Changes...

One of the hardest changes in the last few months, for me at least, has been in terms of my own sexuality. I am 50, and while I'm a well-preserved 50, there are some realities that don't seem to be entirely avoidable. One of those is that there are hormonal shifts going on in my body. I am not yet menopausal, but I can tell that things are beginning to happen that foretell that change.

We practice vaginal fisting. A year ago, we were indulging in that rather high-end sexual activity as often as three or four or even five times a week. For me, it was the ultimate sexual high. I achieved multiple, intense, mind-blowing orgasms during fisting that were unlike anything I'd ever experienced before, and the sense of connection with Master at the peak of that experience was simply amazing. Quite often, when I'd reach the point of simple exhaustion and utter "stupidity," we'd lie together with Him buried to the elbow deep inside me, and rock on a tide that only we could feel. We even managed to fist in the dungeon at Thunder in the Mountains last summer. I don't know how that was perceived by those around us, but it was wild for me...

In the last few months, however, fisting has become increasingly difficult and painful. Not simply a matter of lubrication, this seems to be an issue of elasticity and thinning in the underlying tissue. Truly, I am coming to believe that, in spite of the outward appearances, my body, is aging in very fundamental ways. This one, I really am in mourning over. We still manage it sometimes, but it is much harder and much scarier and not nearly as satisfying or as good.

I've taken to focusing on making sure that our sex is pleasing for Him. Trying to not get wrapped up in my own pleasure or whether or not I get off. That keeps us out of the danger zone for the most part. Except that the tension can build for me until it begins to wear through and He can "see" it on my face and in my muscles and wherever else it shows up for His eyes to pick up the signals that Masters get by radar. That was the case this weekend when He looked at me late on Sunday night and declared, "you NEED an orgasm!" I was wordless in the face of the almost accusation.

Then there was a torrent of questioning: "what can I do that will be good for you?" The truth is that I didn't know. I've come to a place where I've become terribly afraid that there might not be anything that is good for this body that I don't seem to know anymore. It seems to have turned on me and betrayed me in these months. I honestly have no idea how to please myself anymore, let alone how to be pleased by anyone else. Even masturbating, I seldom manage orgasm anymore. So we had a rocky evening. But He was determined, and more than a little unhappy that I'd let things go so far without letting Him in on it all...

Ultimately, we found our way to some pretty intense sexual play that wasn't quite fisting, but almost... And I found my way to some wild orgasms under His guidance -- that left me spent and sweating and sobbing with joy -- restored to a belief that life might still be ok. By the time we'd both worn ourselves out, I might have even been ready to fist...if we hadn't been so utterly exhausted physically. Maybe we can try that another day. I hope...

Anyway, good to know this old bag isn't quite dead yet.

swan