Five Days with Matthew | The Sex

If you haven’t read about Matthew yet, you can get caught up by looking at my “My Lovers” page: all the links are there.

What I usually experience when spending time in close quarters with anyone – and I mean, anyone – is some form of irritation. While I like to think I’m a relaxed and easygoing person, that’s not always the case. I have definitely mellowed over time, and also find myself more relaxed now that I’m out of my marriage and the accompanying stress. But regardless…I need my own space and own time.

So I was naturally interested to see how things would be with Matthew. We are so open with one another that we joked about it, of course. He’s a serious runner and he said that it was extremely likely he would need to go for a couple runs during our trip. He also had said to me earlier that he could never ever live with someone again – he likes having his own space a lot.

I’ll jump ahead a bit to tell you he didn’t go on a single run in 5 days.

There’s lots to tell, so first I will start with the sex.

We didn’t hold back when he arrived at the hotel…there was no lengthy conversation, no required or proper amount of talking before we were naked. I think in our heads, we’d done all that talking over the last month. He remembered much of what I’d said about how I like things. Well, to be fair, this blog could definitely be used as a sexual playbook for anyone who is actually interested and taking notes.

So, it wasn’t more than 5 minutes after entering the hotel room before I was naked. Kissing the whole time, I had my lingerie admired, clothes removed, and body reviewed. The sex on the trip is mostly a blur, but I do recall him going down on me before we had sex…and it was delicious. He is an attentive and giving lover.  However, not everything was an instant, perfect, fit. I’m mature enough to realize it often isn’t. It makes for good sex blog entries I suppose, but that’s not what I’m going for here.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t awkward – there was no inner “oh sweet jesus what the fuck is he doing?!” moment.  It simply wasn’t all physically perfect (and yes I can hear the collective eye roll).  Of course I wanted it to be, given how awesome everything else was leading up to us meeting.  For example, we have stylistic differences in how we like to have sex – he’s more tender with a slow buildup…and not that I don’t like that, but I also really like hard, rough, hair pulling, smack on the ass kind of sex.  His ass smacks were as I was wandering by and he was within arms reach (which is great), not when I was on all fours on the bed.

But with Matthew, who is quite dedicated to giving me pleasure, it just kept getting better every single day. Actually, it would be more appropriate to say it got better every single time, since it was many times each day.  Yay for us.  After the first couple times we had sex, I asked him if he could feel it when I came – and he said no.  I was disappointed – not entirely sure why, but probably because for men who like to please, I like when they have tangible evidence that what they are doing has a good effect.  There’s no faking those internal muscle contractions.  Well, not that I’m aware of.

He told me he couldn’t “read” my body.  I was disheartened – and I hope he didn’t notice.  But boy, did he get really good at it by the end of the trip!

So yes, there was plenty of sex, and it got better every time.  Laying in bed together on our final morning, we tried to count how many times.  We figured at least 20…twice when we arrived, about four times each day, and twice the morning we left.  A pretty good run if I do say so myself.

Now I did say that this post was going to be about the sex.  But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the intimacy as well.  I was instantly extremely comfortable with him.  The first night, I slept in that beautiful spot between his chest and arm.  All night.  We spooned like we had done it a thousand times.  I can rarely sleep with someone this way – for whatever reason, it worked.  Perhaps it was sheer exhaustion, but I choose a more romantic explanation.

He had a strict “no clothing” rule in bed.  One night I put on a nightie (is that what they are called?) and he said, laughing, “what the hell are you wearing?” and insisted it was removed before I got under the covers with him.  Now, I’m decently comfortable in my skin, and I know he finds me sexy, but there’s something about wandering around naked in the cold light of day, picking your underwear off the floor, and brushing your teeth, that is just less sexy.  It’s those things that I don’t let many people see.  My comfort level with those things was surprising to me.  I was naked most of the time we were in the hotel room.

I was, however, quite careful to preserve some semblance of sexiness and mystique – I wore makeup (what little amount that I wear…I’m an eyeliner and lipstick girl and that’s it), closed the door when I peed, and ensured that any other less-attractive bodily functions were kept under wraps.  I don’t want that amount of openness, thank you very much.   A total sidebar, but the Giant left the door open when he went pee at my place – and instead of thinking it was a sign of comfort, I found it highly irritating.  I’m pretty sure in my next serious relationship I don’t want to go there – don’t want the “can you pick this zit” kind of openness.  I think it ruins some of the passion…but will write more about that later.

Waking up in Matthew’s arms was amazing.  Comforting.  Wonderful.  We took selfies of us laying in bed like that – I know I will remember those moments forever, but I also wanted a visual.  I look happy and relaxed.

When we weren’t in bed, we touched each other constantly.  Held hands.  Grabbed whatever body part wandered by.  Made out in the (thankfully slow) elevator for the one floor down.  I’m sure the other guests thought we were newlyweds.  But those who asked were very confused when they asked where we were from, and we named two far away places.

There is lots more to tell.  But there is one more thing you should know, if you haven’t figured it out already.  I said that Matthew and I met online through our writing.  He’s actually a blogger.  We decided we are comfortable “outing” each other online.  I know he’s been writing and just gearing up to post his version of our story.

When he’s ready, you will know about it.

29 thoughts on “Five Days with Matthew | The Sex

  1. I couldn’t help but smile while reading this, re-living the first weekend my wife and I spent together, and experiencing a level of emotional and physical intimacy I’d known was possible but hadn’t found until then. So happy for you — and Matthew 😉

    • Oh Ned that makes me happy too! Thanks for reading and sharing. I will get to the sappy parts in a latter post. I’m hoping for you that your wife didn’t live so far away!

      • It was an hour trek every Friday that I couldn’t wait to get started on each week. Oftentimes I’d stay over Sunday night and leave at 4 a.m. for work just so we could have another night together. I think of those times, and how spoiled I’ve become knowing I get to have her in my arms every night — I’m lucky that way 😉

          • Not really. I was pretty established in Florence with a large home, and a school system equipped with accommodate the our special needs son (he has Aspergers), so it was a perfect fit.

          • It’s amazing how fate works when you follow your heart. My wife told me that when she was a little girl, she wrote down her dream, which was to have four kids and live in a house on the coast. Fate saw to it that as I was building this home, I’d be the lucky man to give her that dream. It took a while and an unhappy marriage for each of us to get here, but it was worth the wait 😉

    • Ssshhhhh. I won’t tell.

      It’s Johnny Id, actually. He’s already outed me on his blog but I don’t think we have many common readers. I’m in the middle of writing a post that outs him right back and will include some of the nice things he’s written about me 🙂

  2. Pingback: The lazy person’s guide to Matthew & our story | ann st vincent

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  4. Ah, Ms. St. Vincent…like ancient Greeks watching THE ORESTEIA, I am already aware that this saga does not end well, yet, said knowlege detracts nothing from your narrative necromancy. 😉

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