Boxes

I love my relationship with my husband. Overall, I think we have a great one. Our relationship suffered for a few years as our sex life went to nil, but that was a symptom and not a cause. We’re having a lot of sex again, but that’s not why the relationship is better.

We’re better because we are intimate again, and I do not mean physically. True intimacy is being able to tell your partner anything without fear. I just finished binging the latest season of Grace and Frankie. There is a scene where Grace cannot get off the toilet, and instead of getting help from her husband, she calls Frankie. She and Frankie had a more intimate relationship. Frankie tells Grace that she should have told her husband, because isn’t that intimacy what a married couple should have?

Now, I’m not so old that I can’t get off the toilet, except perhaps on leg days when my trainer, affectionately known as Mary Hitler, is particularly brutal, but I have been guilty of not telling Tripp what I needed. I put Tripp in a box, and I put me in a box of expectations.

Tripp is a bottom and by nature submissive. When we first met, we had a Master/slave dynamic going. Tripp wore my collar. That sort of faded with time. But in my head, that’s what Tripp was and always would be. I boxed myself in as a Top with occasional sub tendencies that I would fulfill elsewhere and Tripp as someone not capable of being more than a sub to me.

Probably about 5 years ago, when I told Sir about the problems developing in my marriage, he asked me why I didn’t ask Tripp to be more dominant. I responded that Tripp could never do that. In truth, I just didn’t think Tripp could, and I didn’t want to ask him because I thought he saw me as only a Dom and I was embarrassed to ask him. I didn’t want him to think less of me. I created an image of what I should be in my mind, and I felt he would no longer want me if it were not true. I had boxed myself into a steel container and welded the top shut, and I denied myself the one thing everyone should have with their soulmate, true intimacy. I mean, if you can’t tell the person you’re married to your innermost desires, you’ve got a problem.

As you know, I eventually did ask Tripp to be more dominant, and he said yes. It took me a long time and a lot of anguish before I started to break down my box. I’m now absolutely (almost) sure I can tell Tripp anything and he won’t judge me. He might not want to go there, but he won’t judge me for wanting it. Funny, but I would never have judged him for asking me anything. The standards I put on myself are higher than I put on anybody else. That’s one reason why I hid my chastity cage from him for so long. I have friends who are into some kinks that I would never do, but I don’t think less of them, I just wouldn’t participate.

I’ve still got work to do, but we are in a much better place and I am getting more comfortable with that level of intimacy. If I ever do get stuck on the toilet, I’m calling Tripp.

Published by Locked Doc

Middle aged switch reclaiming his kink and exploring Bdsm with both his husband and his Master. Always locked.

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