The Comfort of Familiar Sex

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In what feels like another life time ago, there was a time when if I was touched — sexually or otherwise — in the middle of the night, I woke up angry. Pissed. Ready to fight.

I didn’t want to be woken up, and I certainly didn’t want to fuck him. (So many signs of a failed relationship, so much time spent denying it — to him and myself).

In the past several years, John Brownstone and I have knocked down every preconception about and what I am, sexually speaking.

The nudge-nudge of a cock against my ass no longer angers me.

A warm hand on my hip before the sun rises no longer makes me want to scream.

Instead, I’m pliant and welcoming. Early morning sex has become our ritual and our routine. I know by touch and sound where we’re at in the process.

He runs one hand over my back and bottom, as if reassuring himself that I’m truly there with him.

The clack and click of the nightstand drawer opening. A push and shove of sex toys, paddles, and whatever sexual sundries he’s got tucked away in the drawer. The snick of the lube jar opening.

That’s my cue to push my hips back. I keep my eyes closed — not difficult when I’m still half asleep. Nothing needs to be said or done. He’s got it all under control.

I love his sigh of pleasure as he sinks his cock in deep. His body stretches mine. I whimper with pleasure. He almost never hears me, and that’s fine by me.

This moment is for him. The Dominant taking his pleasure (consensually) from his warm, half-asleep submissive. He requires nothing but my willingness. No question, it’s his. Always.

Of course, that doesn’t stop my mind from worrying. Is this enough for him? Have we fallen into a boring routine? Is it wrong that I love this more than anything right now?

I’m not any more or less immune to the belief — spoken or otherwise — that kinky people should have all the kinky sex all the time. Of course it’s not true, and it’s potentially toxic, but when has that ever stopped an anxious mind from spinning?

The truth is that sometimes I just want the warm, familiar comfort of his body against mine. No expectations. Little effort. All pleasure. In a life that has become increasingly chaotic, this slow-paced joining is all I need and want. Most of the time, it’s all I can handle.

Welcome to Masturbation Monday! Saturday morning pre-dawn sex might be our routine, but I adore it. It’s exactly what I need right now. Hopefully it’s enough for him, too. Need something a bit smuttier? You know where to go.