During the past several months of my relatively inactive bloglife, J has occasionally sent me proposed posts relating her point of view. For a variety of reasons, all unrelated to the nature of our relationship, I never got around to putting them up until now. Here they are.
They are like days in. At this point we are mentally cricketed.
I do notice that he sees me as more human when it is off. I teeter on the edge of annoying. My mere scent is no longer enough to intoxicate. I am simply loved, quietly craved and always included. I am no longer a cat scratch, a goddess, an oracle. With the cricket off, I can be wrong. It is very good to pursue chastity uncricketed at times.
The various levels of intensity are all interesting and related. The common thread is that through all we see ourselves in terms of each other.
He is my mirror, my axis, my smile, my sleep.
from mid January:
Cool as a Cucumber
My husband has been cricketed for quite awhile. I assume you get the metaphor. I am cool. He is the cucumber, rubbing and kissing and humping and licking and begging and loving every moment of his torture. For the meanwhile, I need him loving me like a mad man, so I see no orgasm in sight. We did have a lovely milking a few nights ago, but no orgasm. We are good this way.
from last week:
For the past few months I needed my husband to just be quiet and with me without any orgasm. Last week I made love to him. I looked down at his face as I allowed him to come. He appeared other worldly, uninhibited, convulsive, demented, uncontrollably happy and released.
Last night taking my shower in a hotel room thousands of miles away from him, I thought that he is my husband, but truly my husband. He is completely connected and enamored and absolutely mine. There is not a millimeter of wiggle room. He is mine and it releases me to be a better person, more a part of the world, happy.
I think it does the same for him.
After my shower, I watched the news, the Egyptian people celebrating their freedom, tears streaming down my face. A man said, “Now I love my country. I am part of my country.” A woman said, “This is the first time I am comfortable among the people in my country.” I think these are all expressions of the same experience: belonging and release. The cricket is freedom.