Homecoming

I just had sex again.

Like, real vaginal intercourse. 

Shut up, I know that's a heterosexist view, but when you're in a het relationship and can't have penis + vagina sex, well, it suddenly seems like the Only Kind That Counts. You know, that Thing-You-Can't-Have thing.

Now, PC-stuff aside....

I HAD SEX AGAIN!

You cannot possibly know how happy that makes me, how relieved. I've had vaginismus for years. Short version: that means sex hurts. Bad. My cunt doesn't dilate, and open up in prep for penetration. 

I've been working on it slowly, for months. Fingers, a slim dildo. Lots of prep, lots of lube, lots of fantasizing and alwaysalwaysalways stopping if it started to hurt. 

It's been a lot of fucking work, quite frankly, and there's been more than once when I wondered if I'd ever manage to have sex again, if it was even worth it. 

There have been so many times when I couldn't manage even a finger (and I have small hands) when I just bit back tears and knew I'd never have sex with my partner again. 

I've been terrified in the back of my head for over a year now that we would never fix this, and that one day he'd just get tired of it, tired of me and my myriad health and head issues, and just find someone else less fucked up, less hurting, less broken. 

But today, I've been fantasizing since sucking him off last night of him returning the favor, fantasized about the way his lips feel against mine... and I don't mean the ones on my face. I've been fantasizing about the scrape of his stubble against my inner thighs, and his fingers parting my cunt. 

But I've been bleeding for a week, and rather profusely at that.

Until today.

So today, I dragged him down to me, met his lips with mine and kissed him for a long time. I love the way that when I kiss him, the world disappears. Love the scent of him rubbed into my skin. I don't believe in anything like soul mates anymore, I don't think. But I do believe that he is my complement, the one I want to spend my life with. 

Yes, I love other people. I've never known how not to, never known how to only love one person. But he is the one I want to grow old next to, the one I want to spoil grandkids with.

So I kissed him, and all of this passed through my mind in that eyeblink that you get sometimes when the entire world comes together perfectly. 

I kissed him, and I don't even remember how we ended up with his fingers in my cunt, his face between my legs. I remember moments, beautiful moments, but I couldn't give you a timeline, a narrative. Just that we were kissing, and then his mouth was on my through my panties and then my panties were gone and his lips were on my cunt and his tongue was on my clit and I was moaning and writhing and GODS it felt so good. 

He loves going down on me, he really does. I never used to be that into it, but Jack has made me a convert. I'll never like it as much as I like reciprocating, but, well... that would be hard.

(No pun intended)

I don't remember how we got there, but his fingers were in me, one and then I was asking for two shortly before I came, and I was riding his fingers, my hips bucking against his face, against his mouth, and I could see him framed between my thighs, watching my face and I was moaning and I could feel the orgasm building, building and just out of reach. I remember riding his fingers, bucking and pressing,  shoving his fingers against that spot inside of me and then suddenly it was almost there and I was grinding my clit against his face and then cumming, god I was cumming and shaking and arching and in my head I was screaming but I think I was only making those whimpering noises I made when I cum. 

Jack is telling me that I gasp when I cum, that I go rigid and shake, that my mouth falls open and my eyes go wide. He says I shake, forward and back against him. 

I don't know. All I know is the memory of the orgasm running through me until I didn't know if I could take anymore, and then his tongue would flick gently one more time across my clit, making me jump and gasp again. 

I remember going limp, my hands falling to my thighs from his hair as he went to clean up a little, and it occurred to me that maybe.... maybe... that I wanted to try. 

And we did. 

It hurt. I won't pretend otherwise. I don't know if I'll ever have sex without it hurting again, but Goddess of Night and Lovers it was so wonderfully worth it. 

The feeling of him filling me, slowly rocking into me and pressing until he was all the way inside of me, the homecoming of it. 

I've missed his cock inside me, missed him filling me up inside, missed the closeness and the intimacy of it. 

As he rocked in and out of me, I kept waiting for it to hurt more, waited for the pain to become too much, like it so often has before. 

Only it didn't.

And then my legs were around his waist and his cock found that spot in me and I was moaning and whimpering, "Harder..." and he complied and I felt it building again, that spot that feels so goddamned good and then he was cumming and it felt like the best thing to ever happen to me. 

I don't remember coming down, just my arms wrapped around him and then I was shaking- laughing and crying and whispering, "I missed you so much," and, "I didn't know if I'd ever be able to do that again."

I'm still grinning like an idiot. 

And yes, I'm sore. 

But I don't give a rat's ass. 

I'm just thrilled to be back among the sexually active!