Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Newly Shacked-Up Lesbian Testing Out the Strap-On: sex blogger, 31, Greenwood Heights, dominant/top, in a relationship, gay.
7:45 a.m.: The sun wakes me up and my girl is still asleep next to me. It’s the first week after she moved in with me, though we’ve virtually lived together for the last four months. It still feels different. We doze.
8:04 a.m.: The pleasures of freelancing involve sleeping in. My girl sleeps naked, so I slip my hand between her legs and she’s quickly wet. She opens her eyes as she comes.
10:50 a.m.: She’s off to run errands and I stay at home to work. On the docket today: finish an erotica story, write up a sex-toy review of a glass dildo.
5:38 p.m.: I’ve barely looked up all day. My girl gets home and I put the work aside, we make dinner, watch the Mad Men episode we missed last night, have some dessert, kiss on the couch for a while.
11:10 p.m.: I’m restless and wonder if sex would help me sleep better, but my bed seems too full with her in it. I have the urge to stay out in the living room to get more space.
8:15 a.m.: Alarm goes off, we get up slowly. She showers, I make an omelette and toast for us to share.
11:04 a.m.: She heads out to run errands. I love having the apartment to myself.
3:24 p.m.: She comes back and I’ve barely scratched the surface of my to-do list. Could stay at my computer for hours more, but now that she’s back, I can’t concentrate the same way.
8:25 p.m.: After she makes dinner, we unwind with whatever Netflix film we’ve got at home, but she’s wearing this tiny skirt and my hands stay on her legs the whole first half of the film until I start kissing her neck. We make out on the couch for a while and forget about the film.
8:40 p.m.: We move to the bedroom so I can get my toys out. I strap on, take her clothes off, smack her ass until it’s pink, bend her over the bed and fuck her while fingering her asshole. Her hair is long enough to get a grip on now and I hold her down as she comes, squirting all over my legs.
12:27 a.m.: I turn out the lights and TV in the living room and head back to bed. She’s falling asleep already, I slide my arm under her neck and pillow and pull her close.
8:05 a.m.: We’re still in the same position and my arm is nearly asleep. I shift positions, pull the sheet up so it covers my eyes. She gets up to go to an early yoga class, I sleep in.
11:35 a.m.: A new porn film I’ve been looking forward to comes in the mail. My review of it is due by next week. I love my job.
3:52 a.m.: I’ve been working all day, but am a little stuck creatively and I can’t concentrate. My girl’s baking something in the kitchen. I propose we watch the new porn flick; she likes that idea. We watch it in bed on my laptop. I watch enough porn for my freelance sex writing that I don’t pause the film to play, but take some notes and watch it critically.
5:05 p.m.: We chat about the film — what we liked, didn’t like. What we’d like to do. We mess around on the bed for a while, kissing. I slide my hand into her panties and try to make her wait to come. Neither of us gets naked, but she comes twice.
6:14 p.m.: Get back to work a bit more refreshed.
7:40 a.m.: I wake when the bedroom gets bright with the sun, I didn’t close the blinds again.
8:28 a.m.: She gets up and I stay in bed. Daydream about what we did last night, what I remember, trying to get hold of the narrative so I can write it up later. She likes it when I write about us.
11:20 a.m.: After a little bit of work this morning, I leave to run errands. She stays home to apply for more jobs. She’ll probably be gone when I get home.
7:35 p.m.: Run into a former fuck buddy of mine on the train from a few years back and we both pretend not to see each other. I think about how it used to be between us and it doesn’t compare to the girl I’ve got at home now. Not sure when she’ll get home tonight. Will I have the energy to play tonight?
10:50 p.m.: She comes home in a whirlwind and has much to talk to me about. Goes through her entire day. We chat for long enough that I feel exhaustion come on and head to bed.
9:20 a.m.: I wake in a panic with too much work to do. Go into the second bedroom (now known as the “office”) and start in on my mountain of e-mail before she even gets up.
12:35 p.m.: She asks if I want lunch. I mumble I’ll get some myself, thanks. Can’t break my flow. I know she’s just trying to help, but I would rather be uninterrupted.
7:35 p.m.: Brief break for some dinner, we barely connect. How do we bridge this gap?
12:19 a.m.: We head to bed and she’s upset there’s not time or energy to fuck. Don’t I want her? What can she do to get my interest? she asks. My head spins and I just want to go to sleep.
7:34 a.m.: She wakes still upset about our lack of sex in the last week and embarrassed by her desire for it. I soothe her worries, kiss her neck, touch her sweetly, and quietly beg her to open her legs and use my fingertips to get her off. She relaxes, but emotions come up and she needs more. I grip her wrist and turn her over, holding her arm behind her back. She tilts her pelvis up and I push aside her cute undies and shove my fingers in, whispering things like, “I haven’t forgotten I can have you whenever I want, I’ll have to take advantage of that more often,” and as she comes I wonder why I don’t do this every day.
8:07 a.m.: She’s late for work, gets up to shower.
4 p.m.: Working out and I can only think of sex. My night is booked. Will I still have the energy to fuck tonight?
10:19 p.m.: Almost home. Headache. On the train. Can I get it up when I get there?
10:40 p.m.: After a little chatting, we both crash. Tomorrow is date night. I’ll make sure to make time for it tomorrow, I promise myself.
8:40 a.m.: Alarm goes off, she goes to yoga; I go to my freelance job. Feels good to be productive and undisturbed.
4:07 p.m.: We meet back at home, I arrive just a little before she does with the idea that we’ll have some play time before our planned date night.
4:39 p.m.: I’m tired, try to get some quick rest in before we are going out and know that if we’re going to do it, this is the time. In bed talking, we start making out until I get up to strap on. She’s wearing that cute matching bra-and-panty set that is white with pink flowers and ruffles. I like that one. I get worn out quickly but push through it, and she comes over and over, five or six times.
5:44 p.m.: We preen, dress up a little, my pink tie matches her pink heels with the bows. I’m hungry, excited about what we have planned.
6:50 p.m.: We arrive at the Met and have a fancy drink in the rooftop garden. An Upper East Side lady compliments her shoes. I love having her on my arm.
8:49 p.m.: Late dinner on curry row in the East Village is delicious.
10:55 p.m.: We’re done eating and trek back to Brooklyn. I’m too tired to do much else — glad we fucked before the date. We curl up together and pillow-talk about the night, what we did earlier, how nice the last few days have been. I’m learning. More daytime sex, more often. I can do this.
Total: Three acts of finger-fucking; three acts of strap-on sex; one act of spanking; one act of anal exploration; many orgasms.