Hysterectomy recovery for a hyper sexual

Hi, I’m Muirnah. I love sex, but I can’t have it for 8 weeks because I had a hysterectomy.

In plain terms, my uterus and cervix were removed, and in my case, tubes as well. Now, if you need a brush up on female anatomy, the cervix is at the top of the vaginal canal, and the bottom of the uterus. So, if you take off the top of the vagina, it must be “cuffed” to be closed again. Because of this, I cannot have anything penetrating my vagina or anus for 8. Whole. Weeks.

Z suggested one morning, once I felt well enough to be horny, that I have some Hitachi Time. And like I’d been punched in the gut, I broke down and cried.

My marriage had been sexless for a while before it ended. Using the Hitachi to orgasm became a daily thing. I was usually in too much pain to use dildos. It was all I had, and my resentment grew towards my wife and the Hitachi.

So while I do use it sometimes, those circumstances are supplemental. Treats, if you prefer. Plus, I was so desensitized it took me 5-10 minutes to cum with the damn thing anyway. So the thought of just using it on myself because I can’t have intercourse is a complete turn off and as we found out in this situation, a heartwrenching trigger.

Sex is important to me. My love language is touch. I struggled with not knowing how Z and I would be able to share the intimacy we both would crave without having sex.A lot of it was also contingent on my recovery and how quickly I would feel well enough to think about sex (answer: several hours) let alone be well enough to do things and move around (answer: 6 days).

Originally, I had planned to tell the nitty gritty of how to get off when you can’t have intercourse. And I still might, but honestly, it’s hard to articulate. I want to tell you how much it hurts to miss that intimacy. I’m not talking general sexual urges, although those are equally difficult. Like, damn, I just wanna fuck! But, that feeling, that connection when He is deep inside me and He looks into my eyes… It cannot be duplicated and it cannot be replaced. We’ve tried.

Sure, we’ve had fun, but the truth is, it cuts me deeply. It kills me that I can’t feel that connection. And a few nights ago, it surfaced in a big way. We were being as close as we could – His cock on my labia and clit, just feeling our bodies together… But I was so wet, I was terrified He would slip in. And as soon as that terror reached me, I was crying. Not just tears, but sobbing and heartache. He held me, and told me it was all going to be okay, that He still wanted me, that He always would.

Last night, this version of our fucking brought Him to orgasm. I was happy, but not as happy as I wanted to be. Yes, I have given plenty blowjobs, and Him cumming on my pussy was definitely hot. But it wasn’t the same. Nothing will ever be able to replace that intimacy.

Logically, I know this is temporary. Logically, I also know it’s for the best. I mean, this surgery has already changed my life. Like, literally, I feel like myself again! No chronic pain, no constant cramping, no bleeding! And yet, there is a part of me that isn’t whole without this intimacy. And I am sure I am not the first to feel like this. I know I won’t be the last. And now that we begin week 3, I am that much closer to week 8.

The thing that is driving me to be okay is knowing that He feels the same way. He misses me terribly, despite the fact that He can and does have sex. (I am grateful that He has that outlet, for His happiness and hers. She’s a beautiful person and has extended kindness after kindness.)

But our poly steps do feel 1,000 times more difficult because I can’t use sex to reconnect with Z. But *knowing* that it’s hard for Him too, that He really does miss it, and me, and our lovemaking…

We will do plenty of fun things in the mean time. Last night we had some impact play. I’m grateful that my body is healing enough that I can do things like this, to reaffirm our dynamic in my mind. I am going back to work Monday, and I am looking forward to the routine and distraction. And the best part is, much of our weekdays incorporate my servitude, and what a beautiful focus that will be.

In short, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, practice patience. Communicate. It’s okay to spend an hour together just saying you miss each other. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay, to not be okay. Because you will be. And when you’re on the other side, you’ll be able to look back and see just how strong and capable you are. (And yes, that’s me talking to myself as much as you, my reader friend.

When you struggle to reach the top of the mountain, and you’re *so close* but not there yet, don’t forget how far you’ve already come. It matters. You matter.

=^.^=

Whore.

“I think I wanna put out an ad for you to service some cock on the way home from your appointment.”

This is how I began my day, with wet panties from a lot of orgasms this morning, and a whole lot of anticipation.

My mind whirled in a thousand different directions. Was I ready to do something sexual with someone other than Z? Would I worry too much about His reactions to enjoy myself?

We negotiated the terms again. You see, this isn’t the first time we’ve discussed something like this. But we fine tuned our limits and expectations, and agreed that I could decide at any time not to do it if there was no vibe or if I felt uncomfortable.

The ad told of a traveling tall bbw looking to give head on her way home. The ad was flagged over and over and over, and I really didn’t think it was going to happen today. (Was that relief, or disappointment?)

I’m in the room waiting for my post op appointment, and I get a text from Z that the ad finally went live. I didn’t have time to dwell on this until after the appointment.

“Your ad is popular, slut.”

I had already been wet… and now? Pffft. My leggings were damp from my panties being soaked. (See, we tease each other a lot. And now that we found that work around, we tease more than ever.)

He sends me several dick pics and over the next half hour, He chooses one, and sends me necessary info. I nibble at my sushi lunch because the last thing I want is to throw up on this guy if he fucks my face enough. (Spoiler: happened anyway and he handled it like a champ!)

Finally, it’s time. I’m on my way. Z and I talked again, and I made my way to this guy I was about to meet for a blowjob. Now, this isn’t my first rodeo. It was for Z in His position, but that’s a post for Him to write.

Without incident, I got to his house. We exchanged greetings. The first thing that blew me away was that he immediately asked about any limits he needed to know about. (In my time on Craigslist, I know that is a rare thing).

So pleasantries aside, I dropped to my knees. He took out his dick and I set out to destroy the makeup I just applied. Oh, and enjoy a big, beautiful, black cock.

Some of you may know this, but before Z, I hadn’t been with a man for over 5 years. And the only cock I’ve had in the past year, was Z. I was timid at first, but quickly fell into my place at this guy’s feet, sucking, stroking, and face fucking myself on his dick.

He tasted good. He smelled good. He felt good in my mouth. He was also gentle at first, and slowly amped up his intensity. He told me to get on the bed, and I didn’t hesitate to get up and hang my head over the edge.

Yeahhhh, I’m a presumptuous little slut. Whatcha gonna do?

I was sweaty, had drool in my hair, running makeup, and when he shot his load in my mouth, I felt like a porn star. I was Z’s little whore.

It. Was. Fucking. Awesome.

The best part, y’all? The lust in Z’s eyes when He walked into our bedroom and looked at me. He crawled into the bed and kissed the hell out of me. Both of us breathless, He told me I was a filthy whore with a face that smelled like cock. He dropped His shorts, and I went to work on my second cock of the day like a good little whore.

My journey into poly continues…

So you may have guessed by now that Z and I are both highly sexual people. We have sex daily – most of the time. Life happens, including periods. But not anymore, because I had a hysterectomy.

In plain terms, my uterus and cervix were removed, and in my case, tubes as well. Now, if you need a brush up on female anatomy, the cervix is at the top of the vaginal canal, and the bottom of the uterus. So, if you take off the top of the vagina, it must be “cuffed”. Because of this, I cannot have anything penetrating my vagina or anus for 8. Whole. Weeks.

For either of us to go 8 weeks without sex would make us super grumpy, no matter what the circumstances. I didn’t want Him to go without that release. I knew I didn’t have a choice. But more on me later.

I have been doing a lot of work on myself being ready for Him to have another lover. I love all the possibilities that open up to us when we open our hearts to love in all forms. And this has always been on the table for our relationship. I wrote about it back in June.

Now I was worried He would get a week into my recovery and stress about asking me if I was ready to consider Him having a lover. I didn’t want to be caught off guard either when the time would come, regardless of timing with my surgery. Plus to avoid stressing myself and feeling guilty (recovering catholic) for not being able to give my body to Him, I told Him several weeks before the surgery that I was okay with Him looking around.

I put in a lot of work to fight off jealousy and insecurities between then and now. He has reassured me anytime I needed it, that my place in His life is not threatened by His sexual activity or connections with other people. I am His life partner. I am a part of His family. No one will take that away. His wife has also helped me with a lot of that too.

But the timing was still very hard for me. I struggled with my own demons.

Anyway, throughout the week, plans were made. Friday night was their date. I suggested to Z’s wife, L, that we get chinese food, and so the kiddo, L and I settled in with some visually appealing Netflix for background, and a deliciously comforting dinner.

I kept myself mostly distracted with movies and crafting after that. I tried not to look at the time. And it worked! Then He was home!

When He got out of the shower, and I came into the bathroom, He told me they did the thing. (I knew already; He was showering again). My rational mind raced ahead to my reassurances and reminders. I could see the spring in his step. I was glad that He was able to. But my heart… it couldn’t understand my mind. It felt like it was being squeezed by a fist. I couldn’t breathe.

I cried uncontrollably for over an hour. He held me, then gave me some space. L comforted me, then gently nudged me to go to Him. He comforted me while I cried some more and reassured me of all the things I already knew, but needed to hear again. It was so emotionally intense to feel such turmoil based solely on the conditioning of growing up knowing only monogamy at complete odds with my desire to be polyamorous, and not controlled by envy.

But to actually see the bounce back in His step and His relaxed demeanor after that physical release that He needed… I knew we were on the right path and that I would be okay.

Sure enough, within an hour of talking, reaffirming, and even hearing about His evening, I wanted to serve my Master and make His night the best it could be. So naturally, I gave Him a bomb ass blowjob.

Poly isn’t easy, folx. But it is rewarding. I’m no expert, and I know I will still struggle on occasion. But I’m committed to being the best me and doing poly in a healthy way that works for us.

It started out with a kiss…

He held her throat as He kissed her. Not really kissing even, He was blatantly making out with her face. He controlled everything. He held her lips between His teeth and His hand was wrapped around her throat. She sank into His grip, unable to maintain the strength needed to remain upright.

“Whose filthy little whore are you?” He relaxed His grip on her throat only enough for her to speak.

She gasped in a breath, her voice coming out in a whisper. “I’m Your filthy little whore.”

“Yes, you are.” He said, a smile in His voice.

She jerked her head to look down. His cock was the longest and hardest she’d ever seen it. She licked her lips.

“You wanna suck it before you go to sleep? Yes, you do,” He crooned.

She nodded sleepily, eyes heavy but hot with desire, and moved to take Him in her mouth.

He held her head up by her throat and looked into her eyes. Then He spit on her face and growled, “You filthy little whore.”

He didn’t wait before pushing her head down to His cock. She opened her mouth and moaned at the taste of Him on her tongue. But the rest of her mouth was dry and she couldn’t make enough spit. Desperate, she shoved herself down on His cock.

“Yes,” He hissed, “That’s a good girl.”

He held still, allowing His cock to fill her mouth and throat. She finally gagged. She lifted her head and spit on His cock. She felt His surprise and His arousal intensify.

“Yes,” He groaned. He tightened His fist in her hair, and used her face to jack His cock. She relaxed her neck and allowed Him to control the speed and depth. Seconds passed by as she fully surrendered to Him, while simultaneously feeling the most powerful energy she’d ever experienced.

He moved her head faster, and as she tightened her lips around His cock, she felt the first pulses of His orgasm. She mewled her appreciation as He released her hair and relaxed His body, sinking back into the chair.

“Holy fuck,” He finally said, panting still. “I haven’t cum that fast from jacking myself off. That was the hottest, sexiest, nastiest blow job I’ve ever had.”

She couldn’t stop smiling. What greater compliment could a filthy little whore ask for?

Sub Drop # 3

On this edition of The Sub Drop… If you play publicly, be aware that something you do in your own bedroom may feel different in front of other people.

Last night we attended a new munch & play party. There were a couple familiar faces, which was nice, and we met a lot of new people too. And while a bunch of us were sitting in room chatting about face slapping, Sir reaches over and casually slaps my cheek 3 or 4 times to punctuate a statement.

My body did what it always does, stiffens and then relaxes. But my mind sort of short circuited.

He slapped me in front of other people for the first time. Casually. As though He does it all the time. I mean He does, but never in front of anyone.

Now you all know I’m an exhibitionist. But to me, a face slap is just… woah.

And to be honest, since I don’t have many local friends or acquaintances who are masochists, to not feel out of place with my kinks is still a new sensation.

But in that moment? Part of me was horrified that others could clearly see that objectification turned me on and another part was worried about making people uncomfortable. (Chronic people pleaser, I’m in recovery.)

Then, at the end of those 5 seconds (seriously, how complex is the human mind to run through all that in 5 seconds?), I gave in to the weight of the collar around my neck and trusted Him. I let myself bliss out in the feel of His slaps. In front of half a dozen people.

I regret nothing.

Sub Drop #2

No matter how excellent your communication skills are, sometimes you have miscommunications. And sometimes mistakes happen. One thing that is paramount to me as a submissive and as a bottom, is remembering that the Top/D-type is human.

Here’s an example…

Me: please, Sir, may I cum?!

Him: yes

Me:*super long orgasm*

Me: thank you, Sir

*slap*

Him: I think you forgot a thank you in there.

Me: no, Sir. One long orgasm.

Him: oh baby! I’m sorry.

*pause*slap*

Him: just cuz you like it.

Me: *cums again*

So He slapped me for something I didn’t do. And He immediately apologized. But in that *pause* we shared a moment. We had a whole conversation without words.

It was okay. I knew it was an honest mistake. They happen! They happen even with the best communication and the best connections. Z and I read each other extremely well. 98% of the time.

We live this 24/7. So mistakes/miscommunications happen. But we deal with them immediately and keep on fucking. Literally.

Keep an open mind. Remember you and your partner make mistakes sometimes and this lifestyle is never without risk.

SubDrop #1

I confessed a fantasy to Z last night via text. It went something like this…

me: Daddy… I must confess the idea of you peeing on me… keeps popping into my mind… and I feel like such a dirty whore for it…

Z: It’s very degrading, but you *are* Daddy’s filthy little whore

me: *drooling emoji*

Z: Yeah.. that’s my dirty little girl

Now, I have never been a fan of the “golden shower”. But I did a lot of reflection before we did our contract. I couldn’t come up with any other reason that I didn’t like it, besides “ick”. So I marked it as a soft limit.

A few weeks ago, He threatened me with it while verbally degrading me. I was so turned on it and caught me by surprise. So I started thinking, if I can shower after… maybe.

The point of sharing this inner monologue with you is to remind you that you can always re-evaluate your limits. And don’t be shy about sharing it with your partner.

I cannot emphasize enough the importance of communication and a willingness to listen. Don’t be judgmental when listening to your partner’s thoughts either. Always keep an open mind and remember negotiations go both ways.

So Z and I will hopefully talk more about it this weekend. What limits have you reconsidered?