H is for ...

Hi again.

[restart]

There has been much speculation (in both blog comments and in my private email) regarding what precipitated my disappearance six months ago (almost to the day). Among them:

• I'd had a relapse of the flu I'd suffered shortly before my hiatus.
• Amy was upset about the blog.
• I'd died (!).
• Amy and I were breaking up.
• Amy was pregnant (!!).

I'm happy to say that none of these suppositions were correct. (Though if I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, there are fleeting moments when I wouldn't mind if Amy were pregnant again. But don't tell her.)

If I were feeling inspired to be dramatic, I could probably spin a yarn about how Amy and her secret lover kidnapped me (after leaving the kids with the neighbors) and took me to their Costa Rican love dungeon, only releasing me lo these months later after I had achieved a sexual nirvana heretofore unexpereienced by humankind.

But it's not that interesting. In fact, it's not even as interesting as what the rest of you came up with. It was just ... life. Among the "lowlights" y'all missed (all of which contributed, in greater or lesser degrees, to my prolonged absence):

• deadlines for major projects at work, taking me out of commission for most of May, August, and part of September;
• two family vacations this summer!
• a ridiculous number of commitments related to a kid's school and extracurricular activities;
• numerous visits to our home by family members; and
  
• many medical- and work-related issues for Amy

Notice anything in particular missing from that list?

Yep. Conspicuously absent would be Energetic, sweaty, ball-slapping fucking like the feral creatures from which I'm sure we evolved.

Most of the items on that second list will explain the lack of cum-dripping adventures, but none more so than the last one. It's been one of those years for Amy where one medical "event" after another has made her feel much, much older than her years. I know that many of you can relate. And all of this preoccupation with her health has put a severe damper on our sexual activity. It's not that there has been zero orgasms; we did "fit it in" (wink wink, nudge nudge) a few times this last half-year. And some of the sex has been truly awesome. But fun nights have been few and far between, and time to document them simply hasn't been there.

Since I defined this blog pretty narrowly from the outset as being about sex ... well, there hasn't been a lot to write about. But if I'm going to be honest, this wasn't the only reason I stopped. Honestly, with the amount I posted for the blog's first four-and-a-half months, it was going to be hard for me under the best of circumstances to keep up that sort of pace. I was feeling burned out.

But I wasn't expecting to take this long of a break. And I also wasn't expecting that the event that would get me off my middle-aged ass and get writing again would be the "hiatus" of one of my all-time favorite bloggers, La fille mariée. The blogosphere was robbed of an important voice when she decided to type the light fantastic. And while I'm not for a minute believing that my voice can in any way fill the void left by her departure, her leaving did make me realize that I didn't want The Concupiscent Husband to die completely.

So, I'm back, if in a slightly less regular form. One of the ways I hope to keep this blog (and myself) fresh is to not feel the need to post as often as before. I'm not short of ideas: I currently have 26 posts in draft form, all different topics, waiting for my attention. And there is such a good amount of material out there from the sex blogs that are out there that I am certain I will be able to take in your experiences and ideas, chew them for awhile, and spit them back into the atmosphere with a new flavor. If, uh, that metaphor of regurgitated sexual philosophy wasn't too disgusting for you to dwell on. Quick, think of big cocks and tits and get back to what you really want to be dwelling on in your office cubicle.

There's something refreshing from starting at Square One again. Maybe I build a whole new audience. Maybe some of you who still find my posts relevant might give me another gander. But this blog thing doesn't really work if I don't write for myself first, and trust that the audience will find me.

I'm actually looking forward to doing this again. Okay, okay. To be honest, I'm actually looking forward to doing that again . . . and then describing that to you in all its energetic, sweaty, ball-slapping, over-wordy detail.

Laying Groundwork.

I received a couple of comments on my blog entry about our night at a formal party that I found a little disturbing. Not "disturbing" in the sense that I was repelled by them; rather, they sent ripples across the surface of my understanding of my sexual relationship ... and of the purpose of this blog. For several days now, I have been turning things over in my head. This entry is more for myself than readers. I'm thinking out loud, I guess.

The first comment came from the illustrious Tom Paine, who, upon reading the entry, simply noted:

Very nice the way you two are moving along. Good luck.

And then, very recently, Mike of Shared Cindy wrote a similar comment:

I am an avid follower of your progress.

Seemingly innocuous notes, maybe; but to me, they force to the front burner an issue that I need to sort out: What, exactly, am I progressing toward? I'm not sure if these readers intended or assumed with their comments that I have a specific sexual goal ... say, inviting others into our bed, or watching Amy fuck another man. While both of these examples are deep-seeded fantasies — shared to an equal or lesser extent by Amy — they're really beside the point.

I'm writing because I want to "explore the issues that grow out of the aging sexual relationship." (A quote from my inaugural post.) Interestingly, I haven't ended up doing a lot of that exploration yet, because I've (unexpectedly) been writing about all the actual sex we've been having. (A pretty great problem to have!) I imagine this more "active" period is fleeting, and that the underlying issues that brought me to this blog in the first place are still there, waiting to be dealt with.

There's a big part of me that is envious of what Tom Paine (and C.) and Mike (and Cindy) have. But so many factors make that kind of relationship entirely unrealistic for Amy and me. Primary among them is Amy's feeling that sex isn't ... well ... as important to her. While she might indulge me in some of my fantasies sometime, the fact remains that her libido is maybe a tenth of mine. She's good, giving, and game ... but not necessarily looking to push the boundaries.

I will keep pushing boundaries, though, both during sex and through conversation. If it's possible, I want to help Amy rediscover her sexual self, to glimpse the woman I find so stimulating, so electrifying. This can't be accomplished if Amy is feeling uncomfortable in any way, so the whole boundary-pushing thing has to be handled with care. No sudden moves. No unexpected surprises. In short: Trust. Now: If, down the line, through further discussion, we discover that there is a more "non-traditional" activity we'd like to really try — say, inviting another couple or individual into our bed — then I would be more than game (if I was convinced that Amy was truly into the experience).

In reality, my expectations are low in that regard. We are a long way from that kind of play. In the meantime, the increased communication that would be part of this examination of our sex life may naturally improve things. As we discover more about what turns us on, what we're willing to do, and what we really want, the quality of the sex could reach a higher level than we've ever imagined.

Ever the optimist, eh, Denis?

TMI Tuesday #6: The Truth About (Most) Bloggers

If you want to play along with the TMI Tuesday meme, head on over to tmituesday.blogspot.com. And while you're there, tell 'em to come up with some better questions! I mean, Mike Tyson? Come on!


1. Would you rather be famous now & forgotten after you die or forgotten now & famous after you die, forever? & Why?

Look at it this way: I have a blog. (Actually, more than one.) Blogs are not the most permanent form of recording one's life experiences and thoughts. I would wager that most bloggers want a certain amount of fame. We'd all just be writing in diaries otherwise, right? By simply having a blog, I've already established that fame (which becomes less and less important as I get older) would be better served up sooner rather than later.


2. Would you rather give blood or read Hamlet? Why?

I never give blood without having something to read (and try to talk them into turning off the ever-present television when I'm there). I would probably kill two birds with one trip and read The Danish Play while the leeches did their work ... and get free cookies, crackers and juice!

What? I have to choose. Fine, then. I'd give blood. I've read Hamlet, and while it's amazing, it would take an unusual set of circumstances to lead a reading of Hamlet to save three lives.


3. Would you rather be extravagantly rich but hated by others, or well-loved and admired, but dirt poor? Why?

Again: I have a blog. I know that part of the reason for sharing what I share here is to work through my issues about sex and my sexual relationship with my wife. But if I'm honest with myself — and if most bloggers are honest with themselves — one reason for a blog is the desire for acceptance, or love, from one's peers. I'll take dirt-poor and loved, thanks.


4. Would you rather be imprisoned for the rest of your life or kill someone? Why?

Oooh. A toughie. I am vain enough to actually consider staying out of prison in exchange for taking someone's life. That says more about me than anything else I've written here. (For the record, I don't think most bloggers would kill someone.)

But in the end, I don't think I could bring myself to kill someone. Looks like I should prepare to be someone's bitch.


5. Would you rather fight Mike Tyson or talk like him? Why?

I'll take the fight. I'm not sure how much damage he can do to me when I'm curled up in a pathetic, whimpering ball in the middle of the ring. The ref would stop the fight before all my ribs were broken. And the whole time I was healing, I'd be thinking to myself: "Yeah, everyone who saw the fight knows I'm a pansy now ... but at least I don't talk like Mike Tyson!"

King's Night

What's the best thing about The World's Softest Pajamas™? When Amy straddles me and slowly, seductively unbuttons the oversized buttons on the top.

This was a King's night tonight: my chance to lie back and enjoy being "tended to" by my wife. Amy's was "out of commission" for another couple of days, but that didn't stop me from asking her if she would blow me before we went to sleep. As she slipped on those pajamas, she surprised me with a "Sure," considering how late it was.

I liked that she was putting a little thought into it, notjust going for the standard-issue, get-him-off-fast head. Or, perhaps she's smart enough to know that playing the seductress gets the job done faster in the long run, thus getting her to sleep faster.

Regardless, here we were: My wife, now hovering over me, her breasts peeking from behind the opened front of her pajama top, going for a full, soul-exploring kiss while grazing her fingernails over my chest. She silently started to move down toward the bottom of the bed, pausing to suck on a nipple, and then driving me absolutely wild via warm, wet kisses on my sides. (I've never told her what this does to me, by the way. It seems like an odd area to set off such erogenous feelings ... yet it isn't quite strange enough to earn the classification of "kink.")

There is that moment, before she takes me in her mouth, when the anticipation can make me giddy. Some nights, as she did tonight, she kisses around my cock. Or she goes further down and kisses my thighs. Or her nipples trace along my legs, causing her hair to inadvertently tickle my dick. I am in awe of expectancy. This is the moment, if she were on top of her game, when she would ask me for something I might not be giving her. (As if there were ever anything I would give her!) Note to the authorities: If I'm incarcerated and you need the information I've been withholding, bring my wife in, get me to this point, and then ask your most probing questions. I am putty.

Luckily, she didn't stop there. She slipped just the head in, suckled the helmet for a second, and then began the "lip walk" down the shaft. I wish I had a recording of the exhale that escapes me; I'm sure that breath sounds unlike any other I take during my entire day.

There are times that I honestly think I could have survived my entire life without ever having fucked someone, as long as I could give and receive oral sex. On this evening, Amy brought out her A-game: nibbling and sucking up and down the side of the shaft, tonguing my balls lightly, consuming them at times, with an involuntary grunt. Working hard and fast ... backing off slow, seeming to savor my cock. And at some point in the process, that cock always manages to find its way between her breasts, squeezed and massaged, lubricated with her saliva. Groan-inducing, indeed.

It's hard not to sound cliché after a blowjob like this, but I can't help it: As she lies back next to me again, and I feel the fresh deposit of cum on my stomach and dripping down my softening member, I kiss her deeply and say with as much import as I can muster: "God, do I love you!" It always brings a laugh, and I'm probably playing to the humor ... but I do truly mean it. I'm a lucky man.

***
Note: It's been a ridiculously busy couple of weeks for me, and the pressure of keeping up with Real Life and still blog as much as I wanted was too much. The timing was awful, seeing as the Sugasm thing last week increased visitors to this blog tenfold — literally — and then, just as suddenly, new original content seemed to stop. So it goes.

The funny thing is, at the same time that my life got all packed, Amy and I actually had sex three times in a seven-day period. Not an amazing thing for many of you, but for us, it was a truly remarkable feat. Of course, two of those can be attributed to Valentine's Day. But something else has happened, too — something in Amy's mind. You'll get to hear about in an upcoming post. I know I'm champing at the bit to write about it. Until then, you'll have to put up with the above vignette from last Sunday's encounter.