Good things can come from unexpected places.

pregnancy-woman-belly-hands-46207.jpeg

When I first met K I couldn’t possibly have known how things would develop.

After having my first son I had awful post-natal depression and couldn’t bond with him. When he turned 3 I realised that I liked him, and it was such a relief! While I never wanted anything bad to happen to him, I felt terrible guilt for bringing a child into the world and not connecting with him. When I discovered I was pregnant with my second child I went into a tail spin, I imagined that everything would be the same all over again, and I became quite withdrawn again, more-so because P kept telling me,as the pregnancy progressed, that I should have had an abortion and that I would never cope with a second one. I was very lucky that I had an excellent GP and midwifery team, and was immediately referred for talking therapy, eventually meeting with a wonderful lady called Maggie.

The talking therapy could run alongside a new course of CBT for new and expectant mothers.

The Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (can you imagine a group of 20 pregnant woman being armed with Cock and Ball Torture skills??) delivered in a group setting was quite powerful, and I made some interesting friendships with my peers. One of these ladies was K. A few years younger than me, and expecting her first child a couple of weeks before mine was due. She didn’t make it to all of the sessions, but that was because she gave birth a week early and her priorities shifted. Shortly after delivering my second I was suggested to go to a structured Mother and Baby group. I had always avoided the traditional groups with my first because….well…. at the time I felt that I wouldn’t fit in and nobody would want me there, but looking back I had been so isolated by P that I would have been worried about the repercussions. This time I had been “invited” by the health visiting team, and following a referral back to the community mental health team for a medication review they had planted a boot firmly in my backside, I had no doubt that I needed to go along. And there was K with her baby, looking terrified!

At the end of the 12 week programme we agreed to meet up for a coffee some time soon.

With my return to work fast approaching, two small children and an unpleasant P calling the shots it wasn’t until the babies had started at play school (two years old) that we randomly bumped into each other in the street. Finally we firmed up plans to meet for a coffee the same day the following week, after dropping the children off for their sessions. It soon came round, and we were sat in the coffee shop drinking together, and chattering about very, very vanilla things. We started discussing the course we had first met on, and how helpful it had been for us both, and then we discussed antidepressant medications and the associated side effects. The main problem for her was a kind of loss of libido and also an inability to orgasm.

I’m not sure she expected me to start grilling her for information on her masturbatory techniques…

She didn’t know why she brought it up, other than feeling safe in my company, and that she could be entirely open with me and I would never judge. She had no idea that I was kinky and well practised in the art of orgasm; we met through having babies, and being wholesome maternal figures, how could she have known?! By being open about her issues I was able to impart some knowledge. We sat in the middle of the cafe discussing hands, positions, vibrators, nipple clamps and magic wands. A second cup of coffee followed, and soon it was time to head our separate ways again to collect the toddlers, but this time we swapped numbers and decided to meet up much sooner than two years time.

She came over for a visit the following week for a children’s playdate after school.

The children played, and after we had eaten and they had gone to bed I showed her my toy box. My collection had grown from a small bag, to an overflowing picnic basket, and now I had a vintage flight case beside my bed with toys galore. We didn’t play with each other, or the toys, but she was heartened to know that a little over a year before I had been orgasm poor and was now more than able to satisfy myself. She went on her way with a shopping list, and soon found her way to climax.

That was the first time I corrupted a vanilla, and I loved it! 

She was also the first female friend I had become friends with after P left me with very few friends. I was free to be as ME as I wanted to be with her, and it was lovely because she was slightly off the wall too. Her partner was very supportive of her exploring this side of herself, and was grateful to me for guiding her towards the unachievable “O”. She still couldn’t achieve them with him, but at least she could scratch the itch herself now.

When you decide not to be afraid, you can find friends in super unexpected places. 

And I certainly did just that, cultivating a kinkster from a chance meeting with another mum-to-be.

pexels-photo-978322.jpeg

Leave a Reply

Proudly powered by WordPress | Theme: Baskerville 2 by Anders Noren.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: