The problem (aside from not getting nearly enough of it) with having sexual experiences so shockingly exceptional is… that it can become a craving. And anything less can seem undesirable. This isn’t to say that I don’t treasure that night. I do. I wouldn’t change it or give it up for the world. If I had it to do over again, I’d do the same thing. But now I have this odd love/hate relationship with sex when it comes to the Wild Thing. I hope for something transcendent again. Every time. But I also fear I’ll never feel that again.
The other problem is that I am now giving something (partially de-kinked sex*) to the Wild Thing that I don’t seem to be able to manage with the Husband. It isn’t for lack of trying. It’s just that they are two different men and I have two different dynamics with them. I’ve given it some thought. My current conclusion is that my dynamic with the Husband includes a very healthy dose of S/m. And for him, sex is intrinsically linked with pain of some sort. Emotional, physical, both. So though he tells me he wants vanilla sex. Lovemaking. No kink. His cock won’t cooperate with that idea in his head.
And really, neither of these are gargantuan problems. I still manage to fuck the Wild Thing whenever I get the chance. Sometimes it’s transcendent. Sometimes it’s merely wonderful. And while it probably looks like “lovemaking” or “non-kinky” sex to the Husband, it isn’t. *The D/s dynamic permeates every interaction the Wild Thing and I have, including sex. So whether it’s transporting me across the universe or just across the room and into bed, my sex with the Wild Thing is D/s sex. It isn’t vanilla by a long shot.