After I'm finished with my first post, my husband and I are going to have celebratory sex fuel by my excitement to share our love of sex, spanking and swinging with the world (wide web).
Inspired by our recent exploits with a wonderful couple, Kevin and Melissa, who also catalog their sexual experiences on blogspot, I've decided (with my husband's permission) to also start a very public diary of our sexual adventures. I have guest posts on their blog, including my first post and highlights from our recent encounters that you can check out. I'll continue guest posting on their blog, but I also wanted the freedom to express my love for spanking and sex with my husband, as well as swinging with Kevin and Melissa.
In celebration of my first post, I'm going to recount the tale of having sex with Andrew for the first time back in January...
I'm wildly in love with my fiance. We've been together for a year and a half and I've never felt more comfortable with anyone. I'm a devout Catholic and vaginal sex is a very sacred and scary thing to me, regardless of that fact that I enjoy being spanked, sucking cock and exploring boundaries with others. My Catholic guilt prevents me from engaging in sex and succumbing to my base wants, but my deviant nature allows me to justify everything but going all the way.
Meanwhile Andrew has been questioning our compatibility in the bedroom. He had dated a girl for a very long time before me, but their sex was always ho-hum, mostly due to the fact that she was only equipped to park a compact car and Andrew is more of a midsized. I had also lost my virginity to my high school sweetheart and our sex was also lackluster, not once resulting in a female orgasm. Our combined failed sexual pasts had us both a little doubtful in that realm of sex. Oral, spanking, touching, grinding, tasting, fingering, kissing and even soft swapping with other couples had left us exhilarated and content, but there was still anxiousness over the final performance.
It's the snowmageddon of 2010 and Andrew is stuck at my parent's house with me. Luckily my siblings and parents like Andrew, so hanging out with my family and enjoying more time with me is a very comfortable and loving experience. By this time Andrew and I have been engaged for a few months and since my parents are recovering hippies the question of Andrew sharing my bed didn't even need to be asked. We curl up into bed, a little drunk from the alcohol that had brought us warmth in the snow, discussing our upcoming nuptials and the excitement and fears of having sex.
Finally it dawns on me. I love this man. He has promised to care for me, shelter me, love me and support me. If showing my love for him now, in its fullest capacity will bring him both joy and comfort, than there is nothing more I want to give him. Laying in my four poster bed, in the mauve room of my teenage years, glow-in-the-dark stars above our heads we share one of the most beautiful connections, becoming one body and moving in one rhythm.