Tuesday, 11 May 2010

I am not a rapist...

...or, when is a hard on not a yes?

Virgil was his restless self in bed yesterday morning, turning, cuddling, making small animal noises. I was awake and affectionate. We had had a big discussion about polyamoury-non-monogamy-open relationships the day before. There will be many more talks I'm sure, but the air felt clearer, like after a big cry when you're tired but feel better for it. The substance of that conversation is another blog post. Enough to say that I wanted to share my love with Virgil yesterday morning, and when I reached down and found that he was hard I couldn't ignore it.

At first I just played with him through the t-shirt and shorts he'd fallen asleep in, stroking his chest, nipples, thighs, playing with his cock and balls. He was passive but quite compliant, taking his own t-shirt off and arching his hips to let me pull his shorts down. I enjoyed rubbing up against him and after a while and some more decisive wanking and sucking, during which he kept his eyes closed but wriggled, sighed a bit and most definitely stayed hard, I put a condom on him and climbed on top.

I should have known that this was not going to work. For a start, Virgil doesn't particularly like being underneath (he says it makes him feel squashed and he likes being in control). Well ok, it was an experiment. I moved up and down on him, hoping that his blank, sleeping face would come to life and it suddenly wouldn't just be me, having sex on my own. If this was a steamy novel, one of the kind I got so much masturbatory mileage out of in my teens, this would *definitely* have worked. And I've certainly let him do this to me so why shouldn't I be able to do it back?

Suddenly it seemed awful - really depressing. I felt like some kind everyman pumping up and down on top of an unresponsive woman. I thought of some of the pointless, frigid fucks of my youth with men and boys who may or may not have realised that I wasn't enjoying it. I wanted Virgil to join in and have sex with me! I jumped up and got out of bed without saying a word, and hid behind some stultifying admin until I felt calmer, but I couldn't quite forget about it.

Virgil was very charming all day, and brought home nice food for lunch and for dinner. At the back of my mind I was still cross about it and wondered if he was feeling guilty. Finally I confessed and he wasn't sorry at all! I said, "Look, if you're not into it just say no. Don't let me get that far. It was embarrassing." Then I said, "But obviously this will never happen again, but I want you to understand that it wasn't nice for me."

Virgil insisted that he had been totally asleep at first but when he had woken up a bit he hadn't cared that I was doing it and so hadn't stopped me. Then he said I should take responsibility for it, but that it wasn't worth getting upset about and we should have a hug and get past it. I glowered and lay there in inner turmoil for some seconds, wanting to be right but knowing that I wasn't going to win this. Virgil watched me and didn't say anything. Finally I put out a finger and touched him. Then he stroked my arm and then we hugged, curled up and turned on the news to find that Gordon Brown had announced his 'future' resignation and coalition talks were still going on between all parties.

2 comments:

  1. Hell, if he stayed hard and didn't push you off, maybe he was just enjoying sleepy underneath sex. Perhaps it was just his ego that wouldnt allow him to say he'd enjoyed it after verbalising the contrary previously?

    Men are such strange creatures. It does a relationship good to have little interludes like that tho. Having a chance to talk about some of the underlying issues.

    And making up is always great... even if it is in front of political news :)

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  2. That was not an easy reconciliation because I was still extremely cross at the time (I'm a curmudgeon) but it was definitely better to have done it before going to sleep. Going to sleep in a huff is not recommendable. Fortunately T is not nearly as argumentative as me.

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