Silence may not be Golden

First, a few housekeeping tasks: Yes, darling, you're supposed to top it. I've warned you about setting a precedent, haven't I? And, yes, I'm expecting NEW ways to keep me horny. I'm already happy, though. And... for the public record, you haven't fulfilled your dare! :)

As I think about what to write in this blog, I’ve discovered something odd… something that relates to the Daree’s last post. Our friends may wonder how exciting things remain after 10 years, but I’ve discovered that when I set out to construct a post, I feel as though I don’t have an interesting tale to tell.

This isn’t to suggest I feel things between Dee and I aren’t plenty satisfying, or that our interactions are habitual scripts. Admittedly, sex between us is sometimes… practiced, but this is a far cry from unexciting or unsatisfying. After 11 years of marriage, and 10 years dating before that, we’re bound to have a pretty good idea how we go together. The trick is to avoid letting ‘practiced’ become ‘routine,’ and I think we do a decent job of that, especially in the past year.

Still, this blog was originally to be a chronicle of our sexual experiences, and I find that I often have little to say in that department. While the detailed descriptions of our experiences vary widely, I start out typing – and then deleting – the same few sentences: Dee and I did it again last night. Had a lot of fun. Love the woman, and really love fucking her.

This could be because I prescribe to the tenants of silence. While Dee is an open book, sharing much of our lives (sexual and otherwise) with a wide variety of her many friends, I reveal very little of myself to anyone. It’s not shyness or even exclusively a matter of privacy (thought I have learned through bitter experience that, if people have information about you that is in any way interesting, they’re going to share it, and share it often, frequently with people you’d never choose to share that information with in the first place), but (apparently) a matter of my genetic makeup. Even when I do provide information, I’m not one to give out details:

Friend: You guys have fun in Vegas?
Me: Yes, we did.
F: What’d you do?
M: Just hung out together. Had dinner. Walked around.
F: (laughing) You should have ditched the wife and gone to a strip club.
M: Uh-huh.

This policy of introversity pervades my life – I’m just the quiet type. The two of us have good conversation, and while with friends or in a group I chat comfortably as well, but I tend to spend more time listening than speaking. Much to Dee’s chagrin, this tendency extends into the bedroom (or wherever), where her requests that I talk dirty and her constant encouragement that I “embrace my inner master” and give her direction and orders are met with… a few weak comments, at best. I do try to make up for my failings by providing orgasms, however.

So the idea of opening up – even here, anonymously – is a strange thought for me. However … Dee and I did it last night. Had a lot of fun. Love the woman, and really love fucking her.

And tonight I’m going to fuck her again. But I’ll let her post that story.