He contacted her initially on the adult dating site about two months ago. She liked his picture and his profile wasn’t offensive or banal like so many are, and better still his message was articulate. But at that time she was getting fed up with the approaches of men who lacked any sensitivity to her as a woman or even as a human being so she wrote him a reply that was probably a bit aggressive and demanded to know what he was looking for. His reply was thoughtful and demonstrated that he was actually interested in getting to know her over a period of time before and after any sexual contact.

They began chatting, and got on really well, so they began texting and helped each other through the working day with humour and sexual exchanges. She had fun – lust, desire and laughter are a good combination for her.

He is sixteen years younger but unlike a lot of other young men who’ve contacted her is intelligent, knowledgeable over a broad range of subjects, witty, cute, thoughtful, self-aware, tolerant and appeared to be reliable. He loves movies and they seemed to share similar tastes, some quite surprising like, Amadeus, Don Juan de Marco, Immortal Beloved and others. The man had a sensitive soul and looked beyond the obvious and the trends of popular culture.

They talked on the phone, sharing orgasms over the air waves – not something I’d do but I guess distance makes life difficult for lovers. She loved his voice, and the soft way he encouraged her, and described how he would make love to her – she couldn’t wait to know him in the flesh.

Then last week, on the spur of the moment, he drove more than twenty hours for a holiday and made plans to meet. He texted her as he drove, sending sexy messages, but the most arousing were those letting her know where he was because he was getting closer and she became more aroused the closer he got. He arrived at his destination two hours away from her at 11 pm Saturday and sent the message “I’m home!” and she was ecstatic.

The next day she didn’t hear from him. She gave him space to recover from the drive but because he’d said something vague about Saturday night she became anxious that like so many others, he’d let her down.

It’s like that in the adult dating world. There are a lot of people who make passionate connections online who don’t follow through on the real stuff and either back out at the last minute or sever contact without warning. She’d had a lot of those, and each one hurt and diminished her trust just a little more. She didn’t think he was like that, hoped against hope it wasn’t going to happen again and was lost in the bind of whether to wait or make contact.

She chose the latter, knowing it was breaking the “rules” of dating. His reply text seemed very relaxed, laid back and non-committal so she started to panic and sent a text saying “If you’re not keen, just say so.” He said he was but didn’t know his plans. Fear was driving her and she became hurt and angry, unable to call, reliant on a medium that had no vocal tone or immediacy of reply.   She was sure she’d blown it but in the end, he sent a rational and kind reply and everything was okay.

They set a date for Tuesday and she left him space to be with his friends and family without interference. On Monday night they were in contact again and he sent a message saying he was nervous, so she called to set his mind at rest. It wasn’t long now, in less than twelve hours they would be in each other’s arms.

The next morning she dressed in her fancy new underwear and satin robe, and wrote to a friend about the frisson of anticipation, the unknown, the joy of finally holding someone you’ve been so intimate with but never touched.

He arrived right on time and she opened the door to him. He was a little shorter than she expected, longer hair, growing a beard, but he said “hello” just like he did on the phone and they kissed, tasting, lips sensing, then engulfing. They hugged with the hunger of separated lovers, pressing their bodies together and any lingering doubts were gone.

She asked him to follow her upstairs to her room but he wanted to take her there on the stairs. Hurried undressing, lustful caresses, then union. They made love all day with the joyful enthusiasm she remembered from her youth. His desire to give her pleasure was unrelenting and she surrendered to him, coming over and over again, in so many different ways, and when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he took her again.

They made love in the shower, the kitchen and the bed, caressing each other, looking into each others eyes in close embraces, then in those timeless moments of rest in each other’s arms, which were few and far between.

As the time approached for him to leave she waited for the quick little kisses that most men use to break the contact, the withdrawal into the box that lets her know she’ll be left alone soon. But he loved her until the end and although she had to let him go, she felt more satisfied than she had at any time in her life.

For the rest of the day and the night she was dehydrated, wobbly on her legs and euphoric. They exchanged text messages that night affirming the pleasure of the day.

The danger for the music teacher after a tryst is the next phase. After sharing intimacy men seem to shift gears very quickly as they return to the compartment of their other world where she doesn’t exist, expecting her to do the same. But she takes a lot longer to come down because she still craves the gentle caress of contact with her lover. They say that oxytocin, the bonding chemical released during childbirth is present during orgasm creating a bond with one’s lover (http://www.liveleantoday.com/article.cfm?id=976). It feels to her like she’s coming down from a drug overdose after really good sex and she feels the pain of withdrawal as the chemical leaves her system when her lover has gone.

She didn’t know how long it would be before he was going home. He was going back to his friends two hours away and she didn’t want to be troublesome or appear needy. She’d just have to wait for him to contact her.

The fear was that she wouldn’t hear from him again. A lot of men do that. They create heart connections in the build up to meeting, create intimacy in the sex, then disappear, leaving a void that’s hard to fill. It’s easy to accept the rejection if it’s upfront but when they disappear without notice she feels humiliated and invalidated, as if she had only imagined the ardent connection that existed before meeting. The worst time is the first few days spent not knowing. It feels like cruel and unusual punishment for giving so much of yourself.

He wasn’t like that. Yesterday, after a few days without him, she was lying in her bed and received a message “I’m on my way home”. She was filled with joy, which is ironic given the fact that he was now so far away, but she could talk to him again, see him online and be part of his life. They texted through the day and he arrived home late last night. They talked on the phone and hearing his voice again made her feel like sunshine.

She loves him.  Not in a possessive “I want to have your babies” kind of way. It’s a love given lightly and freely without the burden of obligation – he can be who he wants to be and do what he wants to do without any demands from her. She just loves who he is and how he makes her feel. Her life is enriched with him in it.

It took her back to 1966 when she was seven years old. Back in those days easter hats were made at home and were very elaborate indeed as mothers strove to make their little girls the prettiest in the parade.

The music teacher’s mother, Gwen was not of that ilk. She’d grown up a tomboy, had married and had children, two girls, when in fact she was a lesbian, something she spent her life coming to terms with. She despised femininity and didn’t encourage its expression in her daughters because she saw it as insipid and vain.

She told the music teacher she would be different to all the other little girls because she would have a full costume, something unique and far more interesting than a mere bonnet. She would be dressed as Dollar Bill. 1966 was the year Australia changed to decimal currency and Dollar Bill was a cartoon character created to educate the general public. The next morning the music teacher was sent to school with her costume a head to knee roll of bright yellow cardboard with holes for her arms and eyes cut into a dollar sign face. She had white gloves and her knee length socks and school shoes.

The time came for the parade and her friends put on their lovely bonnets, dressed in pretty frocks and mary jane shoes. The music teacher put on her cardboard costume. They paraded around for the parents singing ‘In Your Easter Bonnet’. The little girls smiled and primped as everyone made a fuss of their pretty hats. Dollar Bill was laughed at, in a kindly way, it was such an unusual costume.

She was proud to be different in one way but disappointed she couldn’t be pretty like the other little girls. Her face couldn’t be seen so nobody could see her smile or even knew who she was. It wasn’t a huge deal but she remembers it as a time when her femininity was denied as it was throughout her childhood.

When her own daughter was seven she remembers how feminine she was, how much she loved pretty dresses, fairy wings, and the colours pink and purple. She indulged and took delight in her daughter’s femininity because she was never allowed those things, which she remembers with some pain and regret.

Her mother took young female lovers just a few years older than the music teacher when she was in her teens. They were very feminine, which was another source of distress because she felt she couldn’t compete and would never be beautiful enough for her mother or anyone else. It was a time of great confusion because her mother seemed incapable of seeing her as a separate person and the boundaries between them were unclear.

For many years she dressed like her mother, a bit butch – trousers, matching button up shirts, in shades of beige with occasional excursions into bright colours for contrast, and short hair. She would wear track suits to go shopping and never bought nice shoes, believing her feet were too wide and ugly. She also believed like her mother that her large, pear-shaped body was a barrier between her and sexual and sensual experience.

Now, in this new phase in her life, the expression of her femininity is important. She wears skirts, fashionable shoes, buys lingerie, dresses up to go shopping. She has pedicures and spends time and money on herself. It has been a slow process to become a whole and sensual woman. She has had a few teachers with her along the way. A number of strong, ballsy, gutsy but gorgeously feminine women she can relate to have shown her that she doesn’t have to deny her strength to be a sexy and desirable woman. She is indebted to them and to me, that part of herself who is her friend and guide.

“

(Via .)

Today she was to have a second meeting with a man she first met face to face two weeks ago, a salesman who within thirty minutes had convinced her to take him home to her bed even though she wasn’t attracted to him. Either he was a fantastic salesman or she didn’t know what she really wanted and both are probably true to some extent.

He is a down to earth WYSIWYG kind of guy wants a regular mistress to satisfy his sexual appetite two to three times a week. He set the deal out on the table like a deck of cards with the confidence and certainty of a seasoned dealer. He lives on the other side of the city and she knew while talking to him that she wasn’t prepared to make the kind of commitment he wants. She’d thought she wanted a steady lover to grow with and he told her he could give her what she needed but the thought of two to three times a week with the one man made her feel uneasy. She didn’t want to give up all her Mondays

Why? Because it was too predictable. She’d know where she was going and who she was going with and she doesn’t want to go there. She doesn’t want to be a comfort woman for a lonely man.

It had started that way in her correspondence with the married man she met last week. He was lonely, and wanted a friendly woman to fuck, no strings attached. That held no attraction for her and she identified his type rapidly because she’d been contacted by so many like him before. But then in one conversation everything changed when he revealed his true nature as a sensual man, and the connection became electric.

To experience a true sensual connection you have to live in the moment and experience every touch and sensation with a mind empty of all other thoughts. Within such a connection there is a universe of possibilities, unpredictable and unknown. The music teacher now knows that’s what she seeks – the unknown and unpredictable, which is why she takes the risks she does with men she doesn’t know, in the hope they’ll take her to new places and reveal new things about the nature of sex, love, life and herself.

She has been with a few men who’ve lived the life of Adonis in their youth – athletic, physically beautiful, desirable. They make love with sureness and skill, sometimes taking her breath away and she has hoped to learn so much from them. But they have been proven to be the least trustworthy and honest of her lovers because they haven’t learned to value what she has to offer. She wonders if it’s because they are unable to accept the aging of their bodies, the weight gain, the sagging of their skin and the lining of their faces. Like herself some time ago, they haven’t learned to accept the face in the mirror as their own and believe they deserve more beautiful lovers making it easy to discard her and women like her. They don’t value her because she accepts what they fear most – aging and imperfection. All is vanity making happiness elusive.

She is starting to see that the men she has been happiest with are those who’ve had to work hardest for self-awareness and acceptance. They’ve all overcome adversity in some form or other that has made them multi-dimensional and interesting to be with – they are not the men of fantasy, physically beautiful or conventionally desirable. There is a mutual acceptance of each other’s reality, which is what makes happiness possible.

She’s learned a lot today. Progress has been made.
“

(Via .)

She met him last August at the start of her journey. She’d just joined the adult dating site with the tag ‘Living a life worth writing about’ and he’d sent an email congratulating her on having a worthy goal and offered his assistance. Theirs was a courtship of the mind, a heady aphrodisiac and a welcome change from the parade of erections and facile invitations she found in her inbox on a regular basis.

She’d been on a few dates, mostly with businessmen looking for a Brisbane fuck on their regular visits but none had captured her heart or her imagination, so although the Geologist didn’t match her physical ideal, everything else was falling into place. He wanted a mistress, a woman who enjoyed sex, to spice up his life married to a woman he loves but who doesn’t match his libido or desire.

They met in the city at a restaurant on the river for their first date. She dressed to the nines, he was casual. She smiled with recognition as she approached the meeting place and saw his chest rise with a deep breath when he saw her. She kissed him on the lips. They looked at each other and smiled. Then he took her hand and they walked talking quietly with the intimacy of familiar lovers into the restaurant.

I watched from afar at this stage from the analytical corner of her mind. She was looking for someone to take her second cherry, to be the first lover she’d had since she met her husband nearly seventeen years before. She needed confidence, sensuality and gentleness and the Geologist seemed like a good choice in my opinion. He wasn’t full of himself, not a predator, attentive and interested in her mind as well as her body. Towards the end of the night he admitted to already being a little in love with her so when he asked about the hotel room she said yes. When they kissed goodbye his hand stroked her bottom and discovered that she wasn’t wearing underwear as she’d promised. She smiled at the astonished look on his face and said ‘goodnight’ leaving him stunned in the moonlight.

Their first night together was magical. Her husband drove her to the hotel and the Geologist met her when she arrived. They walked in together holding hands and caught the elevator to the third floor. Inside the room they kissed a timeless kiss and he caressed her slowly and gently causing her to tremble and shake. He undressed her unhurriedly taking time to enjoy her before laying her down on the bed. His lovemaking was a revelation to her in its tenderness and I was content to watch for a time to see that we’d chosen our ‘second cherry man’ well. He spent hours holding her on the brink, employing his sensual, scientific mind to devise ways of playing with her, brushing her nipples, kissing her, licking her sucking her while he observed until she could bear it no longer and he permitted release.

They ate cheese cut with his pocket knife, smoked salmon (how do you say that without it sounding peculiar) and bread, and drank wine while they talked. He fed her wine from his mouth and she squirmed with delight. It was then I joined them pushing her to push him all night. We woke him every couple of hours until their still pulsating bodies were revealed by dawn’s light. She’d been transformed. She knew who she was and she was conscious of my presence.

Her husband picked her up and took her home to make love to her, re-estabishing their connection after her first night with another man. It had enriched them both.

The Geologist’s first trip away was two days later. He was gone three weeks and she wrote to him every day becoming frustrated and angry at his lack of response.

Since then she has learned the art of friendship with an absent man.

Expect less, live in the moment, accept what is.

They have a relaxed and easy friendship now with a deeper sense of trust that allows them to be more open. He has learned to accommodate her need for contact with occasional chats and emails. She respects his need for space and focus. They have learned the gentle balance that allows them to remain lovers.

He still makes her tremble. She still makes him smile.

“

(Via .)

It’s probably just as well. She was in serious danger of falling in love with this man so perhaps it is all for the best. But she will grieve in the meantime, and she has decided to have no more ‘discreet encounters’ with married men. It is too painful to open her heart and have it shut down so abruptly so often.

I can hear the moralists now saying she had no right to be involved with married men in the first place, and once upon a time she would have agreed with them but she’s learned that the issues and reality of these situations are infinitely more complex than that.

The vast majority of the men she has met on dating sites are married and seeking sexual relationships because their wives are either not interested in sex at all or are rarely interested in sex. People are often scathing or derisive of men’s sexual needs and take the attitude they should just get over it or masturbate but that’s a fairly callous and simplistic viewpoint.

Most of these men want intimate contact – touching, cuddling, stroking, and affection. They want to be desired and wanted for all of who they are, which includes their sexuality. Most of them are denied any intimate contact because their wives fear it might lead to sex.

While it is every woman’s right to refuse sex if she doesn’t feel like it, does she have the right to expect exclusivity or celibacy from her mate if that is the case? He didn’t take a vow of celibacy. Many people believe the vow of celibacy in the Catholic priesthood is wrong or at least unrealistic but yet they expect married men whose wives are not interested in sex to be celibate and effectively denied a basic and often profound need for connection.

The men the music teacher has met are genuinely in love with their wives and have no interest in breaking up their families. They just need sex and would prefer to have it with their wives if they were willing. In many ways, women like the music teacher are keeping these relationships together because they satisfy some of the needs these men have so they can function in their daily lives and with their families. But the reality is they are torn apart by the guilt from such encounters and are placed in the dilemma of living a double life. For men of integrity, as many of these men are, it is too heavy a burden to bear.

In the past mistresses and affairs were tolerated, sometimes openly, sometimes not, as a solution to mismatched libidos and the boredom or stagnation of over familiarity within a marriage. I expect many women found it a relief to know that their husband’s needs were being met elsewhere. But it seems in our culture the idea is an anathema as society propounds the notion that to be pure love needs to be exclusive and finite, which is far from the truth. Love for one person does not exclude the possibility of an equal love for another, and the capacity for love is infinite with freedom and self-awareness.

Perhaps it is time to examine some of the beliefs that surround monogamy and marriage. There are too many should’s, and expectations that are causing deep damage to those on whom they are imposed. There needs to be some rational loving thought applied to this issue.

“

(Via .)

The music teacher has arrived at the café to write – three hours late.

She’s spent the morning with a new lover.

She has been talking to this one sporadically online for a few months now. He’s rarely available, devoted to his family, in need of sex but a few weeks ago they had a chat that changed her attitude from ambivalence to desire. They talked of sex as a meditation, being fully present, the essence of sensuality. Since then, she’s wanted him with a surprising intensity. Surprising because she’d put him in the ‘desperate for a fuck but not very interesting’ pile in her list of potential lovers. But as is often the case, with time so much is revealed about the value and inner world of a person, and the heart stirs in new, sometimes unexpected ways.

Ever since this journey of sensual discovery began, the music teacher has engaged in emotional base jumping. Instead of protecting herself from emotional involvement, she’s embraced it wholeheartedly in the belief that every experience is enhanced with emotional involvement. She loves freely and easily, the discovery of polyamory helping her to understand that love is not finite and does not have to be saved up for one individual for a lifetime. So she loves, time and time again.

Her love carries no expectation of return, obligation or responsibility. She owns the emotion and takes care of the pain when her love is rejected, or when a lover moves on. But she’s finding it draining to have her heart filled and broken over and over again. She is driven by hope, that at some stage she will meet someone who will cherish her and hold her gently for a time so she can find the jewel of inner light that is a gift to those who find it and experience true connection. She wants to experience the inner beauty of another and cherish it for a time before moving on. But so many of her lovers, after one or two passionate encounters, have taken what she has to offer and disappeared, never looking back to see her weep.

And today, she did it again. He was passionate, tender, gentle, and loving. He used her name, instead of calling her ‘Baby’ or some other generic name used by indifferent lovers. He lay with her in his arms and stroked her back and hair, told her he wanted to be close and acknowledged her sensuality. She experienced him as self-aware and honest, a man of integrity. At the height of her passion, the moment where the essence of humanity is experienced in another, she looked into his blue eyes and saw the beauty of his soul. She will want to see that look again. Whether or not she will is up to him. He has the power, the desired always has power over the one who desires. Perhaps it is equal but for now she can’t know that.

I have taught her to take risks to live on the edge. She is open to pleasure and pain, joy and disappointment, the whole gamut of emotions. Every encounter is special to her because she allows herself to feel. She could become more remote and distant but then her encounters would fall short of the mark and be far less satisfying than they are.

But I wonder how much longer she can do this without hardening her heart. For as long as it serves her. Knowing when to stop is the hard part.

“

(Via .)

If I think about guardian angels I think of the age-old picture of the angel with white wings and a halo sitting on her shoulder with a beatific smile asking questions like ‘Is this the right thing to do?’

If were to sit on her shoulder it would be in my famous red corset with wild hair, a raised eyebrow and mischievous grin to ask questions more along the lines of ‘Is this who you are? or is it who you think you should be? Will you regret not doing it?’ She is living her own morality, an authentic life, and I am there to support her in that.

Guardian Angels are also supposed to keep their charges safe from harm but I don’t do that either. If she doesn’t take risks, she’ll never grow.

My role in the music teacher’s life is to challenge her to live life on the edge to feel pleasure and pain, joy and disappointment, and experience all that life has to offer, pushing her out into the world to find herself.

I am motivated by curiosity, lust and a sense of adventure, not by society’s morality and safety – hardly a Guardian Angel.

“

(Via .)

Her sex site profile tells you what most men want to know:

Age: 49
Hair colour: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Body type: BBW
Smoking: No
Drinking: Yes
Relationship status: Married
Seeks: Other relationship

The Big Beautiful Woman thing is amusing because it can encompass body sizes from a Size 16 to whatever. It basically means she’s not thin or athletic, and she doesn’t fit the ‘normal’ definition of ‘hot’ but she’s discovered that a lot of men find her hot, even the large round bottom she’s spent most of her life despising. She’s an 18 to 20, depending on the store or brand of clothing. She works out because it makes her feel strong and powerful inside and out.

She is married to a man who is her best friend and confidante. They’ve been married seventeen years and have two children. They sleep in separate rooms and were celibate for nearly ten years until I started to stir in her consciousness and awakened her sexuality and sensuality.

She teaches music in schools and does it well. Once she was ambitious, inspired by the mission to ‘make a difference’ and set the world on fire but her tendency to be too open, outspoken and piss people off backfired badly and destroyed her confidence and ideals. Perhaps when she and I are more integrated she’ll develop more political savvy but that hasn’t happened so far. She’s a talented woman keeping as low a profile as possible to avoid the missiles that have plagued her in the past. Somehow, she still manages to attract them.

The ‘work crisis’ as she calls it caused her to redefine herself as a woman with a life beyond work and ambition. It was the impetus for her to re-evaluate what was important, spend more time with her family and address the issues she’d avoided for such a long time. At the suggestion of a therapist she consulted for depression, she abandoned ideas for work projects and embarked on Project Self. She weaned herself off the anti-depressants, joined a gym, lost weight, got fit, and embarked on a journey of self-discovery. Deep within her I was lying dormant like a native seed waiting for a raging fire to break open the protective shell to release Amrita, her sensual self.

Well, as you know I’ve been released and the music teacher has been playing catch up after ten years of femininity denied.

I think that’s all you need to know for the moment. You’ll learn more as I tell her stories.
“

(Via .)

Meeting in a park for a tryst? The music teacher has come a long way in her sensual journey that began just over six months ago. But I digress…

He’d promised to bring chilled wine and glasses to their first meeting in the park so they could talk and get to know each other but it didn’t quite happen that way. It was hot and humid, and she’d walked from the station, smiling all the way because she had such hopes for this man. They seemed to be looking for the same thing, a friend with benefits, and the emails they’d exchanged during the week had her feeling excited and hopeful. She saw him stand as she approached the landmark statue and he caught her in a passionate kiss just as she said hello.

‘I hope you don’t mind but I thought that instead of bringing the wine down here, we could go to the wine. My place isn’t far.’

He took her hand and steered her towards the road. Between the kiss and the change of plans, she was feeling a little confused but I stepped in to help her out. Do you trust him enough to take the risk? She liked the way he’d taken her hand. She knew safety was never guaranteed but as had happened so often before curiosity and lust made up her mind to go with him and accept the consequences of whatever was to occur.

‘So, Amrita Jones, created in the imagination of a middle-aged music teacher, threatening to take her over.’

‘Yes,’ she laughed and and then confusion. ‘What?’ She hadn’t told him any of that.

‘I found your blog. It’s well hidden, I would never have found it if it wasn’t for your email address.’

‘Wow, I’m impressed, you’ve done your research.’ She’d forgotten about my blog but he’d found it. She was secretly pleased. And so was I. He’d been curious enough to find Amrita.

When they got to his apartment, which was just across the road from the park, he opened chilled white wine and they sat together on the leather sofa to talk for a short time before he kissed her, took her glass and caressed her breasts. I watched to see what would happen.

Would I be the observer as I was when she was mauled by that pig, Romeo? Or would I merge to experience the pleasure with her? It depended on the lover she was with. If he was a real lover and not just there for himself we’d become one, the music teacher and I, as she transforms into the sensual woman fully-expressed she so desperately wants to be. Otherwise, I watch so I can help her with the details later as she writes to process what happened and learn.

He was a lover, and she surrendered to him, so we experienced the joy together as he brought her to a gushing orgasm.

Later, sitting on the couch, he talked about the blog again.

‘Now I understand. ‘Amrita’ nectar of the gods?’

‘Full of nectar.’ They laughed and smiled with new found intimacy. ‘Again, you’ve surprised me.’

He’d more than surprised her, he was working a wedge into her heart.

‘What of your other adventures?’

She told him about Romeo. I knew she couldn’t help herself – it had been to date the most overwhelming experience she’d had, albeit the most brutal and dangerous. He watched her face as she recalled the details of that night.

‘It was obviously a very powerful experience.’ She looked at him. ‘I can see it in your face as you relive it.’

‘I learned a great deal about myself. I have written it down, everything I remember.’ I remembered it for her and helped her write the account two days after the event. ‘But I won’t allow the experience to change me or the way I’m living my life. I won’t live in fear. I’ve written about all my encounters in detail. I’ve started collecting them into a book. ‘

‘There’d be a market for that.’

‘There are things I want people to know, things I’ve discovered.’

‘Probably less of a market for that.’ I bristled a little at his statement. The insights gained from the music teacher’s awakening were precious to her but he could be right – maybe they’d be of limited interest. ‘Amrita’s blog? Just one entry. You should write more and get it out there. Nobody will find it unless you do.’

She thought about the writer’s block that had beleaguered her for months now and wondered how on earth she could do it. But I was starting to feel excited. I wanted to tell her story, just as she’d wanted to tell mine.

He made love to her again and then offered to drive her home. She didn’t want to go, but she knew it was hopeless. Men are experts at redrawing the box that redefines the boundaries of intimacy – she’d learned that. The afternoon of joy was over.

When he dropped her at the gate, he kissed her and she left happy and hopeful that she’d found the intimate continuity she’d been looking for, the friend with benefits she was allowed to call and spend time with. He was divorced and available, and for once she didn’t have to be invisible. She didn’t want to clutter his bathroom or live in his pocket, she just wanted the freedom to love him and make love with him when the mood took either of them.

But it wasn’t to be. The next day he emailed to say he was reconciling with his wife. The pain was unexpected – a week of contact and a brief encounter, but she felt it deeply. She couldn’t tell if it was him or what he represented that had touched her. In many ways it didn’t matter – moving on just took time, courage and the willingness to renew an open heart.

So here I am writing her story in my blog. A character writing the story of her creator, and there are so many stories to tell.

“

(Via .)

Then one day she began to write erotica and I stepped out into the light and began to live in her reality. First, as a character in the stories of her imagination, a sexual, sensual, ballsy woman who took what she wanted, a woman desired by men and women alike.

Lately she is wanting to be me, living into me, becoming me, to be a fully expressed sensual and sexual woman. The fear is still there sometimes, the uncertainty of becoming a character that will be judged by her world but she is determined for me to exist and grow.

This is just the beginning of being Amrita Jones.