White Sheets and Vodka Nudes
Two reasons I can’t buy into monogamy
He supplies the intoxicant, I supply the retreat.
He provides the rope, I provide my trust.
He has the reverence to seek my approval, I have the courage to give consent.
Aside from honesty, candor, and mutual trust in our eagerness to explore each other, we have nothing in common. We don’t spend time together in the real world outside of my bedroom because we don’t share common interests. We only share each others bodies.
There’s something enticingly erotic about being involved with someone you’re not involved with. No strings, no expectations. Just casual consent and mutual respect, whenever the need arises.
Pure white, soft cotton bedding has always been a fetish of mine. When I’m sleeping alone, my plush white ensemble feels luxurious and homey.
When a partner is in my company it feels a little mischievous and playful to indulge in sinful behavior in a virgin white setting.
Maybe it’s coincidence that my favorite elixir also comes in a pristine, white container. Vodka Nudes. A perfect mix of vodka, soda, and a hint of flavor. My favorite flavor is lime and my favorite convenience is when my accomplice brings it over as a party favor.
Cracking our first Nude together signals the beginning of an indulgent evening of playtime.
It begins casually on the couch with useless chatter. We pretend to be interested in catching up with each other, while he hooks up his phone to my Bluetooth speaker.
A two-hour, ambient Lazy Syrup mix is the track he’s looking for. It’s my sex soundtrack and it sets a subconscious mood while we pretend-talk.
One Nude each, down the hatch. The second one is well under way before he moves in for the first kiss of the evening. It’s the kiss that’s been waiting to happen since our last rendezvous.
No feelings are entwined in our kisses except fantasy. We’re not a couple who misses each other while we’re apart. In fact, we’re not a couple at all. We’re just two humans who lust after the full ceremony of intimacy and sex.
It’s been two months since our last ceremony. Life gets in the way sometimes, but finally, life has moved over a little and given us some clearance. I send him a text asking when he’s up for a rendezvous and he lets me know that he was born ready for it.
I playfully tell him it’s been far too long and I let him know about the work fantasies I’ve been having lately.
He replies, “Damn….that’s hot. Saturday night can’t come soon enough.”
This particular partner consistently seeks my consent. It’s a cute ploy but he knows that even if he didn’t ask and just moved straight into action, I’d never say no. But I do appreciate the respect and I enjoy giving him permission.
This time he asks, “Do I need to be gentle?”
His next question is, “Can I tie you up?”
He instinctively knows that as long as Lazy Syrup is playing in the background, I’ll be putty in his hands. Our desires will all transpire over the course of the night.
Nearly finished our second Nude, he moves in for the kiss. It’s a flirtatious kiss and he doesn’t plan to stay on my lips for long. He’s already running his tongue onto my neck because he knows where that sends me.
He knows I will submit.
As he lifts my shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor I have a brief flashback to our very first encounter. The one where I paused to close the blinds because the lights were on.
Now I willingly leave them open because if the neighbors want to look in, that’s their business and it’s part of my fantasy. Besides, we don’t stay in the living room very long because it doesn’t offer a big enough surface for me to spread out on.
We carry our Nudes a short distance to my bedroom and place them on the nightstand, right beside a small pot of coconut oil that’s been there since he brought it last time.
He then has me lay on my belly, spread out across the bed so he can gently tie my wrists to the rungs of my white headboard. Now it’s time for coconut oil.
As I lay face down and ass up, I tell him about my massage fantasies. I routinely treat myself to professional therapeutic massages. Each time I lay in a dimly lit spa room with my eyes closed, I envision my massage transforming from professional to seductive. It makes no difference if the therapist is a man or a woman, in my mind it always diverts.
He listens to my fantasies without judgement. He isn’t jealous, he just understands that this is the type of woman I am, and he’s happy to help me realize a fantasy or two.
Human contact, desire, and consent are the triple threat of attraction. It fascinates me how these three elements can turn two average strangers into one cohesive unit, should they be fortunate enough to find each other.
Open mindedness allows us to carry out our fantasies in a safe, mutually beneficial manner, at our leisure. Chemistry and attraction are undeniable and I believe they should not be denied. They’re basic human instincts.
This is the main reason I can’t fully buy into monogamy, because if there were only one person on this earth suited for each of us, things like infidelity wouldn’t exist. We wouldn’t need it and we wouldn’t go looking for it.
We would be completely content with giving into a triple threat when presented with it, and there would be no mental or emotional struggle over morals.
When I wrote about a friend with benefits recently, the majority of feedback given was about how wonderful an arrangement I seem to have. I agree and I wish we could all be so free as to approach relationships in the same way.
My Nude partner is someone I have no feelings for but he fulfills my deep sexual desires. If and when the time comes that one of us wants to move on, we’re free to let the other go.
In contrast, my friend with benefits is someone I love to the core of his soul, but he doesn’t fulfill all of my sexual fantasies. However, if my soul someday feels a need to settle down it would be a soul like his that I could settle with.
Acquaintances I fantasize over give my imagination a run each day, but none of them are physical relationships. They will always be just for my secret pleasure.
Each and every one of these men contributes little pieces to my overall emotional sustenance.
Imagine for a moment, if we were all free to explore everything we want, with whomever we want, without any backlash. Imagine that we could share ourselves with any consensual partner until such time that it no longer serves us both. At that point we’d be free to mutually part ways.
I suppose that’s a pipe dream, another one of my fantasies — that we could all coexist in a way that pleases us.
If I never see it realized in my own lifetime at least I will have taken all the pieces I desire and completed a puzzle that pleases me.