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.

Justify My (Blog's) Existence

I won't lie: Her breasts had a lot to do with the initial attraction.

I've never been the kind of guy who was getting so much sex that he could pick and choose his partners. I don't believe that many guys like that exist. But I definitely have predilections, and a good-sized chest was something that I favor, should the opportunity arise. While Amy wasn't the kind of woman whose breasts introduced themselves before she did, it didn't take long to sense another "presence" in the room. For me, it was a short hop from acknowledgment to outright desire.

And, at the risk of making Amy sound slutty, it was not a long trip from that initial desire for her breasts to my first opportunity to play with them. Within hours of our introduction, after a fascinating and complex evening of events (a story that may be expounded on another occasion), we lay on the futon on the floor of her bedroom. Her fuchsia t-shirt was pulled up over her tits, revealed in their supple, succulent glory to my hands and lips for the first time. Her hands were simultaneously inside the pair of shorts she had loaned me earlier that morning, getting acquainted with my own equipment.

We were in our mid-twenties, and we thoroughly enjoyed those first months of simultaneous love/lust in a most cliché way. We spent every spare moment together, essentially cutting out the rest of our friends (and family too) as we obsessively experienced every aspect of each other. I'm speaking mostly sexually here, let's be honest. She had heard from a mutual friend how much I enjoyed extended sessions of eating pussy. She showed herself equally talented when it came to oral exploits. Which was a nice change for me from my previous girlfriend, who seemed to begrudgingly fellate me. Amy helped me make up for lost time.

We jokingly kept track of orgasms for probably the first fifty or so. We slyly played with each other in public settings like movie theaters and restaurants. We shared music, books, and rug burns. We cooked for each other. We would find ourselves overcome with emotion for how lucky we were to have found each other. We made our rug burns much worse in a typically twentysomething effort to express said emotions.

Our lives were not solely defined by sex, but there is no denying that it was a huge part of those early years. Simply put, we loved fucking.

+ + +

Amy and I are now in our forties. We are married. We have children. And like so many other couples who have walked a similar path, we chuckle with a vague yearning about how free those times in our twenties seemed. In so many respects, we are happy where we are now. But -- and trust me, I know how cliché this aspect of our relationship is as well -- the amount of sex has lessened dramatically. By cliché I mean "normal." A dropoff is to be expected for the vast majority of relationships that follow our trajectory.

We are struggling to find that balance between work and family, and somewhere in there we also need to nourish the needs of the primary relationship, the one between Amy and me. Intimacy still plays a major role, though now it seems to be defined more by its elusiveness.

Libidos have fallen out of balance. Mine seems as strong as ever, but the demands on Amy are such that she frankly is not as interested. This is not to say that when we do make the time that she's not an enthusiastic and thoroughly pleasing lover. But there is no question that I am the initiator in 95% of the encounters -- which themselves seem few and far between.

This blog is not meant to be a place for me to complain; that would be so deadly dull that even I wouldn't read it. But I am hoping that I might garner a readership of men and women in similar circumstances, and that my thoughts (and yours) might help us explore the issues that grow out of the aging sexual relationship.

Though there will probably be a certain amount of analysis and self-study, I am hoping that this blog will titillate too. I enjoy writing erotica, and I plan on discussing, in frank and usually prurient language, Amy's and my past and future encounters, as well as our fantasies.

Not unlike the way my marriage is a balance between my needs and my wife's, I will try to counterweight my exploration of our relationship's sexual psyche with my (imagined?) audience's desire for a little arousal. On the day that I'm writing this, I have no earthly idea if I'll be able to pull this off. It'll be fun trying, though!

"Blog Description" History

There's a field in Blogger called "Blog Description," directly under the title. I couldn't come up with one, so I've been putting random things there that I believe capture the essence of this blog. This entry is a history of the descriptions which have appeared in that field. If you read all of them, maybe you'll have an idea what this is about. When you figure it out, email me.


[i'm still trying to remember this one]
(1/26 - 27/2007)

Everything I know ... I've learned between her legs.
(1/27 - 29/2007)

He's like Barack Obama ... except he's not afraid to admit he wants to take his wife from behind.
(1/29 - 2/1/2007)

I don't just suck at unequivocation ... I swallow.
(2/1 - 3/2007)

She said, "I'm into geeks." I said, "All the hot women are."
(2/3 - 5/2007)

"I'm sorry we're not having sex more often ... But you have to admit that it's pretty amazing when we do." - Amy Connor
(2/5 - 7/2007)

The first name on Soledad O'Brien's blogroll.
(2/7 - 10/2007)

"It’s got more hooks than a tackle box , it’s got really loud guitars
It’s got a blasting cap in the fertilizer, got the secret anguish of the network stars
It’s anti-fur, it’s unplugged, it’s got an OK from the Pope
Got art nails and a Wonderbra, and dreadlock blunt-rolled Buddha dope"
- Kevin Gilbert
(2/10 - 13/2007)

I have less sex in order to conserve my Ch'i ... for blogging.
(2/13 - 19/2007)

My other blog is about important developments in the worlds of Mideast politics and nuclear physics.
(2/19 - 22/2007)

Just another blog where the big head overanalyzes the little head.
(2/22 - 27/2007)

Vanilla Sex. Big Words. Lots of punctuation.
(2/27 - 3/3/2007)

Save the adoring husband with exceptional cunnilingus technique ... save the world.
(3/3 - 7/2007)

Marriage To-Do List: 1) Dishes. 2) Pick up toys. 3) Clean gutters. 4) Fuck like horny porn stars. 5) Prepare dinner.
(3/7 - 13/2007)

Read all you want. Just make sure you wash your hands before you leave.
(3/13 - 16/2007)

I may live to fuck my wife, but ... I serve at the pleasure of the President.
(3/16 - 21/2007)

Real sex and writing: Two great tastes that taste great together.
(3/21 - 26/2007)

"Rin Tin Tin is a movie star. I'm just a guy with a sex blog" - Al Gore (um, paraphrased)
(3/26 - 4/1/2007)

Just like all the other sex blogs, except ... more cowbell!
(4/1 - 6/2007)

"Keep your lamplight trimmed and burning." -Beck
(4/6 - 12/2007)

Trying to teach my wife that a flirtatious comment does not have to be a promise.
(4/12 - 20/2007)

The story of me and my wife — who, you'll all be gratified to hear, is speaking to me again since Danielynn Smith's paternity test results were made public.
(4/20 - 24/2007)

Or ... The Closeted Libertine.
(4/24 - 10/25/2007)

"There's no amount of work a man can't do if it's not what he's supposed to be doing." -Peter Benchley
(10/25 - ?/2007)