Have a holly, poly Christmas!
HERx2 & HIM | POLYAMORY | TANTRIC SEX
Swingers, sex predators, or simply a new approach to relationships: polyamory, open relationships? There is so much more to people and their love lives than meets the eye. And in this short story, Craig and Agatha are going to show Louise how powerful love can be. A non-cheesy Christmas miracle.
Brace yourself for some slow, tantric, all-encompassing polyamorous love.
Including a Q&A about polyamory, open relationships, non-monogamy, tantric sex and book recommendations at the end.
How do people do it when they don’t love fully, entirely, completely, heart-shatteringly, soul-crushingly and body-encompassing?
I don’t know.
I’ve been giving it some thought and I just don’t know. Do they pro-actively decide against it? Like: I could race to the door the second my partner comes through and cover them with love but I won’t, cause then if it doesn’t last I’ll be destroyed?
I’m sitting in an aeroplane and next to me is an elderly couple holding hands. And what am I doing? Bawling my eyes out. Cause I want that. But I’m constantly loving „too much“ it seems.
It’s almost Christmas and I’m flying „home“ for the holidays.
„Home“ to comments such as „oh dear, you’ve put on a bit of weight,“ and „have you found someone to marry yet,“ and „clock‘s ticking, love.“ And OMG I’m done with it. The childhood trauma that resurfaces knocks me sideways every time. I come prepared, I have the words ready to be hurled at their shocked expressions, defining my boundaries, and revealing the wounds my family has caused me. But then I woose out.
All I want is some love, familiarity, trust.
I WANT to be loved. But nobody wants to love me.
Now I know how you think this is going to go. I’m going to meet a hunky guy on the aeroplane, it’s going to be all romance and flirting and brushing each other’s arms between seats and meeting each other coincidentally at a Christmas market and him saying he’s my boyfriend to make me feel better in front of my family and then us actually getting together after some troublesome hindrances… yeah, no. That’s not going to happen in this story. Sorry to burst your bubble. BUT perhaps something much better will reveal itself, so sit tight.
Oh yeah- I should mention a few things: What kind of girl am I?
I’m divorced (and most would say isn’t that a little young to be divorced already. I’m 32 and no, if someone’s a dick I don’t have to sit around til I’m 60 to divorce them).
Appearance? Some would say chubby, I say a fine piece of ass. Serial monogamist. Emotionally available. Don’t want to live in the past anymore. Perhaps a little out of sync with my sexual needs and certainly not versatile in the bedroom. Not to say I’m boring but my goodness, I think there’s still a lot I can learn.
And because of all these reasons for me to be in therapy (which I am), I have a really hard time dealing with the modern dating jungle. Have you noticed how inconstant we’ve become as a society in times of tinder and bumble? Meaningless swiping, judgemental screen dates, and no more romance, no friction, tension, or anticipation.
I don’t know whose idea it was to eliminate the concept of courting but I demand to have it back.
Ironically, it is tinder that leads me to the next part of this story. Exiting the plane, I open it. Maybe it’s fate, who knows. But there he is. Instant zing and fizzing in my loins.
Not my usual type but there’s a light in his eyes that lures me in.
Oh, he lives in my hometown.
Eesh, that means I might know him.
Oh, he’s a horticulturist.
My mind jiggles with images of him wearing old, mud-covered clothes, the rain pouring outside a little greenhouse as he explains something to me with that light in his eyes and all I can think of is him taking me there and then (obviously not pushing his precious plants off the table but carefully moving them aside and then eating me out as I shout and moan)…
Oh, you’re still here. Sorry. I wandered off for a moment.
So I pass through customs (instantly anxious although I have nothing to declare), when all of a sudden, the wheel of my fancy suitcase (that I bought especially for the trip instead of taking my old sports bag) snags, and I stumble as it catches my heels. Why did I wear heels? Splat, on my face. The contents of my handbag strewn over the floor. Normally, I would’ve been caught by a handsome stranger, or at least someone would rush to my aid. Nope. Not in this scenario. Sorry.
Solemnly and somewhat embarrassed I pick everything up, and cram it in my bag, crimson heat burning my cheeks.
Hoisting the handbag up over my shoulder, I feel it whack into something. Or rather: someone. Oh dear lord, I’ve hit someone with my bag. As I turn to look, there’s a man holding his cheek and I think I see a smile on his face. Ready to apologize profusely but also hurl abuse at him because he is entirely in my private space I do a double take as I recognize him: it’s him.
It’s Craig. Craig from tinder mere minutes ago.
„I just wanted to give you this,“ he oozes as I see an apple in his hand that must have rolled away in my handbag chaos. And between you and me, we know that apple is going straight back in the bowl tonight. I wasn’t planning to eat it. „You’re Louise, right? How lucky am I?“
Uh-oh. He’s one of those people. One of those people I turn to goo around. OMG OMG OMG.
My face is emitting heat now as I brush his hand retrieving my „just here to make me feel better about myself“ apple. Lucky. He’s lucky? As my eyes catch his, my knees wobble and my vagina does a weird squeeze thing I’m not sure I’ve experienced before.
Surely not. Surely this isn’t a ridiculous Christmas miracle? No, it’s not. Remember. I told you that at the beginning.
Craig and I stand for a moment. My legs: goo. His eyes tunnel into his soul. The light bulge in his trousers is visible and completely destroying any romantic mood you might want to interpret into this scenario right now.
Gently pressing his hand to my lower back, he whispers „Louise, let’s keep moving, there’s a queue forming behind us.“
The sliding doors open and I scan the crowd, secretly hoping someone in my family has turned up. Of course not. We’re not watching love actually here. As my heart sinks ever so slightly, well-versed in disappointment, I turn to see if Craig has had better luck and surely enough, there he is in a tight embrace with a woman. His sister? Cousin? Aunt? Mate? My gut turns to fire. That embrace is not the kind you share with family. And those tongues whirling around each other are also not. What the actual. How stupid have I been? Cursing myself for my naivety, my ridiculous romantic hope, and vowing to delete tinder forever, I drag my suitcase along to the taxis.
„Are you heading into the city?“ a voice comes from behind me. Craig. Again. And the woman. Observing her, tight in his embrace, the pudgy thirteen-year-old in me is inflamed with jealousy.
„Agatha and I would love to take you for a coffee, if you like?“
AGATHA grins. AGATHA seems kind. AGATHA does not seem threatened by this preposterous proposition at all. AGATHA appears to be flirting with me.
It is at this point that my mind begins throwing terms such as swingers and sex predators at me. Oblivious to terms such as open relationships and polyamory I do not know how to read this situation.
„I’m sorry,“ I splutter, „are you both asking me out on a date?“
Indeed they were. The next two hours passed in a blur of coffee, laughter, steamed up café windows and not-so-subtle touches from both Agatha and Craig.
Here’s a little learning that I was unaware of: the term polyamory seems difficult to describe. It derives from the Greek root “poly,” meaning “many,” and the Latin root “amor,” meaning “love.” So literally: “many loves”. And without going into specifics, this floats my boat fully and completely. It feels like an honest and ethical way to live love freely in whichever constellation suits all involved.
And so it wasn’t a conscious decision but rather an organic development that a few hours later, (the plans to drive straight from the airport to my family obliterated) I was slowly undressing Agatha in their cosy, tranquil bungalow.
Unfortunately, just as I had removed her jumper, my mind began playing tricks on me. „Goodness me, Amanda, what do you mean you’re involved with a couple?“, „Amanda, I wouldn’t have thought you the slutty kind“… and so on, and so forth. With the bubble threatening to burst, I suddenly felt overwhelmed.
Where would this go? I wasn’t one for a one-night stand. Would I be labelled a slag? My brain raced to make sense of it all.
„Amanda, are you ok?“ Agatha and Craig were staring at me, a genuine look of concern on their faces. These strangers, in essence, felt closer to me than my family ever had.
„Amanda,“ Agatha continued over my silence, „polyamory is about love. It means we talk about all emotions and communication is our most important tool. If you are feeling uneasy, tell us. This is a safe space.“
Within seconds the urge to feel them, kiss them, and become one with them had rolled over me like a thunderstorm.
Craig undressed me and it was only then that I realized he was wearing latex boxers and Agatha was in a latex bra and underwear.
„May I touch it? I’ve never touched latex before.“ My hands wander over both their crotches in awe. It feels cold and smooth and warm at the same time. As their bodies move closer to mine I feel an ocean of kindness wash over me. I believe a tear escapes from my eye momentarily.
It feels like coming home. A home I have never known.
Craig leads me onto the bed and sits cross-legged, his hand in mine, asking me to sit on his lap, my legs wrap around his torso. Agatha embraces me from behind, her breasts pressed tight to my back, her arms a blanket around me.
And here we sit, breathing, resting our souls, entwining our limbs, overwhelming our senses with intimacy.
My hands tremble as I slowly begin trailing up Craig’s back. Each touch zaps beneath my fingertips. Agatha’s hands meander around my waist like a lake serpentines through mountains. She rests them on my lower belly; just lies them there without intent for anything more. I could stay like this forever, just that my breathing has quickened, my body seems to be seething with lust, love, and craving.
As Craig’s eyes meet mine, the switch is flipped. My breath is now jagged. I am on the edge of hyperventilation with lust. I kiss him. I. Kiss. Him. And his love is reciprocated. I nibble his lower lip. My tongue circulates his. I break out and kiss his neck, tilting his head. I feel him lean to Agatha behind me, they are now kissing. I feel love. Pure, unmitigated love.
But this tidal wave is sloshing in my body now. As if I’m coming into my own. This is the love I’ve always desired. And my goodness I need it all. All over me. With heavy gasps I gently push him back into the pillows and spread my entire body weight on him. Agatha lies on top of me, a „me“ sandwich I guess…
There is wholehearted, mindful energy streaming through us as we grind our bodies against each other, breathing in unison. I feel so truly connected to them, a fire ignited within me. We stay here a moment, kissing, inhaling, exhaling, our hands exploratory, taking it all in.
I can feel Craig’s erection coming and going. He’s edging. I am raw with elation. The excitement shifts our position. With utter devotion, Agatha and I kiss, kneeling over Craig.
Now don’t let your brain go to a cheap porn scene where two women are snogging for the sake of the man’s gaze. Nope, no and nuh-uh.
Agatha and I languish in our sensuality, our hands kneading each other’s breasts. Goosebumps erupt on our skin. Craig is watching, his hands tracing our spines, tickling, then stroking.
Crawling over Craig I now lower Agatha into the pillows. Did I mention we’d talked about STI’s and consent? No? We did. Don’t worry. „May I take your underwear off?“ She nods. „May I lick you?“ I stutter, her smell calling me to her. Her smile makes me melt. My longing is through the roof. I could cum right now with raw emotion. Not penetration. I am curious as to how she will react.
Craving more connection, as I begin to suck and lick, and lightly dip my tongue into her I stare into her eyes, into her soul. Craig is sitting behind her, caressing her head and watching me.
His hands massage her breasts, finding their resting point on her heart. With his eyes closed, he appears deeply connected with her. As if he is experiencing her sensations.
I could stay here forever too. I have lost all sense of time, the room seems to have expanded and my heart is full, full, full.
„Craig? Will you touch me?“ I ask but my tone is more demanding than just asking. Craig’s eyes twinkle and he softly lays down Agatha’s head (she is still moaning in ecstasy).
As he moves behind me, I feel my pussy for the first time. She is very wet. But he doesn’t head straight for her. His kisses envelop my skin, his hands cover every inch of me.
And then, slowly, tenderly, his mouth hones in on me. His fingers dip gingerly. His tongue trails over my butt cheeks until the anticipation is so intense, I’m bucking.
Again, we stay here for what seems like hours, our energy vibrating. Orgasm is certainly not our goal. At some point, I don’t even know where I begin and they end. We undulate, roll and flow.
After about an hour of pure, heightened sensations, we take a small break. Craig cracks open a window, the curtain billows. My skin prickles with sweat as we lay, entangled. The icy breeze tweaks our nipples.
Craig and Agatha are quiet. But our bodies speak volumes.
As Agatha closes the window, I follow her and wrap my body around hers. Gliding down over her bush, I rub her clitoris. My other hand holds her hips to mine. And then Craig is behind me, slowly guiding his penis between my butt cheeks. „I want to feel you, Craig.“ I consent and yearn.
As I go on tiptoes, he enters me. The winter wonderland outside the window is serene, oblivious, and sweeping. My body jerks as we move in tandem.
We could do this all day.
And we do.
Coming and going.
Ebbing and flowing.
And we do this for a few days, then a few weeks, then a few years. And I’m not saying this is my happy-ever-after. But it’s given me hope. Like a soppy romantic love film, I feel whole.
Because hope gives us light. And light gives us love. And love is everywhere.
What is polyamory?
As stated in the short, erotic story about polyamory above, the word is made up of poly (many) and amor (love). Hence: many people loving each other (sounds wonderful!). It is only recently that this term is being used in popular culture and we are recognising it as a “valid” construct for relationships.
Whilst I am opposed entirely to the idea of putting people in boxes and giving relationships a description for the sake of other people’s comfort, these non-monogamous aspirations or ideas have existed since our good old naughty Greeks. Ofcourse, on the outside they were abiding citizens but it was perfectly normal for men especially to have multiple partners.
It was in the hippie era, 1970s, that polyfidelity became a “thing” and since then, it has snowballed into a valid description for anyone loving more than one person.
But from communes to passages in the Old Testament along the whole spectrum of concubines and mistresses, polyamory is consistently present in our past.
What does non-monogamous mean?
Best case scenario, you are partaking in ethical non-monogamy if you venture down that road. This means partaking in sexual practices with several partners and is an umbrella term for anything other than exclusivity between two people.
What’s the difference between polyamory and open relationships?
Simple: an open relationship is one where both parties involved are consensual about taking other sexual partners outside the relationship. Polyamory, in contrast, is about taking on romantic partnerships including (often) with each other as a triad etc.
Why so much stigma around polyamory? Like, are they likely to last?
We have been raised in a society that sees heterosexual monogamy as the only valid relationship style. Polyamorous couples are normally based on one committed primary couple that takes on others in an intimate relationship. Whilst statistics show these relationships last for quite some time, we are not yet in a place to evaluate their relevance compared to decades of monogamy. What is true though, is that it a new model for those looking to expand their horizons and explore their sexuality, which in my books sounds like a win.
Does being polyamorous mean more sex and good times?
Polyamory sounds fun and like lots of sex and needs being met but it’s actually about a lot more than that. With multiple parties involved, it effectively requires more communication, more checking in on each other and respecting each other’s boundaries and feelings. People with attachment issues often feel resurging trauma and require additional attention in these constellations. So before you jump in head-first, consider your own past and trauma.
What is tantric sex?
Whereas we mostly see sex as goal-oriented, tantric sex is not about orgasm but more about the journey. It focuses on getting lost in a flow with your partner(s) and immersing in your breathing and touch; in turn intensifying all sensations and experiences. With various practices such as the tantric hug or hand on heart, it encourages deep connection with your other(s). You are encouraged to explore through exercises like sensat focus or pleasure mapping to understand your own body and that of your partner(s).
BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS ON POLYAMORY
The Ethical Slut
by Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy
More Than Two
by Eve Rickert and Franklin Veaux
Opening Up: A Guide to Creating and Sustaining Open Relationships
by Tristan Taormino
The Smart Girl’s Guide to Polyamory
by Dedeker Winston