Stained glass, sunshine, mirrors

The stained glass was in the Little Church of the Transfiguration, where Z and I met in the late morning, lit a candle, sat, talked, and made out for an hour or so. Then we walked and rolled west towards the Liberty Inn, first heading out onto Pier 54 to make out some more, and to bask in the intermittent sun.

No room at the Inn! Or anyway, no ground-floor room ready - for of course all the rooms on the second and third floors are no use to Z. So we went off for lunch, returning an hour or so later.

After our last encounter at the Liberty, I had some performance anxiety, and because so many things are different with Z, it did take some time for everything to fall into place. The room had mirrors on the wall to one side of the bed, and also on the ceiling, and Z was initially unsure that she could cope with those. I had some issues sustaining an erection. But I still basked in the constant sunshine of Z's beauty and desirability, and everything culminated in a truly wonderful fuck that took us through to the end of our three hours.

Description is always inadequate, and words like 'wonderful' and 'amazing' are just cheers, without any content. Z asked about differences between one cunt and another. Despite her lack of sensation, her cunt was delightfully changeable. Variations in wetness, tightness, the grip sometimes seeming concentrated in a ring near the lips, with a void space beyond, but other times feeling like a sleeve pulled tightly around the whole length of my cock. It was very good to work the angles, explore with the head of my cock or bury myself deep inside her. I am sure that future fucks will be even more interesting, intense, informative.

Sunshine, then, both literal - on the pier, sitting outside at lunch - and metaphorical. Mirrors, metaphorical and literal. What Z cannot feel cannot be accessed through other senses, but she can see herself being fucked in the mirror, and see her desirability reflected in my desire and delight. I can only tell her what I feel, but this would be true anyway. Sex with another person always contains at its heart this mystery, that each person knows only what it feels like for them, but not how it feels for the other. With Z - this really was a kind of revelation to me - the mystery is deeper, and stranger. I know what it feels like for me as I fuck her, even though I cannot really describe these sensations to her; she knows neither how it feels for me, except in so far as I succeed in telling her, nor how it feels for her. So Z and I are in almost the same position with respect to her sensations, and this made fucking her strangely symmetrical, even though this is in turn rooted in a radical asymmetry. Very interesting intellectually - but also a truly great fuck. Ideas and sex are the two things I love, and here they lie nestled within each other.