - means nothing. It's the man attached to it that turns me on - the whole man, body, mind, and spirit.

If you want to impress me, show me that.

Cooking Up Trouble

Yep, Cara's cooking up trouble again.  Doesn't she look good enough to eat? Where would you start?

Life is Messy

When sex is really great, it's likely that both parties end up sweaty and slick with a variety of fluids. The kids who have the best time at the park come home with dirt on their clothes and smiles on their faces. When I'm on a deadline for a project that's about to make me a lot of money, my desk is covered with reference materials and notes. Artists get paint and clay on their clothes and body as they create beautiful masterpieces.

Life is messy. Real living is messy. Sucking the marrow out of life, as Thoreau puts it, is messy.

While we all need to make sense out of our worlds, some people sacrifice the best life has to offer just to have some order and predictability. I've seen the homes of some families with children that were so clean there was no evidence that a child lived there. I knew a teacher once who assigned all students numbers and the bulletin board was divided up with a square for each number; that's how much room was allowed for each student to show off his best work. The rest of the room was decorated perfectly by the teacher. I've known men with gorgeous pickup trucks who wouldn't take them anywhere beyond a few miles surrounding their homes, let alone off road, because they didn't want to get them dirty or scratched.

Is that living?  Yes, but it sure as hell isn't how I want to live and I'm pretty sure we weren't intended to live that way.

In a recent comment, someone said that I don't know what I'm doing out there, or something like that. On one level, that's absolutely right. But on another level, I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm living!  And life is messy.

You may want to believe that making a decision and sticking to it forever, no matter what, is the right way. Maybe sometimes it is, but sometimes it's not.  People change, conditions change.

The more black and white you think life is, the less real living you're doing. Not only is life not black and white, but it's full of shades of grey and messy blotches of color.

I've made many mistakes.  I keep making mistakes. But I've also had a lot of incredible experiences and I've met some amazing people. I'm better for each one of those experiences and for knowing each of those people. My life is not ordinary.

And guess what?  My husband knew exactly who he was marrying.  So did I. And we are both very happy together, in spite of all the messiness.

There are moments when I wish my life were different, that I were different. Then I  remember some of the bright spots in my life - meeting Seattle Guy and our visit to the park, spending the night with JJ, sharing my deepest secrets with DauntlessD, laughing with Cara, cycling with Steve, developing a a loving and cherished friendship with a Phillies fan.... I could go on and on and I haven't even mentioned my family yet.  My kids! Surfing (or attempting to surf), mountain climbing, bike riding, walking on a glacier, volunteering in a homeless shelter, reading while cuddling in a bean bag chair, taking off with no plan just to see what we could discover.... And my husband. Traveling the world together, making love on the banks of a secluded river in broad daylight, holding our children together seconds after they were born, taking our children to see where we grew up, threesomes when we were newly married, the way he looks at me when he tells me he loves me every single day, and that he loves me exactly as I am... Seriously, the highlight reel doesn't end there, and it doesn't end with today.

But almost all of those things I mentioned were messy. They required letting go of control, accepting that the outcome could be totally unexpected, taking a risk - and choosing to do them anyway.

There are many things I don't know, and I certainly don't know what the future holds for me, but I know this - If I were to die today (or soon), I would have no regrets about how I lived. Some of my choices?  Sure, but as I said, life is messy.

I like it that way.