NC 17: Adult's Only!

Okay:

So, I haven't written about this subject in a long time. I've been trying to broaden my horizons, so to speak, but we're all grown here, right?

I've been single for almost a year now, but for the past few months I've been spending my evenings with the same woman. She's nice enough, significantly older. Our arrangement is unencumbered by expectations or labels. Very cosmopolitan. She visits me once or twice a week, sometimes she brings Hennessy, and we have "fun" together.

A month or so ago, mid-session, she asked me to do something that I normally don't do. Let's call it going the wrong way down a one way street. I'm young, but I'm no spring chicken. I've done it before. But to me, and chime in here if you have an opinion, it seemed like a lot of preparation with very little pay-off. I mean, it's more than a notion. If you're going to do it, there are precautions and procedures. I personally enjoy a less contrived, more organic, natural experience. Who needs all the bells and whistles?

So she asked me, mid-session, and I ignored her request. Later she texted me inquiring as to why I was non-compliant. I responded that I was making significant progress where I was stationed and that it seemed strategically unwise to switch gears, so I decided to stay the course.

I thought the issue was dead.

The other night, however, I had just finished a week of rigorous physical training in Therapeutic Aggression Control Techniques. I was bruised all over. She came to visit, but I was too pooped to be much entertainment. I did, however, want to relieve some of the week's stress. We began our session unceremoniously, with little fanfare or prep work. I immediately noticed that things were a bit tense and coarse. I assigned it to the skipping of the anticipatory set.

For a while I considered starting over with a new course of action, but, again, I was pooped. So I pressed forward. I figured eventually things would work themselves out. And eventually they did. The coarseness was gone, but the tension never left. I was puzzled. Then, towards the end of the session she informed me in some decidedly unladylike language that I had entered through the exit door.

Well.

I was shocked to say the least. I had a few things running through my mind, but the number one thing was whether or not I would be able to withdraw my troop without making a mess of things. I had heard horror stories, and I knew I was entirely too tired and sober to manage a massive clean up.

Fortunately, things were surprisingly normal. Off-putingly normal.

I'm not saying that I've been converted into a fan. In fact, I still fell pretty much the same way I felt a few months ago. But I've lost some of my silly fears after working with an experienced partner. Let's say I've modified my position (no pun intended).

Here's a metaphor: You've got a two car garage. On one side you have a 745 BMW. On the other side, you have a hatchback Honda. Sure it's nice to drive the Honda once and a while to let it know that it is not a non-entity. But, it may leak oil. The engine may lock up on you. All things considered, why would you want to drive the Honda when there's a beautiful, spacious and clean luxury automobile parked right next to it? Get me?

So that's how I feel about butt sex.