It's sometimes surprising to me how much the cliche of "communication" in a relationship really is true, and really is helpful.
Case in point: Wednesday night, Jay and I were up until 4 in the morning (FOUR IN THE MORNING. ON A WORK NIGHT) communicating. On various levels.
It started out with a discussion of what we'd done recently that we'd liked, what hadn't worked so well, and so on. Then it moved on to things we thought we'd like to do more of, things we liked but found scary, things we fantasized about, things we're pretty sure we'd like to do but maybe are better left as fantasies, etc. Basically updating our kink checklists, without the formality of a written checklist, and checking in on where our relationship is.
It was pretty fucking hot. I am continually reminded that I am extremely lucky to be married to a man with whom I am a matched fucking set. And I do mean fucking in both senses it could be taken there. Our kinks don't exactly overlap, but if there were a venn diagram of our kinks it would look pretty similar to this one:
see more Funny Graphs
(oh graphjam, I <3 u)
So again, pretty lucky. We compliment each other fairly well. But even with that, I like having these discussions. One, kinks change and evolve as people change and evolve. Two, even after ten years, there is still no way that I know everything about Jay, and vice versa. There is always more to explore. Three, it's a hell of a lot easier to please each other when we are clear on what the other wants. Four, even if it's something the other isn't necessarily interested in, it's good to know that, and I find that for me, bringing it up in this context is a good way to get me thinking about it and possibly engaging in it.
Then after being up until 3 talking about kink and sex and kinky sex, naturally we were both just a bit turned on and had to engage in some. I wound up on my knees at the side of the bed giving Jay a blowjob, with his hands in my hair, whereupon he gave me a choice. I could finish the blowjob until he came, and we could go to sleep, or I could get back in bed, masturbate until I came, and at such time as I did come, he would then fuck me. I tend to get extremely sensitive after orgasm (as in, don't even fucking touch me), so this was not the pure treat it sounded like.
I opted for door number two anyway.
It was a lot loud, and a lot intense - both for the circumstances as well as for the actual act - and we both passed the hell out shortly afterwards. Work on Thursday bit, but whatever.
This whole communication thing really has done nothing but improve our relationship. And not just in the form of better, more frequent, or more intense sex, which are all true. It's given us a lot of intagibles as well. We trust each other. A lot. We know each other well. And honestly, having had the discussion, I'm a lot less stressed, and just generally feel closer to him. Not that I didn't feel close before, but, you know.
So yeah, cliche, maybe, but damn are we fans of this whole "communication" thing.