alone in bed compersion

I are not compersion

We had both been chatting to Jennifer for a few months before we finally met her. We joked that she was our ‘unicorn‘ as she was a single bi-curious woman who wanted to play with us. I hadn’t had a huge connection with Jennifer but she seemed nice. I’d seen pictures of her and knew that she had lovely tits and a pretty face.

We were meant to meet the previous month, but her son was ill and she cancelled at the last minute. So when the time came for us to actually meet, there was high expectation for what could happen.

I booked a hotel near to where Jennifer lives in Wales, which meant a long drive for me and a long train journey for Stewart. No matter; it would be worth it, right?

The afternoon of the meet panic set in for me. We’d had very, very bad luck with meets (8/10 cancellations!). We’d had dire experiences going to clubs. I knew I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want this experience.

Now, I must tell you that Stewart is a fair and lovely man. I know in my heart that if I tell Stew that I don’t want to do this, he will accept it. However, I know he will be very disappointed. And Jennifer will be disappointed, and I’ve paid for this hotel and blah blah blah. And it could be amazing. It could be like Tina.

So I was anxious for the duration of this long drive. When I got to the hotel there was a kerfuffle about the parking and I had to drive round for a bit to find a car park, which added to my stress. By the time I got to the room it was a bit of a rush to get ready. Fortunately, Jennifer was stuck in traffic which bought me a bit more time.

Once we were ready, Stew and I went to the bar where we were to meet Jennifer. I had a drink and began to relax. Stew and I chatted about whatever Stew and I chat about.

Then the time finally arrived, and Jennifer came through the door of the bar. And there was no magic for me. No attraction at all.

But here we are again. We are with this person. There is an expectation of sex. I don’t feel I can say, ‘I’m so sorry my lovely, but I really just don’t fancy you at all.’ How can I hurt someone’s feelings like this? And how can I let Stew down – again?

We have a drink and eventually make our way back to the hotel room. Clothing is quickly removed and I am kissing Jennifer. It’s a nice and passionate kiss but again, just like with Joe, I am simply going through the motions. I want her to feel good about herself and so I am just faking it. I play with her tits, carry on kissing her.

Stew moves in and takes over. They kiss and touch. He goes down on her; she cums, calls out his name.

Stew goes out for a cigarette (Stew smokes a lot, as you may have gathered). Jennifer and I kiss and touch while he is out.

He comes back into the room and tells me it is my turn. I move to the middle of the bed and have Jennifer on one side and Stew on the other. Stew is kissing me and suddenly I realise his mouth has just been on her cunt, and I pull away. Between the two of them I cum, a welcome relief from the angst I am feeling about this night.

Stewart moves back over to Jennifer’s side of the bed. And suddenly, the penny drops: the man I love is about to fuck someone else. Just next to me.

And so he does. He fucks her doggy style and I bury my face in the pillow next to her; I cannot watch. The sound. The sucky, smucky sound of people fucking. Is in my ears. Is in my heart. In my memory. Indelibly.

Stew stops fucking Jennifer and says he is going out for a cigarette. I leap to attention as soon as he leaves the room. I get out a huge wand vibrator and glass dildo. I kiss Jennifer and slide the dildo into her.

‘You do it,’ I say, and hand her the vibrator. She brings herself off. ‘Oh, Karin!’ she cries. I fuck her with the dildo as she pushes the wand on and around her clit. She cums for me, just as Stewart comes back into the room.

He undresses again and climbs back into bed next to Jennifer. They kiss and cuddle. Stew’s back is to me. I am cold and alone on my edge of the bed. This is the worst thing I have been through so far with Stew. Sheer abandonment. How – I mean really, how? Am I meant to get through this?

The sound of them kissing and whispering is almost worse than the sound of them fucking, simply because it goes on for so much longer.

I feign tiredness and sleepiness. Jennifer says she had best make a move. I don’t object. The two of them get up and dress, as I know Stewart will walk her to her car. She and I kiss and promise to see each other soon, though I know this will never happen.

While he is gone I put some clothes on. I feel too exposed and too vulnerable.

I lie in the hotel bed and remember that at one point in the proceedings I whispered to Stew to ask if he was OK and his answer was, ‘yes, but I know you are not.’ So, he is intuitive, he is aware. I don’t mean these most recent posts to imply he is a careless or thoughtless man.

He comes back and undresses, gets into bed. There is silence between us; he is not asking how I am. He is not comforting me.

‘I just didn’t feel anything for her,’ I say.

‘Well, we have to stop these meets then,’ says Stew, with a touch of exasperation.

‘I can’t do it any more,’ I say. And I know this is the beginning of the end. For me and and my magic Stewart.

The next day, we are meant to go on to a nearby historical village. When I know he is awake, I ask Stew if he’d rather just go home. He says he would.

We get up and dressed and leave the hotel. We are both tired and stressed and quiet during the hour-long journey to the train station.

I reach out to hold his hand and he strokes my finger with his thumb. Something in this feels like a connection, a comforting touch from my best friend. It lasts just a minute, and then he stops and it’s gone.

In the silence between us I realise that in the 19 hours I have just spent with Stew he has hardly kissed me. He’s not fucked me. He’s hardly touched me or held me. I’ve spent out on the hotel and driven an hour there, driven us an hour back and what have I got? Not much. Not much.

I are not compersion. I am not made for this non-monogamous, polyamorous life. I tried. I really, really tried. I gave it my very best go, I really did.

I’m sad that I failed at something that I thought I could handle. I feel shame for myself and sad for letting Stew down, again.

5 thoughts on “I are not compersion”

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

%d bloggers like this: