Monday, January 15, 2007

Three Feet High and Rising

Happy MLK's Birthday.
No school today – partly because of the holiday, in which federal, state and bank employees get to stay home and celebrate their black heritage. Also because of the weather, as Canada decided to invade the Plains with 4 – 6 inches of “wintry mix” which froze immediately and downed power lines, trees, and random motorists.
Here’s a picture of the flood-level Blanco River, not far from us:
the flood-level Blanco River
(click to view larger)
the flood-level Blanco River
Water accumulated very quickly in the area, partly because the drought made the ground so bone-hard and impermeable that the water just sat on top of the fields, not soaking in. The water tried to run off but the rising creeks and rivers backed up the runoff, so the water just sat there.
the water just sat there
(click to view larger)
the water just sat there
Then the cold front really kicked in, dropping the temps today from its usual highs of 60° F to about 24° F. From our neighborhood clear up to the Arctic Circle, an ever-thicker blanket of ice is covering everything.
Instead of salting the roads here, they simply stay home, since it won’t last but a day or so. Monsieur is working with Skip the Gay Rancher right now, making sure that the private road is clear to the ranch road. Skip’s tractor is pretty well suited for hauling or towing.
an ice-covered tree
(click to view larger)
an ice-covered tree
I just heard from Monsieur a few minutes ago – he’s still in Skip’s tractor, and it would seem that there is more than one truck that can’t make it up the slippery frozen caliche road. So, Monsieur is a snow-plow operator, a search and rescue worker, and a taxi driver today.
The ground under the chicken coop is freezing over with a layer of ice, so I have moved the chickens from the yard to the basement, and they’re not happy about it. They are pecking and fussing like, well, like old hens. The rooster is trying to argue his way out of his imprisonment. The cat has been locked in Bigglest Boy’s room. Bigglest Boy is up there with him, trying to convince him that it’s not a punishment, and that we didn’t inflict this storm on him out of spite. The Two Littlest Boys are coloring with crayons. Middlest Boy’s drawing is of Hoth, the Ice Planet. There are a couple of ATAT walkers, delivering the mail, and Luke Skywalker driving a John Deere tractor. Littlest Boy is calling his drawing “Brown,” which is a very apt description.
the chicken coop is freezing over with a layer of ice
(click to view larger)
the chicken coop is freezing over with a layer of ice
Where have I been?
Well, I’ve been here. I’ve been busy and all, but that’s not really why I’ve been reluctant to post lately. I think it mostly has to do with the fact that Cat, with whom I went to high school, found my blog.
Hi, Cat!
Even though she PROMISED not to tell the whole world about it, and give away my secrets, I still feel very funny about it. I know that it’s not as if my dad found it, but still I feel funny talking about my feelings to the whole world now. Even though they’re very valid feelings, and nothing to be ashamed of, I have lost that sense of privacy/anonymity that I once had here. I know, with all the detail that I supply, it was bound to happen someday, right? And what was I to do once it did happen? Shut it down? Move it? Or pretend it never was discovered and keep going?
It’s not as though I’m really thinking clearly about all of it.
There’s this … other thing that’s been bothering me.
I’ve been getting the loving from Monsieur about once a week. It’s been very nice, and I really had nothing to complain about, but sometimes he was just getting me off and not getting himself off. I would not have noticed for quite a while but once recently, I guess it was after Thanksgiving. I’d had this mind-blowing orgasm and he stopped, slowing down deliciously first. I was going to flip over and ride him to try and get him off, too. Fair play, right? I mean, it’s his turn and all.
So there I was, cowgirling away with my thighs on either side of his waist. He was rubbing, pinching, teasing and caressing me, but I took his hands in mine and I leaned over him and whispered, “Don’t worry about me, darling. I’m done. Just go for it.”
That’s when Monsieur stopped. “I think I’m done as well,” he said, taking me in his arms and kissing me.
“Did you come?” I blurted out, surprised.
“Well...” he began, and trailed off. “I’m fine,” he said, smiling. He started to get up but I held him down.
“You don’t want to get off?” I asked him. “Or do you need me to do something else?”
“I’m fine,” he repeated. “I don’t need more.”
So, I’ve sort of noticed that he doesn’t always get off. I guess I’ve been somewhat oblivious to the fact that the wet spot is usually all me, and none of him.
It didn’t bother me at first, but the next time we made love, I noticed it. Then the next time, then the next. No stain, no gain.
I don’t know why, but it bothered me. I was spending all this energy trying to get him to make love to me once a week, and once I started getting that, I guess something in me made me check to see if all was as it should be.
The next time, I said, “You didn’t come.”
“No,” he said, “but I’m all right.”
“Well,” I said, “I don’t think I am. I need this, too, sweetheart.”
“You need this, too?” he asked me.
“Yes, I do.” I was being firm, but gentle. “I really do. Now, if you can’t for some reason – if there’s something I’m not doing right, or something, please tell me.”
“Perhaps,” he said gently, “now is not the right time.” He kissed me, and tried to reassure me that it was him, not me, and he was fine with what we had. He loved me, he would take care of me, and so on.
I don’t want to nag him about it. I won’t nag him about it. It’s his body. It’s his choice, and he says he’s fine.
It’s not fine. I want that load. It’s mine, dammit. I earned it. Why does that seem so unreasonable? I feel like such a brat sometimes.
I guess … it’s how men feel if they didn’t get the girl off. Once, twice, it’s not a big deal but if it becomes a pattern I guess it just weighs on me. Sigh.

4 comments:

Ry said...

I know that I've dealt with occasionally this in the past. For me, personally, the cause was not my then girlfriend (now wife). It would happen for a number of reasons. Maybe the stresses of a long day. Also, if I was feeling depressed, I would have a difficult time "cumming". Sometimes, I just was not "feeling it" and just enjoyed getting her off.

I hope that he will open up to you soon. I know that is has to be stressful for you not knowing, but it may be something he is embarrassed to tell.

introspectre said...

I agree with ry. It could be something he's just embarrassed to tell you.

Ah...how do I say this delicately? He's not a twenty year old. Men hit their sexual peak at a much younger age, and it's not unusual for the actual act of orgasm itself to become less important. Or sometimes, it becomes less possible. Either way, try to be patient. It seems like he is willing to talk about it, but not just yet.

And as ry said, I too have had boyfriends in the past (even Jack does, at times) just want to watch me get off, and they really didn't care if they came or not. Making ME cum was the ego boost they wanted, and having an orgasm just wasn't important.

Then again, there are times when I want my man to cum but I know I'm too stressed out to get off myself. If I feel pressured to orgasm, it's the last thing I am able to do. I am grateful for the sex and the closeness and even more grateful when he can gracefully let me "off the hook" without taking it personally.

Time, my sweets, time. I know I say it way too often, but you two have come so far in a very short amount of time, really.

But...I hear you. It's much the same way I feel when Jack wants to jerk off to porn. I just want to scream, "You'll cum in your HAND, but not inside ME?! Your HAND does not CARE! I DO! ARGH!!!!" Sometimes it makes me so fucking crazy... I try to not think about it, frankly. I know he's just stressed and it's really hard to not take it personally but I must. You must. Or it'll drive me/you crazy.

(Wait...could we be lezzie lovers then? I jest, I jest...)

The Butterfly Temptress said...

I know how you feel! It's only happened a few times, but it always bothers me. Like you, I love the cum. I really really do. It doesn't feel as complete for me if I don't have his cum in me.

Same for masturbation. Why would he get himself off if I was enough for him? Why would he do it when I would gladly touch him or go down on him? It still makes no sense to me, but it's also happening less frequently now.

Again, you're not alone.

Love,
The Butterfly Temptress

Anonymous said...

excellent points and the details are more specific than elsewhere, thanks.

- Norman