At 30+, it took being with a woman to make me a woman. My rambling thoughts on this.

At 30+, it took being with a woman to make me a woman. And by “being with” I mean many things here. Some of these women I’ve never met but for videos and text and pings. But I know them in as much as I now know myself. I know what their deep crevices look and sound and taste like. They let me in and I’ve let them in. We’ve now “been” with each other countless times in page turning ways. Again, we still haven’t met. I know what they sound like when they get there, how wet they get, that they touched themselves at work. I know that they are with their men thinking about me and they are sharing our hours long textual sexual explicit (we should probably get into to trouble for this) conversations. We’ve imagined ourselves to completion and we still haven’t met. Haven’t met. That has not happened yet. I’m at this place and we haven’t met.

They have taken me there so many times and I have to stop myself for a second and honestly just …smile. I still don’t know if her skin is really as soft or as smooth or as supple (I’ve decided that they all are) but I’ve made her reach her points of satisfaction, I’ve witnessed it via (insert your FaceTime equivalent). Again we STILL have not met.

Am I ready for meeting these women?

This is just one part of this. The other part is actually meeting beautiful women who can’t keep their hands off of me, women I’ve actually touched and smelled. I am trying to process these real touch and feel people and these distant NSFW work people.

My phone is one of the most interesting players in this whole thing. My phone has brought freedom to my couch, desk, train ride. I am exploring parts of myself I didn’t know existed. My thumbs are getting all of my other fingers in trouble and into other things (wink). A great trouble. A fun trouble. The kind I think most men would love to be apart of, trouble. I’m glad that I’m 30+ and much more aware to deal with it, trouble. It’s a lot of unsolicited and honestly, baited trouble. Naughty trouble. Wow, women talk like that, trouble. I don’t even know if she’d say that to me, trouble. On. My. Phone. All of this, on my phone.

It’s such a new territory and I’ve shown zero restraint. None. I’m really surprised with myself. I’m enjoying this. No one is asking them or me to do this but we are pinging each other to points that phones weren’t intended. And our men are sitting patiently to read how I made some “hot” girl get there today while at work. Multitasking means something new. “Getting there” to the point that she has to send me video to prove it. I get messages with promises of satisfaction later that night and they are not taunts or fantasies for fun conversation, they are real things that happen because we want them to. Imagine knowing that you can walk out of spin class and face first into an orgasm. That’s my phone right now. All day. Every day.

I think it might be that I am 30+ why this is happening now. Either way, I am happy about it. I spend my days asking women their inner desires and I completely release myself to them in every way. Then I get to sit and watch my husband recap the day from my phone. This all has happened in a week BTW.

Rewind…

There are so many levels to even verbalizing all that, saying it out loud, taking full ownership of that. It’s probably the most honest I’ve ever been with myself, about myself. There is something that awakens in you when you’ve simply allowed yourself the room to be as sexually free as you’d imagined you’d be. You actually let yourself go there. Not thought about it, but actually did.

What now? I’m so wild at the mouth it’s a problem and so are they. In text we’ve encouraged each other to get there, we’ve thanked each other for the fun we’ve had. Oooh…

Let’s stop for a second and process this…I’m writing this as I try to process it.

I was going to start again at the point where I had my first physical female encounter but then I was reminded of when I literally saw a half naked woman in a window in Amsterdam and picked her for my man. Being reminded of this made me pause for a second to assess how I even got to THIS point where I am texting multiple women in every possible emoji expletive, sharing sensual Rihanna gifs and homemade videos.

…Fast forward.

There’s a lot to unpack. I’m excited. Like REALLY excited. Excited to the point that for 48hrs straight my body has been in some state of arousal solely from female interaction, none physical. Just words in my phone.

I’m proud that I’m here and there’s a sweet palpable tingling haze of disbelief I hope never leaves. This is definitely the newness of this but having my body quiver in excitement for what might be awaiting at that ping of my phone is… chills.

There is so much…High-fiving my husband after he reads the trails of wet ******* on my phone is a new place in our relationship. I’m celebrating how I turned women on and how I’d had to sneak to touch myself because I just received a video of the most beautiful ***** that I’ve only known for 2 days.

This pace can’t be maintained, there’s no way. I have naked women, strangers at that, craving my touch. Telling me that they’re about to please their men because they spent the day making themselves get there from MY text. What a mind ****.

I’m juggling women and I really like it. And my husband is my wing/hype man not that I need it. Ha. He’s impressed I think and I think his friends would be too. Am I getting more girls than these guys who talk about getting girls? Whooo…

My ego needs to be tamed but my phone just pinged soooooo😬