to tell - or not to tell

How much do I share with my partner in an open relationship? Sometimes I do so because it's good for me, not necessarily because my partner needs to hear it.

It was my day to catch up on projects around the house. My Honey I Adore was at work. It started with me just checking my emails on a few sites. Then I got to looking at beautiful guys' profile pictures, and soon remember I hadn't gotten off over the weekend. We'd camped in a crowded area. Too noisy for our neighbors in the woods.

A twirling sensation below my navel amped up pretty quickly. And soon I really wanted to hook up. So I put it out there, and within a couple of hours had Shy Slender Guy Who Warmed Up Nicely over.

He was fairly nervous, but I could tell loved to kiss. Passion took over for a bit, erasing any awkwardness. Our hands roamed and stoked the fire. Sweetness and lust combined. I loved that he returned my caresses. Soon we grabbed eachother freely as we played with various thrusts, holds, and half-competitive explorations. I was hard soon enough. He was excited but didn't get hard. He expressed some regret over not being erect. I assured him that it didn't matter to me, that I was having a marvelous time, and that things didn't need to look any which way. He wanted to top me, but said that condoms caused him to go limp - something that alot of guys experience. I thanked him for the compliment, and stated that I only had intercourse with a condom on. But that there are a million other ways to have fun. He readily agreed. Didn't press. Just danced with me.

He relaxed and then got hard. Soon came the lube. Heavenly. He encouraged me to pseudo-fuck him: he lay on his back with his legs together, my cock thrusting him from on top, in that awesome area underneath the balls. Embraced and close. I held it off for a bit, but then at his encouragement orgasmed in between him - his legs.

We switched, and I got to enjoy his thrusts, on my back. He moaned in my mouth as his sperm escaped his cock below. Such sweetness. A romping primate now a melted pup. Something how that energy changes almost instantly at orgasm. And if we're present enough to stay connected and not withdraw inwardly entirely, magical like the glowing sun-hues at a sunset. Tenderness embodied.

We cuddled and then he mentioned he needed some energy. He had walked from some distance to my place. I wondered if he'd had the money for the bus-fare. He was nicely dressed with new clothes, had a cellphone too, but something about his manner and a couple of things he said about "freelancing" it made me offer to head out to lunch a few blocks away, my treat. He quickly accepted, and I was glad I had offered.

Lunch at a nearby food-joint was delicious. We ate near the water-way. Soon we parted, and I hope I'll connect with Shy Slender Guy Who Warmed Up Nicely again.

My Love came home several hours later, and asked if I'd done anything fun. Yes, I couldn't keep it in, (that darn "communicator" personality that the Sex Diaries author talks about), I'd hooked up with a cute guy, had fun, and I rattled of a few other things I'd done, exercised, talked with a friend on the phone from back East planning an upcoming campout, prepared images for an art project I'm doing, done some laundry. My Honey I Adore kept smiling and didn't ask questions. We talked easily about several things, but I had a little knot in my stomach, like I had committed an indiscretion. Even though I'd broken no agreement, something still felt a little surreal.

The next day we drove to an errand together. I kept thinking, do I tell my partner that the young guy I hooked up with the day before, by most accounts after, seemed to be homeless or similar, so I took him out to eat with me?

Part of me wants to share, because I'm excited. How often do I have the honor? And I remember how not-far-removed I am/was from this guy at one point in my life.

Part of me wants to be spared the questioning I assume will come, and judgments - implied or spoken. Did he steal anything? Why'd you let him in the house? ...

To tell or not to tell. That afternoon I decided not to tell.

And now I tell.

Not because the world needs to hear. But because I want to write it. In this quasi-journal of intimacy.