Welcome to A+ Sex Diaries, an A+ feature in which we publish seven days in our sex lives. This week: a thirty-something tender pervert from the Pacific Northwest reflects on their long distance relationship.

Day One

I’m laying like a dog in my bed. Watching them watching me. Honestly, I’ve been waiting all day for it.

My partner, Sam, and I are long-distance and it’s great but depressing. Despite my every objection to having feelings at all, particularly love feelings, mine for them seemed a bit destined and completely irrevocable. We’re now a year into a real relationship, and here I sit: fucking myself on a webcam for their viewing pleasure.

I’d say I’m a particularly sexual person. Outside the hours that I spend at my day job, my sexuality and sex life are in the foreground of my day-to-day focus. Everything I do is queer, and everything I want to do is naked.

Lucky me, they’re a pervert too.

Day Two

I’m leaving tonight to go see them and I can’t wait. It’s been 70 days and I’m eager as hell.

I wake up to a dirty message from Sam and decide to stay in bed a bit longer. We sext back and forth and I jerk off lazily. I’m tired and lonely but it makes me feel better.

I’ve grown to like the filth in sex. The intimacy in feeling raw and vulnerable asking for something or performing in a way others tell us we should feel shame in. I like the tenderness in a person seeing me messy and raw, and not only accepting me, but wanting me. When it comes down to it, I’ve never craved being handled delicately, but have always sought to feel embraced fully. Sexting has become this wild and fun game for us. In a strange way it seems our ticket to intimacy, sharing our filth in bits and pieces.

…But I’m over it and eager for the next few days with them — despite the dread of my upcoming travel.

I fucking hate traveling.

Day Three

It’s 10AM here and I’m finally arriving. This Lyft can’t scoop me fast enough. I can’t really imagine a scenario where we don’t immediately have our hands on each other, but I very well may fall asleep. Whoops!

Update: I didn’t fall asleep. Wink. Wink.

But tonight we are exhausted. We go to the bar for a drink with pals before heading home. We eat snacks, watch movies and lay around casually. We pass out early.

I wake up in the middle of the night to our bodies shifting. I don’t know if I’ve been pressing into them, or if they’ve been pressing into me, but we both know what’s going on. I suddenly feel energetic. I’m hard. I climb over top of them and tell them to ask for it.

They say please. I appreciate their manners.

I take my time licking down their sleepy body. Their neck, their armpits, stomach, hips. I admire the way they smell, the way they sound, the way their body shifts.

I suck them off until they’re growling for more. I slap their face hard, and keep my hand hard against their cheek. I ask them to tell me what they want. They ask like a good boy and I ease my hand in them slow. I’m always amazed by how much they can take. I fuck them until they’re good and messy, fetch them some water, and hold them until we fall back asleep. They’re safe as hell with me, and I want them to feel that way.

Day Four

The best thing about being with Sam is that I get to be myself entirely and unapologetically. When I met them, I’d been spiraling — picking up the pieces of a really toxic and broken relationship that had ended months before. I’m not a person to compare loved ones to former loved ones, but in looking back on the relationships I’ve had in my life, it’s hard not to appreciate every teeny tiny thing about them.

I wake up grateful every day. They are a breath of fresh air even when they’re choking me out.

The bed is still damp underneath us, but in this exact moment I don’t really mind. They’re kissing me slow and have already started the coffee. YES. DADDY.

We get up to pour our cups and sit in the kitchen sipping. We flirt like we’re new, playfully bantering about who initiated midnight fisting. They insist it was me, but they’re absolutely wrong. Their hips pressed first. It doesn’t matter, but we both know that this banter is going to lead to something so we stay at it.

I’m sitting on the counter as they stand between my legs. They tug at the waistband of my underwear and like clockwork I’m hard again. They like to tease me about all the ways I’m about to be a good bottom boy before they put their hands on me. It’s one of my favorite parts — I like a good talker. I’m eager to come and they know it. I’m a mess maker, and they like that about me.

I like that about me too.

They’re saying all the right things, and we’re sliding things off this counter to make enough room. They tell me to get wide for them and I’m weak. I’ll do whatever they fucking want. I want it all. We fuck against the counter, until they lift me off of it to plant my feet on the floor before bending me over. They want me to come all over the floor. GLADLY.

I come until I can’t anymore, and we laugh while we clean up our mess.

“Next time, you can lick it up.”

Day Five

We go out dancing with pals and honestly, I can’t stop looking at them. I love glancing over in the midst of a conversation to catch them doing the same. They look so good and they fucking know it. Their excitement about anything and everything in their community’s orb turns me on. I love how sincere they are. They want everyone to feel good, and I love that about them.

We’ve been drinking, we’ve been dancing. I’m fully charged. Ready. To. Go.

We could quick fuck in the bathroom, or we could get out of here and get wild. We opt for the latter, hug pals goodbye, and race home. I want it all tonight.

We get home, and I barely get my jacket off before they’ve got me pinned down to our bed. My face pressed against the mattress, my ass hard against their hips. My shirt is riding up. They’re tearing at my jeans. I can’t tell if I’m getting fucked or doing the fucking, but I don’t even care right now. I want their tongue in my ass and I want them thanking me for it. They pull away and spit down me, and it’s all over for me. I am getting fucked, and I want it just like this so I tell them.

They tell me to jerk off while they pull off of me to strap up.

Yes, sir.

I’ve always been shy about my love of anal sex (because trauma is real and society’s bullshit). It’s not something I’ve really explored with other partners, and it took me a long time to own exactly how badly I wanted it with Sam. But they’ve always made me feel really good about it. And now they’re fucking me just how I like it, and it’s hard to even remember what it ever even felt like to be shy.

We fuck. We fist. We come. We come some more. We laugh about forgetting to lay a sheet down.

We fuck like it’s the end of the world. Like if we stop we might die. I fall asleep with my face buried into their armpit. Their body wedged around me. Everything in its rightful place.

Day Six

The hardest part about long distance for two pervs that can’t get enough, sexually speaking, is just that. You’re far apart for long stretches of time, so the off button is hard to find when you’re finally together.

But I’m sore today, and so is Sam.

We curl up together, watch movies and spend hours talking. I marvel over how easy they are to talk to. I’m fascinated by the way they see the world, the things they’re passionate about, the strange knowledge they have. We grab coffee out, and get groceries to make dinner. I internally panic about how much I find myself wishing this was our little life together all of the time.

We take a bath and soak. My favorite thing. I kiss their feet. Their favorite thing.

We hop out, cook, and lounge together until we pass out like sleepy babies. This is the life.

Day Seven

I’m leaving tomorrow and I can’t stop thinking about it. I know that I am wasting a perfectly good day dreading tomorrow, but it’s a hard thing to grapple with. The distance is always tough, but it’s hardest when our trips are short and we don’t know exactly when we’ll see each other next.

We spend the morning making breakfast and smooching. Our time feels short and I hate it.

We spend the night in, and fuck again. I come. I cry. We fight off sleep for as long as we can, but eventually pass out. The alarm will sound way too fucking early and I’ll be gone again, but for now it feels nice.

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