Cards on the table

In some respects, I’m ready to pull the pin on the divorce grenade. It’s certainly overdue that I stand by my own red line. We at least talk about sex, or I apply for a divorce.
My Wife can say She wants everything else in place – trust, respect, emotional safety … whatever and however She wants to define a functional relationship, but if She wants to take sex off the table until those are in place, I should be able to take trust or respect or emotional safety off the table until our sexual differences are resolved. That seems only fair to me. [Ed: AM really isn’t interested in taking anything off the table. He is just as interested in trust and respect and emotional safety, etc, but it’s about equality, objectivity and respect for both partners needs. They Both need to consider what the Other needs from a relationship.]

Now that We’ve finally started talking about sex, and Kirsty, our counsellor, has indicated she would like to talk to both of us individually and jointly about sex, the question I anticipate in my next individual session is What do I want?

Knowing, Loyal Reader, that I am a proud pervert with enough kinks and fetishes to at least pique Freud’s interest, it may surprise you to know that what I want, what I really want from a sexual relationship is remarkably vanilla. When I seriously thought about, it certainly surprised me a little.

So what do I want?

Spontaneous sex.
I want to fuck at the drop of the hat. When my partner and I unexpectedly have the house to ourselves for just half an hour, I want to steal than half hour and fuck with abandon.

Unpredictable sex.
I want to have sex where the next touch or kiss or thrust is improvised. Sex where we just go with the flow, and enjoy the adventure.

The lights on.
I want to see my partners face. To see the pleasure and lust in her eyes. To watch her body twist around mine and indulge visually in her curves and folds and colours and angles. Most of all I want to see her smile.

Inappropriate touching.
Of course, when I say inappropriate, that really buys into the lamentable, destructive notion that sexual pleasure is sinful, whereas shoving your hand down your partner’s pantsuk (or visa versa) while they’re doing the washing-up, or copping a feel as they leave for work should, at least in my mind, be taken as a positive communique that you value them physically, not just intellectually and emotionally.

Proper foreplay.
I want to touch and for that to be enjoyed. I want to be touched and for my partner to enjoy that. I want to explore her body, and have her explore mine. I want unlimited touch without boundaries or the pressure of requisite penetration and orgasm. I want to be knuckle deep in discovery, have my hands full and, above all else, I want to taste pussy again. God knows I want to taste pussy again!

Yes. More. Harder. Slower. Don’t stop.
I want to hear that I’m doing good things. I want to hear the good things my partner wants me to do. I want to be comfortable saying what I want.

Desire and desired.
I want to fuck someone who actively wants to fuck me and actively wants me to fuck them. I want sex to be about lust and passion, not obligation, convention or formulae.

Fuck toy.
Sometimes I just want to be a fuck toy. A vessel for someone else’s pleasure, or stress relief. My Wife has railed against the objectification of women; well I miss that – no one has objectified me for the best part of two decades. I. Miss. That. And sometimes I want my partner to be my willing fuck toy, and to eagerly offer themselves for my pleasure or escape.

I want to know that the future, the indeterminate future, is filled with these things, and not to be limited by expected cessation.

What I’m actually not that bothered about.
Perhaps what’s surprising is that, as much as I enjoy sex toys and lingerie and varied positions and latex fetishwear and ball stretching and all the rest, I could quite happily forego them, if enough of the above boxes were checked.

What I really don’t want
Well, bollocks to that. I’ve spent far too long dealing with what I don’t want, or more to the point not getting anything at all, This is what I do want. I don’t think it is unreasonable, nor should it be particularly challenging. What’s more, I could even see myself as compromising – keep the lights off, I’ll keep my hands to myself outside the bedroom, and even content myself with scheduled sex. Just please, please, please let me get what I want … let me get what I want sometimes.

But what I really want, what I really need, is to have some sense that my Wife wants at least some of the same. Because if She doesn’t, or worse still doesn’t even want to contemplate what She would want from Her perfect relationship, then I believe it is not healthy for Me [Ed: and therefore by association not healthy for the whole family, including AM’s Wife] for Me to stick around just on the off chance She might come round to the idea that a functional sexual relationship is necessary.

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