3 comments/ 7673 views/ 1 favorites With All My Heart By: VioletGreenStorytellingRed Trigger warning: it's a rape survivor's story. So it can be dangerous to wear your identity on your sleeve if you're a polyamorous woman. Men can think if you're not spoken for, you won't refuse them. And even if you do refuse, who's going to complain? Only you – and we all know how much that counts. But then, when you think about it, that's only one version of how rape or its relatives can go. It can happen whether you're in a relationship, single, a kid even. And all of those were how it was with me. But this isn't about that, except as part of the background, dimming with the passage of time and my determination to reclaim an authentic sexuality, a lotus out of the mud. We met at a conference a long time ago, and I was excited to hear he was moving to our town. We shared a passion for politics and I loved his taste in music and to hear him play guitar and sing. I was in a relationship with someone else, but it was supposed to be an open relationship, so I felt fine about falling for Adrian. All the same, it wasn't until Scott was away that I propositioned Adrian, delighted with his enthusiastic response – "shit yeah!" Over the years, Adrian told me that the first night we slept together, he'd wondered what the hell had been going on with me and Scott – when I was so obviously getting into being with him, but froze at the suggestion he get a condom, and the implication we'd have that kind of sex. And the way I so clearly relaxed, was so clearly grateful and enthusiastic when he didn't push the point, but suggested we could do other things. (Which we did, with gusto.) I had been wondering what was going on with me and Scott, too. Something like our last night together, he'd pushed again for me to have sex with him, again setting us both up for his refusal to believe I meant "no." I'd already had two abortions because my moral support had failed: unwittingly using my diaphragm to say yes or no, and then not having the resolve to tell him there was no diaphragm, that my problem was not my religious upbringing that meant I couldn't say yes to the pleasure of sex: I really did mean no. I was feeling at the end of it all, helpless, desperate – when I bit him, on the finger, so hard I could feel the tendon like gristle against the bone. And while he swore at me and rolled away, I just couldn't stop grinning; the glee of the small victory of resistance filling me and taking me by surprise. Yeah, I should have known something was up, and that I wasn't after just something extra with Adrian. I wanted something completely different. And then there was the fact that I'd been thinking that if it all ended with Scott, the next relationship I would have would be with a woman. But here I was with Adrian, this gentle, loving human I was getting turned on to, fantasizing about, even willing to try straight sex with, despite what you could call a bit of a phallophobia. And it was sweet, it was nice, it was intimate and wonderful. The only thing that was missing was there were not lots of orgasms. They'd happen sometimes, they'd be a welcome delight. But the way it felt right to me to position myself on his dick, to wrap myself around him and slide slowly up and down, then faster and faster, giving myself up to the pleasure of my yoni, our closeness – it never worked for him. Something was always too much, the wrong angle, too intense. So I'd feel crestfallen, high and dry, disappointed and eventually resigned. This just wasn't going to happen. But the relationship was wonderful, sex usually great – just not fantastic, abandoned, ecstatic. Some time after our daughter was born, when sex became an interest for me again, somewhere deep inside would hurt during and after sex if Adrian was too deep inside me. It was new, and it was unwelcome. So it was almost like we were starting again. And somewhere along the line, as we negotiated our way, not just through our lives, but through every sexual encounter in bed, river or kitchen, it got better. Fifteen years after being raped while in Nicaragua, seeking comfort from the full moon, so alone that last Saturday in October, I marched at Reclaim the Night – and later noticed it was the first of all those marches where I didn't once think about Juan or what had happened to me, in the lead up to the march, or even at the march. I started talking about it, confident I was over it. But still I couldn't put my fantasies of being coerced out of my mind for long. And they were always the easy way to get the orgasms I was missing. Time after time, after we'd make love, Adrian would ask was there anything he could do, but I'd say I was ok, imagine myself powerless and come. I'd alternate between accepting this was how it was and being repulsed that it was so, wishing I were stronger and able to fuck off every man or boy who had ever beset me, and all the imagery of our pro-rape culture, reject all the teaching of the fundamentalist church of my upbringing, end the nexus in me between disempowerment and pleasure. Desperately sad, I prayed to the god of my childhood, the god I no longer believed in, and made a pact – if you take this away, I'll look for you again. When the fantasies disappeared, I kept my end of the bargain, grateful for the dawning of a realisation that I could get pleasure from acknowledging what I wanted – not to be made to enjoy myself against my will – but to let go and have a good time. I could reject the misogynist taunts of the men who'd said, "Relaje! Cerrate los ojos!" and "you know you want it" and turn my back on the separatist scorn, the fear of being complicit in my own oppression if I owned up to wanting the feel of a man's penis in my mouth, in my yoni. I could get turned on by that without any thoughts of force or fear. Not that Scott had been right – I had stopped wanting him – but in my fantasy life it had never seemed to work to just get in and enjoy dick. Maybe I'd resented and felt betrayed by a body that had had an orgasm while I was being raped. "Terminaste?" he'd asked. "Si," I'd replied, wailing inside, waiting for him to sleep so I could start trying to gather my shredded self back to myself. But now I made peace with myself. Adrian's penis wasn't just something non-threatening, friendly and lovely, acceptable because it was part of him, his beautiful self, his patient, tender, loving self. I started to want his penis in my yoni – and not just his! The most explicit, most sexy dream I ever had, was a dream of a young comrade I'd fallen for – a dream in which I felt his dick right inside my yoni, as I moved up and down, all the way along it, all the way in, all the way out. Oh my god. So even though the submissive fantasies had started to come back a bit – I did mention they were never gone for long, right? – I was getting more and more turned on, making love with Adrian, feeling him come inside me, sometimes coming too. And I started to fantasise about sucking cock, not necessarily Adrian's, just cock. And then Jonathan passed through and took my breath away. A traveling musician, political, polyamorous, friendly, open-hearted and frank. I found myself longing for more of him, wondering what it would be like to be one of his many lovers, what his life was really like, yearning to touch his soul as he'd touched mine – not just over the many years where his music had been the soundtrack to much of my life, but in the brief time he spent with us, where I started to get to know him as a person, not just a voice. So in a whirlwind of spring-fed passion, I crossed the country to spend a couple of days with him. The intimacy, the connections, the sex were all fantastic. But this is not that story. It's the story of the aftermath. So it turns out the dangers in polyamory aren't just the dangers women face whether we're polyamorous or not. It turns out that if you're naïve, if it's been a while since you tried it out, if every other time you tried it out, it ended badly but you haven't worked out why, if you don't know what you're doing, if your beloved wants to want it for you and is afraid to acknowledge jealousy, and if you're prone to doing crazy things, wild things, when the spring wakes you .... you can risk someone getting hurt. And while you're working out what has caused the hurt, while you're coming to terms with the fact that your big-hearted polyamorous feelings aren't the same as the conceptions your darling had of your open relationship, while you're reassuring your dear, stressed-out love that nothing has changed, that your love and desire are as strong as ever, you can be processing what has just happened, what it is you want now, and you can lose your focus on the sweet loving person you've been spending your life with, the one you know you want to keep spending your life with, and you can find yourself asking why and not feeling the love you know is there. So you can find yourself wondering are you as polyamorous as you thought, is your heart smaller, somehow less elastic, than you were so sure it was. Wondering whether the fantastic sex you'd had was going to be the best in all your life, and whether you were going to be disappointed without the frenzied abandonment to the pleasure of the moment that you'd experienced – experienced and realised with a jolt just how much you were wanting it, missing it. At least, that's how it was with me. And you can decide to just say the words of love you know are true in you somewhere, sure you'll feel them again soon. And you can decide to wait and not say what you don't know for sure, because what does a polyamorous woman mean if she calls someone the love of her life? or says she loves with all her heart? And you can decide to make love, feeling gentle and tender and generous and loving and sometimes even turned on. So that's what I did. And sometime, somehow, it came to me. I was afraid if I let go my thoughts of Jonathan, my love and passion for him would disappear, that the constancy I value would fail. But I remembered how much I love my mother, my daughter – and how that love is there whether or not I'm thinking of them, no matter how long it is since I've seen them, or until I'll see them again. And that I really don't need to think of them while making love with Adrian. And how I can love them all with all my heart – my heart, my love, are not things that get parceled out in fragments. But it's only in being fully present, fully aware, that I feel my love, know my heart and its fulness. And in our patient, negotiated, loving way, we kept reaching out our hearts to each other, found our way back to each other, reconnected with each other. And I was just filled with love and longing for Adrian. I said his name over in my mind and looked into his loving, smiling blue eyes, and I could tell him I loved him, could feel myself wanting him as I began to kiss him deeply, firmly, lovingly, longingly. And I could look into his beautiful eyes without fear, without turning away, facing his honesty with mine and knowing it was pure and complete. And I could see him, and I knew him and I loved him and I could feel it all. And when he licked my yoni I could stay with him, and when he entered me, I felt him and loved him and I think that's when I said "let's fuck" and it was so beautiful and I felt so close to him, I sobbed as I came, overcome with the relief and the intimacy, full of joy and welcoming the sound in my mind of a dear voice singing "if you love the water let it rain" and letting my tears and the orgasm and the song wash away my pain and fears as I sobbed to Adrian "this is so nice!" [knowing he would probably be worrying there was something wrong and wanting to reassure him that it was so perfect, so right], just clinging to him, embracing him, present with him, coming with him, loving him. And later again, when we talked about how things were for us, I could feel my love and desire for him welling up past my saturation with Jonathan, past Adrian's stress and jealousy. As we started to kiss, I felt quite deliberate, conscious, you could say insistent. He always loves the gentle way I stroke his skin, and I love to turn him on like that. I love our negotiated love-making – is this ok? Can I touch you here? Looking right into his eyes, loving him, wanting him, I asked, "Can I go down on you?" wanting to be sure it was ok. I relished licking and stroking his soft sensitive nipples, his sides, burying my face in his tummy, his balls, kissing them all over, kissing his dick, getting more and more turned on and sucking him, hoping it was what he had in mind when he told me about the nicest fellatio he'd ever experienced, with another woman long ago. Looking into his eyes when I could and losing myself in the pleasure of pleasuring him and the feel of his penis in my mouth, the pleasure of my yoni on his leg. Sucking and sucking, up and down his cock with my wet hand wrapped around his dick, moving along with my mouth, wanting him to come, really wanting it with my mouth and yoni, as well as because I hoped to be giving him pleasure. And the joy and relief and pleasure of coming, there with him, with his penis in the back of my mouth and my yoni pressed so close to his leg, feeling so close to him. And then he was coming too, and it all just felt so good. And still licking and making love with him, with his dick inside my mouth. Then face to face, his penis in my yoni, seeing him, so close and loving. Not thinking of anyone else, just there, fully present, loving him, the love of my life, with all my heart. With All My Heart Poor Marsh, after a week of wind and drizzle, the temperatures took a nosedive. The project manager had been pushing extra hours trying to beat the deadline. Its good money, but between the weather, and the hours, they have been pushing you until you're dead on your feet. A massive storm blew in at the end of the day, so the safety manager told everyone to "stand down" the next day. That nice warm shower felt good huh? It almost made you feel human again. I SO appreciate your falling straight into bed, wrapped in just a towel. The hours pass. You wake up to the room, illuminated by a number of candles. Their scent is mixed the layer of --vanilla??! From the corner of the room come the soft strains of, Glenn Miller? It feels like your room, your bunk --but something's not right. What the hell? You try to set up, to figure out what's going on, when it hit you! You're flat on your back, loosely tied to the four corners of the bed. You have enough slack to be comfortable, but not enough to roll over or sit up. OK, what kind of joke is this? You are finally awake enough to notice me, standing by your right shoulder. "Hi Baby" I say in an, ala 'Marilyn Monroe', breathy way. "Have a nice nap?" "Laura?" you say, as you try to sit up again, pulling against your bonds. "What are you doing here? How'd you even GET here!" "Shhhhhhh. ..Baby... relax. Confucius say: When rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it! Just relax, and Mama make it allllll better." At last it occurs to you to take a good look at me. I'm wearing a black satin corset, underwired, but cupless; 6 garters hold tight to the sheer black hose, with a wide lacy band. Over the garters ride my diaphanous, black, panties; with a little pouch covering my...clit. And, it seems to be getting tighter in there! Your eyes travel down the silken highway of my smooth, freshly waxed, legs (in fact, I have had EVERY thing waxed for my visit to you!). The trail ends in my gleaming red, 6 inch, stiletto heels. Feel honored. I wouldn't suffer these beasts for anyone but you. But, judging from the swelling of your cock, maybe you are suffering a little bit too? Exsssss-elent! As I place a satin pillow beneath your head you get a look at the rest of the...giftwrap. I am "covering" (and hiding nothing) the ensemble with a sheer, floor-length, black robe with billowing sleeves gathered at the wrist. My hair is freshly washed, rolled and teased. My makeup looks like I spent hours on it... close. Bedroom eyes and Hollywood Red lips that reflect the candlelight. I can tell that you noticed; you're getting harder by the second! Oh! And the vanilla? Yep... my perfume. By tomorrow morning you won't be able to pass a bakery without getting an erection... or missing me. We look into each others eyes as I stroke my freshly painted red nails down your chest. "Look Laura, you know I think you're special, and I wish it could be different, but I TOLD you...".. "Yeah, I know. You have rules, and obligations, ...tonight... you have me." Oh yes, you are going to try and talk me out of this...as I stroke your body, run my fingers over your hair, down your neck... your chest... your nipples are so hard. We'll get to them later. I lay down on top of you, rubbing my body against yours. Your gorgeous cock is trapped between my stocking tops and my panties. I grip you with my thighs as I grind into you... constantly touching...touching...stroking. your chest... your thighs... your neck and shoulders. I watch your eyes. your lips are still trying to say "no"... still trying to convince me to "do what's right." This IS right! Maybe just for tonight, but right now nothing else matters. The more I rub you...squeeze you with my thighs ...and slide closer and closer to joining our lips. ...I can see you losing, or is it actually WINNING the battle. By the time our lips meet you are sucking air like a marathon runner! I tenderly look into your eyes as I gently stroke your cheek, and I tell you, from my heart, "Honey, I know that you can't return it. Not after the weather clears, but Marsh, I love you. Please love me back, just while this lasts." Our lips meet, and I go up in flames! More importantly, you return my passion! I nibble your lower lip and then take your tongue inside me. Gawd! I want more! So much more! I kiss my way up to your ears, where I nip your lobes and your neck just below your ears until I hear you moan! Your body is getting so hot! Just like a furnace. I kiss and nip my way down your body. When I reach your hard little nipples I slowly... slowwwwwly... lick each one, and then begin sucking and lightly biting each in turn. My hands have not been idle, stroking down your arms, to your chest, hips...pressing on a couple of secret pressure points that drive you crazy! I left my clutch purse on the bed, and from it I retrieve my glossy red lipstick and freshen my paint. Deftly putting everything aside I lock eyes with you again. I NEED you to see me as I slide lower... between your spread thighs...wrapping my hands around your gorgeous man-meat. My glossy red nails look so pretty wrapped around you! I never break eye contact with you as I lower my lashes and brush your cock against first one cheek then the other. I make a juicy red "O" with my luscious lips and halo behind your velvety helmet... watching you...watching me...as I flick my tongue around the head. I wink at you as I slip the head in between my lips! From that point on I lost all control of technique! The feeling of your velvety flesh has shattered my restraint. The only thing I can think of now is the taste, and the heat, and the desire to have you INSIDE me. Anywhere and EVERY where possible! I freeze, trying to gain control. And then slowly slide down your shaft, relaxing my throat as I try to take all of you! As my nose brushes the base of your mound I revel in how perfectly you fit in mý throat. I'm sucking gently as I slide up and dive back faster and sucking tighter each time! Finally I raise up and slide my body up and up. You can see my excitement! My little pouch is close to bursting! I slide up your chest and giggle as I see your eyes get wide as my pouched clitty gets ever closer. No, Baby. I wouldn't do something like that to you. Especially not with you tied. In fact, let's turn your hands free... I don't think you are going to run off. I spin around to take your rod in my lips again, and you can see the other special treat of my panties. The sheer fabric caresses each globe of my ass. ...quickly joined by your hands... but the back is open-exposing my pussy for penetration! I've kissed and licked your manhood to a glossy sheen. I want you in me sooo badly! I've never tried "reverse cowgirl" before, but many nights I have pretended it was you as my toy opened me and filled me up. My fantasies didn't even come close! My gawd! You are hard and slick and oh, so hot! I can feel you pulse in my pussy with each beat of your heart. It hurts... but I want it all. I know I'll never get another chance! But you are so sweet. Stroking my back and sides, whispering encouragement as you open me up bit by bit! You comment on how hot and tight I am, and I look back over my shoulder and give you a mischievous grin before I give you a couple of quick squeezes with my muscles. But now it's time to get serious. I feel you help me lift my hips up a bit at a time and then slide back down. the pain passes and a magic warmth comes over me. It feels like this is IT! Where I am supposed to be. ... my pussy wrapped around your cock, your cock filling me up! I'm not a girl anymore! I'm a WOMAN! Your woman. No matter if the sun rises or not, want/ accept me or not, from this moment on I'm Marsh's woman. With the joy of this knowledge I start to slide up and down. A little longer each stroke...a little faster...and I tighten my muscles on the up strokes. I hear you moan and it thrills me! Drives me! I weep, "HARDER! PLEASE BABY!" I double over and release the straps on your legs. I pull off and look pleadingly into your eyes. You know what I need. We switch places and you enter me, lifting my legs to my shoulders. Deeper! Harder! MORE! You might stop if you could read my mind (the voice purring in my mind and heart, "this is how you would fuck your Wife...IF she ever fucking you any more"... give ME what doesn't even deserve! I'd gladly spend the rest of my life earning this gift, but we both know that you won't let me)...so, for once, I keep my secrets to myself, and revel in the joys of you pounding me! My legs slide down and wrap their silken bands around you pulling you deeper! Deeper! I wrap my arms around your neck and kiss you as if my life depended on it... perhaps it did! But with a final squeeze you come deep in my pussy!! You roar as you dump your cum deep inside me, and your throbbing, and the heat as you paint my insides, cause me to come with an intensity I have never experienced before!! I can't make my legs release, even as I feel you begin to soften. You gently kiss me. My lips, my eyes, my neck. I moan, even as the tears leak from my eyes. My nails lightly scratch your back...I would never mark your precious body. I don't know if it was the nails or the moan, but I feel you harden again. It's the beginning of a long and magical night. We make love... it's never fucking with us... several times. Near morning we share a shower. Scrubbing turns to tickling. Tickling turns to one of the most magical kisses in my life. We make love in the shower, and then barely able to stand, ...either of us... we bundle each other into robes I brought and stagger back to your bed. We kiss and cuddle, and fall asleep in each others arms. ... Late morning. The sunlight finally angles through your window and strikes you in the eyes. You reach for me... but all that remains if the night before, is one sheer black stocking snagged in the covers and the scent of vanilla perfume...