Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

A Picture is Worth…

We sat down on our large couch to watch the show. Full of burgers and fries, the new episode of The Grand Tour was a perfect end to the afternoon. The guys each had a beer, but I would have to drive Jack and I back to the hotel, so I grabbed a soda instead. I instinctively sat between them. I kept glancing at each one in turn. They kept staring at the television so as not to possibly interrupt a moment with me and the other man.  It was a little awkward, but the laughter from show soon relaxed our nerves.

I had been worried about Sir meeting Jack for the first time. He is generally always concerned about meeting anyone who reads my blog as they are aware of our lifestyle and our depression. Not that he is ashamed, but he often feels like he doesn’t come off very well, especially lately. I never want him to feel like that, but I cannot argue that my frustrations do occasionally get aired here. The realization that I only call him Sir on here anymore was hard for both of us last week. I keep trying to decide if I am going to change and just call him ‘the husband’, ‘hubby’, or keep Sir. Anyway, they had found a lot to talk about and seemed to be getting along well. Jack isn’t as obsessed with cars as Sir and I, but relaxed into the show well.

After the first ten minutes or so Jack set his beer down on the coffee table and scooted closer to me. As I set my empty soda can on the table as well he grabbed my hand and rested it against his thigh. I wasn’t trying to hide it from Sir, but I also wasn’t sure if he saw. The show was pretty engrossing as the hosts were building cars out of natural materials and the mud car had fallen apart again.

I squeezed Jack’s hand and he rubbed my knuckles. It seemed so tame considering the last day and half. Thousands of pictures back at the hotel were proof of that. But the intimacy of it was so erotic. There we sat, clothed, and watching television. I was more than just a slut he fucked. This was us, in a relationship. Spending time together in my home. Sharing stories and pictures of our kids as I have him a tour. I had made him a part of my life and he had accepted the responsibility with vigor.

Sir finished his beer and took his glass into the kitchen. When he came back he sat down and reached for my other hand. I gave it to him willingly. Going back to the show I sat perfectly still for a moment. I think I was waiting to feel really awkward. Like holding their hands at the same time would make it all too real and I would get emotional and have to let go. I kept waiting. The feeling never came. Instead I looked down as if I was having an out of body experience.

Whenever I thought of polyamory I never thought it could work for me. It was a fantasy never to be achieved. It was something that I could only ever dream of. The idea of having a lover and a Dominant was a fantastic idea, but not attainable. I wanted someone who would keep me sexually sated. A lover who spoiled me rotten with gifts and attention. A Dominant who played hard with me. Keeping me in line while giving me the structure and attention I craved. And a husband that I could support and who would support me throughout our lives. It’s been a bit of shock that I could even come close to having everything.

Thinking about polyamory over the last few months has always been in abstract forms. I wasn’t sure if I could really handle another relationship, much less multiples. And I tend to fall hard and fast, and that’s usually not what others are looking for. But a quick fuck or scene every now and then just isn’t feasible for me. My individual self-worth (right or wrong) is directly linked to being helpful and satisfying to others. I’m not sure if that is the same for all submissives, but it’s just the way I am. Having a dominant, or a lover, drift in and out of my life wouldn’t work for long. Even though Jack is across the country, we still talk almost every day. Maintaining my emotional connection to him is what keeps the physical relationship possible, at least for me. Any other person would need/want to have the same level of commitment to me as I do to them. I don’t think it’s too much to ask, and if it is that may explain why I don’t have a line of partners.

The three of us sat together for around half an hour with our hands intertwined. It felt like hours and I would have been thrilled had it been so. It was so peaceful. Every once in awhile one of them would brush my knuckles or give me a squeeze that would send shock waves through my skin. It was amazing and I didn’t want it to end. I think when the show was over we just sat there for a moment. I probably could have sat there for much longer, just letting the sexual tension build. Eventually we put our drinks away and played a board game before Jack and I headed back to the hotel.

On the drive back Jack and I both commented how nice the moment was. He said he could feel my body relax as we sat there, all together. I wasn’t that surprised that he noticed. The moment moved me more than I ever expected. It was beautiful as a physical representation of everything I wanted from polyamory. Of everything that polyamory could be for me. And the realization that I could actually make it work.

Still wish I had a picture though.

3 Responses to “A Picture is Worth…”

  • ancilla ksst

    How wonderful! Your words paint a very good picture.

  • Molly

    This is fabulous and beautiful and actually made me a bit emotional.


  • Marie Rebelle

    A truly beautiful moment.

    Rebel xox


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