Gawan: hands and mouth

We were lying on the bed, clothed, kissing. Gawan’s hand reached down, only one possible destination. I stopped him: “I’m not ready for that yet.” And he abandoned the quest.

Later in the day, from much the same starting point, he shifted down the bed and put his hands on my hips, the tips of his fingers curling inside the waistband of my snug, yoga-pant style shorts. The gesture was a question in the form of a statement. This time, my answer was wordless too: I lifted my hips, allowing him to tug down my shorts and underwear. As far as I was aware, the only thing that had changed was the passage of time. Perhaps that was all I needed.

He settled himself between my thighs and leisurely began to explore me with his tongue. Licking and sucking contentedly, he occasionally gave a deep hum of appreciation, savoring me.

Occasionally, he would punctuate his attentions by slowly and very deliberately biting that fleshy spot at the top of my inner thigh — first on the right, then on the left — just to the point where I’d suck air through my teeth or gasp a little as it started to register as painful. In those moments, leading me to the edge of pain seemed to be his goal.

He left me in no doubt that he was happy to be where he was. And a good thing, too.

I don’t come easily. For a long time, oral sex was the only way a partner could get me off, and even then it was never all that reliable. Buying a vibrator (first a We-Vibe Touch, then a Hitachi Magic Wand) has changed my sex life rather significantly for the better. A vibe offers consistency, so once I figure out what works, I can replicate it. Also, it’s a lot easier to find what works when I’m both experiencing and controlling the sensation, rather than trying to give directions when I can’t explain, or don’t know, what I want.

Gawan subscribes to a sort of chivalry that includes the premise that, on the matter of orgasms, it’s ladies first. I had brought the Hitachi*, but his sexual pride eschews electric methods: he much prefers “acoustic”. And to a certain extent, I can see his point: especially when you’re establishing a new connection, mediating the experience with a tool creates a bit of distance and might feel impersonal. Anyway, I wasn’t surprised when we didn’t get there on the first try — he’s a new lover, and we weren’t using the technique that works most reliably for me.

In addition to his oral skills, he also paid attention to my nipples in a broadly experimental way. He rolled them slowly between his fingers, pulled, and twisted them until I groaned. He pinched, trying different levels of intensity until I gasped. He sucked on them lavishly. He grazed them with his teeth and bit gently, but discovered that the sharpness was too much for me.

Fortunately, he is a fan of cunnilingus. He had set himself a task, and he returned to it with enthusiasm. He managed to get me right up to the edge many times, so he got to hear a sampling of my range of appreciative warbles.

The man’s tongue has incredible stamina, and while he took a couple of well-deserved breaks, I never actually sensed him tire during all that time. After a tremendous amount of work on his part (and a tremendous amount of wishing myself over the edge), Gawan finally got me off. As we were later to discover, he had in fact licked me a bit raw.

At another time, despite the fact that I don’t get off on being watched, I decided to be brave and demonstrated how I use the Hitachi to give myself an orgasm in about 5 or 10 minutes. He didn’t have a role in the process and we weren’t really connecting, so the result was more awkwardness than shared intimacy in that moment.

*Note to self: The Touch, which I guess would be considered a bullet vibe, would have been the better choice to bring on the trip. It’s purple and curvy, with a wider handle end and a narrower business end. It has been described as looking like a potato, but I think it’s more like a meaty thumb. Odd as it looks, it’s still reasonably subtle. The Hitachi is good at getting the job done, but it’s huge in comparison — about as long as my arm from elbow to fist — and looks like a cartoonish karaoke microphone. Subtle it is not. Mostly I think I succumbed to the temptation posed by having lots of room in my bag.