The Wet Spot

I was trying to figure out when “the wet spot” came into the lexicon.  I am pretty sure when my mom told me about the special act that occurs between a couple who loves each other very much, she didn’t follow up with, “And after you are done, someone will get to sleep in the wet spot.”  Seriously.

Somewhere we all learned that as wonderful as sex can be, it is also messy and often there is a bit of left over what have you.

Lately, over at H and Kitty’s place, we have more of a wet pond.  Or a wet slick (like an oil slick).  H has said this is due to me.  I didn’t really believe him (sorry hon) until one night when I was up on my hands and knees, and I looked down to see an actual puddle below me.

“Oh my god!  What is that?”

I told you.  You are getting very wet lately.

“But what is that???  That isn’t just wet.  It is gushing!”

Right.  I keep telling you.

So there is messy, and then there is messy.  It was my understanding that as women age, the moisture begins to dry up.  Of course, I am not actually all that aged – truthfully, I am in my “sexual prime”.  (By the way, if you google this business about women being in their prime in their late 30’s, you will find that theory mostly debunked, but I prefer to continue calling it that.  Because well, you know, I feel pretty prime.)  Still – too much mess can have an ick factor.

Clearly, the amount of moisture your body produces or doesn’t produce is not really something you can control.  And my body seems to be working overtime lately.  I think this is a testament to how I react to control, pain and just H in general these days.  But since we can’t control it, who knows?

And the down side is that we are washing a lot more sheets and blankets than we used to.

My body drips, and not only that, but my orgasms are providing extremely satisfying contracting muscles throughout my pelvic region.  If nothing is occupying the vaginal area when I come, I can feel the waves of contractions pass through me.  To me, it is not an orgasm until those start.  I assume that I can’t feel them when H is inside because he is getting to feel them and absorbing them up.

Two areas that have reached a new sensitivity over the last year and a half.

Of course, there is a flip side – I no longer think I am going to lose my mind.  Orgasms used to explode through my whole head, but they seem much more localized lately.  This has actually caused me some concern – because why would you stop having headgasms?  Does it mean…. oh wait, I don’t care right now.  Right now, it is all I can do to breath when I am done.  I have nothing to complain about.  And really, at the rate everything else is going, if they come back to my head too, I will think I am actually going to die.

In a good way of course.

So to conclude, we are too old to sleep in the wet spot, which is more like a pond, so we are always changing sheets – and clean sheets are like cat nip to our sexual life, which leads to well – more orgasms, which leads to more sheets, and you get the idea.  It is actually a really lovely cycle.

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