In De[f]ense Of [M]onogamy

You know what’s wild? For me, currently, it is the difficult slog of monogamy. But wait! Before you put your wieners and vibrators away, let me preface this by saying that sentence is mostly a provocation and a prompt to write something that has been on my mind after reading through some of the stories on this sub, and others similar to it, where the commonplace takes a back seat to the fantastic. Don’t get me wrong…the fantastic stories are always more exciting and better fodder to rub my wiener to in the dark of the night, under my covers where only god can see me, but the mundane is usually where the best fucking happens. The fantastic stories are the ones my friends to prefer to hear, but when I think back on my sexual life, it is the mundane moments that tend to stand out.

Mundane is probably not the best word for it, but it could be. What if great sex with someone you love and connect with is commonplace? The word mundane has a bit of a negative connotation to it, but it’s only a matter of perspective. I live by the beach. I wake up to the smell of the ocean through my window. Sometimes I catch myself becoming immune to the beauty of it, and taking for granted that I am a lucky motherfucker. I think about the mundanity of the exceptional, and wish to take that word back. I wish to make the exceptional mundane, and I wish mundanity for my cock.

Because you know what’s wild for me? Monogamy is pretty fucking wild, my friends. I say that as a person who has been really terrible at it historically. Over the past 20 years or so, monogamy has been exceptional – exceptional in the context of my own experience, which has consisted of me indulging my own whims, even at the cost of another’s feelings. And while that was really fantastic on some levels, it was really terrible on other levels, and I carry around some regret and remorse as a result. But I am no moralist, as you may discover if I keep writing more stories and you keep reading. I think everyone needs to find their own path in life, which can be guided by your own internal compass or whatever archaic or contemporary precepts or percepts you subscribe to. As long as your path does not harm or impede others’ then you’re on the right side of that ethical line. My compass has decidedly pointed toward the mundane this past year, and this exploration has rewarded.

Because really, how many times can you come on a stranger’s face in an alley and be excited by it, or find fulfillment in it? The answer is less than you think. Because finding one person you really love to fuck, constantly finding yourself wanting more, trying to reach another level, and then also have that person be a best friend is where it’s at. And I’m not only talking about the whole emotional or psychological side of monogamy as it relates to my happiness and fulfillment in life and blah, blah, blah. I’m talking about some shaolin-zen-meditation-kung-fu-discipline type shit. I’m talking about 100 year old bonsai that needs daily attention and training. I’m talking about trying to be a master of fuck. I’m talking about making something beautiful that lasts longer than the flash of instant gratification. I’m talking about something that extends over the course of years of dedication and discipline – communication and iteration. The perpetual over the ephemeral. And I don’t think you can really get there by being a fuckboy or a slut. And I don’t think you can get there by constantly looking for out something else or constantly fantasizing about what you’re missing or thinking the grass is greener, or by indulging in every option available to you. And I don’t think you can get there without discipline (read: not the whips and chains kind, although they do excite me).

My current girlfriend’s name is Nadja (actually Leona Camile Ghislaine Delacourt, but we’ll call her Nadja). She is 32 and has the body of a model: 5’10”, 110lbs; long and lean, with curves at the hourglass; beautiful, perky hershey-kiss breasts; a flat, toned stomach; legs for days; a small, plump ass; and broad shoulders. She looks like she was probably all lanky and gangly as a kid and grew into it perfectly. She is a brunette, very pretty, and is kind of a tomboy. Lesbians love her. And this is the longest I’ve been monogamous in the last 12 years or so.

But let’s get to the point. We have a really great sex life. But throughout the duldrums of existing together as a couple, there are ebbs and flows of sexual activity and satisfaction. Shit gets busy, and next thing you know it has been three days and you’ve not had sex, let alone had any release. We both have relatively equally matched sex drives, so after three days we are both all pent up and anxious, getting short with each other and fighting a lot, and generally not getting along that well. We can usually recognize this and rectify it. Sometimes, though, when the break between sex has been long enough (3 days!), we seem to get awkward with each other, and forget how to initiate intimacy, and then we turn into schoolyard kids who like each other but don’t know how to show it, so we chase each other around the playground, smacking each other’s butts and ineffectively trying to conjure sex (not the greatest metaphor, granted).

This has happened often enough that I recognized what was going on a couple of weeks ago, when Nadja came home from work ready to fist fight me. I’m sure I did something that was marginally unacceptable, but it wasn’t anything big. So around the playground we go, until my ah-ha(!) moment. She was still wearing her work clothes, and we were in our home studio at the time. I could immediately feel my cock start to swell. I’m not sure she could tell by the look in my eyes as I approached her, but I think she got the point soon enough after she had her pants peeled off, and was peering back at me over her shoulder, as she was ass up on the large square ottoman that sits in one corner of the studio.

Even after all day at work, her pussy still smells like heaven, as I’m standing behind her admiring. If I had to choose my favorite part of her body, it would have to be the way her inner thighs perfectly frame the object of my desire. As I’m standing there admiring, I begin to slowly rub all around her pussy, the inside of her thighs and her asshole, using my spit as lube, and getting her nice and prepped for my 3-day-aged, fully engorged cock. If there’s a bright side to not having sex for 3 days, this is it…because my dick cannot get any harder, and we are both primed and ready.

I have to go slowly to enter her, because she is really tight, and likes to do this thing where she kegels my dick in, only allowing my passage a quarter inch at a time. This is a ritual, and I could live in that moment forever it feels so good. After a couple of minutes of long, slow strokes, we are both sky high, and the tension is starting to get relieved. Even at this slow, meticulous pace, I really have to concentrate on not coming. Nadja’s orgasms can come in many shapes and sizes, but she always tries to stop herself from coming when I am fucking her pussy because her orgasms from the P-in-V fucking are so intense she basically becomes a rag doll for the next 10 minutes. But there’s a time and place for everything, and whether she knew it or not at the time, I became determined to put her down for the count.

She probably knew it because she immediately began to slowly rub her clit as I picked up the pace, her face down in the ottoman with moans escaping intermittently. After a minute or so of some vigorous fucking the inevitable was near. I was in a trance, trying to concentrate on the pleasure. The sound of her wet pussy getting beaten up alone almost made me come, I could feel my balls getting dreanched and juice running down the inside of my thigh, but I was a man on a mission. The past couple of days of tension were being undone by every thrust. Until finally she popped, almost literally, flinging herself from my dick, almost toppling off the ottoman, with her legs and body twitching, and her screams slowly dwindling to a dull, quiet moan.

Mission accomplished. I decided to get my camera and take video of the aftermath, with Nadja face down on the ottoman, half hanging off of it, dead-limbed with her legs akimbo in a puddle of her own ecstasy. That video goes into the collection so we can watch it later. I ask her some questions because I love to hear how cock-scrambled her brain is, but you could only see a rat’s nest of hair where her face would be, and the occasional groan or grunt would come from it, muffled by the slobbery patch of the ottoman she was biting.

At this point I have to pick her up and move her to the chair that faces the ottoman, an overstuffed comfortable chair with no arms. I place her back up against the back of the chair, my butt on the ottoman facing her, pull her legs up over my arms, my hands clasped behind her back, making her into a tiny ball. She still cannot form complete sentences and gazes at me through her stupor with a look of pure pleasure as I’m balls deep, facing each other on the chair, at rest for the moment, the calm before the storm. We start to kiss as I raise up and begin to slowly pump in and out, getting her primed and wet again. The sound again…the sound of her sopping pussy as I’m pounding her…it is easier to hear now because she has stopped breathing. I can manage a couple of minutes of vigorous fucking before I come so hard and so far up inside her it hurts a little bit. Seriously…it hurt a little. In a good way.

As we sit there basking in the afterglow, with my still hard cock slowly shrinking inside her, I thought that this is what it is about. This rant about the mundane began to crystallize in my brain. Nadja and I had been fucking off and on for about 4 years, the last one monogamously, and it is only getting better. And I cannot imagine getting to this kind of a place, sexually, with a person through just one, or a series of intermittent experiences. It takes chemistry, for sure, but it really takes discipline and dedication to raise the typical mundanity of monogamous relationships to the exceptional, and that’s what does it for me. She does it for me.

I will probably not write any more stories about Leona Camile Ghislaine Delacourt. It’s a little too personal. But I felt like this needed to be said, in defense of the mundane.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/7phock/in_defense_of_monogamy