*rolleyes*

Joseph and I frequently entertain ourselves during our respective work days by having salacious and flirtatious conversations.  Nearly as often, we're discussing politics or philosophy or something else, but the conversations do regularly turn sexual.  Sometimes it's describing what we'd like to to do to each other should we ever find ourselves in the same city.  Sometimes it's more prosaic - asking and answering questions about what the other likes, limits, etc.

While we were planning Tuesday's escapades, he made a passing remark that I might find it easier to write erotica after I'd "cum a bit".

Never mind the writing, there is no "bit" in cumming for me, and I promptly let him know.  We moved on in the conversation but I got the impression that he really didn't understand what I was saying.

Later that night, he did actually get to see me in the throes of orgasm.  Now, let me explain.  For me, orgasm is often explosive.  I've been told by Jay that it looks like I'm having a seizure, for starters.  My entire body spasms, and if I'm capable of any vocalization at all, it's merely guttural shrieks and or moans.  (Actually, I tend to lose verbal faculties fairly early on in arousal, which drives Joseph up a wall sometimes.  Seeing as how we largely communicate through text and phone calls.)  After orgasm, my brain more or less shuts down and I spend that time in a daze.  This daze can last anywhere from one minute to half an hour, depending on the severity of the orgasm.  I myself find it pretty fucking awesome; orgasm is the only thing I've found that can reliably halt my otherwise-constant brain activity.  It's a nice break, and would be even if I didn't find orgasm itself intensely pleasurable.

Anyway.  After I came to and was capable of moving again, I returned to the conversation.

"Holy fuck.  I did not think you were serious.  No wonder you fall asleep after; you look like you just got punched in the fucking skull."

Mmmmmmm.

"That or you're channeling a cat in a sunbeam.  God damn, woman."

Mmmmmhmmm.

Like seriously, you didn't believe me?  I'm pretty sure I'm the resident expert on my orgasm, thanks.

Although it was nice to find that I am occasionally able to read people through just text, and not just in person.  No, he did not really understand what I was saying.  *sigh*

Explanations

I probably shouldn't be surprised that I've been having the dreams I've been having lately.  First, everyone seems to be having vivid dreams lately, especially last weekend and in to this week.  Secondly, it's been a hell of a week.  I'm stressed, but almost touching on euphoric, really.

Monday I worked with Hal again.  I like to think our relationship is maturing, seeing as how we are now capable of getting things done while laughing and falling all over ourselves.  It's kind of nice, actually.

What was not nice - and I don't mean that negatively, just that "nice" isn't the word at all - was that on Monday, we wound up not talking.  Probably because we were busy gazing in to each others' eyes.  Like, seriously gazing.  There are a number of reasons that Hal is off-limits right now, but oh good lord, that boy is dangerous.

Tuesday, I was in a training session at work that was largely not applicable to me.  Being an immature sort, I was chatting away on my BlackBerry.  Joseph and I had quite the conversation.  Said conversation led to our indulging in a bit of simultaneous naked camera time, which we haven't done in god knows how long.

I always seem to feel particularly vulnerable after engaging sexually with Joseph.  Intellectually, I know that he's attracted.  He's told me as such - and shown me.  I apparently need more aftercare than he's capable of providing from where he is, and I'm not sure if I mean that physically or emotionally.  Probably a bit of both, now that I think about it.  He's very much a "sensory" type - that is, his focus is on his senses.  His writing is full of those sorts of details - how things smell, taste, look, sound.  Me?  Not so much.  And I definitely am feeling vulnerable, four days later!

Basically, I need some reassurance.  Have I explicitly mentioned this?  Of course not.

But anyway, with the intensity of what's been going on this week, it's probably no wonder that both Hal and Joseph have been making regular appearances in my dreams.  I could live without waking up feeling like I'm in a bed surrounded by people.

Of course, I think I could happily live if that happened in reality on a regular basis, so maybe I shouldn't complain too much.

But when your first thought of the day is "jesus god have mercy" or a related variant, it's a little trying, I have to admit.

And here you thought you were predictable!

For a long time I would have said that when I'm mightily stressed, I'm completely uninterested in sex.  This week - well, this past month, really - seems determined to prove me wrong.

I work full-time, as does Jay.  I'm not in the field I'd prefer to be, but I do something I'm damned good at, and I like my boss, so that helps.  Work's been... busy.  Really busy.  I don't have enough hours in the day, etc. and so on, blah blah blah.  Added on top of the busy bullshit, this has been the week of my name getting associated with shit that is so not even close to my demesne.  I have job duties.  I'm pretty clear about them with people.  And no less than four times in the past three days has my name been listed as the responsible one for things that I don't even have the slightest clue about.

That is intensely frustrating for me.  If I might indulge in a bit of bragging, I know a fuckton of things.  I am a wealth of knowledge, which is actually part of my job description.  But I don't lie about what I don't know - I'll be very blunt and upfront when it comes to telling people I don't have a fucking clue.  And I'll also be blunt and upfront when it comes to telling people that it's not my job, and they need to speak to the person who does own it.

So when others fuck up and put me on the hook for things I shouldn't be, I am irritated.  I am even more irritated when it results in hundreds of emails and phone calls to me (oh, if only I were kidding).  Let's talk about the fact that answering my phone is pretty much my least favorite part of my job, hmmmm?  (And how my voicemail is now changed, and I don't have to answer it this week, with my boss' permission.)

So a lot of things have been conspiring to make me stressed.  And I, oh, I am all about the sex.

Jay and I have had sex every night for the past week, and almost every night for the past month.  Joseph is all up in my business again (shocking, I know) and that is totes okay with me.  Hal's been on his game as well, and let's talk about the lovely comments we've made to each other.  The imagination?  In overdrive.  And the dreams I've had!  Good lord!

And yet I am so stressed that rather than join Jay at an activity tonight that we both enjoy and I adore, I opted to stay home.

What.

To be sure, I am not complaining.  I am slightly confused, but I am not complaining (okay, maybe I'm complaining about not being able to go two nights without dreaming of Hal in an inappropriate way, but other than that...).  Perhaps my self has decided that since sex is a highly effective stress-reliever, it does not behoove us to not indulge?  Who knows.  But good lord!

On maturity

I wasn't kidding when I said that 2009 was the year of men in my life. There's a lot to unpack with that, so I'm going to try to not blow the entire load in one entry because that would be silly (blogging hang-ups: I haz them), but I do want to talk about it.

First and foremost, Jay and I got married early this year. That didn't really change our relationship (except legally), I don't think. We've been together for most of the past 10 years (ten years! TEN YEARS, dear god, ten years). We've lived together, lived apart, shared bills, slept in the same bed practically since we met each other, been to each other's family gatherings and holidays and weddings and funerals, and been a linked pair in most of our family's and friends' minds for a long time now.

People keep asking me how it feels to be married, as if it were some life-altering totally radical change in our relationship. I don't have an answer for them, because it did not radically alter our relationship. We giggle that we're married, and are ridiculous entertained by referring to each other as "husband" and "wife". Yes, we're twelve, what of it? But the fundamentals of our relationship have not changed. I refer to him as my partner for a number of reasons, but first and foremost because that's what he is. We've both worked hard - damned hard - to have a relationship of equals, and just because cultural baggage says we're not, doesn't mean I want that.

What it has changed, however, is our relationship to other people.

fuck it, i'm listening to muse

Jay was on a business trip this week, and is supposed to get home tonight. I've missed him, a lot. He doesn't live with me, so he's normally not here during the week anyway, but there's something different about him being a few towns over and not here and being in an entirely different state and not being here. It feels different, and I've slept for shit all week.

He was supposed to get in at the airport around 8 tonight, and was then going to come over. I kind of feel bad for whining and sniveling badly enough that he was going to come over after a day in airports and on planes, but not badly enough to tell him to just stay home and go straight to sleep.

Clearly, he is not getting in at 8 - instead, it's going to be closer to 11:30 tonight, which means that he wouldn't get here until 1 at the earliest, which is too late for him. So no Jay tonight, and I am sad. Life's just a little bit better when he's nearby - although, truly, it will at least be nice to have him in the same state again.

It doesn't really help the fact, though, that I have been beyond unsettled the past, oh, week or so. I'm having the devil of a time figuring it out, too. I shouldn't be too surprised though; this happens once in a while anyway. There's no reason for me to be upset or sad or anything, and I just am. Work is good, the house is good, life is good, and it's like I'm uncomfortable with success or something because I want to crawl out of my own skin.

I just want... something else, I suppose. And really, that's a neat explanation for why I desperately wanted to call Joseph last night; he's most certainly something else. A bad idea, to be sure, but feeling like this makes me want to do something dramatic and monumental. It's just that when I shoot for those things, it usually winds up being monumentally horrible. And doing, oh, just about anything with Joseph with perfectly fit that bill.

Tempting enough that at 2 in the morning I was still awake and thinking about doing it, though, which, yeah, that was really unspeakably awesome, okay? It's not like I've slept well all week, and then to be up past 2 in the am with strained effort to keep my hands still and under my head... well, I can think of more fun things.

The best part? I thought I had totally shaken him off, for good, finally. Oh, but no no no. He's ba-ack. Bastard. Clearly the lesson I'm supposed to learn here isn't nearly learned enough.

fuck

I really, really want to call Joseph right now. I don't even have anything to say. But I want to call him. And it would be a bad, bad plan.

Visions

The story so far: french is, for all intents and purposes, having some kind of messed-up e-affair with Joseph.

Now, I wouldn't have even consented to set up the webcam in the first place if I weren't absolutely sure that Joseph wasn't on the other end, taking screencaps, and then proceeding to post them on the internet. The same went for him - we trusted each other to keep this personal and private.

That didn't mean that the entire time we were naked for each other, I wasn't in a constant state of disbelief - disbelief that I was actually doing this, disbelief that there were now two men on the planet who have seen me naked (and still find me bizarrely attractive), disbelief that there was a guy showing off his very naked, very delicious body to me.

By entire time, I mean, "entire time that I wasn't too aroused to be thinking about anything other than sex and sex-type things". I feel that's a distinction that needs to be made here. Especially since poor Joseph, who is very literate and very written-word-oriented, was trying to IM me, and I couldn't really respond in coherent fashion for a while. Luckily, he took it in stride, and was flattered.

At the time, Joseph was working nights, so he was at the end of his day, while I had just gotten up. Therefore, everything ended after an orgasm for him and when he needed to go to bed. I didn't even care that I hadn't so much masturbated as had a visual feast - I felt good that he'd quite obviously enjoyed himself, and that was okay.

Afterwards, I was almost in a state of shock. Did I just do what I think I did? I must have, because there were the IM logs (which I have sadly lost to a dead hard drive, which makes me want to cry). That was... that was depraved! And I did it! Holy fuck! And I was ridiculously happy about it. I reasoned that even if it were depraved, that it couldn't be too bad if both parties had enjoyed it as much as they did. That didn't mean that I told a single person about it - this blog is the first time I'm in any way talking about or admitting to this with anyone other than Joseph. I just told my friends that we were still hardcore flirting.

I didn't get the chance to talk to Joseph for a few days afterwards, which despite all his assurances, sent me into a minor panic. I couldn't bear to think that he was having second thoughts, or didn't want to speak to me anymore, or anything like that. Logically, I knew that he wasn't online because he was either at work or sleeping, and that he slept when I was awake, so it was okay.

It was, of course, or I wouldn't be in the state I am today. He IM'ed me a few days later, tentative. I'm sure we were both feeling out where the other stood. The impression I got was that he was just as overjoyed as I was that we didn't hate each other or have any regrets. That of course set us up for another, similar naked-webcam encounter within a month of the first, with much the same results - except that he was worried that I wasn't enjoying myself, which led to me masturbating on cam.

Time has robbed me of the reason that those two times are the only times we ever saw each other naked. Both of us, in later months, expressed happiness that we'd done so, though. Regardless. After I graduated and moved to a new apartment, Joseph and I kept up our correspondence. What drew us together was keeping us together - high intelligence, a love of the written word, an appreciation for humor and wit, and a general loathing for the majority of the population. We also had the same tendency to forget correspondence for a while, and be able to pick up where we left off a month or three later. I was the first one to see the draft of his new novel, he was the first one I told that I was fed up with biology and wanted to go into social work. We bitched about our jobs, about our lives, shared little joys and major sorrows, and bounced ideas off of each other. But there was always that little current of "sex" under the covers.

I knew that this was something I had to pay attention to when I had a vision of him getting off the local mode of public transportation in front of my house as I watched from the kitchen window.