Erotica: Spring Awakening (Part 12)

We have had our first row. Instead of feeling shaken, as I once would have done, I feel refreshed. Perhaps it is because perfection is new to me – and I am cynical about its existence – that the disagreement served to solidify rather than drive a wedge between us. At least to me.

It is always good to know how someone handles issues as early as possible in a relationship. In his case, there was a transparent non-disclosure that he confessed as soon as his thoughts were straight. I was disappointed but reassured by his deception. Until now, he has been flawless: thoughtful, romantic, considerate and kind, teamed with boundary-redefining-sex. Something had to give.

Everyone lies.

But it still shook me. I have opened up to him physically, emotionally and mentally. I have been radically honest about my vulnerabilities and desires. I have shown him my thoughts, even if saying them out loud is sometimes outside my comfort zone. I have let him see all of me – even the less palatable parts – and worked hard to explain my self to him through actions, words, pictures, and more.

His lie made me realise the process does not necessarily go both ways. And that opening myself up to him puts him under no responsibility to return the favour.

I choose to share – some would say over-share. But making myself vulnerable to him does not make him beholden to me in any way. My choice entails risk. Words have power. Sharing too many can lay your soul bare and leave you open to manipulation.

I have spent my life been manipulated. Everyone does it to some extent, whether through giving or denying love; intimidating or killing with kindness; blaming or playing victim. I have played many roles myself, manipulating without realising it except in hindsight. Depression is a selfish illness, worrying others and demanding constant validation. Helping others is a way of controlling their actions and ignoring your own flaws. Workaholism gives an excuse to neglect friends and family. Alcohol dependency allows you an excuse for excessive behaviour, a cover for your madness. Life can be a blame game but I do not want to play that game any more.

My lovers’ mistake is nothing more than a sign he is human. What impressed me was his response to his mistake: prompt confession, genuine apology, acceptance of repercussions and understanding about the unforseen knock-on effects of his action.

My body refused to forgive him as promptly as my mind: though it was not deliberate, it refused to give him the satisfaction of pleasing me. It sheds new light on my past: times when I was unable to climax. Years. My body is a better judge of my mood than I am: or, more likely, in repressing my anger when I feel hurt, I render myself distant from a lover. It is my way of taking control.

Zoning out is second-nature to me. My non-consensual initiation into sex gave me the ability to go elsewhere when my body is being used and manipulated. It is only with my last lover – the one who pushed me to my limits and forced me to face my fears – that I became present in sex. It was not without its pain. It is still not easy for me.

But I am starting to become more comfortable with staying present during sex. I trust my lover and have discovered that trust is the ultimate aphrodisiac for me. Thus betrayal is the ultimate libido-drain. I am fascinated by the complexities of my mind – if frustrated at the difficulty of subsequent orgasm.

My body’s behaviour – and an excess of alcohol – led to an open and frank exchange. For the first time in a relationship, I shared my feelings and resentments without guilt or justification. In the past, I have needed a relationship to feel as if I am a valid member of society. Now it is, if anything, a distraction from the life I am building for myself – from creating, spending time alone, enjoying nature and feeling my way in a new world: one in which I have self-esteem for the first time.

But he is compelling. As a teenager, I always said the only reason to have a relationship with someone was because you couldn’t possible not have a relationship with them. But I never felt that way about anyone until now. I do not want a relationship but I do want a relationship with him. I do not want to relinquish control of my life yet I love the way he takes control of my body. I hate society’s fixation on relationships yet I feel warm when he initiates holding my hand in public: something he has previously says he does not like doing.

That our disagreement led to honest discussion – and the entire discussion was conducted without rancour, aside from mild grumpiness – makes me feel closer to him, even as his lie makes me take an emotional step back.

I have never had, ‘make-up’ sex before but now, I find myself craving it. Though the disagreement was minor, I want to smooth over the rift with bodily bonding. The Japanese art of Kintsugi fixes broken porcelain with gold to show the beauty in imperfection. Sex offers a similar glimmer to a relationship: it is more than physical release – or at least it can be. I have run the gamut of sex from non-consensual pain to Tantric explosion. Now, I crave something to close the gap between us and remind my lover of the common ground we share.

My need for sex is not about pleasing or being pleased, though both of those things will almost certainly be a by-product. It is about connecting, reminding him that I want him, showing him that my body has now forgiven him as absolutely as my mind. It was a minor indiscretion. He is of major importance to me.

I have not felt this calm in the face of conflict, however mild, before. Where once I held back my feelings, now my issues are communicated as clearly as my desires; my discontent shown as freely as my pleasure. He has seen me in a state of higher bliss than anyone else. I am equally unafraid to show my anger. I am not scared that disagreement will scare him away. I am not trying to protect ‘the relationship’ by hiding my feelings. I do not want to be in a relationship.

But I want to be with him

And I want us to kiss and bite, scratch and grab, lick and swallow, tussle and pin, slam and shake, gasp and scream. I want our bodies to connect as deeply as I have let him into my mind. I want to play without limits to remind him of the freedom we have to explore.

He is not in control of my mind. But I want him to take control of my body again. He is a safe pair of hands: but it is not without his dangers. I have seen a glint in his eye when he starts to push my limits and suspect he will easily manipulate my desire until I am squirming and desperate, tearful with lust.

I came hard earlier, wand to my cunt as I imagined him pulling my hair back and extending my throat, all the better to slide down. His earlier words, “I will fuck your throat,” whirled round my head – intoxicated because it is something I’ve asked him to do and in speaking the words out loud, he shows he is willing to take a step towards something new, despite the darkness.

Sometimes, it’s fun to let someone else take control.

Read Part One of Spring Awakening
Read Part Two of Spring Awakening
Read Part Three of Spring Awakening
Read Part Four of Spring Awakening
Read Part Five of Spring Awakening
Read Part Six of Spring Awakening
Read Part Seven of Spring Awakening
Read Part Eight of Spring Awakening
Read Part Nine of Spring Awakening
Read Part Ten of Spring Awakening
Read Part Eleven of Spring Awakening

Read Part Thirteen Spring Awakening
Read Part Fourteen Spring Awakening

Posted in Cliterati Magazine