Monday, October 26, 2015

Monogamy Blues

By Lisabet Sarai

We both know what’s going to happen. It’s understood, the inevitable consequence of the delicious tension crackling between us. Desire hangs around us like a perfumed fog. Reveling in the knowledge that you want me, I broadcast back the silent message that I feel the same.

Perhaps we kiss. I melt into your body, drunk on cheerful lust and the sense of rightness. We fitbut of course we do, this sort of natural magnetism doesn’t lie, but points us in the direction of blissful satisfaction. We’re not in any hurry. Languid yet buzzing with need, we explore one another.

Sometimes you’re a stranger. Sometimes you’re someone from my waking life, a startling revelation from my unconscious. Either way, I cherish these dreams for the sweet arousal they kindle, the traces of secret excitement that remain after the lascivious details have faded.

These nighttime visions always end the same way, though. Before we consummate our mutual desire, I remember. I’m married. I can’t go through with this, much as I want to. It would cause too much hurt to the man I love. This precious attraction is difficult to relinquish, but I have a responsibility to remain faithful.

The thrill dissipates. Reality bites, even if I’m still asleep. My dream reshapes itself. Sometimes I cry, or you do. Most of the time, the chimera of our perfect fucking simply vanishes, replaced by new images and emotions.

I’ve never told my husband about these dreams. What’s the point? In real life, I’m almost never tempted by anyone elseespecially not now, post sixty years old. My wild times are behind me. My commitment is crystal clear.

I don’t regret anything. Still, those dreams evoke a bittersweet longing, a nostalgia for the woman I used to be.

I don’t think I’m fundamentally monogamous. I am perfectly capable of lovingin the erotic sensemultiple people concurrently. In fact when I met my husband more than three decades ago, I tried to get rid of him because I already had three serious lovers, and felt my life was sufficiently complicated without adding another, long distance relationship to the mix.

He was stubborn, and charming, however, not to mention a really good fit for me along almost every dimension. I didn’t really even choose him, not explicitly. It was just obvious that we should build a life together.

He’d had lots of lovers, too, before we met. Our marriage contract specifically states that we are both free have other sexual partners as long as we are honest with one another, and continue to give our relationship top priority. That was the principle. We never really put that clause into practice, not as individuals, though we explored swinging and polyamory together. As far as I know, since we married, neither of us has had sex without the other one being present.

It wouldn’t bother me if he had a girlfriend, I don’t think. However, the older we’ve become, the more I’ve understood that he’s a lot higher on the monogamy scale than I am. If I were to take another lover (which sounds ludicrous to me nowjust goes to show how much I’ve changed), I’d wound him deeply. I don’t believe that the abstract notion of fidelity means much to him, but he’s lonely when I am not around. Plus I suspect that he’d worry about losing me to someone younger (since he’s a decade older than I am).

In my dreams, though, I’m still the lusty, experimental, open woman I was in my mid-twenties. And sometimes I wish that my sense of commitment wouldn’t intrude on my fantasies so reliably.

The only place I allow myself to be unfaithful is in my stories. There, anything goes.


  1. Polyamory sounds easy. Till it isn't.

    1. Indeed. The realities of unequal attraction and personal insecurity can swamp the neat theory.

  2. Lisabet, you've just explained why writing erotica is such an appealing outlet for feelings and fantasies which could mess up a life if allowed out of the box. :)

    1. Oh yes. My whole motivation, starting out, was exploring the BDSM fantasies I didn't get a chance to act out (partly because of my marriage).

  3. Hallelujah, Google is now letting me post as myself today. Yesterday, it didn't recognize me.

  4. Fortunately you can't go to jail for what you're dreaming, or for what you may fantasize about even during sex. At least not yet! "The Dream Police" would make an interesting science fiction concept, but not one that I'd want to explore. Probably been done already, anyway.

    1. I don't recall having read this plot line. On the other hand, some Christian sects teach that thought is as much sin as action. And dreams, though unconscious, reveal your inner sinfulness.


  5. I love your posts, Lisabet. I'm glad you go first. heh

  6. Wow, you get a whole lot more chatting into your wet dreams, than I do. The ones that disappoint me are the ones where I either wake up, or the action changes dramatically just as I was going to orgasm. Wah! I love to orgasm, in any way, shape, or form. So being so close then losing it, even in my dreams, is a huge bummer!

    My husband is okay with my scribblings, though he shocked me, telling me he didn't want to read "Only One May Will Do" because it had too much sex. Say, what? He finally did read it, and thought I should have added an extra "twist" at the end, in creating the bad guy. Everyone's a critic. He used to write "scripts" for us to act out, short, one-act things, or even just the set-up. Then we'd let our imaginations do the rest. But I would never have thought to criticize his stuff.

    But these days, we're content just to be able to get naked together when we're both awake. The fact that he still lusts after me, with all that aging and gravity has done to me, makes me very happy. He feels the same.

    1. Hey, Fiona!

      I very occasionally orgasm in a dream. It's really rare, but yeah, pretty special.

      Well, if it makes you feel any better, my husband refuses to read either my BDSM stories or my M/M tales.

      Each to his own.


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