Fucking at the Side of the 401

What would you do if your partner sitting in the passenger seat was to reveal this?

This happened to me on a drive from Belleville Ontario to Waterloo, Ontario. My partner happened to pull my hand to her and I felt the clasp of her garter belt and the smooth nylon of her stockings. I looked at her and she looked at me and she teased be more by opening up her legs and hiking her skirt higher revealing that she was not wearing panties. Her hand reached to my tented pants and she began to massage me slowly while whispering that she could not wait to get home to have me.

I pulled over as far as possible under an overpass and we stripped off enough of my clothes so we could fuck. We fucked in the front seat of our Chevrolet Impala (nice big seats!) and after I came she stated we better move on because it was dangerous to be parked where we where parked.

She was right, of course.

It was still well worth it.

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Meandering About Inside My Mind

I have been reading some blogs on my blog list lately and been fascinated with the frankness of them. In some ways, though I have blogged about my experiences here, sharing my experiences and insights is a little intimidating because though I am only 47 I did grow up in a family where discussions about sex and sexuality did not occur. My acculturation to being more open and honest about my sexuality and my needs grew out of being married to S and then subsequent events after my 2nd marriage.

One of these singular moments I want to share. For me and I hope for others they have the chance, if not the honour, to interact with someone like I did in the following situation.

My second marriage imploded on me and I was in want, no need, of physical sexual companionship. I was faithful to my 2nd partner but our sex life had dried up to the point that some of my memories of what happened during the latter phases of my marriage still rend wounds open in my psyche. Oh, I am definitely functional as a human bean but writing this brings back one memory that crystallizes the pain and loneliness I experienced during the last 4 years of that marriage.

The last time I made love to my wife was on my birthday in 1998. We had organized a night alone without the kids and had reserved a nice table at a higher end restaurant to enjoy a "romantic" meal together. The conversation and motions of that segment of the evening were normal enough but when it came time to slip into bed and make love things got strange. My partner was definitely detached mentally from me and as I began to make love to her she began to cry. I had no idea why this was happening until much later but she was experiencing guilt because she did not love me anymore. It was very upsetting and she was never honest with me as to the reasons this happened. After that we never had sexual relations again.

Snap forward to 2001 and my marriage had ended. I had continued to be faithful to my marriage though some limited situations did arise that would have tempted Job. When we parted my need to be faithful disappeared especially given the circumstances of her betrayal towards me. I did the internet thingy and on Lavalive where I have been a member for almost too long now (lol) I began searching for a dominant woman. My conception of my needs at that time were predicated on an interest in BDSM and D/s and my self confidence sexually was at a place where I thought I would be a good submissive. It was almost as if I needed to be punished for the failure of my marriage.

As luck would have it I began a short 3 month long distance relationship with a Domme in Montreal. We emailed and chatted for sometime before we talked on the phone. She was courteous, respectful, and empathic towards me. In male terms - a gentlemen. Over time she tasked me with online research and would send me information to read and respond to her and eventually I grew to enjoy her attention and the intellectual challenges she offered. These challenges did not only reside in the world of D/s but spanned other subjects and her intellect and approach towards me only solidified my interest in her.

Eventually we talked of meeting and as we began the process of organizing this I received an email from her. It was long. On the printed page it spanned 4 pages and was a thorough analysis of what she had divined from our chats, emails, and conversations and her conclusion stunned me.

She proposed I was DOMINANT instead of submissive.

Her conclusion took be aback. I did not know at first how to respond and she had specified not replying or contacting her for 48 hours to give me time to think about her words. I reread her analysis over and over again and slept on it and realized she was right. My nascent interest in being submissive was actually a vehicle on discovering whether I was submissive or dominant. Her points rang so true it was as if she had known me for years.

We talked at length after her proscribed quiet period and our conversations verified in my mind her conclusion. She and I maintained an online relationship for several months after that where in she acted as a mentor for me and she helped me shape my conception of this new found expression of my sexuality. I am forever in her debt for that.

Life is full of challenges and missteps and there are times we are blessed with people that enter our lives momentarily and give us more than we may realize at first. She was one of those people.

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Ginny

Ginny

To give my feelings for you
Words
Words like Passion, Trust, Love
Truly does my feelings injustice


The words have not been discovered


And never will be


A voyage of discovery
Two entities,
Two pasts,
Two presents,
Two futures


Like Magellan or Curie
The unknown
Fear and Joy of Discovery
Stronger for the passage of experiences
Saddened by loss or the chance of loss


A point of definition
Yet to be uncovered

Where will this lead
How will it end
Will it end
Will this be worth it?


Shielding the light from sight
Is there that much difference
I don't want to hurt you
I love you


Doing what is necessary
My life with or without
Shadows of deeper emotions
Creeping towards me
Ill defined


Must I wait
Will I wait


One path trodden upon by many
Another
With few deep tangible footprints


Which one will I take?

I found this poem a day ago while getting my house ready to sell. Going through my rather cluttered office I have several file boxes with some old (read grade school) school assignments and other mementos from the pasts. I happened on this poem for Ginny.

She was a lover of mine some time ago and was 13 years my senior. Our romance was short lived but deeply passionate. We spent a lot of time together over 2 years. Boating, skiing, sailing, day tripping, antiquing, socializing, loving and living. I was in love with her but she she was not with me. I never declared my love for her - the only time in my life I was in love with someone and did not declare it.

This was the one unspoken word between us. I felt though we never talked about it that I was a type of therapy for her. I was that man that validated her emotions, sexuality, and femininity after a bad relationship she had before we got together. I was attentive, gallant, romantic, interested and aroused by her. I was consistent in my passion for her. Not just her body but her soul and she needed that.

What she did not need was me permanently.

She only spoke of it once. The last night we spent together. It was the only time we slept together but apart. She said the words just as I was drifting off, "You're going to want children someday, Eric." She was 41 and did not want children. I was 28 and had not thought about it. In our context I knew that children would never be but at my age the possibility of anything was the only thing in my mind. When I turned 41 I thought about her words and I understood.

I have children now. Ginny was right. Not completely right. I would have forsaken children for her. Funny to love someone so much and be willing to give up something as sacred as children but never say "I love you."

I wrote this poem shortly after we separated and never did give it to her. But I kept the poem in my files for 17 years. I cannot remember the last time I looked at it and read it though I know I have acknowledged the existence of the poem in my mind I have not read it until tonight as I was transcribing it for this entry. What a strange feeling.

In many ways it was a relationship of convenience and though she kept me emotionally far enough away not to allow me the obligation of telling her I loved her while at the same time never declaring that to me either, I think we both knew this in our sub-conscious.

I hold my memory of her dear to me and the one picture of us together I will keep forever.

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Sex on a Boat

I highly recommend it!

I was at a party a couple of days ago and being that I am probably the 2nd oldest staff member at work and definitely am the oldest in my department I tend to have a lot of stories. I am thankful I have a lot of stories. I have done some pretty cool shit in my day. And some uncool shit too that I am not particularly proud of. So I do tend to have a story related to the general shift of the conversation from time-to-time and one of my co-workers commented after one of my Mayday stories (incidents involving emergencies on the water) that I had done everything. Well, not everything but a lot compared to some. And not a lot compared to others.

Sex on a boat...where was I?

Oh, recommended. The elements of water, sun, sand and the fact that being on a boat in the summer lends you and your partner to dress minimalistic-ally are all elements that can lead to sex on a boat. Of course, you need a boat or some form of flotation device that will stand the stress and rigours of furious fucking. I would not recommend a canoe for that but gentle love-making would be the ticket there unless you are on dry ground.

I will have to admit to some aspect of romantic deviousness here. Taking a date to my boat was in some ways a test. First, if they did not like boating we were probably not going to be very compatible since I used to spend almost every weekend up north at it. Second, the boat was a perfect place to be alone. There is little to disturb you (until recently there was no cellular coverage in the area I boated and now it is still spotty). One could converse. Not talk but converse about things that mattered and somehow being on the water seems to relax people and let their personalities shine through. Three, and this is the "devious" part, if there was anytime in my romantic life I wanted to attempt a seduction it was on my boat. I certainly did not force myself on my romantic partner (unless they wanted me to) but given that boating would take an entire day the prerequisites for a seduction were apt to come to the fore while out on the water.

Sprinkle in some good food and wine and you have the makings of a seduction.

Problem is seducing a person on a boat can be downright dangerous!

Not that I ever was distracted while piloting my boat by being given oral sex as I take safety as a primary responsibility as the Master of the boat and the host but once anchored in some distant remote cove the gloves came off, as it were.

One trip with K we puttered around the area of Georgian Bay I know pretty well but one of the things that was frustrating is that we did not have the time to go farther north to get away from the other weekend boaters in the area. We were looking for a bay with a modicum of privacy and it was becoming difficult to do but eventually we found a bay that had no boats in it. I was to find out why.

See, when you anchor a boat you need to have a bottom conducive for the anchor to bite into and hold the anchor against the stress induced by the wind and the waves. We did anchor and as a precaution a good captain takes a sighting of two landmarks and mentally marks his position in relation to those landmarks. If the landmarks move you are moving and you need to reset the anchor or find another anchorage.

Be that as it may the expectation of some ramrod rough sex with K (and it was her expectation to) led to some poor judgment on my part. We anchored. I took my sighting and then slipped into the cabin for some well deserved mutual pleasure. Well, without getting into the gory details when I eventually came up for air (literally - K loved oral sex) I decided to slip on my swimsuit and check my sighting.

Oh blast. We had moved over 150 yards from our original position and there were rocks abaft our beam about 10 yards a way.

Not good. Poor K is wondering why I am scampering forward to start the engine and raise the anchor pronto and I hear her plaintive cry, "Come back here Eric. PLEASE?" as I move about wondering if anyone can see my nautical and physical predicament. Avast me hearties all turned out well. Boat saved. Sex resumed and everyone happy and satiated.

Turns out that there were several elements against our wonderful plan. The wind was high. The waves were too. And our rythmic motions in the cabin was helping to unseat the anchor on a bottom that was not conducive to anchoring a boat. So that is why no one was in the cove. The anchorage sucked.

But any good sailor must be able to adjust and adapt to their environment.

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The colour and style of these stockings are exactly like the first pair I bought for S. Such sweet memories.

Incanto Lingerie

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Helicopters

I was an aircraft maintenance engineer for 10 years working on fixed wing aircraft and I had a bias against helicopters based on ignorance. To me they were a thousand cases of metal fatigue surrounding an oil leack.

A helicopter flight school opened at our airport and the instructor asked me if I wanted to go for a ride in his Bell 47 like the ones in MASH. Being a wee bit curious I said yes and it was an amazing experience. The take-off and transition to flight is almost instantaneous. Instead of a long take-off roll of a fixed wing aircraft the helicopter rose about 10 feet of the ground and then he transitioned to forward flight while climbing. Sitting in the big bubble canopy of the Bell 47 made for an interesting sensation to be sure. I was hooked!

Later on, when I went to college for aircraft maintenance I made friends with a fellow student who had his commercial helicopter pilots license. As he used to say: "Fixed wing aircraft are for people that are afraid to fly."

I don't totally agree with him but helicopters are cool.

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What We Trade

It was funny

Hearing from you

That fateful day for many

A year before we stood

Where so many were to perish

And you call me

In tears

Because we were there

It could have been us

One year later on

Stunned was I

Wishing that your conviction for my safety

Was consistent

Not lost, ravaged, rip'd

Battered, bleeding

Apparently gone

Until the Towers fell

This poem is about a phone call I got from my former wife during September 11, 2001 at approixmately 10:00 AM. A year before on September 13, 2000 she and I were on top of one of the Towers at approximately 10:00 and had arrived one hour previous to that time to get tickets to go up the one of the Towers.

In addition I was scheduled to go to a finance course in New York City which spanned the day of the attacks and conceivably could have been at the restaurant at the Top of the World for breakfast on September 11, 2001.

She knew I could have been in NYC that week. I had canceled that course to take a similar course in Las Vegas one month hence.

There was something touching in her calling me. The cell phone lines were jammed where I lived in Canada. The Internet was down and yet she took time from her day to call me over a land-line and wonder if I was OK and to recognize that fate could have dealt us a blow if the attack occurred one year earlier.

But what was strange about it and other worldly about her call is she never in the 3 years prior to our split up in December 2001 told me she loved me. No once.

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Memories

A friend of mine of Facebook posed the following quesion:

FACEBOOK EXPERIMENT- if you are reading this, whether we do or don't speak often, please post a comment of the first memory you have of you and me that pops in your head

I answered her and the memory is not all that important here but the question corkscrewed through my mind and I had the strongest memory of meeting Marlene for the first time. I cannot remember every detail and I hate when people use the cliche that they actually do remember EVERY detail but I will share with you that the memory of that first meeting is like a carbon paper copy of a document typed on a typewriter. The impressions and boldness of the letters do not match that of the original but some things are damn close.

The first thing that came to my memory was Marlene's hair. It is was the finest hair I had ever seen. I would have to say that if one thought of corn silk then that would begin to describe how fine it was. It is something that made an impression on me and I can still feel and smell her hair after the first time we embraced and her hair touched my face like a soft feather pillow.

The next thing I remember was the wine we drank at dinner. We had a Western New York Chardonnay and the hotel we ate at had a dismal cellar. Really no cellar at all and if they had offered corkage I would have brought a more robust and interesting wine from Marynessin or a Pilliteri white to share with you. The wine we did have was flat. Almost shale in taste. Luckily our conversation was not affected by the wine or the meal.

I remember more things than this but the last I will share is I remember how little you felt in my arms. I was only 4 inches taller but you were so slight and light I felt like I was going to crush you. Diminutive. Our hug felt wonderful and sadly sublime since it signaled our leaving from each other.

Such a small person - such a big heart.

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