A Little Bit of Sex Talk

In December of 2005, I had a total hysterectomy.  It resolved a number of difficult and potentially dangerous "female" problems, but it also created an enormous loss of sexual functioning.  I whined about it here for a very long time -- some would probably have said that the whining was nearly endless...

The state of medical knowledge is such that, while the doctors and surgeons were very capable of performing the surgery that rendered me sexually inert, they had nothing much to offer to remedy that situation.  I tried a wide variety of lotions, potions, exercises -- and even a course of psychotherapy.  It was all fruitless.  My libido remained intact, but my amputated parts and pieces were just as gone.

I lived, for a couple of years (or maybe more), with a towering anger that overshadowed just about everything.  Until, finally, even I wore myself out on that rocky shore.

I've learned, in the aftermath of all of that, to find the secret and hidden paths to my own pleasure again.  I can and do achieve sexual release these days, and it is different than it was, but good in its own right.  There is a mystical and magical glow around that, and I understand why it is that no one could show me the way.  It is a very subtle and delicate thing -- like chasing butterflies in a dense fog.  I am always surprised and delighted when I "catch" one of those glorious "butterflies."  Coming suddenly upon it, out of the shrouded mists is, indeed, a wonderment.

And there is, I am learning, a benefit to having made that journey that I never would have guessed.

Catching butterflies is a matter of intense focus, deep attentiveness, quiet calm, and unwavering persistence.  Years of hunting butterflies have shifted my love making.  I am become a seeker of joyfulness, and it turns out that, for us both, those skills are turning out to be a treasure.

Now.  Most often.  I come to the sex act with knowledge that I did not have all those years ago.  Back then, it was enough to be hot and juicy and open and willing.  No more.  Now, I know that I need to bring my whole self into being with Him.  I know that I need to allow the sensations to flow through me and through Him.  I understand that I must quiet all the chatter and silence all the worrying.  It is about the sensations and the connections.  Nothing more and nothing less:

His breathing -- and mine
Firmness against yielding
Velvet softness and power throbbing into the darkness
Veins and ridges and folds and hollows
Pulses and quivers and shivers and electric thrills up and down the spine
Eyes that meet and slide away and meet again
Warm touches stroking places only we know
Groans and sighs and startled gasps of surprise
Scents and smells and salty sweetness

I have learned to follow the signs and discern the trail that leads to my own pleasure, and going there for myself, I bring Him along with me.  It is a "trick" that I've learned, largely out of my own desperation, and without really knowing what I was about in the doing.

And so it was that He and I collapsed in giggles the other day when, in the moment of His orgasm, I made a sudden shift of muscles and position that sent Him soaring.  When He asked what had made me do "that," I had no answer except to tell Him that "the penis was giving directions."  And it was.  Directions that I have come to understand and follow in a dance that has brought us back around again.

swan