The effect of the erect nipple

Good times aren't necessarily shared in journals. I think a journal keeper can be too busy being content to necessarily take the time to record that state. This absence of content skews the reader's perception, naturally enough. It's probably a mistake to read the diary of someone long dead and conclude that they had a miserable life. Who of us rushes in from a day at the beach to record that the sun was shining, the waves were perfect for surfing and we felt radiantly happy as we walked by the shore with the hard, wet sand providing the perfect comfort for our feet?

I feel this way. It's a bit of an effort to sit and record that I am feeling so much better than I have for some time, but in the interests of balanced representation I shall try to explain. I'd mentioned to my husband a week ago an art exhibition in the country that I'd like to see, and as this weekend took hold I mentioned it again. Did he think he could fit it in? On Saturday morning he informed me that we were going shortly and to get ready.  I love this; his deciding.

We both enjoyed the exhibition of Australian painters of the past 50 years set in a stunning contemporary building on a gorgeous property. When we'd seen it all we headed into the nearby town for a vegan lunch; that is to say we chose to go to a sort of hippie place rather than a upmarket restaurant because, well, that's us. We love those sort of environments. It would have been better if the singer recognized that he was not giving a concert but rather providing background music for a cafe, but, hey, that's just my opinion.

Anyways, the interesting thing about the experience is that I was wearing some stretchy jeans and suede boots, and I had put on a lace see through  bra under a creme cashmere jumper. There was an open leather jacket over that and a scarf around my neck. Now, when I sat down at the vegan cafe, and the air was quite cold, my nipples were evident, apparently. I smile to write that after 40 years of being together this little circumstance aroused my husband profoundly.

When we got home he wanted to make love. He came hard inside me for the first time in a rather long time. As he showered, for we had precious little time to get to a birthday dinner, I wondered, could it really have been a nipple evident through my sweater that flipped his switch?

Somewhere in the course of lovemaking he had asked if I'd like to wear my corset that night and after my shower I asked him if he would help to lace me. The truth is that although I have had my corset for a few years I've never worn it to dinner.

I loved how it felt. I immediately loved the contained feeling. Of course, it could have been tighter but there seemed no need to push the point the first time I wore it out. It was a very happy night and what I remember about it is that I was very 'in the moment' all night. I've come to understand that at this point in my life I need to be touched in various ways. The corset was like a hug. My body embraced the firm, uncompromising embrace.

I've had some experiences recently which remind me with new found clarity that everything I have ever wanted to experience via BDSM relates to experiencing more love, never less. If a SM experience or bondage situation or a D/s situation doesn't provide closer connection or deeper love or affection, I question its worth. Again, that is my perception; how I want to experience it. I can't remove myself from my truth that my husband and I both have an independent streak and that interdependency is our ideal scenario.

At some point when we were on the bed on Saturday afternoon I made comments along the lines of the above paragraph. I asked him if he'd be prepared to entertain the notion that we are, in fact, two independent people who do enjoy playing power exchange games; take on roles for the course of the play time. So, he might ask me to wear my corset out to dinner, or he may take on the dominant role and lead in sexual experiences, but it was understood that I would behave and live out my life as an independent entity at other times. Yes, he liked that idea very much. In other words, I was removing from him any expectation on my part that he behave in a way other than what came naturally to him but also asking that we engage in practices that brought me (and us) joy.

But, let's not get carried away here. I won't be calling the builder to come and do the renovations according to my timetable and budget. He calls the shots. He makes the decisions. I convince, persuade, encourage, entice. Come hell or high water, nothing will change on that account.