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Wednesday, Oct 15, 2008
By this time, we were in our mid-30s, with two careers, a mortgage, two cars, school for the kids -- and less time or energy for sex. Guess who was bothered by this, and guess who thought it was no big deal. Yes, parenthood opened a new chapter in our frequency struggle. But our lovemaking continued to grow and evolve and, miraculously, feel ever more fulfilling. Except for feeling more tired than we had B.C. (before children), parenthood didn't really change the basic shape of our sex life. The kids were in bed by 8 or 9 p.m., and slept reasonably soundly (with a few lapses) so we could usually have sex if we wanted to. Since our once-a-week compromise years earlier, we'd always scheduled sex, so the parental lifestyle, which involves compulsive scheduling of everything, didn't really throw us.
Some parents lament that having young kids cuts severely into sex. That wasn't true for us. In fact, I recall our lovemaking during those years quite fondly. Elly and I had been together for many years before having children, so we'd worked the kinks out of our relationship. But we'd never been partners in a project so all-encompassing as parenthood. Parenthood inaugurated a new level of teamwork between us, and I was pleased with how we rose to the challenge. Elly was, too. We worked well together, and had surprisingly few conflicts about child rearing. It drew us closer, and as a result, deepened and enriched our lovemaking. We held each other more tenderly. We understood each other better. We took to giving each other back and neck rubs as a prelude to sex. We had a rule that we would never discuss the kids while naked. But we bent it. We took to getting into bed naked then cuddling a while, having neck rubs, and chatting a bit about the children or other random tidbits of our lives then drawing each other close and using our tongues for something other than speech.
During this period, children were not the only new wrinkle. For the first time in our lives we also had some disposable income -- along with grandparents who were still healthy enough to take the kids some weekends. A new chapter opened: The romantic weekend getaway. As I mentioned, Elly was more into sex on vacation than at home. But in our 20s that meant twice during a week-long backpacking trip on the hard ground in a cramped tent wrestling with sleeping bags and bug spray.
Weekend getaways were so much more erotic. We'd do it once, occasionally twice, over two or three long loving days together. The sex was fabulous. Elly got deeply into getaway sex. Something about quaint B&Bs turned her on. The lovely setting, the precious furnishings and doo-dads, the Gourmet magazine breakfasts, the relaxed ambiance, and no kids, no responsibilities, just the two of us. In a hotel room, we had no past to obsess about, and no future to worry about, just the present, the zingy erotic present. Naturally, I bought Elly a fat guide to all the B&Bs and country inns within 150 miles of our home, and encouraged her to make reservations. With the kids taken care of for free, we could afford a weekend away every few months.
Around this time, Elly and I got into sex by candlelight. Previously, we'd always done it more or less in the dark. That never bothered me, and Elly never complained about it. But one day she came home with a few candles, and set them up in our bedroom. Candles were a revelation. The soft, flickering light was so warm and erotic. We couldn't believe it took us so long to discover the joy of candle-lit sex. Now we light candles every time. We even bring a candle or two on trips.
Elly became positively giddy about our weekend getaways -- and a little wilder sexually. She looked for B&Bs with hot tubs in or off the rooms, and we would start the lovemaking in the bubbly water before going to bed. We even began fooling around on the drive there. On one of our early getaways, as we drove along a two-lane country road with no one else in sight, Elly offered to suck me as I drove. I was astonished. Of course, I wanted it. And I loved her initiative. But the first words out of my mouth were: "But honey, what about your seat belt?" We both cracked up. God, were we getting old. But we managed to remain belted while working my pants down and folding her head into my lap.
Another time, Elly wore a skirt with no panties and flashed me in the car. Naturally, these escapades made me hope we'd have some similar foreplay on every drive to a B&B. But no. Elly made it clear that I was not to expect her wild side every time. If she was in the mood, she'd do it. If not, sorry. On the one hand, this irritated me. It felt like another power play on her part. But on the other, I have to admit that the drives to weekend getaways sizzled with erotic tension because I didn't know if the Wild Elly would make an appearance. If she did, that was great. But if she didn't, the sex on arrival was always worth the wait.
It was around this time that Elly and I got into sexual lubricants. Even though we did it only once a week -- if that -- when we made love, it was very energetic and typically lasted 90 minutes or so, sometimes longer. We'd fondle each other, explore each others' bodies, take turns doing each other orally, fuck a while, then return to hand jobs and oral, then more fucking. And round and round until orgasm. Sometimes we even fooled around afterwards, playing with how long it took me to wilt to the point where I could no longer enter her. Our sex kept getting better and more spiritually fulfilling. Even our kissing improved -- less sticking our tongues down each other's throats, more variety, more lightly licking each other's lips, and teasing the other's tongue with our own.
But after a long fuck, Elly began complaining of vaginal soreness. Oh, great, I thought, another impediment to sex. Fortunately, she mentioned it to her doctor, who suggested KY jelly. We tried it maybe twice. What horrible stuff. It was goopy, slimy, smelly. Yechh. But for all of its downsides, KY was an effective lubricant, and we liked that. Lubrication made fucking more comfortable for both of us, and went a long way toward clearing up Elly's soreness.
Elly found some other brands at the drug store, and we eventually settled on Astroglide. We began using lubricant regularly -- and loving it. After lots of fondling and oral we would take turns applying lube to each other's genitals. Early on, I feared the process might feel like an interruption. On the contrary, it became this delicious moment of anticipation: Get ready, honey, because in a few moments we are going to fuck our brains out. Beyond just using lubricants for intercourse, I also got into lubricated hand jobs. Elly's vulva was a tropical paradise when well-lubed. And with lubricant, Elly's hand jobs felt so much more sensual. Lubricants were a revelation. We couldn't believe it took us 15 years as lovers to discover the joy of lube. Now we use some every time. We don't leave home without it. I keep a little vial in my travel kit so we always have some no matter where we are.
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