Welcome to A+ Sex Diaries, an A+ feature in which we publish seven days in our sex lives. This week: A single, soft butch writer openly dating multiple people. Lesbian, 32, the American west.

Day One

11 a.m.: Mondays are for working, and it’s hard for me to get out of bed. It’s a long day in the office, but it’s broken up nicely by sexts from A.C. They’re not overly sexual, but they hint of fun to come. Well, they’re not overtly sexual until she sends one of her lying on the couch, tits out, hand sneaking into her pants. “Too much?” she asks, concerned she’s ruined my work concentration. I tell her it’s NEVER too much.

She sends a picture of her face after she’s just masturbated, full of flush and smiles. My mouth goes dry.

7 p.m.: When I finally get home, I’m able to text her more fully about what I’d like to do between her thighs. I get myself off on the couch when I can’t take it anymore, and send her a picture of my flushed cheeks.

Day Two

9 a.m.: My entire day of productivity is basically shot because I know A.C. is coming into town, those sexts from yesterday were just the warm up. I’m leaving work an hour early just to spend more time with her; we have a lot of fun and do a lot of laughing, so thanks Tinder.

4:30 p.m.: When I finally get to see her, I’m amazed at her eyes, and I love how her compact frame fits against mine when we hug hello. I like to take her face into my hands and tilt it up so we’re looking at each other before I lean in to kiss her.

6 p.m.: We hang out normally, and get a little high before taking a walk and laughing at trees. The weed makes our bodies feel all the more electric and sensitive, and I’m practically pulling off my shirt by the time we get back to the house, to the couch, to the bedroom. She’s more of a top than I am, and I like it; she is small, but she’s powerful, her thighs could crush me and I would welcome such a death.

She’s obsessed with getting me off, her hands are constantly wandering, and when I come in her mouth two times, she smiles and lies on top of me with all her weight, her ear to my chest listening as my heart races and begins to calm again. I’m sweating, and she likes it.

I go down on her several times because she’s delicious, and it turns me on when she gets turned on by something I’m doing, and it becomes this feedback loop of pleasure. We only stop to hydrate, giggle, and snack. She finally lets me go to sleep at 11 p.m., because I have to work in the morning.

Day Three

6:30 a.m.: I’m not a morning person, but here I am, eyes bleary from sleep and now drifting closed again but not out of sleepiness, rather out of pleasure. She’s going down on me again — “it’s the best way to wake up!” — and I can’t say she’s wrong. I’ve never really participated in morning sex because I’d rather sleep, but holy shit she’s good.

She started with those wandering hands again, tweaking my nipples until they’re hard, then they’re in her mouth, she’s trailing her tongue down my stomach and finally the warmth of her mouth on my cunt; she can’t believe how wet I get for her. I’d like to explain it but my body won’t let me, so I just laugh and melt into my mattress until I come hard.

8 a.m.: A quick shower, a flurry of clothing, and a kiss goodbye in the parking lot and she’s gone.

Day Four

9 a.m.—5 p.m.: It’s a busy day for texting with a few women, but no one I’ll see today. It’s nice to have my space back to myself, though it’s always at night when I start craving someone to cuddle.

7 p.m.: Instead, I remember porn exists. Hitting up my go-to site, I look for POV lesbian videos, basically anything where a woman honestly and truly gets off. I picture myself in both the giving and receiving positions, and when I come, I actually moan out loud.

Relaxed and pretty happy with myself, I fall asleep easier.

Day Five

4:30 p.m.: It’s a busy day at work, and my Tinder friend is active with messages. We had a lot of fun earlier this week, and she wants me to beg off work early again to drive to see her for the weekend. I tell her I totally would if my crotch were in charge, but adult me already had other plans in place and should probably honor them. I make plans to visit my Tinder friend next week.

Because on Saturday, another friend, D.B., is going to visit, and we’ve hooked up in the past, but we’re in a weird spot now; it had gotten pretty intense, and we both backed up. Now we’re getting together again, and it feels a bit different, more like we’re on the same page about everything, and that page is all about keeping it light, fun, and casual.

I’m excited as much as I’m curious to see if I’ll be able to do it, but I’m in a much better place personally than the last time we hung out.

In the evening I go out with friends, flirt a bit with no one serious, and when I get home, I get myself off quickly before settling in to sleep.

Day Six

11 a.m.—6:30 p.m.: D.B.’s not coming over til the evening, so I have all day to clean and freak out about her coming over and then un-freak out about her coming over. I make dinner reservations at a nice place and then wonder if it’s too nice and if she’ll read into it.

7:30 p.m.: By the time she gets here, I’m chilled out with a spliff, some champagne in the fridge. She’s a mess, there’s so much going on in her life, she looks tired, she’s sorry about that, and I’m just holding still and waiting for her to settle before I kiss her face and tell her how nice it is to see her. I feel her relax, pour her some champagne, then take her to dinner. We have a lovely time, and she’s relaxing more; by the time we get home, I sit on the couch and she just hops onto my lap, pushing me back, straddling my hips.

10 p.m.: D.B. is also a top, but it’s less about how she likes to fuck and more about how she needs to be in control; she’s very particular about when and if she is touched at all. Her boundaries don’t bother me, I will touch wherever she wants, and she says it’s hot that I respect her. She has strong, nimble hands, and it’s not long before all my muscles are clenched and I’m shaking, hoping she lets me come or I might die.

She is as breathless as I am after I finally get off (which really only took about five minutes but it felt like an eternity), and I ask if there’s anything I can do for her. She laughs and says she came watching me come, and I can feel myself swelling more at the thought.

I take her to the bedroom, where she wants to fuck me with one hand while masturbating with the other. I am completely game and entirely overwhelmed with her, the sights and sounds and smells and tastes, her skin so soft, her breathing loud in my ear growing ragged as we both get closer. I try to hold out, to wait for her, but I’m too close and the pressure is perfect, and I come hard and loud, alternately biting the pillow and her shoulder.

Afterward, she treats the bruise like a trophy.

1 a.m.: It feels good to sleep with her again, her body curled against mine.

Day Seven

10:30 a.m.: Morning means going out for breakfast and enjoying the sun. We almost hold hands out in public, which we both have agreed is more intimate than fucking each other. As much as I’ve missed her, she’s missed me, and it’s nice to feel.

2 p.m.: We laze about for the rest of the afternoon, alternating between fucking and napping, the temperature perfect for being topless and sweating. When she heads out for the evening, I walk her to the door and kiss her softly, thanking her for everything, it’s all been a gift I’m so thankful to receive (and give).

Later, she texts about how much fun she had, and she wishes she were still in my bed. I reply in kind, and almost decide to touch myself before remember she’s pretty much worked it all out of me for the day.

10 p.m.: Another woman, H.T., sends me nudes, and I’m curious about how that might play out, if she’s serious or if she just wants to fuck around a bit. I decide I’m cool not knowing everything all the time, and that I’m just going to ride the wave and deal with that when I get there. In the meantime, wow, she’s hot, wow. Here we go again, I guess.

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