By Sensuous Sadie
SensuousSadie@aol.com 
www.sensuoussadie.com 

One of my mother’s favorite stories was about her dating days. On the way to a snowy dinner date she and her gentleman-friend, as she called him, stopped at his place to pick up a warmer coat. When he returned from the other room he was buck naked. With nary a raised eyebrow, my mother thanked him nicely and left the house. The moral of the story is that men were horndogs and I shouldn’t be surprised by some pretty offbeat behavior. What I actually learned was that a lady leaves when it’s time, and never forgets to say thank you.

So I wasn’t all that surprised when the same thing happened to me. I was at my friend Diego’s house prior to a Thanksgiving dinner out. He mentioned that he was running late and ran upstairs to take a quick shower. He also asked  me to pick out a snazzy outfit for him from his neatly organized closet (yes, he’s submissive). I chose a brown and blue tweed jacket with a pair of tightly-fitted black pants. I call these kind of trousers “gay” pants because they’d surely attract attention from the gay boys, not that that would bother Diego any (yes, he’s bisexual). As I was rustling through the belts, Diego finished his shower and out he came, stark naked!

As I stared at him, my mother’s dating story popped into my mind, not the slightest bit faded for twenty years in between tellings. Was I lady enough to thank Diego nicely and leave the house? This had never happened to me before, so I said a little prayer to my mother in heaven, and didn’t blink an eye. Instead, I took a gander at Diego’s muscular shoulders, firm ass, and remarkably large balls. It was a nice vision, and I figured heck, why not check out the goods before purchase? 

After an eyeful, I decided not to walk out, and said instead, “That’s one hell of a set of balls you have there, Diego.” He grinned at me. No, I wasn’t offended, I wanted to throw him to the floor and take him hard. Still, there were those dinner reservations, and mashed potatoes were whispering my name. So I called on the Gods of restraint and turned my attention to choosing a matching pair of shoes. 

Diego may or may not have been hitting on me with the nude parade, but as far as I was concerned, sex was already a foregone conclusion. The nice thing about Diego is that he and I are sexual equals, pulsing with a matched energy of the sexual divine. It’s not about being horny all the time, but having taken my sexual soul in and made it mine. It’s about looking at life through the rosy red lens of sexuality. I don’t find this very often, and it’s frankly more important than any part of his body, no matter how attractive. A lot of women, including my mother, would have walked out, but Diego and I are matched opponents.

Of course that doesn’t stop us from bickering about who’s going to be Dominant, being as we are both switches. I think we might be settling on me as Mistress though, which generally works because I like having things my way. Even so, he has the balls, the big balls, to let me know when I’ve screwed up. I may get peevish, but I listen anyway; because not many people ever tell me to straighten up and fly right. That’s a fine quality in a friend, be he Dominant or a Submissive.

You might have thought that after all that, we’d have returned home to fuck until the ropes frayed. Instead, we spent the dark wee hours of Thanksgiving cuddling. Although we seemed to have settled on him dominating that evening, one of the more memorable moments came when I was on top, gazing down with lust in my heart, him looking up with that exquisitely tender expression that only a Submissive can have. As I kissed him, I felt him soar free into the night, just a moment or two before coming back. His eyes were soft and dark, and I wanted to hold him close, closer. I wanted to cradle him in my hands like a water lily, vulnerable and open, sparkling with dew. I wanted to lick the dew off, savor the sweetness, press its cool petals against my cheek.

No, it wasn’t the buck-naked body that got me, it was that look, silent and aching.

I think my mom would be proud of me. Not of how I handled a streaker before dinner, but how I can stay present when something magical is happening right in front of me. Later on when it was time, I left, and yes, I thanked him.

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Read A Devil in the Hot Tub - a follow up piece in 2004 about Diego

Sensuous Sadie is the author of It's Not About the Whip: Love, Sex, and Spirituality in the BDSM Scene (http://www.trafford.com/robots/03-0551.html). She is the founder and leader (1999 - 2001) of Rose & Thorn , Vermont 's first BDSM group. Comments, compliments and complaints, as well as requests for reprinting can be addressed to her at SensuousSadie@aol.com  or visit her website at www.sensuoussadie.com. Sadie believes the universe is abundant, and that sharing information freely is part of this abundance, so she allows reprints of her writing in most venues.

Copyright 2003 Sadie Sez Publications